“’Tis evil,” said the man in a solemn whisper.

“Evil!” echoed Peter. And the word seemed as out of place in the morning sunshine as a cynic would seem in fairyland.

[Pg 37]

[Pg 37]

The man nodded. “’Tis evil, for sure. ’Tis haunted.”

“And by what is it haunted?” demanded Peter, curious.

“A bad woman,” said the man. “Her comes there o’nights, and her moans for that her soul’s to hell.”

Again the word fell like a discord in the harmony of sunshine and singing birds. Peter frowned.

“Then,” he asked, “as the cottage possesses no owner I suppose I can live here if I choose?”

The man scratched his head. “No one can’t live there what bain’t in league with t’devil,” he announced.

Peter smiled brilliantly. “Oh,” he said with fine assurance, “but I am.” And he made the carter a low bow, sweeping upward his hat, which he had hitherto held in his hand. The fantastic peacock feather came into view, also Peter concluded the bow with a very diabolical grin.

The man whipped up his horse, casting a terrified glance over his shoulder as he drove off. Peter waved his hat with a mocking laugh.

“And now,” he said, as the sound of the wheels receded in the distance, “it is possible that my [Pg 38]averred friendship with his Satanic Majesty may gain me uninterrupted possession of this place. And—nonsense or not—it is asking me to stay.”

[Pg 38]

Suddenly, however, it struck Peter that it might be as well for him to lay in a small store of provisions—if such were obtainable in the village—before the statement of his friendship with the powers of evil had been spread by the too credulous carter. Peter was well aware of the superstitions of village folk. Therefore he set off at once down the road.

The village stood for the most part around an open green, to the left of which was the grey church whose square tower he had noticed the 

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