"A regular 'Cottage by the Sea.' It will suit me exactly if I can have
the upper front room. I don't mind being alone; so have my trunk taken
down, please, and I'll get ready for tea," said I, feeling very happy on
account of my good luck.
Alas, how little I knew what a night of terror I was to pass in that
pretty white cottage!
An hour later, refreshed by my tea and the coolness of the place, I
plunged into the pleasures of the season, and accepted two invitations
for the evening--one to a, walk on Sunset Hill, the other to a clam-bake
on the beach.
The stroll came first, and on the hill-top we met an old gentleman with
a spy-glass, who welcomed me with the remark--
"Pretty likely place for a prospect."
After replying to what he said, I asked the old gentleman if he knew any
legend or stories about the old houses all around us.
"Yes, many of them," he replied; "and it isn't always the old places
that have the most stories about 'em.
"Why, that cottage down yonder isn't more'n fifty years old, and they do
say there's been a lot of ghosts seen there, owin' to a man's killin' of
himself in the back bed-room.
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