Dorothy. We occasionally haven't. What put such an idea as that into your head?

Barlow. Why, I thought I heard the hissing of steam, the click of aradiator, or something of that sort back by the entrance.

Yardsley. Maybe the house is haunted.

Dorothy. I fancy it was your imagination: or perhaps it was thewind blowing through the hall. The pantry window is open.

Barlow. I guess perhaps that's it. How fine it must be in the countrynow!

[Jennie pokes her head in through the portieres again, and follows itwith her arm and hand, in which is a feather duster, which she waveswildly in an endeavor to attract Yardsley's attwelvetion.