We went down through the brook field and over the little plank bridge in the hollow , half lost in its surrounding sea of farewell summers . When we reached the green gloom of the woods beyond we began to feel frightened , but nobody would admit it . We walked very closely together , and we did not talk . When you are near the retreat of witches and folk of that ilk the less you say the better , for their feelings are so notoriously touchy . Of course , Peg was n't a witch , but it was best to be on the safe side . Finally we came to the lane which led directly to her abode . We were all very pale now , and our hearts were beating . The red September sun hung low between the tall spruces to the west . It did not look to me just right for a sun . In fact , everything looked uncanny . I wished our errand were well over . A sudden bend in the lane brought us out to the little clearing where Peg 's house was before we were half ready to see it . In spite of my fear I looked at it with some curiosity . It was a small , shaky building with a sagging roof , set amid a perfect jungle of weeds . To our eyes , the odd thing about it was that there was no entrance on the ground floor , as there should be in any respectable house . The only door was in the upper story , and was reached by a flight of rickety steps . There was no sign of life about the place except -- sight of ill omen -- a large black cat , sitting on the topmost step . We thought of Uncle Roger 's gruesome hints . Could that black cat be Peg ? Nonsense !
But still -- it did n't look like an ordinary XXXXX .
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