There were old hunting rifles, heavy wool jackets, a box full of warm hats, some traps, hardware, cleaning utensils — all of this visible from the doorway. Jane could only guess what else was stashed here. At least most of the stuff was along the walls and there was an aisle through the middle. Someone had once put down a pretty rag rug near the doorway, but the colors were dulled by a long accumulation of dust.

“We ought to take those quilts downstairs out‑ side to shake and air," Shelley said. "Maybe we could persuade Joe to string up a clothesline somewhere.”

Jane went out to the landing and bellowed, "Joe! Joe! Where are you? We need some help here.”

There was no reply, so she kept shouting periodically as she and Shelley made their way back to the small guest rooms. When they took the first quilt off the bed, they realized there was no other bedding. No sheets or pillowcases. Jane stared at the naked mattress. "Oh, no! Now what do we do? There must be linens somewhere.”

Shelley went to the door and shouted for Joe, and jumped when he appeared in the doorway of the next room. "I ain't deaf, lady.”

Shelley considered asking him what he was doing eavesdropping on them from the next room in that case, but instead said mildly, "Where are the linens for the beds?"

“I sent 'em all out to the laundry last week. Ought to be back today.”

Jane nearly collapsed in relief. She'd had visions of ransacking the countryside for an ungodly number of sets of sheets and pillowcases. "I'd like for you to rig up a clothesline and put these quilts out to air, please," she said. The "please" was only a nicety. She'd hoped the request sounded more like an order.

“Gonna rain," he said.

“If and when it does, you can bring them back in." Jane was starting to get a little testy. Livvy had led her to believe that Uncle Joe, while a bitcrusty, was something of a workhorse around the place, which obviously wasn't true. "There's a car pulling up outside. I hope it's Mrs. Crossthwait.”