Free The Hound of Rowan by Henry H. Neff Page A

head in and broke the silence.
    â€œA cozy little nook to hang your hat in, eh, Mr. Lynch?”
    â€œYeah, Nigel, home sweet home. Not a traffic-stopper, but it’ll do.”
    Connor hopped up onto one of the top bunks and dangled his legs over the side, grinning at them defiantly. Max liked him immediately.
    â€œC’mon, boys,” said Nigel. “Help me round up the others, and let’s get back to the foyer.”
    Nigel hurried down the hall as Max, David, and Connor looked down into a sunken room that appeared to be the captain’s quarters of a luxurious galleon. Three large portholes showed a distant sunset and dark blue waves lapped at the glass. The room’s four occupants were laughing as they sat on the cozy beds that were sunk into deep alcoves. Sea chests and old maps and bright yellow lanterns were scattered about. Connor spoke up just as a brightly colored fish leapt past one of the portholes.
    â€œHey—Nigel wants us out there. Come on.”
    The boys nodded and took turns climbing up the brass ladder.
    â€œHonestly,” said Connor as they filed past, “if any of you boys get the wobblies down there, just let me know and we can swap out. You there!” He shot a finger at the last boy to climb out. “You’re lookin’ awfully pasty. We should probably switch rooms, mate.”
    â€œNever!” shouted the boy, running after Nigel.
    Connor sighed and fell in step with Max and David. By this time, Nigel had managed to gather most of the class back near the staircase.
    â€œRight, then, congratulations on completing your configurations. You’re a lucky lot, you know. Some of the chaps in my class got stuck with a dungeon, a moldy wine cellar, and a chicken roost!”
    â€œBut, Nigel,” said a boy, “
how
did the rooms change? Did you change them?”
    Nigel shook his head.
    â€œDear me, no. This is Old Magic—far older and far stronger than anything Nigel Bristow can conjure up. But more of the Manse and Old Magic after dinner.”
    The chimes began just as Nigel herded them down the stairs.

                   5                  
    E VILS O LD AND N EW
    T he boys and girls met outside by the fountain, where room configurations were discussed in a buzz of competing voices. Max found it hard to keep track as he overheard breathless girls talking about a pharaoh’s throne room carved with hieroglyphics and snug lodges in the mountains. Nigel stood near him looking bemused while Miss Awolowo shielded a tall, plump red-haired girl from the onrush of a petite black-haired girl who stabbed an accusatory finger while muttering in her native language. The red-haired girl looked miserable.
    â€œWhat happened with them?” Max asked Nigel.
    â€œOh—happens every year. Roommates blaming one another for how their rooms turned out during the configuration. My Italian’s atrocious, but I believe Lucia is upset over the leaky hovel they’ll be sharing. Thinks it’s all Cynthia’s fault—something about an English preference for miserable weather…”
    Nigel frowned and glanced at Max.
    â€œThat last part’s not true, by the way. We merely
cope
with miserable weather—we cope out of sheer necessity!”
    Miss Awolowo restored order with a calm snippet in Italian that left Lucia in smoldering silence. Nigel took his leave as Miss Awolowo addressed the group.
    â€œAll right. Now that the configurations are complete—Lucia, stop that!—we’ll take a brief tour of Rowan’s grounds before we have supper. If you’d please follow me to the orchard…”
    They walked around to the back of the Manse, passing between low hedges thick with flowers, and arriving at a large stone patio. Just beyond the patio, separated by a strip of lawn, were long rows of apple trees. Max