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 cat . It was so large -- and had such green , malicious eyes ! Plainly , there was something out of the common about the beastie ! In a tense , breathless silence the Story Girl placed our parcels on the lowest step , and laid her letter on the top of the pile . Her brown fingers trembled and her face was very pale . Suddenly the door above us opened , and Peg Bowen herself appeared on the threshold . She was a tall , sinewy old woman , wearing a short , ragged , drugget skirt which reached scantly below her knees , a scarlet print blouse , and a man 's hat . Her feet , arms , and neck were bare , and she had a battered old clay pipe in her mouth . Her brown face was seamed with a hundred wrinkles , and her tangled , grizzled hair fell unkemptly over her shoulders . She was scowling , and her flashing black eyes held no friendly light . We had borne up bravely enough hitherto , in spite of our inward , unconfessed quakings . But now our strained nerves gave way , and sheer panic seized us .
Peter gave a little yelp XXXXX pure terror .
In To about above as by like of on over