Her entrance to the sitting-room was more noisy than her
exit had been and Miss Howes stirred upon the sofa and opened her eyes.
"Auntie!" she cried, sharply. "Aunt Thankful, where are you?"
"I'm--I'm here, Emily. That is, I guess--yes, I'm here."
"But why is it so dark? Where is the lantern?"
"The lantern?" Mrs. Barnes was trying to speak calmly but, between
agitation and loss of breath, she found it hard work. "The lantern?
Why--it's--it's gone," she said.
"Gone? What do you mean? Where has it gone?"
"It's gone--gone out. There wa'n't enough oil in it to last any longer,
I suppose."
"Oh!" Emily sat up. "And you've been sitting here alone in the dark
while I have been asleep. How dreadful for you! Why didn't you speak to
me? Has anything happened? Hasn't that man come back yet?"
It was the last question which Thankful answered. "No. No, he ain't come
back yet," she said. "But he will pretty soon, I'm sure. He--he will,
Emily, don't you fret."
"Oh, I'm not worried, Auntie. I am too sleepy to worry, I guess."
"Sleepy! You're not goin' to sleep AGAIN, are you?"
Mrs. Barnes didn't mean to ask this question; certainly she did not
mean to ask it with such evident anxiety. Emily noticed the tone and
wondered.
"Why, no," she said. "I think not. Of course I'm not. But what made you
speak in that way? You're not frightened, are you?"
Thankful made a brave effort.
"Frightened!" she repeated, stoutly. "What on earth should I be
frightened of, I'd like to know?"
"Why, nothing, I hope.
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