I thought it would be fine to hear him tell about
it. You run along, Mrs. Barnes; I'll hurry and get dressed."
He jumped out of bed. He was tired and lame and his head ached--but,
Oh, he was happy! He had stabled George Washington and reached his room
without disturbing anyone. And, as Kenelm had, according to Mrs. Barnes,
spoken and appeared as usual, it was evident that Hannah Parker, too,
had gotten safely and undetected to her own apartment.
Thankful knocked at his door again.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but Melindy Pease hasn't sent home your mendin'
yet. I'm afraid you'll have to do without your--er--your winter things
for one more day."
"Hey? My winter--Oh, yes, yes. Well, I don't care. It's warmer today
than 'twas yesterday."
"Oh no, it isn't; it's a good deal colder. I hope you won't catch cold."
"No, no, I shan't. I'm feelin' fine."
"Well, thank goodness for that."
"Thank goodness for a good many things," said Mr. Hammond, devoutly.
CHAPTER XIII
If Kenelm noticed that George Washington seemed unusually tired that
morning, or that the old carryall behind the barn had some new scratches
on its sides and wheels, and leaves and pine needles on its cushions and
floor, he did not mention what he saw. For a day or two both Mr. Hammond
and Miss Parker were anxious and fearful, but as nothing was said and
no questions were asked, they began to feel certain that no one save
themselves knew of the elopement which had turned out to be no elopement
at all.
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