Elihu was uncovering the horse. Amarita turned from her mother-in-law with a noiseless rush and flew out of the front door and down the slippery path.
"Elihu!" she called, with all the voice excitement left her. "Elihu, you come here. I've got to speak to you."
Elihu left the horse and came with long strides up the path, taking, as he hurried, glances at the roof.
"Roarin', is it?" he asked. "You think the chimbley's ketched?"
The roll of plans stuck out from his coat pocket. That was all Amarita could see. She laid hands upon him and drew him into the entry. There she shut the door and then stood with her grasp upon the other door, leading into the sitting-room, and held it tight. She was afraid mother Meade might come out to see what was the matter. Amarita leaned against the casing. In spite of the brightness of her eyes, she looked faint and sick. It seemed to be her grasp upon the latch that kept her now from falling.
"O Elihu!" she said. He was questioning her with puzzled eyes. "O Elihu! I've been awful mean to you." Her hold on the latch relaxed, and she sat down on the packing-case between them. "When I told you about the box the man left, and you seemed to think I didn't know enough to come in when it rained, I said next time you made any kind of a mistake I'd let it go, no matter who's goin' to laugh at you. And when it come to your plans"—she stopped here, and Elihu absently put his hand to the roll in his pocket—"when it come to them, I said you might show 'em to the minister and the doctor and everybody else. But, Elihu, there ain't—O Elihu, you ain't put a single closet in that house!"
Elihu stood there in silence, and Amarita sat on the packing-case, feeling her heart beat. It seemed a long time before she heard his voice.
"There! there!" he was saying. "You open that door and I'll look in an' see if the chimbley's ketched."
In a moment Amarita followed him. She heard mother Meade moving about the kitchen, and Elihu was just dropping his roll of paper on the fire. She gave a little cry, but he only said, in what seemed to her a very kind voice, almost the voice of courting days,—
"You run out and fetch me in the hammer and screw-driver, whilst I listen to this chimbley."