“I know,” whispered Lyddy. “Some of those awful recitations were trying.”
And ’Phemie had to giggle at that; but she made no further explanation.
The ponies drew them swiftly over the mountain road and under the white light of a misty moon they quickly turned into the lane leading to Hillcrest. As the team dropped to a walk, ’Phemie suddenly leaned forward and clutched the driver’s arm.
“Look yonder, Lucas!” she whispered. “There, by the corner of the house.”
“Whoa!” muttered Lucas, and brought the horses to a halt.
The girls and Lucas all saw the two figures. They wavered for a moment and then one hurried behind the high stone wall between the yard and the old orchard. The other crossed the front yard boldly toward the highroad.
“They came from the direction of the east wing,” whispered ’Phemie.
“Who do you suppose they are?” asked Lyddy, more placidly. “Somebody who tried to call on us?”
“That there feller,” said Lucas, slowly, his voice shaking oddly, as he pointed with his whip after the man who just then gained the highroad, “that there feller is Lem Judson Spink–I know his long hair and broad-brimmed hat.”
“What?” cried ’Phemie. “The man who lived here at Hillcrest when he was a boy?”