There was already a great heap of sticks beside the hearth, and in the porch another windrow, sheltered from any possible storm.
“We’re in luck to have such good neighbors,” sighed Lyddy, as the farm wagon rattled away.
“My! but we’re going to have good times here,” declared ’Phemie, coming into the house after her and closing and locking the door.
“It’s a long way off from everybody else,” observed the older sister, in a doubtful tone. “But I don’t believe we shall be disturbed.”
“Nonsense!” cried ’Phemie. “Let’s have supper. I’m starved to death.”
She swung the blackened old tea-kettle over the blaze, and moved briskly about the room laying the cloth, while Lyddy got out crackers and cheese and opened a tin of meat before she brewed the comforting cup of tea that both girls wanted.
However, they were alone–half a mile from the nearest habitation–and if nothing else, they could not help secretly comparing their loneliness with the tenement in the city from which they had so recently graduated.
CHAPTER VIII
THE WHISPER IN THE DARK
’Phemie was very bold–until something really scared her–and then she was quite likely to lose her head altogether. Lyddy was timid by nature, but an emergency forced her courage to high pressure.