“I hope there are feather beds in the garret,” she murmured, drowsily. “This old straw is so scratchy.”
“We’ll look to-morrow,” Lyddy said. “Aunt Jane said we could make use of anything we found here. But, my! it’s a big house for only three people.”
“It is,” admitted ’Phemie. “I’d feel a whole lot better if it was full of folks.”
“I have it!” exclaimed Lyddy, suddenly. “We might take boarders.”
“Summer boarders?” asked her sister, curiously.
“I–I s’pose so.”
“That’s a long way ahead. It’s winter yet,” and ’Phemie snuggled down into her pillow. “Folks from the city would never want to come to an old house like this–with so few conveniences in it.”
“We like it; don’t we?” demanded Lyddy.
“I don’t know whether we do yet, or not,” replied ’Phemie. “Let’s wait and see.”
’Phemie was drowsy, yet somehow she couldn’t fall asleep. Usually she was the first of the two to do so; but to-night Lyddy’s deeper breathing assured the younger sister that she alone was awake in all the great, empty house.