CHAPTER XXVI.
A CROWD UNDER THE BUTTERNUT TREE.
At last the old woman came in. With the sly instincts of insanity, Katharine lay still, holding the blankets over her head, pretending to be asleep.
The old lady did not attempt to disturb her, but merely looked in to see that all was quiet, and went to the kitchen. To her surprise, she found the outer door open. The wind had swept in, scattering snow and ashes over the floor. This had produced a draught down the wide-mouthed chimney, and filled the room with smoke. Mrs. Allen threw up a sash, which produced an eddy of wind and sent some loose papers flying toward the hearth—one, which seemed to be a letter, floated by her and was drawn up the chimney, catching fire as it went; another was following, but she grasped it in time, and found that the flimsy bit of silk paper was a bank bill of considerable amount. Two others she picked up from the floor.
Who could have been in her house? How was it possible for so much money to have found its way there? She went into the bedroom, resolved to question Katharine, who heard her coming, and crouched under the bedclothes.
"Katharine! Katharine!"
No answer.
The old lady, fearing she scarcely knew what, went up to the bed and turned down the clothes. There was a little resistance, and then Katharine looked up with a frightened smile, trembling terribly either with dread or cold.
"Who has been here since I went away, Katharine?"
"I don't know."
"But look! Where did all this money come from?"