Katharine drew close to the fire, and held out her hands, that trembled and fluttered to the heat like half perished birds.
"I ran away," she said, piteously; "crept out of the garret window, and came off here. They want to kill me, you know."
The old people looked at each other and turned away, with their faces in shadow.
"You'll not be afraid to hide me a little while?" she questioned, anxiously.
The old lady bent over her, with tears in her soft eyes.
"Afraid, dear? no; we're not afraid, are we, father?" she said, lovingly.
A noise outside startled Katharine; she sprang up and fixed her wild eyes on the window.
"They've seen the light—they're after me."
"It's only an icicle dropping from the eaves," said the old lady, smiling. "There isn't a soul near but father and I, Katharine, dear, and you aint going to be afraid of us?"
Katharine looked at her lingeringly and sat down again.