Cyril did as he was told with great willingness, but he had immense difficulty in making the generous-hearted girl consent to take the rug.
"I'm young and strong, Cyril," she said, "and you and your father are delicate. Besides, you belong to Mr. Gerald, so you ought to have the best of everything." But Cyril insisted, and she had to yield at last. The tired travellers slept well and long, being much exhausted with all they had gone through.
Mr. Morton awoke first, and had lighted the fire before Cynthy appeared.
"I have been awake some time, but did not like to disturb you too soon," she said, busying herself with filling the kettle. "Oh, now, sir," she added, "you'll hurt your foot standing about on it so, and there is no need. I can soon do everything."
"I'm glad to say my foot is much better," rejoined Mr. Morton, "and I am not going to allow you to do everything."
Cynthy smiled brightly. "I am glad you are better," she said. "But oh, look at the snow!" she added, removing one of the boards with which she had filled in the empty window-frame.
The snow was piled up until it almost reached the top of the window, and they could see that more was still coming down. It was impossible to open the door, which Cynthy tried next; a great snow-drift was piled up against it.
"We are snowed in!" she exclaimed. "And no one will think of looking for us here in the haunted house—unless my Harry does. He knows I'm not a bit superstitious. Still, I don't think he'll suppose we are here," and she grew thoughtful, weighing the pros and cons.
They had to be very economical of food that day, and there was none left for poor Blackie, much to Cyril's grief. Cynthy gave him some lumps of sugar for his pony, but she could not spare any bread.
They all talked a great deal about Gerald Morton in the course of the day, Cynthy relating many anecdotes of the kindly deeds he had done for other people, all of which much delighted Mr. Morton, who asked many questions about them. He told Cynthy his brother had been left to his charge by a dying mother, and it was a great grief to him when, having failed in business and become ruined in fortune, Gerald left England, as he said, to seek his fortune in another country. "I shall not return until I have found it," were his parting words, "and it is of no use your writing, for I am going to try to travel about."