About three minutes’ walk from my grandmother’s, Miss Phœbe Dean, a little old lady who had been a school-teacher in her younger days, lived all alone in a snug, small story-and-a-half house. Miss Dean owned the house, but she was rather poor and not very strong. Grandmother used to send broths and jellies and things of that kind to her, every few days, and as I had no school lessons to take my time, grandmother generally sent the things by me.
Miss Dean was very friendly. She had all sorts of quaint, interesting curiosities in her house, for her father had been around the world several times as captain of his own ship and had brought home many treasures; sometimes she would open an old carved chest and show me wonderful pictures and beautiful embroideries. Before long, she and I were such good friends that I went to see her almost every day, whether or not grandmother had anything to send.
The bedroom which I slept in at my grandmother’s had a dormer window facing toward Miss Dean’s house; and Miss Dean told me that she used to watch for my light every night at my bedtime. Grandmother had made Miss Dean promise that if she ever was ill at night, and wanted help, she would put two candles side by side in her front window. One night, after grandmother had put out my light and tucked me into bed, I looked toward Miss Dean’s house, thinking that she was thinking about me; and I felt sure that I saw two candles in her front window. There were a few flakes of snow falling, and the lights looked rather dim, but I was sure they were there, and meant that Miss Dean was ill.
I called down to grandmother. She came up-stairs to look, and then we both looked, but now neither one of us could see any light. Grandmother said: “You imagined you saw the two candles, Ruth.”
“No, grandmother,” I insisted. “I am sure I saw them.”
Grandmother laughed and called me a foolish little girl; but, to comfort me, said she would sit near the window down-stairs and look out every now and then toward Miss Dean’s house. I kept my eyes on her window, by propping myself up in bed, with the pillows, until by and by I grew too sleepy to keep my eyes open,—especially as I did not see the candles again.
The next morning there was deep snow over everything. And because grandmother’s house was on the border of the town, the streets were not cleared of snow until noonday. I kept thinking and talking about Miss Dean so much that about eleven o’clock grandmother said: “Put on your rubber boots, Ruth, and go over to see her, if you want to.”
In about a minute I had on those rubber boots and my thick red coat, and was wading in the snow, quite to my knees, toward the little white house. It took me so long that two or three times I almost gave it up, because I was used to running over in such a short time. But I kept on, and finally came to Miss Dean’s green-and-white gate. There were no foot-tracks in the front yard, and the snow was so deep that I could hardly find the door-steps. When I did find them, I began pounding on the front door—Miss Dean did not have any door-bell—and very soon I saw her all bundled up in a shawl, looking out of the window to see who it was, before she unlocked the door.
Poor little old lady! She led me into the sitting-room, where she slept in the winter. “I shall have to go back to bed, dear,” she said in her sweet way; “I have had a dreadful pain in my head ever since yesterday afternoon.”
“Then you did put the two candles at the window last night?” I asked eagerly.