"I thought I should die! Oh, it was so awful! I thought I should certainly die here alone in this place. The wind would almost tear the roof off, and Punchy howled—he thought he was dying, too, maybe. But it was he kept me from it—quite. I never loved him so in all my life! Can—is there a way—you've got in, too, but is there a way out? I was hungry, I thought I would starve. Then I forgot that—listening. And the lightning—I was sure it had struck again and again. I waited to see the hay blaze up. Lightning always does strike barns, doesn't it?"
With a philosophy beyond his years Montgomery changed the subject.
"I shall have to boost you, i-i-if you c-c-can't climb without. P-p-put your feet right th-th-there—I'm b-bo-boo-boostin' my best! Catch hold the s-sill! Cracky! Up you g-g-go!"
Up she went, indeed, fear forgotten, every nerve strained, eager already to attain and excel in this new feat of climbing. Folks who lived in the country had to climb—or perish—it seemed. And once upon the sill she rolled over it to the broad floor of the barn and felt herself at last in safety.
But there still remained that other climb, to reach the broken window and through it freedom and friends outside. However, this was a trifle. Montgomery brought a short ladder, which he placed beneath the window that he had had the forethought to unbolt from the outside, and when the sash rolled back in its groove Katharine was already on the ledge, Susanna's strong arms clasping her and Aunt Eunice standing near.
Such an hour as followed! Such indigestibly delightful foods as Susanna brought from her storeroom—harbingers of holiday feasts to come—and of which the children were permitted to partake without any harm or restriction.
"Let the poor little creatur's get their stummicks full for once, sence nary one hain't had a mouthful of victuals, scurce that, to-day," cried Susanna, herself feasting her eyes upon the now joyous faces of the youngsters.
Then what a tap-tap-tapping sounded on the floor of the kitchen chamber! Aunt Eunice interpreting the same to mean:
"Poor Moses is feeling left out of all our rejoicing and feels aggrieved. He wants us all to come up and tell him the whole story, since he cannot himself come to us. But alas for Deacon Meakin! I don't envy him his forthcoming interview with my hired man to-morrow morning. It is Moses' right to still direct matters, even if he cannot work. Both men are what Mrs. Meakin calls 'sot,' and I foresee some jarring of wheels, so to speak, before they run smooth. But let us go up at once, and then Monty must be starting home."
The boy sighed. This was all delightful. Badly as he had behaved, he had received no reproof. Instead of that, there was such rejoicing over Katharine's safety that his sins had, apparently, been forgotten. Yet it must end—there still remained the long and desolate road home!