"Sit down, Viola. I'll light the fire. It's quite chilly and you are shaking like a—"
"I want to know where she has gone," she insisted.
Then he told her briefly as much as he thought she ought to know. She was vastly relieved. She even smiled.
"There's no use of your trying to catch up with her. Thank you for lighting the fire, Kenny. If you don't mind, I will sit here awhile, and I may go to sleep in this comfortable chair of yours. Goodness, I must look awful. My hair—"
"Don't touch it! It is beautiful as it is. I wish girls would always wear their hair in braids like that."
She yawned, stretched her legs out to the fire, and then suddenly realizing that her ankles were bare, drew them back again to the shelter of her petticoat with a quick, shy glance to see if he had observed.
"I wish I could cut it off,—like a boy's. It is miles too long. You might as well head Zachariah off. She has been gone since one o'clock. I am sure I heard the front door close before I dropped off to sleep. Don't fidget, Kenny. They've probably got old Martin in the calaboose by this time. Mother never fails when she sets out to do a thing. That good-for-nothing sleepy-head, Hattie, never heard a sound last night. What a conscience she must have!"
He frowned at his big silver watch. "It's after five. See here, Viola, suppose you just curl up on the sofa there and get some sleep. You look tired. I'll put a quilt over you and—"
She half-started up from the chair, flushing in embarrassment.
"Oh, I ought not to stay here, Kenny. Suppose somebody were to come along and catch me here in your—"