“Good night, Captain! You’ve made my sleep hearty to-night,” cried Small.
“Good night, Captain. God bless you!” cried Hulda. And so they parted.
The Captain laughed to himself, as he marched into the road; but there he met his son Harry. He pulled his hat over his eyes, and without recognition passed him by as he would a stranger.
“The Lord sent him, Mark, to-night, you believe that?” said Hulda, as the Captain disappeared.
“The Lord put a noble heart in his breast, and it turned him toward the old mill. It’s the same thing, Hulda; but you and I look at it in a different light. Now I’ll beau you home. You don’t get a beau every night, Hulda.”
“I never wanted but one, and he never happened along until to-night.”
They laughed merrily and started off, arm in arm, only a few steps, and they came plump upon Harry Thompson.
“Hullo! Small, is that you? I came up to offer a little friendly consolation, but you seem in good spirits. What, Aunt Hulda, you here! What’s the meaning of this?” and Harry for once, looked very sober.
“The fire is all out, Harry,” said Small, confused.
“Is it?” said Harry, “There’s no danger of its rekindling.” He looked hard at Aunt Hulda. He could not understand the situation. Until now, he supposed the two were strangers. Their confused manner was a puzzle, too.