CHAPTER XII—THE UNWELCOME GUEST
Abner and Esther stood for a bewildered minute, staring at the rough unpainted boards through which this astonishing inquiry had come. I scrambled to my feet and kicked aside the tick and blankets. Whatever else happened, it did not seem likely that there was any more sleeping to be done. Then the farmer strode forward and dragged one of the doors back on its squeaking rollers. Some snow fell in upon his boots from the ridge that had formed against it over night. Save for a vaguely faint snow-light in the air, it was still dark.
“Yes, she’s here,” said Abner, with his hand on the open door.
“Then I’d like to know—” the invisible Jee began excitedly shouting from without.
“Sh-h! You’ll wake everybody up!” the farmer interposed. “Come inside, so that I can shut the door.”
“Never under your roof!” came back the shrill hostile voice. “I swore I never would, and I won’t!”
“You’d have to take a crowbar to get under my roof,” returned Abner, grimly conscious of a certain humor in the thought. “What’s left of it is layin’ over yonder in what used to be the cellar. So you needn’t stand on ceremony on that account. I ain’t got no house now, so’t your oath ain’t bindin’. Besides, the Bible says, ‘Swear not at all!’”
A momentary silence ensued; then Abner rattled the door on its wheels. “Well, what are you goin’ to do?” he asked, impatiently. “I can’t keep this door open all night, freezin’ everybody to death. If you won’t come in, you’ll have to stay out!” and again there was an ominous creaking of the rollers.