"'Twas Jerry-Jo, as you live, who jumped aboard, taking the last can I was hauling up with him. So in a hurry was he that he nigh pushed some one down who was in front of him.
"'Where going?' calls I. 'To the States,' he says back, and picks up the young person he nigh knocked down."
Long Jean, to whom Tom was confiding this, drew near.
"Who was the young person?" whispered she, with the fear of Mary McAdam still upon her.
"Her face? I did not see her face."
"'Twas Glenn's girl," panted Long Jean; "Priscilla!"
"Ugh!" grunted Tom as his ancestors had often grunted in the past. "Ugh!"
That was all for the day, and behind closed doors and windows Kenmore slept. The storm of the previous night had been followed by a cold wave, and upon Farwell's hearth a fire crackled cheerily.
"And so, you see, I cannot go back to my father's house."