Many hours later the shrill barking of Snip awakened Seth, and he sat bolt upright on the hay, rubbing his sleepy eyes as if trying to prove that those useful members had deceived him in some way.
The rays of the morning sun were streaming in through the open door in a golden flood, and with the radiance came sweet odors borne by the gentle breeze.
Seth gave no heed just at that moment to the wondrous beauties of nature to be seen on every hand, when even the rough barn was gilded and perfumed, for standing in the doorway, as if literally petrified with astonishment, was a motherly looking little woman whose upraised hands told of bewilderment and surprise, while from the expression on her face one could almost have believed that she was really afraid of the tiny Snip.
“Is that animal dangerous, little boy?” she asked nervously after a brief but, to Seth, painful pause.
“Who—what animal? Oh, you mean Snip? Why, he couldn’t harm anybody if he tried, an’, besides, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He always barks when strange folks come near where I am, so’s to make me think he’s a watch-dog. Do you own this barn?”
“Yes—that is to say, it has always belonged to the Morses, an’ there are none left now except Gladys an’ me.”
“I hope you won’t be mad ’cause I came in here last night. I counted on gettin’ away before you waked up; but the bed was so soft that it ain’t any wonder I kept right on sleepin’.”
“Have you been here all night?” the little woman asked in surprise, advancing a pace now that Snip had decided there was no longer any necessity for him to continue the shrill outcries.
“I didn’t have any place to sleep; there wasn’t a light to be seen in your house. Well, to tell the truth, I was afraid I’d be driven away, same’s I had been at the other places, so sneaked in——”
“Aunt Hannah! Aunt Hannah!”