“I ain’t lost anything,” he said, with a wink. “Insured. Insured plumb up to the muzzle, and then some more. Boys, I’m going home to show the ladies the way. You can have all the hay that’s left. I want the ashes for fertilizer. Ashes is good for the cut worms in the cabbage patch. Come on, ladies.”
Squire Olney nodded to them and started away. He halted sharply.
“Where’s that old Gipsy woman? She ain’t included in the invitation.”
“Why, she has gone,” exclaimed Hazel. “I didn’t see her go. Did you, Harriet?”
Harriet Burrell shook her head. She was puzzled at the mysterious disappearance of Sybarina, who had given her rescuer her blessing, then so strangely slipped away.
The walk over the hill did not add to the comfort of the Meadow-Brook Girls. They splashed through deep puddles of water in the little hollows, slipped and stumbled over bare clay spots, fell over stones and roots until they were not only soaked to the skin, but badly bruised as well. Margery wailed and groaned all the way. Tommy made fun of her until they came in sight of the lights in the farm house.
“That’s the old shack that has covered us for nigh onto fifty years,” he said, nodding toward the light in the window.
The light and the comfortable looking old farm house made the Meadow-Brook Girls almost forget their sodden condition. Mrs. Olney was standing on the front porch, gazing down across the field. She recognized the squire’s voice, but she was at a loss to understand who his companions were.
“Hello, Martha,” he sang out, as he crossed the road with his party.
“That you, Squire?”