“Oh, let’s leave this house, Penny,” she burst out. “I’ve lost the letter and the key and so we’ve no right to be here at all. I didn’t mean to trespass. I wish we’d never have come at all. That letter has caused me so much grief.”
Rosanna looked as if she might cry at any moment. Caleb Eckert softened.
“Now, I wouldn’t want you to go out into this storm. As far as I’m concerned you may stay here for the night.”
“We don’t care to intrude,” Rosanna said stiffly.
“It isn’t safe to go down the mountain in this rain,” the man declared, adopting a more friendly tone. “Now don’t be offended by the way I acted. My bark is worse than my bite.”
“We can’t blame you for being suspicious,” Penny admitted. “It may be that someone played a joke on Rosanna in sending her the letter and key. We were afraid of that from the first.”
Caleb Eckert’s eyes roved to the crackling fire, then to the splattered windows.
“Tell you what,” he proposed gruffly. “You girls stay here for the night. In the morning we’ll see if we can’t straighten things out.”
“But if Mr. Winters is alive we have no right to use this house,” Rosanna protested weakly.
“You’re his niece, aren’t you?” Caleb demanded. “Jacob Winters wouldn’t turn anyone out in a storm, much less one of his own kin folks. Have you had supper?”