Emily protested. She was no wetter and no more tired than her cousin, she said. Why should she lie down while Aunt Thankful sat up?
“'Cause I tell you to, for one thing,” said the widow, with decision. “And because I'm well and strong and you ain't. When I think of how I got you, a half invalid, as you might say, to come on this crazy trip I'm so provoked I feel like not speakin' to myself for a week. There! now you LOOK more comf'table, anyhow. If I only had somethin' to put over you, I'd feel better. I wonder if there's an old bed quilt or anything upstairs. I've a good mind to go and see.”
Emily's protest was determined this time.
“Indeed you shan't!” she cried. “You shan't stir. I wouldn't have you go prowling about this poky old place for anything. Do you suppose I could stay down here alone knowing that you might be—might be meeting or—or finding almost anything up there. Sit right down in that chair beside me. Don't you think it is almost time for that driver to be back?”
“Land sakes—no! He's hardly started yet. It's goin' to take a good long spell afore he can wade a mile and a half in such a storm as this and get another horse and wagon and come back again. He'll come by and by. All we've got to do is to stay by this fire and be thankful we've got it.”
Emily shivered. “I suppose so,” she said. “And I know I am nervous and a trial instead of a help. If you had only been alone—”
“Alone! Heavens to Betey! Do you think I'd like this—this camp-meetin' any better if I was the only one to it. My! Just hear that wind! Hope these old chimneys are solid.”
“Auntie, what do you suppose that man meant by saying he wouldn't enter this house at night for anything?”
“Don't know. Perhaps he meant he'd be afraid of bein' arrested.”
“But you don't think we'll be arrested?”