“Hannah,” he cried, excitedly, “do you understand what that means—that clock strikin'? It means that, bein' as we're only five miles from home, we can GET home, if we want to, afore anybody's out of bed. You can sneak up that ladder again; I can get that horse and team back in Thankful's stable; we can both be in our own beds by gettin'-up time and not one soul need ever know a word about this foolishness. If we—”
But Miss Parker had not waited for him to finish; she was already on her way to the carryall.
At a quarter after seven that morning Thankful knocked at the door of her boarder's room.
“Mr. Hammond!” she called. “Mr. Hammond!”
Caleb awoke with a start.
“Eh?” he said.
“Are you up? It's most breakfast time.”
Caleb, now more thoroughly awake, looked about his room. It was real; he was actually in it—and safe—and still single.
“Yes—yes; all right,” he said. “I'll get right up. Must have overslept myself, I guess. What—what made you call me? Nothin'—er—nothin's happened, has it?”
“No, nothin's happened. But you're usually up by seven and, as I hadn't heard a sound from you, I was afraid you might be sick.”