“Frightened!” she repeated, stoutly. “What on earth should I be frightened of, I'd like to know?”
“Why, nothing, I hope.”
“I should say not. I—Good heavens above! What's that?”
She started and clutched her companion by the arm. They both listened.
“I don't hear anything but the storm,” said Emily. “Why, Auntie, you ARE frightened; you're trembling. I do believe there is something.”
Thankful snatched her hand away.
“There isn't,” she declared. “Of course there isn't.”
“Then why are you so nervous?”
“Me? Nervous! Emily Howes, don't you ever say that to me again. I ain't nervous and I ain't goin' to be nervous. There's no—no sane reason why I should be and I shan't. I shan't!”
“But, Auntie, you are. Oh, what is it?”