“Auntie!” whispered Emily. “Auntie, wake up! Oh, DO wake up!”
Thankful was broad awake in a moment. She sat up in bed. The room was in black darkness, and she felt rather than saw Miss Howes standing beside her.
“What is it, Emily?” she cried. “What is the matter?”
“Hush, hush! Don't speak so loud. Get up! Get up and light the lamp.”
Thankful sprang out of bed and hunted for the matchbox. She found it after a time and the lamp was lighted. Emily, wearing a wrapper over her night clothes, was standing by the door, apparently listening. Her face was white and she was trembling.
“What IS it?” whispered Thankful.
“Hush! I don't know what it is. Listen!”
Thankful listened. All she heard were the noises of the storm.
“I don't hear anything,” she said.
“No—no, you can't hear it from here. Come out into the hall.”