“What you doin'?” he asked. “There ain't no use ringin' that bell. Nobody'll hear it.”
Thankful, who had just given the bell a third pull, took her hand from the knob.
“Why not?” she demanded. “It makes noise enough. I should think a graven image would hear it. What is this, a home for deaf people?”
Winnie S. grinned. “'Tain't nobody's home, not now,” he said. “This house is empty. Ain't nobody lived in it for 'most a year.”
The two women looked at each other. Mrs. Barnes drew along breath.
“Well,” she observed, “if this ain't the last straw. Such a cruise as we've had; and finally be shipwrecked right in front of a house and find it's an empty one! Don't talk to ME! Well,” sharply, “what shall we do next?”
The driver shook his head.
“Dummed if I know!” he answered. “The old wagon can't go another yard. I—I cal'late you folks'll have to stay here for a spell.”
“Stay? Where'll we stay; out here in the middle of this howlin' wilderness?”
“I guess so. Unless you want to walk the rest of the way, same's I'm cal'latin' to. I'm goin' to unharness the horse and put him under the shed here and then hoof it over to the village and get somebody to come and help. You can come along if you want to, but it'll be a tougher v'yage than the one we've come through.”