"Yes; no one stayed at home. We had the dinner-table set before we started, which was early, on account of the distance. I think it was about half past eight o’clock in the morning (for we did not want to hurry), when uncle shut the cabin door, and saw that everything was right."
“Didn’t you lock it?” asked Melinda.
“The door.”
“No. Not a man, woman, or child thinks of locking doors, out in that wild country. Thieves don’t seem to be found there, and everybody trusts his neighbor. If a tramper comes along, he is welcome to go in and help himself to whatever he wants. It is not an unusual thing on reaching home, after an absence of an hour or so, to find a poor, tired traveller, asleep in his chair, before the fire. Besides,” said Miss Elinor, with a twinkle in her eyes, “there is another excellent reason why the farmers out there never think of locking their doors.”
“Oh, I know!” cried Melinda; “I know!”
“Well, why is it?”
“They have no locks!” And the two children began to laugh as if they had never heard anything so funny in all their lives.
“I like that,” said Nell; “I want to live in just such an honest country, and where they are good to poor travellers, too. That’s the splendid part. I feel as if I wanted to settle there, this very minute. Well, Miss Elinor, don’t forget about going to church.”