Silence.
For a second, she doubted her own instinct, and was on the point of passing sheepishly on, ashamed of her childishness, when a sinister rustle in the shadow brought her, as it were, up standing again, instantly alert, on the defensive.
"Who's there?" rang out for the third time. "If you don't speak or show this minute, I'll come an' fetch you."
The rustle increased. A blotch of shadow detached itself from its vague background, and a huddled shape inched forward, like a magnified beetle.
Martha held her lantern up as she took a step forward to meet the thing.
"MA!" she exploded. Then—— "Well, what do you think o' that!"
"O—oh, Martha!"
The next minute the magnified beetle was passionately clinging to "me son Sammy's wife," as if there were no other anchorage in all the world.
"But for the love o' Mike, Ma, how come you here? You're shakin' like an ash-pan. You're all done up. Never mind tellin' me now. When we're home is time enough."
Fairly carrying the poor, limp creature, heartening her, soothing her, Martha got her, at last, to the Lodge, set her in Sam's chair, with the comforting pilla to rest the holla in her back, brought her the reinforcing cuppertee which, in hot weather or cold, was Ma's greatest solace and, to crown all, sat down and listened, while she told of the dangers she had passed.