Emily went around to the kitchen door, feeling that she was going straight to her doom. But for once the way of the transgressor was made sinfully easy. Aunt Laura was alone in the kitchen.
“Emily dear, where on earth did you come from?” she exclaimed. “I was just going up to let you out. Elizabeth said I might—she’s gone to prayer-meeting.”
Aunt Laura did not say that she had tiptoed several times to the spare-room door and had been racked with anxiety over the silence behind it. Was the child unconscious from fright? Not even while the thunderstorm was going on would relentless Elizabeth allow that door to be opened. And here was Miss Emily walking unconcernedly in out of the twilight after all this agony. For a moment even Aunt Laura was annoyed. But when she heard Emily’s tale her only feeling was thankfulness that Juliet’s child had not broken her neck on that rotten ladder.
Emily felt that she had got off better than she deserved. She knew Aunt Laura would keep the secret; and Aunt Laura let her give Saucy Sal a whole cupful of strippings, and gave her a big plummy cooky and put her to bed with kisses.
“You oughtn’t to be so good to me because I was bad to-day,” Emily said, between delicious mouthfuls. “I suppose I disgraced the Murrays going barefoot.”
“If I were you I’d hide my boots every time I went out of the gate,” said Aunt Laura. “But I wouldn’t forget to put them on before I came back. What Elizabeth doesn’t know will never hurt her.”
Emily reflected over this until she had finished her cooky. Then she said,
“That would be nice, but I don’t mean to do it any more. I guess I must obey Aunt Elizabeth because she’s the head of the family.”
“Where do you get such notions?” said Aunt Laura.
“Out of my head. Aunt Laura, Ilse Burnley and I are going to be chums. I like her—I’ve always felt I’d like her if I had a chance. I don’t believe I can ever love any girl again, but I like her.”