“I was out for a little while,” said Jerusha, turning scarlet, “and Hilda got frightened. She thought she saw two black fingers come from under the lounge.”
“When people are scared they see lots of things. I have, myself. You won’t see them now that Miss Jerusha is here. Good-night to you both,” and Perry went on to “Fair Meadow” and they were again by themselves.
“Now you see what your wicked story-telling has done,” exclaimed Miss Flint when Perry was out of hearing. “You see he did not believe you. Two black fingers, indeed!”
“I did see them!” screamed Hilda, flushed with excitement and passion.
“Now look here,” cried Miss Flint, pale with anger and her eyes glowing as she grasped the child’s arm, “if you say that again I will give you such a whipping as will last you a lifetime. I have a mind to do it as it is.”
Hilda cowered in her chair. She was a match for her tormentor in spirit but not in strength; she was vanquished and sat trembling with vague terror.
No more words were spoken until supper was upon the table, then Hilda was bidden to come, or not, if that suited her better, and she accepted and took her usual place, though too disturbed to do justice to the simple but well served meal.
As soon as it was finished Miss Flint put the room in order for the night, while Hilda returned to her chair and watched her quick, impatient movements.
“Come, you must go to bed now,” was the command. “I must sit down to my sewing and want you out of my way.”
“Please let the door be open; I am afraid in the dark,” pleaded the child.