“Hush!” replied the other. “Injuns!”
Both the great-great-aunts were awake; they all listened, scarcely breathing. The yells came again, but fainter; then again, and fainter still. Letitia's great-great-grandmother settled back in bed again.
“Go to sleep now,” said she. “They've gone away.”
But Letitia was weeping with fright. “I can't go to sleep,” she sobbed. “I'm afraid they'll come again.”
“Very likely they will,” replied the other Letitia coolly. “They come 'most every night.”
The little great-great-aunt Phyllis laughed again. “She can't go to sleep because she heard Injuns,” she tittered.
“Hush,” said her sister Letitia, “she'll get accustomed to them in time.”
But poor Letitia slept no more till four o'clock. Then she had just fallen into a sweet doze when she was pulled out of bed.
“Come, come,” said her great-great-great-grandmother, Goodwife Hopkins, “we can have no lazy damsels here.”
Letitia found that her bedfellows were up and dressed and downstairs. She heard a queer buzzing sound from below, as she stood in her bare feet on the icy floor and gazed about her, dizzy with sleep.