Reuby was behind him, fully arrayed in his own garment aforesaid, and carrying the bedroom candle.
“Here they are—with a needle in them,” said Dorothy. “What are you getting up in the middle of the night for?”
“Well, I guess it's time somebody's up. Who's that man driving off our cows?”
“Goosey! It's Walter Evesham's man. He came for mother and all of us, and he's taken old John and the cows to save us so much foddering.”
“Ain't we going too?”
“I don't see why we should, just because there happens to be a little water in the kitchen. I've often seen it come in there before.”
“Well, thee never saw anything like this before—nor anybody else, either,” said Shep.
“I don't care,” said Reuby, “I wish there'd come a reg'lar flood. We could climb up in the mill-loft and go sailin' down over Jordan's meadows. Wouldn't Luke Jordan open that big mouth of his to see us heave in sight about cock-crow, wing and wing, and the old tackle a-swingin'!”
“Do hush!” said Dorothy. “We may have to try it yet.”
“There's an awful roarin' from our window,” said Shep. “Thee can't half hear it down here. Come out on the stoop. The old ponds have got their dander up this time.”