“I think they would do the first two,” and I smiled, “but as to the latter, I’m not prepared to assert.”
“I reckon not. I only wish you’d seen it, Mr. Redfield.”
“I shall stay to-night in the hope of that pleasure, Mrs. Scott.”
“I’m right glad to hear you say so, sir. It’s not pleasant to be placed in the situation I am—to know what I know, and not to have my word taken.”
It was true; it could not be pleasant for her to have her earnest statements received with so much skepticism; I did not wonder that she felt hurt, almost offended; at the same time I felt as if I, in my turn, should be intensely aggravated if I found out there was nothing in all this flurry.
This second search resulted in nothing, like the first. It was nearly dark when we returned to the cottage, where Mrs. Scott allowed me to dandle her fat, good-natured baby, Johnny, while she prepared tea in a style befitting the important occasion of “company.”
“If you’re in earnest about sittin’ up to watch, I’ll make coffee, instid of tea, if it’s agreeable to you, Mr. Redfield. It’s better to keep one awake.”
I assented to this assertion, being of a similar opinion myself. She set her husband to grinding the delectable berry in a hand-mill, and soon an excellent supper, with cold ham and hot biscuits, was placed upon the table. The night promised to be clear and cold; the moon would not rise until about eleven; I fortified myself against the hardships of my adventure by two cups of strong coffee, with a substantial meal; passed an hour or two chatting with the couple and singing Johnny to sleep; then, about eight o’clock, I buttoned my overcoat close, tied my muffler about my neck, and went forth to begin picket-duty.
“I’ll leave the coffee-pot on the stove, and a good fire,” was the parting promise of the good woman, who seemed to think I had rather a solemn time before me.
“Thank you, Mrs. Scott; if I make no discoveries by one or two o’clock, I shall come in to warm myself, and give up the hope for this occasion. You know midnight is the witching-hour—it will be useless to stay much later.”