“‘That’s about it,’ said Jim.
“I did not bring my pocket-book down stairs, there were two bills in it; I handed each a twenty-five-cent piece with the most reassuring and disarming air (one air was for myself, the other for them), and thanked them, hoping they would soon have work at their trade.
“They said ‘thank you’ and ‘good-night,’ and Elsie and I were left alone.
“‘Aren’t you hungry?’ asked Elsie, ‘It is late and dark.’
“‘So it is: we will have supper in the kitchen—and I will fill a lamp to burn all night.’
“That supper was not quite as much fun as I thought it would be; Elsie munched a sandwich and wished she were home; out the window the fire-flies were glistening in the tall grass; the gravestones loomed up very white and tall and stiff.
“‘We’ll go to bed early,’ I said cheerily, ‘and be up early in the morning to put everything in order. Aunt Bessie will be sure to be here early.’
“Elsie followed me up stairs still munching a sandwich. She, too, had learned what it was to be ‘brave.’
“The hatters had put up a bedstead and laid a mattress on it; the bed clothing lay in a pile on the bare floor.
“I made the bed while Elsie finished her sandwich.