“Willie is a Winter product and Judson Centre isn’t a pleasant place in the cold months, but the twins were born here, five years ago this Summer. They came in the night, but didn’t make any more trouble then than they have every day since.”
“What would you do?” asked Harlan, after a thoughtful silence, “if you were in my place?”
“I’d be tickled to death because a kind Providence had married me to Dorothy instead of to Mrs. Holmes. Poor old Holmes is in his well-earned grave.”
With great dignity, Harlan walked into the house, but Dick, occupied with his own thoughts, did not guess that his host was offended.
After the first excitement was over, comparative peace settled down upon the Jack-o’-Lantern. Mrs. Holmes decided the question of where she should eat, by setting four more places at the table when Mrs. Smithers’s back was turned. Dorothy did not appear at luncheon, and Mrs. Smithers performed her duties with such pronounced ungraciousness that Elaine felt as though something was about to explode.
A long sleep, born of nervous exhaustion, came at last to Dorothy’s relief. When she awoke, it was night and the darkness dazed her at first. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, wondering whether she had been dead, or merely ill.
There was not a sound in the Jack-o’-Lantern, and the events of the day seemed like some hideous nightmare which waking had put to rout. She bathed her face in cool water, then went to look out of the window.
A lantern moved back and forth under the trees in the orchard, and a tall, dark figure, armed with a spade, accompanied it. “It’s Harlan,” thought Dorothy. “I’ll go down and see what he’s burying.”
But it was only Mrs. Smithers, who appeared much startled when she saw her mistress at her side.
“What are you doing?” demanded Dorothy, seeing that Mrs. Smithers had dug a hole at least a foot and a half each way.