"It can't be Sally—how can it, when she can't get out o' her room wi'out passin' through ours?"
"Run down, Elizabeth, and see."
"It's your place to go, Jabez."
"But if it was a woman—and me in my night-shirt?"
"And, Jabez, if it was a man, a robber—and me in my night-shirt? It 'ud be shameful."
"I reckon us had best go down together."
"We'll do so—but I hope it's not——"
"What?"
Mrs. Hockin did not answer. She and her husband crept from bed, and, treading on tiptoe across the room, descended the stair.
There was no door at the bottom, but the staircase was boarded up at the side; it opened into the kitchen.