This was not what the Fairy said, but what Eunice said; for at that moment the little candle went out.
"Well, I am glad you got as far as you did," whispered Cynthia, "for I guess the turned-up-nose girl could mend the wing. Now, Reuby, if you'll go into your room I'll not be two minutes. And then you can light my candle."
In less than two minutes all was ready. This time there were two little girls in bed, and Reuben sat alone at the foot, ready to listen.
"My story," began Cynthia, "is about that girl in the window-pane in the ell. Her name was Mercy Marsh, and she lived in this house."
"Is it true?" asked Eunice.
"No, it's made up, but I'm going to make believe that it's true. She slept in the corn chamber,—it was a bedroom then,—and she had that yellow painted bedstead of Hepzibah's.
"There was a hiding-place under the floor of the room. It was made to put things in when Indians came, or the English,—money and spoons, and things like that.
"One day when Mercy was spinning under the big elm, a man came running down the road. He was a young man, and very handsome, and he had on a sort of uniform.
"'Hide me!' he cried. 'They will kill me if they catch me. Hide me, quick!'
"'Who will kill you?' asked Mercy.