"Wet and fiddlesticks!" retorted the old lady. "None of that nonsense! You've plenty to do to-night, let me tell you. I'm goin' across fields."
Jesse knew what this meant. Once in a while Miss Holsover took it into her head to pay a visit to a cousin of hers living at the next village—"across fields," as she called it. These nights were the child's especial horror. Unhappy as was the farm-house with Miss Holsover, it had an element of terror for the child when he was left alone—and then on such a night! Jesse stood still a moment looking at Miss Holsover with dilated eyes, anticipating all the horrors of the lonely evening; not all the work he knew there was left for him to do would keep him from being frightened at every gust of wind that blew around the old house, or moaned in the group of cedar-trees.
"Don't stand gapin' like that," exclaimed Miss Holsover. "Sit down and eat your tea, and then go out and do your chores."
Jesse obeyed. The supper—some weak milk and stale bread—was soon eaten, and then he followed Miss Holsover, who laid his work out, and gave him his instructions for the night. He was to perform the tasks she had set him, and not think of going to bed until she returned.
Jesse was too well accustomed to the hardships of his life to rebel against anything. He stood still, listening quietly, and even helped the old lady to go away in comfort.
Instead of going at once to work, he knelt down a moment before the fire, thinking about the questions Mr. North had asked him.
Jesse never knew how it came into his head that perhaps there might be some escape for him. I suppose that in the loneliness of his position that evening, and with the fear of being by himself in the desolate house, there came a certain sense that he could do as he pleased. Then, too, he knew absolutely nothing of the world, and it gradually seemed to him quite feasible that he should run away, and try to find his real aunt in Boston.
His plan, childish as it was, developed very quickly. Jesse had an idea that he could walk very far before morning, and that he might meet Mr. North somewhere on the way. He knew there was no time to lose, and so, running up to his little attic room, he began hastily putting together such things as seemed necessary for his long journey. The book with his aunt's name was carefully tied up in the bundle. Jesse thought that the name written there might perhaps help him in some way.
He had only a small bit of candle, and it so happened that this went out before he had quite finished his preparations. He was standing by the little dormer window, and almost at once he felt rather than saw the gleam of a lantern. It was moving, and seemed to come from the barn loft. In a moment there was a second flash, and this time it illumined a man's figure.
Jesse shrank back in fear and trembling. Who could it be? But though afraid of the lonely house, it frightened him still more to think of not finding out who was in the barn. He hesitated but a moment, and then sped down stairs, and creeping across the space between the house and barn, slowly unlatched the door. He was scarcely inside the barn before he caught the sound of voices. Two men were speaking, and Jesse's heart sank within him as he recognized one voice as that of Bill Holsover.