"Sh-h-h! There he comes!" she whispered.
In fact, I had already caught a glimpse through the chimney-back of a man in his shirt-sleeves, who hung up a tattered straw hat, and took down from its nail a tin washbasin with a long handle, like a skillet.
"Sally!" he called out, splashing a dipperful of water into the basin.
"Whot?" returned Sally, with a facetious nod at me.
"Who's been here this afternoon? I see wagon-tracks down in the road."
"Boarders!" says Sally, with another nod and wink.
"Boarders? What for?" came in a tone of amazement; and through a chink in the rock chimney I could see his wet face turned, listening for her answer, and his dripping hands suspended.
"To get boarded," replied Sally succinctly.
Such an astounding announcement required immediate explanation, and Mr. Smith was coming in a dripping state to demand one, when his wife jumped up to intercept him.
"Guess who's come!" she said, stopping him in the entry.