Old Peter Judson came out of the barn and, upon seeing Tom, asked if he had given the warning to everybody. He had, he said, "and what's more, everybody'd be thar."
Nora took up her milk pails and hurried into the house, where she found her mother busily engaged in getting supper on the table. After straining the milk and putting it away in its accustomed place, she assisted her mother in the work.
Silence prevailed within her soul. Not a word escaped her lips as she busied herself over the meal. Somehow she felt a strange foreboding. Her heart was full of thought for the safety of the newcomer, in whom she felt a peculiar interest.
He, not at all like other men she had known, had spoken kind words to her, and they touched a tender spot in her heart. He had assisted her to find the old brindle cow and had helped to drive her home. What was it that attracted this wild flower of the mountain to this man? And what was it that caused the unhappy throb when Tom remarked concerning him? These remarks were anything but reassuring. She worked on amid her soliloquy.
Mrs. Judson could not refrain from remarking the contrast between this thoughtful girl and her own Nora.
"Ye air mighty quiet, Nora," she said, her face drawn up gingerly. "What's ther matter of ye, that yer tongue hain't a-waggin' as usual?"
Nora stood for one moment thoughtfully pondering, while she deftly dried, for the third time, the saucer which she held in her hand, then throwing the dish towel over her shoulder, she faced her mother.
"Cain't a feller be quiet 'thout somebody a-thinkin' somethin's wrong?"
She was smiling deeply, the dimples in her cheeks showing beautifully.
"Not 'round this hyar kintry," replied Mrs. Judson. "Ye know yerself that when everythings quiet like 'round this hill somethin's 'bout ter happen. Now what does ail ye? What is ther matter with yer?"