"I am glad thee came so early," she said to him. "I have somewhat to say to thee. Come in, hither."
Very dignified was she, at any time, and he was accustomed to obey her without asking needless questions. He followed her, therefore, as she led on into the parlor, opposite the dining room, the main thought in his mind being:—
"I wish she'd hurry up with it. I want to get back to the Noank, as soon as I've seen mother."
"What is it?" he began, after the door of the parlor closed behind them, but she cut him short.
"I will not quite tell thee," she said. "Some things thee does not need to know. Thy old friend, Maud Wolcott, will be here presently. One cometh with her to whom I forbid thee to speak. After they arrive, thou art to do as I shall then direct thee."
"All right," said Guert. "I don't care who it is. I'll be glad to see Maud, though. She's about the best girl I know. Pretty, too."
Hardly were the words out of his mouth before there came a jingle of sleighbells in the road, and it ceased before the house.
"Remain thee here," said Rachel, as she arose and hurried out.
Guert obeyed, but he went to a window and he saw a trim-looking, two-seated sleigh. A man he did not know was hitching the horse to the post near the gate. The sleigh had brought a full load of passengers, all women.
"That's Maud Wolcott," exclaimed Guert. "The girl that's with her is taller than she is, and she's all muffled up. I can't see her face. How Maud did jump out o' that cutter! The two others are old women. Rachel knows 'em."