Ethelyn's Mistake

At last the clock struck eleven, and then Richard roused from his

lethargy and said: "The next train for Olney passes at twelve. I am

going there, Harry--going after Ethie. You'll see her coming back

to-morrow."

Richard hardly knew why he was going back to Olney, unless it were from

a wish to be near his own kith and kin in this hour of sorrow. He knew

that Ethie had gone, and the Mrs. Amsden ruse was thrown out for the

benefit of Harry, who, frightened at the expression of Richard's face,

did not dare to leave him alone until he saw him safely on board the

train, which an hour later dropped him upon the slippery platform in

Olney, and then went speeding on in the same direction Ethie once

had gone.

* * * * *

Mrs. Markham's candles were finished, and in straight even rows were

laid away in the candle-box, the good woman finding to her great

satisfaction that there were just ten dozen besides the slim little

thing she had burned during the evening, and which, with a long, crisp

snuff, like the steeple of a church, was now standing on the chair by

her bed. The hash was chopped ready for breakfast, the coffee was

prepared, and the kindlings were lying near the stove, where, too, were

hanging to dry Andy's stockings, which he had that day wet through. They

had sat up later than usual at the farmhouse that night, for Melinda and

her mother had been over there, and the boys had made molasses candy,

and "stuck up" every dish and spoon, as Mrs. Markham said. Tim had come

after his mother and sister, and as he had a good deal to say, the clock

struck eleven before the guests departed, and Andy buttoned the door of

the woodshed and put the nail over the window by the sink. Mrs. Markham

had no suspicion of the trial in store for her, but for some cause she

felt restless and nervous, and even scary, as she expressed it herself.

"Worked too hard, I guess," she thought, as she tied on her

high-crowned, broad-frilled nightcap, and then as a last chore, wound

the clock before stepping into bed.

It was nearly midnight, and for some little time she lay awake listening

to the wind as it swept past the house, or screamed through the key-hole

of the door. But she did not hear the night train when it thundered

through the town; nor the gate as it swung back upon its hinges; nor the

swift step coming up the walk; nor the tap upon her window until it was

repeated, and Richard's voice called faintly, "Mother, mother, let

me in!"