"I noticed that woodbox in the kitchen when I fust come in," she said."And 'twa'n't quite empty neither, though that's more or less of a miracle.Matches? Oh, yes, indeed! I never travel without 'em.I've been so used to lookin' out for myself and other folks that I'm a reg'lar man in some ways.There! now let's see if the draft is rusted up as much as the stove."It was not, apparently, for, with the dampers wide open, the fire crackled and snapped.Also it smoked a little.
"'Twill get over that pretty soon," prophesied Mrs.Barnes."I can stand 'most any amount of smoke so long's there's heat with it.
Now, Emily, we'll haul that sofa up alongside and you lay down on it and get rested and warm.I'd say get dry, too, but 'twould take a reg'lar blast furnace to dry a couple of water rats like you and me this night.Perhaps we can dry the upper layer, though; that'll be some help.Now, mind me! Lay right down on that sofa."Emily protested.She was no wetter and no more tired than her cousin, she said.Why should she lie down while Aunt Thankful sat up?
"'Cause I tell you to, for one thing," said the widow, with decision."And because I'm well and strong and you ain't.When Ithink of how I got you, a half invalid, as you might say, to come on this crazy trip I'm so provoked I feel like not speakin' to myself for a week.There! now you LOOK more comf'table, anyhow.
If I only had somethin' to put over you, I'd feel better.I wonder if there's an old bed quilt or anything upstairs.I've a good mind to go and see."Emily's protest was determined this time.
"Indeed you shan't!" she cried."You shan't stir.I wouldn't have you go prowling about this poky old place for anything.Do you suppose I could stay down here alone knowing that you might be--might be meeting or--or finding almost anything up there.Sit right down in that chair beside me.Don't you think it is almost time for that driver to be back?""Land sakes--no! He's hardly started yet.It's goin' to take a good long spell afore he can wade a mile and a half in such a storm as this and get another horse and wagon and come back again.He'll come by and by.All we've got to do is to stay by this fire and be thankful we've got it."Emily shivered."I suppose so," she said."And I know I am nervous and a trial instead of a help.If you had only been alone--""Alone! Heavens to Betey! Do you think I'd like this--this camp-meetin' any better if I was the only one to it.My! Just hear that wind! Hope these old chimneys are solid.""Auntie, what do you suppose that man meant by saying he wouldn't enter this house at night for anything?""Don't know.Perhaps he meant he'd be afraid of bein' arrested.""But you don't think we'll be arrested?"
"No, no, of course not.I'd be almost willin' to be arrested if they'd do it quick.A nice, dry lock-up and somethin' to eat wouldn't be so bad, would it? But no constable but a web-footed one would be out this night.Now do as I say--you lay still and give your nerves a rest."For a few moments the order was obeyed.Then Miss Rowes said, with another shiver: "I do believe this is the worst storm I have ever experienced.""'Tis pretty bad, that's a fact.Do you know, Emily, if I was a believer in signs such as mentioned a little while ago, I might almost be tempted to believe this storm was one of 'em.About every big change in my life has had a storm mixed up with it, comin' at the time it happened or just afore or just after.I was born, so my mother used to tell me, on a stormy night about like this one.And it poured great guns the day I was married.And Eben, my husband, went down with his vessel in a hurricane off Hatteras.And when poor Jedediah run off to go gold-diggin' there was such a snowstorm the next day that I expected to see him plowin' his way home again.Poor old Jed! I wonder where he is tonight? Let's see; six years ago, that was.I wonder if he's been frozen to death or eat up by polar bears, or what.One thing's sartin, he ain't made his fortune or he'd have come home to tell me of it.Last words he said to me was, 'I'm a-goin', no matter what you say.And when I come back, loaded down with money, you'll be glad to see me.'"Jedediah Cahoon was Mrs.Barnes' only near relative, a brother.
Always a visionary, easy-going, impractical little man, he had never been willing to stick at steady employment, but was always chasing rainbows and depending upon his sister for a home and means of existence.When the Klondike gold fever struck the country he was one of the first to succumb to the disease.And, after an argument--violent on his part and determined on Thankful's--he had left South Middleboro and gone--somewhere.From that somewhere he had never returned.
"Yes," mused Mrs.Barnes, "those were the last words he said to me.""What did you say to him?" asked Emily, drowsily.She had heard the story often enough, but she asked the question as an aid to keeping awake.
"Hey? What did I say? Oh, I said my part, I guess.'When you come back,' says I, 'it'll be when I send money to you to pay your fare home, and I shan't do it.I've sewed and washed and cooked for you ever since Eben died, to say nothin' of goin' out nursin'
and housekeepin' to earn money to buy somethin' TO cook.Now I'm through.This is my house--or, at any rate, I pay the rent for it.
If you leave it to go gold-diggin' you needn't come back to it.If you do you won't be let in.' Of course I never thought he'd go, but he did.Ah hum! I'm afraid I didn't do right.I ought to have realized that he wa'n't really accountable, poor, weak-headed critter!"Emily's eyes were fast shutting, but she made one more remark.
"Your life has been a hard one, hasn't it, Auntie," she said.
Thankful protested."Oh, no, no!" she declared."No harder'n anybody else's, I guess likely.This world has more hards than softs for the average mortal and I never flattered myself on bein'
