enly
disappeared. As Martha Downs took a last look out of doors through her
bedroom window she could see no other light; the neighbors had all
gone to bed. It was a little past nine, and the night was damp and
still.

II.

The Captain Knowles place was eastward from the Downs's, and a short
turn in the road and the piece of hard-wood growth hid one house from
the other. At this unwontedly late hour the elderly sisters were still
sitting in their warm kitchen; there were bright coals under the
singing tea-kettle which hung from the crane by three or four long
pothooks. Betsey Knowles objected when her sister offered to put on
more wood.

"Father never liked to leave no great of a fire, even though he slept
right here in the bedroom. He said this floor was one that would light
an' catch easy, you r'member."

"Another winter we can move down and take the bedroom ourselves--'t
will be warmer for us," suggested Hannah; but Betsey shook her head
doubtfully. The thought of their old father's grave, unwatched and
undefended in the outermost dark field, filled their hearts with a
strange tenderness. They had been his dutiful, patient slaves, and it
seemed like disloyalty to have abandoned the poor shape; to be sitting
there disregarding the thousand requirements and services of the past.
More than all, they were facing a free future; they were their own
mistresses at last, though past sixty years of age. Hannah was still a
child at heart. She chased away a dread suspicion, when Betsey forbade
the wood, lest this elder sister, who favored their father' s looks,
might take his place as stern ruler of the household.

"Betsey," said the younger sister suddenly, "we'll have us a cook
stove, won't we, next winter? I expect we're going to have something
to do with?"

Betsey did not answer; it was impossible to say whether she truly felt
grief or only assumed it. She had been sober and silent for the most
part since she routed neighbor Downs, though she answered her sister's
prattling questions with patience and sympathy. Now, she rose from her
chair and went to one of the windows, and, pushing back the sash
curtain, pulled the wooden shutter across and hasped it.

"I ain't going to bed just yet," she explained. "I've been a-waiting
to make sure nobody was coming in. I don't know's there'll be any
better time to look in the chest and see what we've got to depend on.
We never'll get no chance to do it by day."

Hannah loo