ked frightened for a moment, then nodded, and turned to the
opposite window and pulled that shutter with much difficulty; it had
always caught and hitched and been provoking--a warped piece of red
oak, when even-grained white pine would have saved strength and
patience to three generations of the Knowles race. Then the sisters
crossed the kitchen and opened the bedroom door. Hannah shivered a
little as the colder air struck her, and her heart beat loudly.
Perhaps it was the same with Betsey.

The bedroom was clean and orderly for the funeral guests. Instead of
the blue homespun there was a beautifully quilted white coverlet which
had been part of their mother's wedding furnishing, and this made the
bedstead with its four low posts-look unfamiliar and awesome. The
lamplight shone through the kitchen door behind them, not very bright
at best, but Betsey reached under the bed, and with all the strength
she could muster pulled out the end of a great sea chest. The sisters
tugged together and pushed, and made the most of their strength before
they finally brought it through the narrow door into the kitchen. The
solemnity of the deed made them both whisper as they talked, and
Hannah did not dare to say what was in her timid heart--that she would
rather brave discovery by daylight than such a feeling of being
disapprovingly watched now, in the dead of night. There came a slight
sound outside the house which made her look anxiously at Betsey, but
Betsey remained tranquil.

"It's nothing but a stick falling down the woodpile," she answered in
a contemptuous whisper, and the younger woman was reassured.

Betsey reached deep into her pocket and found a great key which was
worn smooth and bright like silver, and never had been trusted
willingly into even her own careful hands. Hannah held the lamp, and
the two thin figures bent eagerly over the lid as it opened. Their
shadows were waving about the low walls, and looked like strange
shapes bowing and dancing behind them.

The chest was stoutly timbered, as if it were built in some ship-yard,
and there were heavy wrought-iron hinges and a large escutcheon for
the keyhole that the ship's blacksmith might have hammered out. On the
top somebody had scratched deeply the crossed lines for a game of fox
and geese, which had a trivial, irreverent look, and might have been
the unforgiven fault of some idle ship's boy. The sisters had hardly
dared look at the chest or to signify their kno