wait.

And while she waited, suddenly and alarmingly, the storm burst! The
darkness of the room and the wooded space outside had deceived her: there
was no escape now!

She was concerned for the people she had come to see. Jerry-Jo, she knew,
would crawl under his boat and be as dry as a tortoise in its shell. But
those others!

With this thought she set about, mechanically, making the room
comfortable. She piled on fresh wood and noticed that it was so wet that
it sputtered dangerously. Presently the wind changed sharply, and a blast
of almost icy coldness carried the driving rain halfway across the floor.

It was something of a struggle to close the heavy door, for it opened
outward, and Priscilla was drenched by the time it was made secure.
Breathing hard, she made her way to the fire and knelt before it. The
glow drew her attention from the darkness of the space back and around
her.

It was unfortunate and depressing, and she had no choice but to make
herself as comfortable as she might, though a sense of painful uneasiness
grew momentarily. At first she imagined it was fear of what she must
encounter upon her return home; then she felt sure it was her dread of
meeting the people for whom she had risked so much. Finally Jerry-Jo
loomed in the foreground of her thought and an entirely new terror was
born in her soul.

"Jerry-Jo!" she laughed aloud as his name passed her lips. "Jerry-Jo, to
be sure. My! how thankful I'd be to see him this instant!"

And with the assertion she turned shudderingly toward the door. The gloom
behind her only emphasized her nervousness.

"I'll--I'll have to go!" she whispered suddenly, while the wind and the
slashing of sleety rain defied her. "It will be better out of doors, bad
as it is!"

The grim loneliness of four walls, compared with the dangers of the open,
was worse. But when Priscilla, trembling and panting, reached the door
and pushed, she found that the storm was pitting its strength against
hers and she could not budge it.

"Oh, well," she half sobbed; "if I must, I must." And she stealthily
tiptoed back to the warmth and light as if fearing to arouse something,
she knew not what, in the dim place.

There was no way of estimating time. The minutes were like hours and the
hours were like minutes while Priscilla sat alone. As a matter of fact,
it was after seven when steps, unmistakable steps, sounded on the porch
and carried both apprehension and relief to the stor