gruff manner: "Bring the lunch up to the field yourself to-day,
Patience. Tell your sister I hope she's come to her senses in the course
of the night. You've got to learn, both of you, that my 'say-so' must be
law in this house. You can fuss and you can fume, if it amuses you any,
but 't won't do no good. Don't encourage Waitstill in any whinin' nor
blubberin'. Jest tell her to come in and go to work and I'll overlook
what she done this time. And don't you give me any more of your
eye-snappin' and lip-poutin' and head-in-the-air imperdence! You're
under age, and if you don't look out, you'll get something that's good
for what ails you! You two girls jest aid an' abet one another that's
what you do, aid an' abet one another, an if you carry it any further
I'll find some way o' separatin' you, do you hear?"

Patty spoke never a word, nor fluttered an eyelash. She had a proper
spirit, but now her heart was cold with a new fear, and she felt, with
Waitstill, that her father must be obeyed and his temper kept within
bounds, until God provided them a way of escape.

She ran out to the barn chamber and, not finding Waitstill, looked
across the field and saw her coming through the path from the woods.
Patty waved her hand, and ran to meet her sister, joy at the mere fact
of her existence, of being able to see her again, and of hearing her
dear voice, almost choking her in its intensity. When they reached the
house she helped her upstairs as if she were a child, brought her cool
water to wash away the dust of the haymow, laid out some clean clothes
for her, and finally put her on the lounge in the darkened sitting-room.

"I won't let anybody come near the house," she said, "and you must have
a cup of tea and a good sleep before I tell you all that father said.
Just comfort yourself with the thought that he is going to 'overlook it'
this time! After I carry up his luncheon, I shall stop at the store and
ask Cephas to come out on the river bank for a few minutes. Then I shall
proceed to say what I think of him for telling father where you went
yesterday afternoon."

"Don't blame Cephas!" Waitstill remonstrated. "Can't you see just how
it happened? He and Uncle Bart were sitting in front of the shop when I
drove by. When father came home and found the house empty and the horse
not in the stall, of course he asked where I was, and Cephas probably
said he had seen me drive up Saco Hill. He had no reason to think that
there was any