ll get lots and lots of money," she said. "You promised me you'd
wait," she added wistfully, "you crossed your heart. Won't you please
wait till--till--five days--may-be? Won't you, please? Maybe that will
be a good turn, maybe?"

He did not refuse. Instead he helped himself to some gumdrops out of
a glass jar, and appeared to be content. But Pepsy knew better than to
trust the fickle heart of man and that night she played the poor little
card that she had been holding.

After Uncle Eb and Aunt Jamsiah had gone to bed and while the curly head
of Scout Harris was reposing in sweet oblivion upon his pillow, Pepsy
crept cautiously down the squeaky, boxed-in stairs and paused, in
suspense, in the kitchen. The ticking of the big clock there seemed very
loud, almost accusing, and Pepsy's heart seemed to keep time with it
as it thumped in her little breast. How different the familiar kitchen
seemed, deserted and in darkness! The two stove lids were laid a little
off their places to check the banked fire, leaving two bright crescent
lines like a pair of eyes staring up at her. This light, reflected in
one of the milk pails standing inverted on a high shelf, made a sort of
ghostly mirror in which Pepsy saw herself better than in that crinkly,
outlandish mirror in her little room.

For a moment she was afraid to move lest she make a noise, and so she
paused, almost terrified, looking at her own homely little face, on the
most fateful night of her life. Then she tiptoed out through the pantry
where the familiar smell of fresh butter reassured her. It seemed
companionable, in the strange darkness and awful stillness, this smell
of fresh butter. She crept across the side porch where the churn stood
like a ghost, a dish-towel on its tall handle and crossed the weedy
lawn, where the beehives seemed to be watching her, and headed for the
dark, open road. But here her courage failed. Some thought of doing
her errand in the morning occurred to her, but, she could not go then
without saying where and why she was going. And in case of failure no
one must ever know about this. ...

So she screwed up her courage and returned to the side porch to get a
lantern. She shook it and found it empty. There was nothing to do now
but brave the darkness or go down into the cellar and fill the lantern
from the big kerosene can. She paused in the darkness before those
sepulchral stone steps, then in a sudden impulse of determination she
tightened her