CHAPTER XXIV

Miranda's time had come. She had seen it coming and was prepared.

With a movement like a flash she pushed open the closet door, seized the
pot of ink from the table, and before the two excited occupants of the
room had time to even hear her or realize that she was near, she hurled
the ink pot full into the insolent face of Harry Temple. The inkstand
itself was a light affair of horn and inflicted only a slight wound, but
the ink came into his eyes in a deluge blinding him completely, as Miranda
had meant it should do. She had seen no other weapon of defense at hand.

Harry Temple dropped Marcia's wrists and groaned in pain, staggering back
against the wall and sinking to the floor. But Miranda would not stay to
see the effect of her punishment. She seized the frightened Marcia,
dragged her toward the cupboard door, sweeping as she passed the pile of
letters, finished and unfinished, into her apron, and closed the cupboard
doors carefully behind her. Then she guided Marcia through the dark mazes
of the store room to the hall, and pushing her toward the front door,
whispered: "Go quick 'fore he gets his eyes open. I've got to go this way.
Run down the road fast as you can an' I'll be at the meetin' place first.
Hurry, quick!"

Marcia went with feet that shook so that every step seemed like to slip,
but with beating heart she finally traversed the length of the piazza with
a show of dignity, passed the loungers, and was out in the road. Then
indeed she took courage and fairly flew.

Miranda, breathless, but triumphant, went back into the kitchen: "I guess
'tain't him after all," she said to the interested woman who was putting
on the potatoes to boil. "He's real interesting to look at though. I'd
like to stop and watch him longer but I must be goin'. I come out to hunt
fer"--Miranda hesitated for a suitable object before this country-bred
woman who well knew that strawberries were not ripe yet--"wintergreens fer
Grandma," she added cheerfully, not quite sure whether they grew around
these parts, "and I must be in a hurry. Good-bye! Thank you fer the
drink."

Miranda whizzed out of the door breezily, calling a good morning to one of
the hostlers as she passed the barnyard, and was off through the meadows
and over the fence like a bird, the package of letters rustling loud in
her bosom where she had tucked them before she entered the kitchen.

Neither of the two girls spoke f