or mercy sakes!"

"But, Auntie--"

"Give it a pull, I tell you! I don't know who lives here and I don't
care. If 'twas the President of the United States he'd have to turn out
and let us in this night. Here, let me do it!"

She gave the glass knob a sharp jerk. From within sounded the jingle of
an old-fashioned spring bell.

"There!" she exclaimed, "I guess they'll hear that. Anyway, I'll give
'em one more for good measure."

She jerked the bell again. The peal died away in a series of lessening
tinkles, but there was no other sound from within.

"They must be sound sleepers," whispered Emily, after a moment.

"They must be dead," declared Thankful. "There's been smashin' and
crackin' and hollerin' enough to wake up anybody that wa'n't buried. How
that wind does blow! I--Hello! here comes that man at last. About time,
I should say!"

Winnie S. appeared, bearing the lantern.

"What you doin'?" he asked. "There ain't no use ringin' that bell.
Nobody'll hear it."

Thankful, who had just given the bell a third pull, took her hand from
the knob.

"Why not?" she demanded. "It makes noise enough. I should think a graven
image would hear it. What is this, a home for deaf people?"

Winnie S. grinned. "'Tain't nobody's home, not now," he said. "This
house is empty. Ain't nobody lived in it for 'most a year."

The two women looked at each other. Mrs. Barnes drew along breath.

"Well," she observed, "if this ain't the last straw. Such a cruise as
we've had; and finally be shipwrecked right in front of a house and find
it's an empty one! Don't talk to ME! Well," sharply, "what shall we do
next?"

The driver shook his head.

"Dummed if I know!" he answered. "The old wagon can't go another yard.
I--I cal'late you folks'll have to stay here for a spell."

"Stay? Where'll we stay; out here in the middle of this howlin'
wilderness?"

"I guess so. Unless you want to walk the rest of the way, same's I'm
cal'latin' to. I'm goin' to unharness the horse and put him under the
shed here and then hoof it over to the village and get somebody to come
and help. You can come along if you want to, but it'll be a tougher
v'yage than the one we've come through."

"How far off is this--this village of yours?"

"Oh, about a mile and a half!"

"A mile and a half! And it's beginnin' to rain again! Emily, I don't
know how you feel, but if the horse can wait under the shed until
somebody comes I guess we can. I say let's do it."