as it is for cattle, I declare."

"All right," sighed 'Phemie. "We'll bed down like the cows for a while. I
don't see anything better to do."

But really, by sunset, they were nearly to rights and the prospect for a
comfortable first night at Hillcrest was good.

Lucas's huge fire warmed both the kitchen and the bedroom, despite the
fact that the evening promised to be chilly, with the wind mourning about
the old house and rattling the shutters. The girls closed the blinds,
made all cozy, and bade young Pritchett good-night.

Lyddy had paid him the promised dollar for transporting their goods,
and another half-dollar for the work he had done about the house that
afternoon.

"And I'll come up in the mornin' an' bring ye the milk an' eggs maw
promised ye," said Lucas, as he drove away, "and I'll cut ye some more
wood then."

There was already a great heap of sticks beside the hearth, and in the
porch another windrow, sheltered from any possible storm.

"We're in luck to have such good neighbors," sighed Lyddy, as the farm
wagon rattled away.

"My! but we're going to have good times here," declared 'Phemie, coming
into the house after her and closing and locking the door.

"It's a long way off from everybody else," observed the older sister, in
a doubtful tone. "But I don't believe we shall be disturbed."

"Nonsense!" cried 'Phemie. "Let's have supper. I'm starved to death."

She swung the blackened old tea-kettle over the blaze, and moved briskly
about the room laying the cloth, while Lyddy got out crackers and cheese
and opened a tin of meat before she brewed the comforting cup of tea that
both girls wanted.

However, they _were_ alone--half a mile from the nearest habitation--and
if nothing else, they could not help secretly comparing their loneliness
with the tenement in the city from which they had so recently graduated.

CHAPTER VIII

THE WHISPER IN THE DARK

'Phemie was very bold--until something really scared her--and then she
was quite likely to lose her head altogether. Lyddy was timid by nature,
but an emergency forced her courage to high pressure.

They both, however, tried to ignore the fact that they were alone in the
old house, far up on the mountainside, and a considerable distance from
any neighbor.

That was why they chattered so all through supper--and afterward. Neither
girl cared to let silence fall upon the room.

The singing of the kettle on the crane was a blessing. It