d no such fear. She had, she believed, solved for
ever a difficult and troublesome question, and, on easy terms, provided
herself with a new relative, useful, safe and insured against danger by
fire. Perhaps the underwriters of the city would not have taken the
latter risk, but at that moment it seemed a slight one to Irma Sobieski.

At any rate, to seal the new alliance, in all sisterly freedom she gave
me her hand, and did not appear to notice how long I kept it in the
darkness. This was certainly a considerable set-off against the feeling
of loneliness, and, if not quite content, I was at least more so. I
wondered, among other things, if Irma's heart kept knocking in a choking
kind of way against the bottom of her throat.

At least mine did, and I had never, to my knowledge, felt just so about
Agnes Anne. Indeed, I don't think I had ever held Agnes Anne's hand so
long in my life, except to pick a thorn out of it with a needle, or to
point out how disgracefully grubby it was.

CHAPTER X

THE CROWBAR IN THE WOOD

We sat so long that I grew hungry. And then forethought was rewarded.
For as I well knew, Agnes Anne had much ado to keep the house supplied
(and the larder too often bare with all her trying!), I had done some
trifle of providing on my own account. I had a flask of milk in my
pouch--the big one in the skirt of the coat that I always wore when
taking a walk in the General's plantations. Cakes, too, and well-risen
scones cut and with butter between them, most refreshing. I gave first
of all to Irma, and at the sound of the eating and drinking Agnes Anne
awakened and came forward. So I handed her some, but with my foot
cautioned her not to take too much, because it was certain that she
would by no means do her share of the fighting.

Both were my sisters. We had agreed upon that. But then some roses smell
sweeter than others, though all are called by the same name.

We had just finished partaking of the food (and great good it did us)
when Agnes Anne heard a sound that sent her suddenly back to her corner
with a face as white as a linen clout. She was always quicker of hearing
than I, but certain it is that after a while I did hear something like
the trampling of horses, and especially, repeated more than once, the
sharp jingle which the head of a caparisoned horse makes when, wearied
of waiting, it casts it up suddenly.

_They were coming._

We said the words, looking at each other, and I supp