Part 29 (1/2)

Mrs. Babc.o.c.k said no more; somehow she and the others felt repelled.

They all sat in silence except for awed e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns when now and then came a louder crash of thunder. All at once, after a sharp flash, there was a wild clamor in the street; a bell clanged out.

”It's struck! it's struck!” shrieked Mrs. Babc.o.c.k.

”Oh, it ain't this house, is it?” Amanda wailed.

They all rushed to the windows and flung open the blinds; a red glare filled the room; a large barn nearly opposite was on fire. They clutched each other, and watched the red gush of flame. The barn burned as if lighted at every corner.

”Are there any cows or horses in it?” panted Mrs. Babc.o.c.k. ”Oh, ain't it dreadful? Are there any, Mis' Field?”

”I dunno,” said Mrs. Field.

She stood like a grim statue, the red light of the fire in her face.

Lois was sobbing. Mrs. Green had put an arm around her.

”Don't, Lois, don't,” she kept saying, in a solemn, agitated voice.

”The Lord will overrule it all; it is He speakin' in it.”

The women watched while the street filled with people, and the barn burned down. It did not take long. The storm began to lull rapidly.

The thunder came at long intervals, and the hail turned into a gentle rain. Finally Mrs. Field went out into the kitchen to prepare supper, and Lois followed her.

”I never see anything like the way she acts,” said Mrs. Babc.o.c.k cautiously.

”She always was kind of quiet,” rejoined Mrs. Green.

”Quiet! She acts as if she'd had thunder an' lightnin' an' hail an'

barns burnt down every day since she's been here. I never see anybody act so queer.”

”I 'most wish I'd stayed to home,” said Amanda.

”Well, I wouldn't be backin' out the minute I'd got here, if I was you,” returned Mrs. Babc.o.c.k sharply. ”It's comin' cooler, that's one thing, an' you won't need that white sacque. I should think you'd feel kinder glad of it, for them shoulder seams did look pretty long to what they wear 'em. An' I dare say folks here are pretty dressy. I declare I shall be kinder glad when supper's ready. I feel real faint to my stomach, as if I'd like somethin' hearty. I should have gone into one of them places in Boston if things hadn't been so awful dear.”

But when Mrs. Field finally called them out to partake of the meal which she had prepared, there was little to satisfy an eager appet.i.te. Nothing but the berries for which she had toiled so hard, a few thin slices of bread, no b.u.t.ter, and no tea, so little sugar in the bowl that the guests sprinkled it sparingly on their berries.

”I'll tell you what 'tis,” Mrs. Babc.o.c.k whispered when they were upstairs in their chambers that night, ”Mis' Field has grown tight since she got all that money. Sometimes it does work that way. I believe we should starve to death if we stayed here long. If it wa'n't for gittin' my money's worth, I should be for goin' home to-morrow. No b.u.t.ter an' no tea after we've come that long journey. I never heard of such a thing.”

”I don't care anything about the b.u.t.ter and the tea,” rejoined Amanda, ”but I 'most feel as if I'd better go home to-morrow.”

”If,” said Mrs. Babc.o.c.k, ”you want to go home instead of gittin' the good of that excursion ticket, that you can stay a week on, you can, Amanda Pratt. I'm goin' to stay now, if it kills me.”

Chapter IX

The three women from Green River had been six days in Elliot, they were going to leave the next morning, and Mrs. Field's secret had not been discovered. Nothing but her ill favor in the village had saved her. n.o.body except Mrs. Jane Maxwell had come to call. Mrs. Babc.o.c.k talked and wondered about it a great deal to Mrs. Green and Amanda.

”It's mighty queer, seems to me, that there ain't a soul but that one old woman set foot inside this house since we've been here,” said she. ”It don't look to me as if folks here thought much of Mis'

Field. I know one thing: there couldn't three strange ladies come visitin' to Green River without I should feel as if I'd ought to go an' call an' find out who they was, an' pay 'em a little attention, if I thought anything at all of the folks they was visitin'. There's considerable more dress here, but I guess, on the whole, it ain't any better a place to live in than Green River.”