"
"Yes, but you wouldn't like to have it whistling inside as
well as out," said Alice. "I will come and do the listing and
caulking for you in a day or two. Oh, you have it done without
me! I am sorry."
"No need to be sorry, dear — I am glad; you don't look fit for
any troublesome jobs."
"I am fit enough," said Alice. "Don't put up the curtains;
I'll come and do it."
"You must come with a stronger face, then," said her old
friend; "have you wearied yourself with walking all this way?"
"I was a little weary," said Alice, "but your nice tea has
made me up again."
"I wish I could keep you all night," said Mrs. Vawse, looking
out; "but your father would be uneasy. I am afraid the storm
will catch you before you get home; and you aren't fit to
breast it. Little Ellen, too, don't look as if she was made of
iron. Can't you stay with me?"
"I must not — it wouldn't do," said Alice, who was hastily
putting on her things; "we'll soon run down the hill. But we
are leaving you alone — where's Nancy?"
"She'll not come if there's a promise of a storm," said Mrs.
Vawse; "she often stays out a night."
"And leaves you alone!"
"I am never alone," said the old lady, quietly; "I have
nothing to fear; but I am uneasy about you, dear. Mind my
words; don't try to go back the way you came; take the other
road; it's easier; and stop when you get to Mrs.
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