Page:Mistress Madcap Surrenders (1926).pdf/219



OLLOWED, then, the long, leaden-gray days of midwinter. It was an extreme one of terrible cold, and even Mehitable, although she soon recovered from her adventures at Newark, was glad to hover over the fire which Squire Condit and Amos, the man of all work, kept roaring in the big kitchen fireplace.

But at last the girl could stand it no longer. "I cannot remain cooped up one hour more!" she burst out one afternoon. She looked at her mother, placidly spinning in the inglenook. "I think"—but here a blush stained Mehitable's cheeks—"I think I shall go down to Uncle Daniel Condit's. Poor Aunt Ruth needs a bit o' cheer since Jemima's death!"

Mistress Condit glanced up with a smile. "What said ye, Hitty?" she asked.

Mehitable raised her voice above the noise of the spinning-wheel, repeating herself. Mistress Condit thought idly, "How the fire's heat doth redden the child's cheeks!" and nodded her consent. And