Nan had not felt like asking her uncle
or aunt, or the boys, either, about it. The latter had probably
been too young to remember much about the tragedy.
Although Nan had seen Margaret on several fleeting occasions
since her first interview with the woods girl, there had been no
opportunity of talking privately with her. And Margaret would
only come to the window. She was afraid to tell "Marm Sherwood"
how she had lost the new dress that had been given to her.
It was now as black outside Nan's window as it could be. She lit
her oil lamp and dressed swiftly, running at last through the
cold parlor and sitting room into the kitchen, where the fire in
the range was burning briskly and the coffee pot was on. Tom and
Rafe were there comfortably getting into thick woolen socks and
big lumbermen's boots.
There was a heaping pan of Aunt Kate's doughnuts on the table,
flanked with the thick china coffee cups and deep saucers. Her
uncle and the boys always poured their coffee into the saucers
and blew on it to take the first heat off, then gulped it in
great draughts.
Nan followed suit this morning, as far as cooling the coffee in
the saucer went. There was haste. Uncle Henry had been up some
time, and now he came stamping into the house, saying that the
ponies were hitched in and were standing in readiness upon the
barn floor, attached to the pung.
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