"The very thing!" she whispered to herself gleefully. "It will take courage,
but I'm sure of my ground after what he said before them all, and I'll do it.
Grandma in Biddeford buying church carpets, Stephen in Portland--was ever such
a chance?"
The same glowing Rose came downstairs, two steps at a time, next morning, bade
her grandmother goodbye with suspicious pleasure, and sent her grandfather
away on an errand which, with attendant conversation, would consume half the
day. Then bundles after bundles and baskets after baskets were packed into the
wagon,--behind the seat, beneath the seat, and finally under the lap-robe. She
gave a dramatic flourish to the whip, drove across the bridge, went through
Pleasant River village, and up the leafy road to the little house, stared the
"To Let" sign scornfully in the eye, alighted, and ran like a deer through the
aisles of waving corn, past the kitchen windows, to the back door.
"If he has kept the big key in the old place under the stone, where we both
used to find it, then he has n't forgotten me--or anything," thought Rose.
The key was there, and Rose lifted it with a sob of gratitude. It was but five
minutes' work to carry all the bundles from the wagon to the back steps, and
another five to lead old Tom across the road into the woods and tie him to a
tree quite out of the sight of any passer-by.
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