without going outdoors for it, especially when the snow do be on the ground!"
"Mayhap," answered Amos indifferently. "Here, Noggins, Noggins—to me, cat!"
"Hush!" warned Mistress Williams. "Ye will waken the baby!"
"'Tis right!" Amos grinned, "I cannot remember we ha' a baby i' the house! All right, Ma—to bed!" And he shuffled off good-naturedly.
Meanwhile, Sally walked slowly forward into the thick shadows of the garden. Gaining confidence as she went, however, she told herself that she did not mind the absence of moonlight, for she was sure that James would be loitering somewhere along the bank of Wigwam Brook, the stream which, cutting Nathaniel Williams's property in half, yet added value to it by irrigating it. Contrary to her expectations, James was not to be found. It was only when she had slowly turned around to go back that Sally, the porringer still held in her two hands, was stopped by low voices.
"So the women are to make bullets, eh!" said someone. There was a little silence, while Sally held her breath, then the voice proceeded reflectively: "Mistress Harrison's? That be at the turn o' Northfield Road?"
"Aye, just before the road lifts o'er the Mountain," answered James's voice.
"And who did tell your mother, ye say?"
