a lamp. They were in a very snug little kitchen. Opening off it on one side was a trim, nicely furnished parlour, and on the other a pantry, which proved to be well stocked.
“I'm going to make myself at home,” said Rilla. “I know that is just what Hannah would want me to do. I’ll get a little snack for Jims and me, and then if the rain continues and nobody comes home I'll just go upstairs to the spare room and go to bed. There is nothing like acting sensibly in an emergency. If I had not been a goose when I saw Jims fall off the train I'd have rushed back into the car and got some one to stop it. Then I wouldn’t have been in this scrape Since I am in it I’ll make the best of it.
“This house,” she added, looking around, “is fixed up much nicer than when I was here before. Of course Hannah and Ted were just beginning house-keeping then. But somehow I’ve had the idea that Ted hasn't been very prosperous. He must have done better than I’ve been led to believe, when they can afford furniture like this. I’m awfully glad for Hannah’s sake.”
The thunderstorm passed, but the rain continued to fall heavily. At eleven o'clock Rilla decided that nobody was coming home. Jims had fallen asleep on the sofa; she carried him up to the spare room and put him to bed. Then she undressed, put on a nightgown she found in the washstand drawer, and scrambled sleepily in between very nice lavender-scented sheets. She was so tired, after her adventures and exertions, that not even the oddity of her situation could keep her awake; she was sound asleep in a few minutes.
Rilla slept until eight o’clock the next morning and
