EVELYN'S SPOOL
I was mighty glad for Jon to tumble in like that, thinking it all his own plan.
"Yes," I says. "I'll go to town and get a carbine."
I thought, in that way, to account for the one I had.
Jon kept on planning while we walks toward the kitchen. When we got near, Evelyn poked her head out from the stairway, with a candle in her hand, like she expected to find us all there. But, when she halted and saw that no one was there but Dave, asleep, a cunning kind of look came on her face and she, quick, blew out the candle. In a minute we saw her come out the door on tiptoes and watch about for us. Then she hurried to that place where the spool had dropped and hunted for it in the grass. Some one came along the road. Maybe she thought it was us. She runs on her tiptoes back and through the kitchen, up to her room.
"Jon," I asks, "what do you make of that?"
"She needed her spool," says Jon.
"It was empty," says I.
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