As she recognized Judy's voice, she saw the mountain girl's head and
twisted shoulders outlined above the window-sill. A moment more, and
Auntie Sue was at the window.

"Sh-h-h!" cautioned Judy. "Don't wake 'em up. I just naturally got ter
tell you-all somethin', Auntie Sue; but, I ain't a-wantin' Mr. Burns
an' that there Betty Jo woman ter hear. I reckon I best come through the
winder."

Acting upon the word, she climbed carefully into the room.

"Judy, child! What--?"

The mountain girl interrupted Auntie Sue's tremulous whisper with: "I'll
tell hit ter you, ma'm, in a little bit, if you'll just wait. I got ter
see if they are sure 'nough a-sleepin' first, though."

She stole silently from the room, to return a few minutes later. "They
are plumb asleep, both of 'em," she said in a low tone, when she had
cautiously closed the door. "I done opened the doors ter their rooms,
an' listened, an' shet 'em again 'thout ary one of 'em a-movin' even.
I'll fix the winder, now, an' then we kin make a light."

Carefully, she closed the window and drew down the shade. Then she lit
the lamp.

Auntie Sue, who was sitting on the bed, looked at the girl in bewildered
amazement.

With a nervous laugh, Judy fingered her torn dress and dishevelled hair.