But Mr. Hammond seized her arm.

“Hannah,” he cried, excitedly, “do you understand what that means—­that clock strikin’?  It means that, bein’ as we’re only five miles from home, we can get home, if we want to, afore anybody’s out of bed.  You can sneak up that ladder again; I can get that horse and team back in Thankful’s stable; we can both be in our own beds by gettin’-up time and not one soul need ever know a word about this foolishness.  If we—­”

But Miss Parker had not waited for him to finish; she was already on her way to the carryall.

At a quarter after seven that morning Thankful knocked at the door of her boarder’s room.

“Mr. Hammond!” she called.  “Mr. Hammond!”

Caleb awoke with a start.

“Eh?” he said.

“Are you up?  It’s most breakfast time.”

Caleb, now more thoroughly awake, looked about his room.  It was real; he was actually in it—­and safe—­and still single.

“Yes—­yes; all right,” he said.  “I’ll get right up.  Must have overslept myself, I guess.  What—­what made you call me?  Nothin’—­er—­nothin’s happened, has it?”

“No, nothin’s happened.  But you’re usually up by seven and, as I hadn’t heard a sound from you, I was afraid you might be sick.”

“No, no; I ain’t sick.  I’m feelin’ fine.  Has—­has Kenelm Parker got here yet?”

“Yes, he’s here.”

“Ain’t—­ain’t said nothin’, has he?”

“Said anything?  No.  What do you mean?  What did you expect him to say?”

“Nothin’, nothin’, I—­I wondered what sort of a drive he and Imogene had yesterday, that’s all.  I thought it would be fine to hear him tell about it.  You run along, Mrs. Barnes; I’ll hurry and get dressed.”

He jumped out of bed.  He was tired and lame and his head ached—­but, Oh, he was happy!  He had stabled George Washington and reached his room without disturbing anyone.  And, as Kenelm had, according to Mrs. Barnes, spoken and appeared as usual, it was evident that Hannah Parker, too, had gotten safely and undetected to her own apartment.

Thankful knocked at his door again.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but Melindy Pease hasn’t sent home your mendin’ yet.  I’m afraid you’ll have to do without your—­er—­your winter things for one more day.”

“Hey?  My winter—­Oh, yes, yes.  Well, I don’t care.  It’s warmer today than ’twas yesterday.”

“Oh no, it isn’t; it’s a good deal colder.  I hope you won’t catch cold.”

“No, no, I shan’t.  I’m feelin’ fine.”

“Well, thank goodness for that.”

“Thank goodness for a good many things,” said Mr. Hammond, devoutly.

CHAPTER XIII