To be sure, he didn't know how
hard Dick and Ethie might have spatted it, or what had gone before; but
anyway his advice would be to wait and see if she was not really at Mrs.
Amsden's, or somewhere else. Richard let them manage it for him. He was
powerless to act then, and stunned and silent he sat shivering by the
stove, which they made red-hot with the blocks of wood they put in,
hoping thus to warm him. There was no more sleep at the farmhouse that
night, though James and John went back to bed, and Andy, too, crept up
to his lonely room; but not to sleep. His heart was too full for that,
and kneeling by his wooden chair, he prayed for Ethie--that she had not
run away, but might be at Mrs. Amsden's, where he was going for her
himself the moment the morning broke. He had claimed this privilege, and
his mother had granted it, knowing that many allowances would be made
for whatever Andy might say, and feeling that, on this account, he would
do better than either of his brothers. Richard, of course, could not go.
He scarcely had strength to move, and did not look up from his stooping
posture by the stove, when, at day-dawn, Andy drew on his butternut
overcoat, and tying a thick comforter about his neck, started for
Mrs.
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