He might get his fingers burned."
But I caught a twinkle in the old man's eyes and wasn't surprised to have
him end his lecture by taking us into the kitchen and seating us around an
old-fashioned log fire while "Marthy," his daughter, made us some hot
coffee to take the chill out of our bones. We didn't sleep in the barn
that night. The Hallidays had only one spare bed, hardly enough for six
boys, and the old man didn't want to be partial to any two of us, but his
daughter solved the difficulty by dragging down two large feather
mattresses and laying them on the kitchen floor in front of the hearth.
Before bidding us "good night," Mr. Halliday put on his sternest
expression and bade Marthy clear out all the matches from the room.
"Jest as like as not they'll set fire to the house," he growled. "I expect
this is my last night on airth." And then, with a solemn warning not to
hang our clothes on the flames, and to "keep them feather beds offen the
embers," he left us to a comfortable night's rest.
In the morning, after we had disposed of all the hot griddle cakes we
could eat, and had sincerely thanked our host and hostess for their
hospitality, we wended our way back to the island, silently packed up our
goods and started home for Lamington.
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