Her calculations proved correct, with a trifling variation.
She came out fifty yards south of the old deserted Morrison house,
and found herself in the yard of the Wright farm!
Passing the house--the house where she had once dreamed
of reigning as mistress--Nancy's curiosity overcame her.
The place was not in view of any other near house.
She deliberately went up to it intending--low be it spoken--
to peep in at the kitchen window. But, seeing the door
wide open, she went to it instead and halted on the step,
looking about her keenly.
The kitchen was certainly pitiful in its disorder.
The floor had apparently not been swept for a fortnight.
On the bare deal table were the remnants of Peter's dinner,
a meal that could not have been very tempting at its best.
"What a miserable place for a human being to live in!"
groaned Nancy. "Look at the ashes on that stove!
And that table! Is it any wonder that Peter has got gray?
He'll work hard haymaking all the afternoon--and then come
home to THIS!"
An idea suddenly darted into Nancy's brain. At first she looked aghast.
Then she laughed and glanced at her watch.
"I'll do it--just for fun and a little pity. It's half-past two,
and Peter won't be home till four at the earliest.
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