"How wonderful," Nancy exclaimed. "It's the bright lining, all right--the cloud has turned inside out! I believe," she turned to Peter, "that when the sun does shine it shines brighter--here! You two have magic." "Janie and I never shut it out," laughed the sister Saphrony. "We say it's God's way of smiling and frowning. There's no storm but what passes and we're just mighty glad you two children came 'long this way. Goin' to Freedom?" Afterwards Nancy said to Peter that that had been the most curious thing about the two friendly little old women--that they had not right at first asked who they were nor where they were going! Peter answered from the window. "Yes--we thought this road would be shorter." Then, to Nancy: "Do you think we can venture now? I guess the storm's passed." Nancy nodded. "We'd better start. My aunts are worrying dreadfully, I'm afraid. But we've loved it--here. May we come again sometime? And may we not know who it is that has given us shelter?" "Why, yes--I never thought to tell! Most folks know us, but maybe you're new in these parts. We're Saphrony and Janie Leavitt." "_What!_" cried Nancy with such astonishment that Peter turned from the door. "Why, I--_I_ am Anne Leavitt!" she said in very much the same way she had spoken in the French class, four years before. The two little old women laughed. "I guess you're one of the Happy House Leavitts--they're _real_ Leavitts. Sister Janie and I are only plain Leavitts," Saphrony explained with a twinkling in her eyes that seemed to say that to confuse real Leavitts with plain Leavitts was very, very funny. "Are you Miss Sabriny's niece?" Nancy avoided the question. "Aren't you any relation to us--up at Happy House?" "Not as anybody ever knew of. There's Leavitts and Leavitts all over New England, I guess. We've always been poor as Job." "Well, I shall always pretend we're related," declared Nancy, warmly, "because it's been so nice here!" While Peter was carefully tucking her into the seat with much lamenting that it had gotten so wet, Nancy was staring reflectively at the funny little weather-beaten cottage. From the door smiled the two sisters. "I wish," she said, "that I could take a piece of their philosophy back to Happy House!" She leaned out to wave her hand once more. "Hasn't it been fun? I'm glad now that it stormed." As they splashed along toward Freedom, Nancy fell into a sudden quiet. Her mind was held by an overwhelming desire to tell Peter, in this last hour she might have alone with him, the whole truth--that she, like the two sisters they had left, was not a real Leavitt, of that day back in college, of Anne's pleading and her yielding. Twice she opened her lips to speak, then shut them quickly. There was something in Peter's strong profile that made her afraid. Once he turned quickly and saw her eyes upon him with a frightened, troubled expression in their depths. "What is it, Nancy?" he asked tenderly.