They had finished talking and were sitting at the table, silent, each thinking what this big change might mean to them. Harry turned the lamp wick slowly up and down; her eyes were very deep and shining in the flare of light. Rob stared absently at the paper on which he had been figuring. Out in the falling night a whippoorwill called plaintively, then stopped, and in the silence they heard timid steps on the porch. "Who's that?" Rob exclaimed, going to the door. Harry followed him with the lamp. Its light fell upon the frightened face of a young girl. "Why, it's Isita!" Harry said, in surprise. "Come in." But Isita shook her head. Small-boned and slender for her age, clutching a boy's jacket over her chest and glancing timidly from brother to sister, she looked like a little lost child. "What's happened, Isita?" Harry asked. "Anything we can do? Come in, dear." "Oh, I can't!" The words came in a faint, frightened gasp. "Mother sent me to ask you--have you got something for a--a cut? Joe--that is, he was cutting up a chicken, and the knife slipped--" She stopped abruptly. "That's bad; but we've got something for it. Come in and rest a minute while I get the things, and I'll go back with you," Rob began; but the girl raised her hands entreatingly. "Please don't!" she besought. "That is, I mean, thank you; but you couldn't do nothing. It ain't so dangerous. All we need is something to put on it." Rob went across the room to where Harry was busily putting together lint, disinfectant and sticking plaster. "I think I ought to go over, don't you?" he said. "He may have cut an artery." "No, no!" Isita's voice called out desperately. "It ain't so bad. Ma said for you not to come. It--it would make dad so mad. He'd 'a' killed me if he'd knowed I was coming over here. Never mind, Miss Holliday. I reckon I'd better be getting back." "Wait! Here's your bandaging!" Harry called cheerily, coming out at the same moment with the package and with her sweater on. "I'm only going to the gate with you," she said soothingly, and, slipping her arm through Isita's, led her down the steps. Harry was back in ten minutes. "I thought I might calm her," she explained to Rob. "The poor child was either scared to death at sight of a bad cut, or else frightened by that brute of a father. What a shame she has to live with such a family." "I wonder how Joe did cut his hand," Rob said thoughtfully. "I shouldn't wonder if there had been a family scrap and the old man gave him one." "Rob Holliday! The idea! Go on to bed, or we'll never get started in the morning." CHAPTER XIV