The town gave them the use of the little cabin, and they managed to make something of a living, for Mrs. Perry did sewing for women in the village, which was about three miles away. They had a little garden patch, and raised some fruit. "You said you--you had a son?" asked Ned gently. "Is he--" "No, he isn't dead," replied Mrs. Perry sadly. "Poor boy, I wish I knew where he was. He tried to help us, as much as he could," she went on. "But there was no work for him around here, and so he decided to try and get work. He went to the city and wrote me that he was going to sea. He said he had a good position, and would send me some money." "Did he?" asked Bart. "I have never heard from him since," the widow replied. "I'm afraid he is dead," and she began to cry again. "Perhaps not," suggested Ned, as cheerfully as he could. "Maybe he is on a long voyage and can't write. Or perhaps he has written and the letters have gone astray. I would not worry. He may come back." "I think Willie is alive," remarked Jane. "He was a very proud boy, and perhaps when he found he could not earn money enough to send home, he decided to stay away until he could. Maybe he is ashamed to come home." "Oh, he knows I would forgive him! I would be glad to see him if he never had a penny!" exclaimed Mrs. Perry. "I'll bet he'll turn up all right," put in Fenn. "He's only waiting until he can come back rich." "It's been about a year now," the widow went on. "Willie was fifteen when he left, and he'd be sixteen now. It's his first birthday away from home." The boys did their best to comfort her, and she seemed to feel a little better after telling her troubles. The girls were certainly more cheerful after the meal. "You boys had better stay all night," Mrs. Perry suggested. "The storm is getting worse. If you don't mind being crowded we can accommodate you." "If we can sleep on the floor in the kitchen we'll be glad to," Ned answered. "I have Willie's bed, which no one uses, and there is another," the widow replied. "I have always kept his room ready for him." "Then we'll stay for the night, thank you," Fenn said. The storm did appear to be getting worse, or else the howling of the wind about the lonely cabin made it seem so. CHAPTER VII HOME FOR THANKSGIVING "Hurrah! It's stopped snowing!" exclaimed Ned as he looked out of the little window on the second floor of the cabin the next morning. "Maybe we can get home for Thanksgiving!" "I hope so," Bart answered. "The folks will be worried. Wonder if Jim is waiting for us?" "Not much! Jim's too fond of his comfort to come out in such weather," said Frank. The boys found the widow had breakfast ready for them. She told them their best plan would be to go to Kirkville, which could be reached by the road leading from the cabin. From that village it was seven miles to Darewell. "It's going to be a long pull," remarked Ned. "But I guess we can make it." "Let's go out and see how the snow is," suggested Bart.