CHAPTER VII.
That early twilight hour just before the lamps were lit was the lonesomest one the Little Colonel had ever spent.
Her grandfather was asleep up-stairs.

There was a cheery wood fire crackling on the hearth of the big fireplace in the hall, but the great house was so still.

The corners were full of shadows.
She opened the front door with a wild longing to run away.
"Come, Fritz," she said, closing the door softly behind her, "let's go down to the gate." The air was cold.

She shivered as they raced along under the bare branches of the locusts.

She leaned against the gate, peering out through the bars.