You might have raked his wagon, fore and aft." That afternoon, as Euphemia and I were sitting under a tree by the tent, we were very much surprised to see Pomona come walking down the peninsula.
I was annoyed and provoked at this.

We had given Pomona positive orders not to leave the place, under any pretense, while we were gone.

If necessary to send for anything, she could go to the fence, back of the barn, and scream across a small field to some of the numerous members of old John's family.

Under this arrangement, I felt that the house was perfectly safe.
Before she could reach us, I called out: "Why did you leave the house, Pomona?
Don't you know you should never come away and leave the house empty?
I thought I had made you understand that." "It isn't empty," said Pomona, in an entirely unruffled tone.

"Your old boarder is there, with his wife and child." Euphemia and I looked at each other in dismay.
"They came early this afternoon," continued Pomona, "by the 1:14 train, and walked up, he carrying the child." "It can't be," cried Euphemia.