As for groans--old hinges groan when the wind blows and so do rickety gutters and water pipes.

But this groan, or so it seemed to Mrs.Barnes, had a different and distinct quality of its own.

It sounded--yes, it sounded human.
Thankful dropped the patchwork comforter.
"Who's that ?" she asked, sharply.
There was no answer.

No sounds except those of the storm.

Thankful picked up the comforter.
"Humph!" she said aloud--talking to herself was a habit developed during the years of housekeeping for deaf old Mrs.Pearson.