" 'What's all this hullabaloo about?' he asked crossly; and when
he had heard the story he seized Dan and shook him till his teeth
chattered.
" 'What do you mean by tellin' such stuff an' scarin' these young
ones ter death?' he demanded.
"Dan wriggled himself from his grasp and looked sulkily defiant:
" 'I didn't say 'TWAS that,' he muttered. 'I said it MIGHT be,
an' p'r'aps 'twas; or it might 'a' been the deacon's old mare
switchin' 'er tail ter keep off the flies. I'm sure _I_ don't
know which 'twas. But girls are always a-squealin' at nothin'.'
"And with this parting fling at us tearful ones, Dan turned in
the direction of the barn; but I was too anxious to hear from
father and mother to let him go without a word more. 'Dan,' I
whispered with my hand on his arm, 'did you see or hear anything
of OUR folks?'
" 'No!' was the rather grump reply; 'after what I saw at the
deacon's I didn't want ter ventur' furder, but from there I could
see 'em lightin' fires in the village, an' I don't doubt by this
time that most o' the houses is in flames.'
"With this comforting assurance Dan went off to his bed upon the
haymow, and I crept back into the house and laid my tired head
down upon Aunt Polly's motherly lap, where, between my sobs, I
managed to tell what Dan had told me.
Aunt Polly laid a caressing hand upon my hair: 'La, child,' said
she soothingly, 'don't you worry yourself a bit over Dan Parson's
stories. That boy was BORN to tell stories.
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