'cause she said she was afraid of tramps and wanted someplace to shut herself up in if one of em come. And--and after dinnerto-day she sent me in here for somethin' and then slammed the door onme. Said she cal'lated I'd stay put till she got back from Thankful's.She knew mighty well I couldn't get out of the window, 'cause it won'topen no further'n 'tis now. I wa'n't never so provoked in my life.'Tain't no way to treat your own brother, lockin' him up like a youngone; now, is it?"
Ellery's reply was not made immediately. He had heard numerous storiesconcerning this odd household, some of which seemed too absurd forbelief. But this performance was more ridiculous than anything he hadheard.
"'Tain't right, is it, Mr. Ellery?" demanded Kyan.
"Why," answered the caller chokingly, "I--I--it is rather unusual,that's a fact. May I ask what you've done to--"
"Done? I ain't done nothin'. She's so darned scared some other woman'llget my money that--you see, a month or so ago I--I--well, she thoughtI done somethin', or was plannin' to do somethin' that--Keziah Coffinnever told you anything about me, did she?"
"No, indeed. What could Mrs. Coffin tell me about you?"
"All right. Nothin', nothin'. Only if she did, tain't so. But I ain'tgoin' to stand it no more, Mr. Ellery. Bein' shut up in a darnedold--excuse my swearin', I didn't mean to, though I got reason enough,land knows--bein' shut up in a room full of trunks and odds and ends isgoin' too fur. I never want to smell old clothes ag'in long's I live.Would you stand it if you was me, Mr. Ellery?"
"Why, of course I mustn't interfere in your family matters, Mr. Pepper.Perhaps I'd better call some other time. Good afternoon."
"Hold on! hold on! you ain't answered me yet. You're a minister and Igo to your meetin' house. Tell me what you'd do if you was me. Would youstand it?"
Ellery laughed aloud.
"No," he said, "I suppose I shouldn't."
"I bet you wouldn't! What would you do?"
"I don't know. You're of age, Mr. Pepper, and you must decide foryourself. I think I should declare my independence. Really, I must go.I--"
"Don't be in such a hurry. I want advice. I need it. And, so fur'sDECLARIN' goes, that don't do me no good. She can declare more things ina minute than I can think of in a week. Tongue! I never heard--No, no!Never mind the declarin'. What would you DO? S'posin' you wanted to gooutdoor without havin' her tagged to your coat tails, how'd you stop thetaggin'?"
The absurdity of the affair was too much for the visitor. He roared a"Ha, ha!" that caused Abishai to wave a warning hand beneath the sash.
"Ss-h-h! sshh!" he hissed. "Folks'll hear ye, and I'd be so ashamed ifthey did that I wouldn't dast to show my head. Can't show much of it,anyhow, just now. By gum! I'll do somethin' desperate. I--I dunno as Iwon't pizen her. I--"
"Hush! hush! you mustn't talk that way. I'm afraid you must be veryfascinating, Mr. Pepper. If your sister is so very fearful of yourmeeting other women, it must be because she has good reason to fear."
"Stop your foolishness! Oh!--I--I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery. Thatain't no way to talk to a minister. But I'm goin' to go out when I wantto if I bust a hole through the clapboards. I AIN'T fascinatin'. You askany woman--except her--if I be, and see what they say. What'll I DO?"
"Ha, ha! I don't know, I'm sure. You might lock HER up, I suppose, justfor a change."
"Hey!" There was a sound from behind the pane as if the imprisoned onehad slapped his knee. "By gum! I never thought of that. Would you now,Mr. Ellery? Would you? Sshh! sshh! somebody's comin'. Maybe it's her.Run around to the door, Mr. Ellery, quick. And don't tell her I've seenyou, for mercy sakes! Don't now, will ye? Please! Run!"
The minister did not run, but he walked briskly around the corner.Sure enough, Lavinia was there, just unlocking the door. She expressedherself as very glad to see the caller, ushered him into the sittingroom and disappeared, returning in another moment with her brother, whomshe unblushingly said had been taking a nap. Abishai did not contradicther; instead, he merely looked apprehensively at the minister.
The call was a short one. Lavinia did seven eighths of the talking andEllery the rest. Kyan was silent. When the visit was over, Miss Pepperescorted her guest to the door and bade him a voluble good-by. Overher shoulder the minister saw Kyan making frantic signs to him;he interpreted the signals as a request for secrecy concerning theinterview by the window.
Several times during the remainder of that week he surprised hishousekeeper by suddenly laughing aloud when there was, apparently,nothing to laugh at. He explained these outbursts by saying that hehad thought of something funny. Keziah suggested that it must be mightyfunny to make him laugh in the middle of sermon writing.
"I've heard sermons that were funny," she said, "though they wasn'tintended to be; but what I've heard of yours ain't that kind. I wishyou'd let me in on the joke. I haven't been feelin' like laughin' forthe last fortni't."
She had been rather grave and preoccupied, for her, of late. Bustlingand busy she always was, never sitting down to "rest," as she called it,without a lap full of sewing. The minister's clothes were mended and hissocks darned as they had not been since his mother's day. And withhim, at meal times, or after supper in the sitting room, she was alwayscheerful and good-humored. But he had heard her sigh at her work, andonce, when she thought herself unobserved, he saw her wipe her eyes withher apron.
"No, no," she protested, when he asked if anything had gone wrong. "I'mall right. Got a little cold or somethin', I guess, that's all."
She would not give any other explanation and absolutely refused to seethe doctor. Ellery did not press the matter. He believed the "cold" tobe but an excuse and wondered what the real trouble might be. It seemedto him to date from the evening of his chapel experience.
He told no one, not even her, of Kyan's confidential disclosure, and,after some speculation as to whether or not there might be a sequel, putthe whole ludicrous affair out of his mind. He worked hard in his studyand at his pastoral duties, and was conscious of a pleasant feeling thathe was gaining his people's confidence and esteem.
A week from the following Sunday he dined in state at the Daniels'stable. Captain Elkanah was gracious and condescending. Annabel was morethan that. She was dressed in her newest gown and was so very gushingand affable that the minister felt rather embarrassed. When, after themeal was over, Captain Elkanah excused himself and went upstairs forhis Sabbath nap, the embarrassment redoubled. Miss Annabel spoke veryconfidentially of her loneliness, without "congenial society," ofhow VERY much she did enjoy Mr. Ellery's intellectual sermons, andespecially what a treat it had been to have him as a guest.
"You must dine here every Sunday," she said. "It will be no trouble atall, and if you say no, I shall feel that it is because you don't wantto see me--FATHER and me, of course, I mean."
The minister didn't accept this pressing invitation; on the otherhand, he could not refuse it absolutely. He did not like Miss Danielsovermuch, but she was the daughter of his leading parishioner and sheand her parent did seem to like him. So he dodged the issue and said shewas very kind.
He left the big house as soon as he could without giving offense, andstarted back toward the parsonage. But the afternoon was so fine and theearly summer air so delightful that he changed his mind and, jumping thefence at the foot of Cannon Hill, set off across the fields toward thebluffs and the bay shore.
The sun was low in the west as he entered the grove of pines on thebluff. The red light between the boughs made brilliant carpet patternson the thick pine needles and the smell was balsamy and sweet. Betweenthe tree trunks he caught glimpses of the flats, now partially covered,and they reminded him of his narrow escape and of Nat Hammond, hisrescuer. He had met the captain twice since then, once at the store andagain on the main road, and had chatted with him. He liked him immenselyand wished he might count him as an intimate friend. But intimacybetween a Regular clergyman and the son of the leader of the Come-Outerswas out of the question. Partisans on both sides would shriek at theidea.
T
hinking of the Hammond family reminded him of another member of it. Notthat he needed to be reminded; he had thought of her often enough sinceshe ran away from him in the rain that night. And the picture in thedoorway was not one that he could forget--or wanted to. If she werenot a Come-Outer, he could meet her occasionally and they might becomefriends. She was a disconcerting
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