good things, and he couldn't help seeingthat the recital pleased her. So he went on to tell how his housekeeperhad helped him, of her advice, of her many acts of kindness, of whathe owed to her. The girl listened eagerly, asking questions, noddingconfirmation, and, in her delight at hearing Keziah praised, quiteforgetting her previous eagerness to end the interview. And, as hetalked, he looked at her, at the red light on her hair, the shine ofher eyes, like phosphorus in the curl of a wave at night, at her longlashes, and--
--"Yes," said Miss Van Horne, "you were saying--"
The minister awoke with a guilty start. He realized that his sentencehad broken off in the middle.
"Why! why--er--yes," he stammered. "I was saying that--that I don't knowwhat I should have done without Mrs. Coffin. She's a treasure. Frankly,she is the only real friend I have found in Trumet."
"I know. I feel the same way about her. She means so much to me. I loveher more than anyone else in the world, except uncle, of course--andNat. I miss her very much since--since--"
"Since I came, you mean. I'm sorry. I wish--I hate to think I am thecause which separates you two. It isn't my fault, as you know."
"Oh! I know that."
"Yes, and I object to having others choose my friends for me, peoplewho, because of a fanatical prejudice, stand in the way of--If it wasn'tfor that, you might call and see Mrs. Coffin, just as you used to do."
Grace shook her head. They had moved on to the bend of the bluff, beyondthe fringe of pines, and were now standing at the very edge of the highbank.
"If it wasn't for that, you would come," asserted the minister.
"Yes, I suppose so. I should like to come. I miss my talks with AuntKeziah more than you can imagine--now especially. But, somehow, what wewant to do most seems to be what we mustn't, and what we don't like isour duty."
She said this without looking at him, and the expression on her face wasthe same sad, grave one he had noticed when he first saw her standingalone by the pine.
"Why don't you come?" he persisted.
"I can't, of course. You know I can't."
"Why not? If my company is objectionable I can go away when you come. Ifyou dislike me I--"
"You know I don't dislike you personally."
"I'm awfully glad of that."
"But it's impossible. Uncle respects and is fond of Aunt Keziah, but hewouldn't hear of my visiting the parsonage."
"But don't you think your uncle might be persuaded? I'm sure hemisunderstands me, just as I should him if it weren't for Mrs.Coffin--and what you've said. Don't you think if I called on him and heknew me better it might help matters? I'll do it gladly. I will!"
"No, no. He wouldn't listen. And think of your own congregation."
"Confound my congregation!"
"Why, Mr. Ellery!"
She looked at him in amazement; then her lips began to curl.
"Why, Mr. Ellery!" she repeated.
The minister turned very red and drew his hand across his forehead.
"I--I don't mean that exactly," he stammered. "But I'm not a child. Ihave the right to exercise a man's discretion. My parish committee mustunderstand that. They shall! If I choose to see you--Look out!"
She was close to the overhanging edge of the bluff and the sod uponwhich she stood was bending beneath her feet. He sprang forward, caughther about the waist, and pulled her back. The sod broke and rattled downthe sandy slope. She would have had a slight tumble, nothing worse, hadshe gone with it. There was no danger; and yet the minister was verywhite as he released her.
She, too, was pale for a moment, and then crimson.
"Thank you," she gasped. "I--I must go. It is late. I didn't realize howlate it was. I--I must go."
He did not answer, though he tried to.
"I must go," she said hurriedly, speaking at random. "Good afternoon.Good-by. I hope you will enjoy your walk."
"I have enjoyed it." His answer was unstudied but emphatic. Sherecognized the emphasis.
"Will you come to see Mrs. Coffin?" he asked.
"No, no. You know I can't. Good-by. The sunset is beautiful, isn't it?"
"Beautiful, indeed."
"Yes. I--I think the sunsets from this point are the finest I have everseen. I come here every Sunday afternoon to see them."
This remark was given merely to cover embarrassment, but it had anunexpected effect.
"You DO?" cried the minister. The next moment he was alone. Grace VanHorne had vanished in the gloom of the pine thickets.
It was a strange John Ellery who walked slowly back along the path, onethat Keziah herself would not have recognized, to say nothing ofCaptain Elkanah and the parish committee. The dignified parson, withthe dignified walk and calm, untroubled brow, was gone, and here wasan absent-minded young fellow who stumbled blindly along, tripping overroots and dead limbs, and caring nothing, apparently, for the damage tohis Sunday boots and trousers which might result from the stumbles. Hesaw nothing real, and heard nothing, not even the excited person who,hidden behind the bayberry bush, hailed him as he passed. It was notuntil this person rushed forth and seized him by the arm that he cameback to the unimportant affairs of this material earth.
"Why! Why, Mr. Pepper!" he gasped. "Are you here? What do you want?"
"Am I here?" panted Kyan. "Ain't I been here for the last twenty minuteswaitin' to get a chance at you? Ain't I been chasin' you from Danto Beersheby all this dummed--excuse me--afternoon? Oh, my godfreysmighty!"
"Why, what's the matter?"
"Matter? Matter enough! It's all your fault. You got me into the mess,now you git me out of it."
Usually, when Abishai addressed his clergyman, it was in a tone ofhumble respect far different from his present frantic assault. TheReverend John was astounded.
"What IS the trouble, Mr. Pepper?" he demanded. "Behave yourself, man.What IS it?"
"You--you made me do it," gurgled Kyan. "Yes, sir, 'twas you put me upto it. When you was at our house t'other day, after Laviny locked me up,you told me the way to get square was to lock her up, too. And I doneit! Yes, sir, I done it when she got back from meetin' this noon. Irun off and left her locked in. And--and"--he wailed, wringing hishands--"I--I ain't dast to go home sence. WHAT'll I do?"
CHAPTER IX
IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT
The hysterical Mr. Pepper doubtless expected his clergyman to be almostas much upset as he was by the news of his action. But John Ellery wasprovokingly calm. As a matter of fact he scarcely grasped the purport ofthe little man's disjointed story. He had been wandering in dreamland,his head among the clouds, and the explosion of Keziah's bomb disturbed,but did not clear the air.
"What will you do?" he repeated. "Why--er--I don't know, I'm sure."
Kyan was staggered.
"You don't know?" he shouted. "YOU don't? Then who does, for the landsakes? Didn't you tell me to lock her up? Didn't I do it 'CAUSE you toldme? Didn't--didn't--"
He seemed to be on the verge of apoplexy. Also he had raised hisvoice to a yell. The minister seized him by the arm and shook him intosilence.
"Hush! hush!" he commanded. "Wait a minute. Let me understand thisthing. Some one is locked up, you say. Who is it? Where--"
"WHO is it? Ain't I tellin' you. It's Laviny. She went into that spareroom where I was t'other day and I slammed the spring lock to on her.Then I grabbed the key and run. That was afore three this afternoon; nowit's 'most night and I ain't dast to go home. What'll she say when Ilet her out? I got to let her out, ain't I? She can't starve to death inthere, can she? And YOU told me to do it! YOU did! Oh--"
The apoplectic attack was once more imminent.
"Stop it, Mr. Pepper," ordered Ellery. "I don't remember telling youto lock your sister up, though--Why, yes, I may have said something orother, as a joke, but I didn't expect you would seriously consider doingsuch a thing. Ha, ha! This is the most idiotic piece of business that Iever--"
"Be you laughin'?" demanded the shocked Abishai. "LAUGHIN'? Why, mygodfreys m
ighty! Idiotic? Well, who's the idiot? 'Tain't me! I'D neverhave thought of such a fool trick. But you said--"
"Hush! Let me think. Have you told anybody?"
"TOLD anybody! I guess NOT. And nobody'll never know if they wait for meto tell 'em."
"Well, then, I don't see why you can't go home and--hum--I don't liketo advise your telling a lie, but you might let
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