pinegroves. She became interested in a sloop, beating into Wellmouth harbor,and watched that. After a time she heard, in the house below, her fathershouting her name.
She gave the glass one more comprehensive sweep preparatory to closingit and going downstairs. As she did this a moving speck came into viewand vanished.
Slowly she moved the big end of the spyglass back along the arc it hadtraveled. She found the speck and watched it. It was a man, stridingacross the meadow land, a half mile beyond the parsonage, and hurryingin the direction of the beach. She saw him climb a high dune, jump afence, cross another field and finally vanish in the grove of pines onthe edge of the bluff by the shore.
The man was John Ellery, the minister. Evidently, he had not gone home,nor had he taken the short cut. Instead he had walked downtown a longway and THEN turned in to cross the fields and work his way back.
Annabel put down the glass and, heedless of her father's calls, satthinking. The minister had deliberately deceived her. More than that, hehad gone to considerable trouble to avoid observation. Why had he doneit? Had he done the same thing on other Sunday afternoons? Was thereany real reason why he insisted on leaving the house regularly at fouro'clock?
Annabel did not know. Her eyes snapped and her sharp features lookedsharper yet as she descended the steps to the attic. She did not know;but she intended to find out.
CHAPTER X
IN WHICH KEZIAH'S TROUBLES MULTIPLY
Keziah was getting worried about her parson. Not concerning hispopularity with his congregation. She had long since ceased to worryabout that. The young minister's place in his people's regard was nowassured, the attendance was increasing, and the Regular church wasnow on a firmer footing, financially and socially, than it had beenin years. Even Mrs. Rogers and Lavinia Pepper had ceased to criticise,except as pertained to unimportant incidentals, and were now among theloudest of the praise chanters. And as Captain Zeb Mayo said: "WhenDidama and Laviny stops fault-findin', the millennium's so nigh port afeller ought to be overhaulin' his saint uniform."
But what worried Mrs. Coffin was John Ellery's personal appearance andbehavior. He had grown perceptibly thinner during the past month, hismanner was distrait, and, worst of all in the housekeeper's eyes, hisappetite had fallen off. She tried all sorts of tempting dishes, but theresult was discouraging.
"What!" she exclaimed. "Don't want but one piece of huckleberry pie?Why, a week ago you ate three and looked kind of disappointed 'cause thedish was empty. What is the matter? Are you sick?"
"No, Mrs. Coffin," replied the Reverend John. "No, I'm not sick. I justdon't feel hungry, that's all."
"Hum! Well, I've usually noticed that when a healthy man don't feelhungry at dinner time, 'specially in the huckleberry season, hishealthiness is pretty shaky. What does ail you, Mr. Ellery? Gotsomethin' on your mind? If you have, I'd heave it overboard. Or youmight unload it onto me and let me prescribe. I've had consider'bleexperience in that kind of doctorin'."
But the answer was unsatisfactory. Mr. Ellery laughed, changed thesubject, and wandered out into the garden, where Keziah saw him, shortlyafterwards, intently regarding nothing in particular with a rapt stare.She watched him for a few moments and then, with a puzzled shake ofthe head, returned to her work. She believed that he was troubled aboutsomething and was herself troubled in consequence.
His absent-mindedness was most acute on Sunday evenings, before prayermeeting, and after he had returned from the afternoon at CaptainElkanah's.
"Say, Mr. Ellery," she said, on one of these Sunday evenings, "do youknow, it seems to me that Elkanah's meals must go to your head. Don'thave any of his granddad's New England rum, do you? They tell me he'sgot some of that down cellar that he doles out occasional to hisvery particular friends. That's the common yarn around town, though Icouldn't swear 'twas gospel."
The minister smiled and denied acquaintanceship with the New Englandbeverage.
"Humph! Then it must be the other thing. You ain't in love, are you?"
The young man started, colored, and was plainly embarrassed.
"In love?" he repeated. "In love, Mrs. Coffin?"
"Yes, in love. Annabel hasn't landed a male at last, has she? She's aline over the side for a long time."
The hearty laugh with which this was received settled the question ofAnnabel's success. Keziah was relieved.
"Well, I'm glad of that," she said. "I ain't got any grudge againstAnnabel, but neither have I got one against you. Another man in thatfamily would have an easy time in one way, he wouldn't have to do anythinkin' for himself--Elkanah and his daughter would do all that wasnecessary. So you're not in love. Then I don't know what does ail you.I'll say this, though, for a body that ain't in love you certainly staywith the Danielses a long time. You went there right after meetin' thisnoon and now it's seven o'clock and you've just got home. And 'twas thesame last Sunday and the one before. Been there all the time, have you?"
She knew he had not, because she had seen him pass the parsonage, onthe opposite side of the road, two hours before. But she was curious tolearn what his reply would be. It was noncommittal.
"No," he said slowly. "Not all the time. I--er--went for a short walk."
Before she could inquire concerning that walk he had entered the studyand closed the door after him.
During the week which followed this particular conversation he was moreabsent-minded than ever. There were evenings when he spoke scarcely aword, but sat silent in his chair, while Keziah, looking up from hermending, watched him and guessed and wondered. After he had gone to hisroom for the night, she would hear him pacing the floor, back and forth,back and forth. She asked no more questions, however; minding her ownbusiness was a specialty of Keziah's, and it was a rare quality inTrumet.
Sunday was a cloudy, warm day, "muggy," so Captain Zeb described it.After the morning service Mr. Ellery, as usual, went home with CaptainDaniels and Annabel. Keziah returned to the parsonage, ate a lonelydinner, washed the dishes, and sat down to read a library book. Sheread for an hour and then, finding it difficult to keep her mind on thestory, gave it up, closed the book and, rising, walked to the window.But the misty, hot loneliness of the afternoon, was neither interestingnor cheerful, so she turned away and went upstairs to her own room. Hertrunk was in one corner of this room and she unlocked it, taking froma compartment of the tray a rosewood writing case, inlaid withmother-of-pearl, a present from her father, who had brought it home fromsea when she was a girl.
From the case she took a packet of letters and a daguerreotype. Thelatter was the portrait of a young man, in high-collared coat, stock,and fancy waistcoat. His hair, worn long over the ears, was smooth witha shine that suggested oil, and in his shirt front was a large pin,which might possibly have been mistaken by a credulous observer for adiamond. Mrs. Coffin looked at the daguerreotype, sighed, shuddered, andlaid it aside. Then she opened the packet of letters. Selecting one fromthe top of the pile, she read it slowly. And, as she read, she sighedagain.
She did not hear the back door of the parsonage open and close softly.Nor did she hear the cautious footsteps in the rooms below. What arousedher from her reading was her own name, spoken at the foot of the stairs.
"Keziah! Keziah, are you there?"
She started, sprang up, and ran out into the hall, the letter still inher hand.
"Who is it?" she asked sharply. "Mr. Ellery, is that you?"
"No," was the answer. "It's me--Nat. Are you busy, Keziah? I want to seeyou for a minute."
The housekeeper hurriedly thrust the letter into her waist.
"I'll be right down, Nat," she answered. "I'm comin'."
He was in the sitting room when she entered. He was wearing his Sundaysuit of blue and his soft felt hat was on the center table. She held outher hand and he shook it heartily.
"Well!" she observed, smiling, "I declare if I don't believe you've gotthe tiptoe habit. This is the second time you've sneaked into the houseand scared me 'most to death. I asked you before if you wa'n't
ashamedof yourself and now I ask it again."
Before he could reply she caught a glimpse of his face.
"What is it?" she asked. "What is the matter? Is anybody sick? Is yourfather--"
"No, he's all right. That is, he's as well as he has been lately, thoughthat isn't sayin' much."
"Is Grace--"
"No, she's all right, too, I guess. Been sort of quiet and sorrowfulfor the last few weeks--or I've seemed to notice that she has--butI cal'late it's nothin' serious. I wouldn't wonder if the same thingthat's
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