Has she told you about me--about uncle,I mean?Yes.Why,she told me--He began to enumerate some of the things Keziah had told concerning the Hammond family.They were all good things,and he couldn't help seeing that the recital pleased her.So he went on to tell how his housekeeper had helped him,of her advice,of her many acts of kindness,of what he owed to her.The girl listened eagerly,asking questions,nodding confirmation,and,in her delight at hearing Keziah praised,quite forgetting her previous eagerness to end the interview.And,as he talked,he looked at her,at the red light on her hair,the shine of her eyes,like phosphorus in the curl of a wave at night,at her long lashes,and--Yes,said Miss Van Horne,you were saying--The minister awoke with a guilty start.He realized that his sentence had broken off in the middle.
Why!why--er--yes,he stammered.I was saying that--that Idon't know what 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 love her more than anyone else in the world,except uncle,of course--and Nat.I miss her very much since--since--Since I came,you mean.I'm sorry.I wish--I hate to think Iam the cause 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,people who,because of a fanatical prejudice,stand in the way of--If it wasn't for 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,beyond the fringe of pines,and were now standing at the very edge of the high bank.
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 Aunt Keziah more than you can imagine--now especially.But,somehow,what we want to do most seems to be what we mustn't,and what we don't like is our duty.She said this without looking at him,and the expression on her face was the same sad,grave one he had noticed when he first saw her standing alone 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.If you 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 he wouldn't hear of my visiting the parsonage.But don't you think your uncle might be persuaded?I'm sure he misunderstands 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 he knew me better it might help matters?I'll do it gladly.Iwill!
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.I have the right to exercise a man's discretion.My parish committee must understand that.They shall!If I choose to see you--Look out!She was close to the overhanging edge of the bluff and the sod upon which she stood was bending beneath her feet.He sprang forward,caught her about the waist,and pulled her back.The sod broke and rattled down the sandy slope.She would have had a slight tumble,nothing worse,had she gone with it.There was no danger;and yet the minister was very white 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 how late 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.She recognized 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 ever seen.I come here every Sunday afternoon to see them.This remark was given merely to cover embarrassment,but it had an unexpected effect.
You DO?cried the minister.The next moment he was alone.Grace Van Horne had vanished in the gloom of the pine thickets.
It was a strange John Ellery who walked slowly back along the path,one that Keziah herself would not have recognized,to say nothing of Captain Elkanah and the parish committee.The dignified parson,with the dignified walk and calm,untroubled brow,was gone,and here was an absent-minded young fellow who stumbled blindly along,tripping over roots and dead limbs,and caring nothing,apparently,for the damage to his Sunday boots and trousers which might result from the stumbles.He saw nothing real,and heard nothing,not even the excited person who,hidden behind the bayberry bush,hailed him as he passed.It was not until this person rushed forth and seized him by the arm that he came back 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 minutes waitin'to get a chance at you?Ain't I been chasin'you from Dan to Beersheby all this dummed--excuse me--afternoon?Oh,my godfreys mighty!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 of humble respect far different from his present frantic assault.The Reverend 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 up to 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 done it!Yes,sir,I done it when she got back from meetin'this noon.I run off and left her locked in.And--and--he wailed,wringing his hands--I--I ain't dast to go home sence.
WHAT'll I do?
