Once more the old stage rumbled over the road between Hetherford and Crescent Beach. The wind had veered a point to the east, and blew damp and chill, driving before it a mist of clouds across the sky, obscuring the moon's bright light. The sudden change in the atmosphere was felt by everybody, and the conversation was spasmodic, broken by long intervals of silence. Jean, very white and still now that the tension was relaxed, shrank back into her corner clinging fast to Eleanor's hand. In a further corner Farr sat at Helen's side, silent during the whole of the long drive. CHAPTER XV. HELEN IS PUZZLED. Miss Stuart's visit was drawing to a close, and Nan was giving a luncheon in her honor. The little parlor of the parsonage was redolent with the fragrance of roses and mignonette, which were massed in every vase and bowl, and the arrangement of the simple, old-fashioned furniture bore evidence of Nan's artistic taste. A few good etchings and a half-dozen rare old prints adorned the walls, and scattered about on the low mantel were several valuable bits of _vertu_. Nan stood in the center of the room, and received her guests with outstretched hand and beaming face. "Now, I call this delightful," she said cheerily, as she shook hands with Miss Stuart. "Even father has gone away for the day, so we are a typical Hetherford party--all girls and no men. Em said you would be bored to death," she rattled on in a confidential undertone, "but for once in a way I thought you might find it amusing to have plenty of your own sex. It is no novelty to us, as Em will tell you with a face as long as the moral code." "I think it is charming," Miss Stuart affirmed, with a greater regard for amiability than for truth. Nan smiled mischievously. "Confess it is dull." "Indeed it is not, Miss Nan. The imp of dullness would never dare to show his surly face in your presence." "Ah, you do not know," and Nan shook her head in laughing protest. "Drop in here any Sunday between church-time and dinner, and you will find us boon companions." The door into the dining-room was opened, and a grim-visaged woman in a starched calico gown of uncompromising stiffness appeared on the threshold. For a moment she eyed Nan threateningly, and then announced: "Your lunch is on the table," and added, as she faced about and marched back into the dining room, "and it's getting cold." Nan, in no wise disconcerted, turned a wry face toward her guests: "Biddy and I had one of our most deadly affrays just before you arrived, so don't be surprised at anything she may give us for luncheon. I tried, for your sakes, to keep my temper until later in the day, but it wouldn't be kept." "It never will," sighed Emily ruefully, in the midst of the general laugh. Nan ushered them into the dining room: "Miss Stuart, will you sit here on my right? Girls, take any places you want."