Immediately after breakfast Roma ordered her carriage, and drove over to Toomie’s Farm to see the family there. She found them all well, and doing well. She did not tell them of their Tim’s complaining letter to herself, lest it should give them pain, but she found out that she had no occasion to do so, as they had had a letter from him by the same mail which brought hers. Roma accepted their invitation to spend the day, by doing which she knew that she would be able to write a longer and fuller account to the absent son. She found—what, indeed, she had known before—that they were all very proud and fond of Tim. Roma returned home by sunset, and after tea spent the evening in writing a very long letter to Mr. Toomie and two very short ones to Mrs. Gray and Abbot Elde. When she had finished and sealed these epistles she rang the bell, and gave them to Puck, to be taken to the post office early in the morning. Then she went to bed. During the remainder of the week her neighbors began to call on her, to welcome her back to her home. They had all heard from Dr. Shaw of the terrible wrong that had been attempted against her in the felonious marriage, and tendered their hearty congratulations on her escape from danger. “Our young men threaten to lynch him,” said Dr. Keech, “and although at my age, and with my profession, which is to save life and not to destroy it, I would not assist at such a ceremony, neither would I utter a word or lift a finger to prevent it.” Roma was certainly comforted by the hearty sympathy of her neighbors, though she did wish that it had been silent and not clamorous. At church, the next Sunday, she saw Dr. Shaw again and begged him to call on her as early in the week as he conveniently could do so, as she wished to consult him again. He promised to come on the next morning, adding that Monday was always his least busy day. So, early on the next morning, the good minister made his appearance at Goblin Hall. It was one of the fine days of the fitful April weather—warm enough for June. Roma was seated on the front piazza, with Ducky Darling at her feet, playing on the broken musical box. As the parson rode up, dismounted, and tied his horse, Roma arose to meet him, shook hands with him cordially, and invited him into the house. “No, my child, I will sit here, if you please. It is cooler. It is very pleasant out here,” he said, sinking into one of the Quaker chairs, drawing his handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his forehead. Roma took his broad-brimmed felt hat into the hall and hung it up. Ceres, who was dusting the dining-room, she told to make a pitcher of iced lemonade and bring it out. When she returned to the piazza she called Puck from the flower bed he was weeding and told him to take the doctor’s horse to the stable and attend to him there.