The minister walked up the dusty lane, lifted the Pepper gate and swung it back on its one hinge, shooed away the three or four languid and discouraged-looking fowls that were taking a sun bath on the clam-shell walk, and knocked at the front door. No one coming in answer to the knock, he tried again. Then he discovered a rusty bell pull and gave it a sharp tug. The knob came off in his hand and he hurriedly thrust it back again into its place. Evidently, that bell was solely for ornament. He came to the conclusion that no one was at home and felt a guilty sense of relief in consequence. But his conscience would not let him depart without another try, so he clenched his fist and gave the cracked door panel a series of tremendous thumps. A thin black cat, which had evidently been asleep beneath the step, burst from its concealment and fled in frantic terror. Then from somewhere in the rear of the house came the sound of a human voice. “Hi!” it called faintly. “Whoever you be, don't bust that door down. Come round here.” Ellery walked around the corner of the building. The voice came again. “Say!” it wailed, “why don't you answer? Be you comin'? If you're a peddler, you needn't.” “I'm not a peddler,” was the minister's amused reply. “Oh, ain't ye? All right. Come along, then.” Ellery “came along” as far as the angle where the ell joined the main body of the house. So far as he could see every door and window was closed and there were no signs of life. However, he stepped to the door, a green-painted affair of boards, and ventured another knock. “Don't start that poundin' again!” protested the voice. “Come round to t'other side where I be.” So around went the Reverend John, smiling broadly. But even on “t'other side” there was no one to be seen. And no door, for that matter. “Why!” exclaimed the voice, “if 'tain't Mr. Ellery! How d'ye do? Glad to see you, Mr. Ellery. Fine day, ain't it? Here I be at this window.” Sure enough; one of the windows on this side of the house was raised about six inches at the bottom, the shade was up, and peering beneath the sash the minister discerned the expressive features of Abishai Pepper--or as much of those features as the size of the opening permitted to be seen. “Oh!” exclaimed the visitor, “is that you, Mr. Pepper? Well, I'm glad to see you, at last. You are rather hard to see, even now.” Kyan was plainly embarrassed. He stammered as he answered. “Yes,” he agreed, “I--I shouldn't wonder if I be. How be you? Pretty smart?” “Yes, thank you. I'm well.” “Er--er--come to call, did you?” “Why, yes, that was my intention.” “Hum! Er--er--Laviny, she's gone over to Thankful Payne's. She heard that Thankful's cousin up to Middleboro had died--passed away, I mean--and she thought she'd run over and find out if Thankful was willed anything. She said she'd be back pretty soon.” “Very well. Then, as she won't be gone long, perhaps I'll come in and wait.”