The minister had listened eagerly to this defense of the man whom he had been led to consider his arch enemy. It was given with spirit and the girl's head was uplifted and her eyes flashed as she spoke. Ellery's next remark was uttered without premeditation. Really, he was thinking aloud. “So you went away to school?” he mused. “That is why--” “That is why I don't say 'never done nothin'' and 'be you' and 'hain't neither.' Yes, thank you, that's why. I don't wonder you were surprised.” The young man blushed. “You misunderstand me,” he protested. “I didn't mean--” “Oh! yes, you did. Not precisely that, perhaps, but pretty near it. I suppose you expected me to speak like Josiah Badger or Kyan Pepper. I try not to. And I try not to say 'immejitly,' too,” she added, with a mischievous twinkle. Ellery recognized the “immejitly” quotation and laughed. “I never heard but one person say that,” he observed. “And he isn't a Come-Outer.” “No, he isn't. Well, this lesson in English can't be very interesting to you, Mr. Ellery, and I must go. But I'm very glad Nat helped you the other day and that you realize the sort of man he is. And I'm glad I have had the opportunity to tell you more about Uncle Eben. I owe him so much that I ought to be glad--yes, glad and proud and happy, too, to gratify his least wish. I must! I know I must, no matter how I--What am I talking about? Yes, Mr. Ellery, I'm glad if I have helped you to understand my uncle better and why I love and respect him. If you knew him as I do, you would respect him, too. Good-by.” She was going, but the minister had something to say. He stepped forward and walked beside her. “Just a minute, please,” he urged. “Miss Van Horne, I do understand. I do respect your uncle. We have a mutual friend, you and I, and through her I have come to understand many things.” Grace turned and looked at him. “A mutual friend?” she repeated. “Oh! I know. Mrs. Coffin?” “Yes; Mrs. Coffin. She's a good woman and a wise one.” “She's a dear! Do you like her, too?” “Indeed, I do.” “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.