“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?” CHAPTER IX IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT