To accomplish the momentous thing that had been weighing upon her, Ann had risked leaving her grandfather alone for a short time. During the last two weeks it had made little difference to Ann whether she sat on the porch listening to Baird, or lay on her bed thinking of the thing that loomed large before her. It had grown out of her two weeks of companionship with Edward. No matter what the hurt to Garvin, she must tell him the truth. She had written her confession that day, spent hours and much paper over the short letter, and as soon as her father and Sue were safely away she had taken it to the woods. She was back now; the thing was done; she was panting as much from nervousness as from haste. The sight of a man looming dimly in the path startled her and she stopped. She felt ill enough to be frightened by everything; a moment before a bird had fluttered in the grapevines and her heart had stood still. "It's only I--don't be frightened," Baird's voice said. Ann came on without answer. "You've been running--where have you been?" Baird questioned. He felt jealously certain that Ann had been to the woods--to see Edward, of course. Ann did not answer his question. "Were you at the house? Was grandpa all right?" she asked anxiously. "I think so--everything was quiet.... Why don't you wait a minute and get your breath?... I want to ask you something, anyway, Ann?" Ann did pause. "Well?" she asked indifferently. Baird looked at her in silence for a moment. Even in the dim light he could see that she was white and tired. If she was in love with Edward, it did not seem to make her joyful. She had never looked really happy since the day he had seen her playing in the barn. He asked his question abruptly, "Ann, are you engaged to anybody?" Ann simply stared at him. Baird's face had grown hot. "Are you in love with any one, Ann?... I'd rather you told me frankly.... If you are, I'll stop coming around and bothering you. If you're not, I'm going to make you like me." There was a long silence. Then Ann said, "I'd rather you stayed away." "You're sure of that, Ann?" "Yes." Baird stood in uncertainty for a moment; it was hard for him to hold to his decision. He was carrying his riding-whip, and he slashed viciously at the Bouncing-Betsies that edged the path, his teeth set. Then he straightened. "Well--I guess there's nothing I can do--so I'll be off." They went up to the house in silence. XXVII THE THING Garvin Westmore sat at the mouth of Crest Cave, his eyes fixed on the Back Road and on the stretch of woods below the Penniman house. He had sat for the greater part of the day almost motionless and steadily watching--watching every one who came and went by the Back Road, who entered or left the woods.