“I've been out here in the woods for an hour watching your back-door,” he said. “I was in hopes that I'd see Cynthia moving about in the diningroom or kitchen. You see, I don't know yet whether she went off last night or stayed. I haven't closed my eyes since I saw you.” “Well, you _have_ got it bad,” Mrs. Porter laughed, dryly, “and you needn't worry any more. I reckon I spilled ink all over my record in the Lamb's Book of Life, but I set in to succeed, and I worked it so fine that she let me go out and send him away for good and all.” “Oh, Sister Porter, is that true?” “It's a great deal truer than anything that passed my lips last night,” Mrs. Porter answered, crisply. “Brother Phillhouse, if I ever get forgiveness, there is one of the commandments that will have to be cut out of the list, for I certainly broke it all to smash. I had a separate lie stowed away in every pore of my skin last night, and they hung like cockle-burs to every hair of my head. I wish I was a Catholic.” “A Catholic?” Hillhouse repeated, his eyes dancing in delight, his sallow skin taking on color. “Yes, I'd sell our horses and cows and land, and give it to a priest, and tell him to wipe my soul clean with the proceeds. I feel happy, and I feel mean. Something tells me that I'd have made an expert woman thief--perhaps the greatest in the history of all nations.” “What sort of fibs did you tell, Sister Porter?” Hillhouse was smiling unctuously and rubbing his long hands together. “Well, I don't intend to tell you,” said the old woman; “besides, it would take a week. I spun the finest fabric of falsehood that was ever made. And I'm not done yet, for I've got to keep it up, and not let it lop off too suddenly.” “Well, do you think there will be any living chance for me?” the preacher said. “Yes, I do--that is, if you won't push matters too fast and will be patient. I have a plan now that you will like. Didn't you tell me you were going to preach two sermons this month at Cartersville?” “Yes, I take Brother Johnston's place for two weeks while he goes off for his vacation.” “Well,” said Mrs. Porter, “you know Nathan's brother George lives there. In fact, his wife and daughters belong to Mr. Johnston's church. George is a well-to-do lawyer, and his children dote on Cynthia; now I'm going to send her down there for a change.” “Oh, that will be simply fine!” Hillhouse cried, his face aglow. “Yes, and if you can't make hay while the sun shines down there, you'll deserve to fail. Cynthia has promised to give Floyd up, and he's agreed not to bother her any more. Now you slip back into the woods. I wouldn't have her see you here at this time of day for anything. When she gets her thinking apparatus to work she's going to do a lot of wondering, anyway.” XXXVI