Then he faced the silent people, who were blinking hard their blurry eyes. He ran the brim of his worn hat around and around between his fingers with an air that was almost embarrassment. “Neighbours!” There was a bit of catch in his throat. “Esther wanted me to tell you that the little school teacher has found a new mother to-night.” He went out through the entry-way, and the old dog waddled down off the platform and followed at his heels. “Phineas!” Sylvena Willard caught him on the little platform of the school house. “How are you going to return to the village?” “I was reckoning to foot it, Eli and I.” “The boy brought me in our team. Won’t you ride with me? I want to talk it all over with you.” He was about to accept, when out of the gloom to which their eyes were as yet hardly accustomed came a blur of lighter colour. It was the lining of King Bradish’s Goddard buggy, and Bradish leaned out and spoke to her, “I sent the boy home with your hitch, Sylvie. I’ve been waiting for you.” He climbed out and “cramped” the wheel. “Was your experience meeting worth all the time you put into it?” he inquired with a bit of satire. “You sent my carriage home?” she demanded indignantly. “Why, it was the most natural thing in the world to do. There was no need of keeping the boy here when you are going to ride back with me.” “But I am not going to ride back with you, King,” she said, recovering her composure. “I must withdraw my invitation to you,” she went on, turning to the Squire. “But you can return the compliment by inviting me to share your conveyance--Shanks’s mare, I believe the boys call it.” “But it is two miles,” remonstrated the Squire. “Only a pleasant stroll after the stuffiness of the school house. Come!” She seized his arm and brushed past Bradish, for the people were beginning to come out of the school house with their lamps. He overtook them a few rods down the road. “Sylvie,” he said, walking his horse close to them, “I don’t propose to discuss this thing in the highway, but you certainly can’t be intending to walk home with this man, under the _circumstances_.” He dwelt on the last word. She did not reply, but continued to chat to the Squire, who plodded on, dumb and confounded at the turn affairs had taken. “And I shall tell your father!” drawled Bradish, venom in his tone. “Tell him whatever you think will be the best for all concerned,” she replied with fully as much significance. They heard him lashing his horse cruelly as he turned the corner into the Cove road. But during the walk to the village his name was not mentioned between them. CHAPTER IX--SUMNER BADGER MAKES A WILL AND, UNWITTINGLY, A DISCLOSURE “A man there was who died of late Whom angels did impatient wait, With outstretched arms and smiles of love To take him to the Realms Above. “While angels hovered in the skies