“Yes, he is in,” she admitted, reluctantly, “but I don’t believe he’ll want to see you. He don’t want to see anybody. I guess likely you’d better come some other time.” She would have closed the door, but Reliance calmly pushed it open and entered the kitchen. “Where is he?” she asked. “He’s in the library, I suppose; at least he was there last time I looked. But he won’t want to see you, I tell you. Why, look at the folks--the kind of folks--that’s been here to-day. Cap’n Snow--and he wouldn’t see him. And Mr. Colton, the minister of his own church, and he wouldn’t even see him. Do you suppose likely if he turned _that_ kind of folks away he’ll want to see--well--anybody?... Why, where are you goin’? Didn’t you hear what I said?” Reliance had heard but she paid no attention. She walked calmly from the kitchen to the dining room. Nabby, after a moment of petrified resentment, ran after her and reached the library first. “Cap’n Foster,” she cried, breathlessly, “there’s somebody here to see you. It ain’t my fault. I told ’em you didn’t want to see anybody. I said those very words. They’d ought to have been enough, I should _think_.” But Reliance had entered and now spoke for herself. “Good afternoon, Foster,” she said. “You’ll see me for a minute or two, won’t you? I hope you will.” Foster Townsend was sitting in the leather chair. When the housekeeper burst into the room he looked up with a frown. As he recognized his caller he slowly leaned back. It was the first time she had entered that house since Esther left it. “Humph!” he observed. “It’s you, eh?” He was silent for an instant, then he turned to the perturbed Mrs. Gifford. “All right, Nabby,” he said. “You can go.” Nabby was expectantly awaiting orders to show the intruder to the door. Her cheeks, puffed with righteous indignation, collapsed like punctured balloons. “Wh--what?” she gasped. “You can go. Shut the kitchen door after you. Go along.” Nabby went, under protest, muttering all the way to the kitchen. Townsend thrust his hands into his trousers’ pockets. His face, as he raised it to meet Reliance’s look, was expressionless. “Well?” he asked. Then, with a grim smile he added: “Come for a look at the remains, have you? Are you satisfied? Do I look natural?” She took a step toward him and put out her hand impulsively. “Don’t, Foster,” she protested. “Don’t talk that way.” “Why not?” still smiling. “All hands know I am dead. You must have heard them preaching my funeral sermon for a week.... Well, well,” with sudden impatience, “let’s make the ceremony as simple as possible. What is it you have come for? What do you want?” “I don’t want anything. And I came--because--oh, I’ve been thinkin’ of you night and day ever since we all heard about it. And since yesterday, when Millard told he saw you at the depot, I--well, I have been thinkin’ of you more than ever, if that is possible. Of you, sittin’ here all alone in this great house.”