“Goun' to tell him? Well, that's right, Janey. I kep' wonderun' why he didn't come to-night. If Abel hadn't be'n so beat out with his work at the Cross Roads to-day, you bet I'd 'a' made _him_ come; but he said I'd git enough glory for both. I believe his talkun' with Squire Braile don't do him no good. You b'lieve Washington and Jefferson was friends with Tom Paine? The Squire says they was, but I misdoubt it, myself; I always hearn them two was good perfessun' Christians. Kind o' lonesome along here where the woods comes so close't, ain't it? Say, Janey: I wisht you'd come a little piece with me, though I don't suppose the bad spirits would dast to come around a body right on the way home from the Temple this way--” They had reached the point where Sally must part with the girl, who stopped to lift the top rail of the bars to the lane leading from the road to her father's cabin. She let it drop again. “Why, I'll go the whole way with you, Sally.” “Will you? Well, I declare to gracious, you're the best girl I ever seen. I believe in my heart, I'll rout Abel out and make him go back home with you.” “You needn't,” the girl said. “I'm not afraid to go alone in the dark.” “Well, just as you say, Janey. What do you do to keep from beun' afraid?” “Oh, I don't know. I just think, I suppose.” “Well, _I_ just want to _squeal_.” Sally had been talking in her loud, loose voice to keep her courage up. “Well, I declare if we ain't there a'ready. If you just say the word I'll have Abel out in half a minute, and--” “No,” the girl said. “Good night.” “Well, good night. I've got half a mind to go back with you myself,” Sally called, as she lifted her hand to pull the latchstring of her door. Jane Gillespie found her father standing at the bars when she went back. He mechanically let them down for her. “I thought you would be in bed, Father,” she said gently, but coldly. “I've had things to keep me awake; and it's hot indoors,” he answered, and then he demanded, “Well?” If it was his way of bidding her tell him of her evening's experience, she did not obey him, and he had to make another attempt on her silence. “Was Hughey there?” “Hughey? I don't know.” “Didn't he ask to come home with you?” “I didn't see him. Sally Reverdy came with me.” “Yes, I knew that.” She was silent for another moment and then she said, “Father, I have a message for you. He said, 'I send my peace to him; and it will not return unto me.' He said you needed him.” Gillespie knew that she meant Dylks and he knew that she kept out of her voice whatever feeling she had in delivering his message. In the dark, she could not see her father's frown, but she was aware of it in his answer. “You went there against my will. Well?” “I believe.” “You believe? What do you believe?” “Him. That he is sent.” “Why?” “I can't tell you. He made me; he made all the people there.”