down-town during the afternoon and had met
friends; the colored people are a good deal like a freemasonry, you
know. A great many knew last night all about what had happened, and
had their theories about what might happen to-day in case the two men
met. Still, you see, those who knew, also knew just what people not to
tell. The Tocsin is the only newspaper worth the name here; but even
if the Tocsin had known of the trouble, it wouldn't have been likely to
mention it. That's a thing I don't understand." He frowned and rubbed
the back of his head. "There's something underneath it. For more than
a year the Tocsin hasn't spoken of Beaver Beach. I'd like to know why."

"Joe," she said, slowly, "tell me something truly. A man said to me
yesterday that he found life here insufferable. Do you find it so?"

"Why, no!" he answered, surprised.

"Do you hate Canaan?"

"Certainly not."

"You don't find it dull, provincial, unsympathetic?"

He laughed cheerily. "Well, there's this," he explained: "I have an
advantage over your friend. I see a more interesting side of things
probably. The people I live among are pretty thorough cosmopolites in a
way, and the life I lead--"

"I think I begin to understand a little about the life you lead," she
interrupted. "Then you don't complain of Canaan?"

"Of course not."

She threw him a quick, bright, happy look, then glanced again at the
chair in which Mrs. Fear had sat. "Joe," she said, "last night I heard
the people singing in the houses, the old Sunday-evening way. It 'took
me back so'!"

"Yes, it would. And something else: there's one hymn they sing more
than any other; it's Canaan's favorite. Do you know what it is?"

"Is it 'Rescue the Perishing'?"

"That's it. 'Rescue the Perishing'!" he cried, and repeating the words
again, gave forth a peal of laughter so hearty that it brought tears to
his eyes. "'RESCUE THE PERISHING'!"

At first she did not understand his laughter, but, after a moment, she
did, and joined her own to it, though with a certain tremulousness.

"It IS funny, isn't it?" said Joe, wiping the moisture from his eyes.
Then all trace of mirth left him. "Is it really YOU, sitting here and
laughing with me, Ariel?"

"It seems to be," she answered, in a low voice. "I'm not at all sure."

"You didn't think, yesterday afternoon," he began, almost in a
whisper,--"you didn't think that I had failed to come because I--" He
grew very red, and