k for a job.' And he went, and she ain't heard hide--I mean seen hide
nor heard hair--What DOES ail me? She ain't seen nor heard of him since.
And she advertised in the weekly paper, and I don't know what all. She
thinks he was murdered, you know; that's what makes it so sort of creepy
and interestin'. Everybody was awful kind to her, and we got to be real
good friends. Why, I--"

This was but the beginning. It was evident that Mrs. Beasley had
thoroughly enjoyed herself in Blazeton, and that the sorrows of the
bereaved Desire Higgins had been one of the principal sources of that
enjoyment. The schoolmistress endeavored to turn the subject, but it was
useless.

"I fetched home a whole pile of them newspapers," continued Debby.
"They was awful interestin'; full of pictures of Blazeton buildin's
and leadin' folks and all. And in some of the back numbers was the
advertisement about Mr. Higgins. I do wish I could show 'em to you, but
I lent 'em to Mrs. Atwood up to the Center. If 'twan't such a ways I'd
go and fetch 'em. Mrs. Atwood's been awful nice to me. She took care of
my trunks and things when I went West--yes, and afore that when I went
to Bayport to keep house for that miser'ble Cap'n Whittaker. I ain't
told you about that, but I will by and by. Them trunks had lots of
things in 'em that I didn't want to lose nor have anybody see. My
diaries--I've kept a diary since 1850--and--"

"Diaries?" interrupted Phoebe, grasping at straws. "Did you keep a diary
while you were at the Thayers?"

"Yes. Now, why didn't I think of that afore? More'n likely there'd be
somethin' in that to help you with that geographical tree. I used to put
down everything that happened, and--Where you goin'?"

Miss Dawes had risen and was peering out of the window.

"I was looking to see if my driver was anywhere about," she replied. "I
thought perhaps he would drive over to Mrs. Atwood's and get the diary
for you. But I don't see him."

Just then, from around the corner of the house, peeped an agitated face;
an agitated forefinger beckoned. Debby stepped to the window beside her
visitor, and the face and finger went out of sight as if pulled by a
string.

Miss Phoebe smiled.

"I think I'll go out and look for him," she said. "He must be near here.
I'll be right back, Mrs. Beasley."

Without stopping to put on her jacket, she hurried through the dining
room, out of the door, and around the corner. There she found Mr. Bangs
in a highly