Annabel spoke very
confidentially of her loneliness, without "congenial society," of
how VERY much she did enjoy Mr. Ellery's intellectual sermons, and
especially what a treat it had been to have him as a guest.

"You must dine here every Sunday," she said. "It will be no trouble at
all, and if you say no, I shall feel that it is because you don't want
to see me--FATHER and me, of course, I mean."

The minister didn't accept this pressing invitation; on the other
hand, he could not refuse it absolutely. He did not like Miss Daniels
overmuch, but she was the daughter of his leading parishioner and she
and her parent did seem to like him. So he dodged the issue and said she
was very kind.

He left the big house as soon as he could without giving offense, and
started back toward the parsonage. But the afternoon was so fine and the
early summer air so delightful that he changed his mind and, jumping the
fence at the foot of Cannon Hill, set off across the fields toward the
bluffs and the bay shore.

The sun was low in the west as he entered the grove of pines on the
bluff. The red light between the boughs made brilliant carpet patterns
on the thick pine needles and the smell was balsamy and sweet. Between
the tree trunks he caught glimpses of the flats, now partially covered,
and they reminded him of his narrow escape and of Nat Hammond, his
rescuer. He had met the captain twice since then, once at the store and
again on the main road, and had chatted with him. He liked him immensely
and wished he might count him as an intimate friend. But intimacy
between a Regular clergyman and the son of the leader of the Come-Outers
was out of the question. Partisans on both sides would shriek at the
idea.

Thinking of the Hammond family reminded him of another member of it. Not
that he needed to be reminded; he had thought of her often enough since
she ran away from him in the rain that night. And the picture in the
doorway was not one that he could forget--or wanted to. If she were
not a Come-Outer, he could meet her occasionally and they might become
friends. She was a disconcerting young person, who lacked proper respect
for one of his profession and laughed when she shouldn't--but she was
interesting, he admitted that.

And then he saw her. She was standing just at the outer edge of the
grove, leaning against a tree and looking toward the sunset. She wore a
simple white dress and her hat hung upon her shoulders by its ribbo