her and tried to console, but what consolation is
there when one's only child and sole support is nobody knows where,
drowned and dead perhaps, perhaps a castaway on a desert island, or
adrift with a desperate crew in an open boat? And Mrs. Prince would say,
over and over again:

"Yes, yes, Mr. Ellery. Thank you. I'm sure you mean to encourage me, but
oh, you don't know the things that happen to seafarin' men. I do. I went
to sea with my husband for fourteen year. He died on a voyage and they
buried him over the vessel's side. I can't even go to his grave. The sea
got him, and now if it's taken my Eddie--"

The young clergyman came away from these calls feeling very young,
indeed, and woefully inadequate. What DID he know of the great sorrows
of life?

The Sunday dinners with the Daniels family were almost regular weekly
functions now. He dodged them when he could, but he could not do so
often without telling an absolute lie, and this he would not do. And,
regularly, when the solemn meal was eaten, Captain Elkanah went upstairs
for his nap and the Reverend John was left alone with Annabel. Miss
Daniels did her best to be entertaining, was, in fact, embarrassingly
confidential and cordial. It was hard work to get away, and yet, somehow
or other, at the stroke of four, the minister always said good-by and
took his departure.

"What is your hurry, Mr. Ellery?" begged Annabel on one occasion when
the reading of Moore's poems had been interrupted in the middle by the
guest's sudden rising and reaching for his hat. "I don't see why you
always go so early. It's so every time you're here. Do you call at any
other house on Sunday afternoons?"

"No," was the prompt reply. "Oh, no."

"Then why can't you stay? You know I--that is, pa and I--would LOVE to
have you."

"Thank you. Thank you. You're very kind. But I really must go. Good
afternoon, Miss Daniels."

"Mrs. Rogers said she saw you going across the fields after you left
here last Sunday. Did you go for a walk?"

"Er--er--yes, I did."

"I wish you had mentioned it. I love to walk, and there are SO few
people that I find congenial company. Are you going for a walk now?"

"Why, no--er--not exactly."

"I'm sorry. GOOD-by. Will you come again next Sunday? Of COURSE you
will. You know how dreadfully disappointed I--we--shall be if you
don't."

"Thank you, Miss Daniels. I enjoyed the dinner very much. Good
afternoon."

He hurried down the path. Annabel watched