he one true way. So she sat down by her patient, and was watching
there, hopeful of moisture on his palm, when Mattie broke into the front
room, impetuous as the wind. Mary rose and stepped out to meet her,
shutting the door as she went. Passing the window, she saw the
selectmen, in the vehicle known as a long-reach, waiting at the gate.

"Hush, Mattie!" said she, "you'll wake him."

Mattie, in her ill-assorted respectabilities of dress, seemed to have
been involved but recently in some bacchanalian orgie. Her shawl was
dragged to one side, and her bonnet sat rakishly. She was intoxicated
with her own surprise.

"Mary Dunbar!" cried she, "I'd like to know the meanin' of all this
go-round!"

"There!" answered Mary, with a quietude like that of the sea at ebb, "I
can't stop to talk. I'll settle it with the selec'men. You come, too."

Mattie's eyes were seeking the bedroom. Leave her alone, and her feet
would follow. "You come along," repeated Mary, and Mattie came.

When the three selectmen saw Mary Dunbar stepping down the little slope,
they gathered about them all their official dignity. Ebenezer Tolman sat
a little straighter than usual, and uttered a portentous cough. Lothrop
Wilson, mild by nature, and rather prone to whiffling in times of
difficulty, frowned, with conscious effort; but that was only because he
knew, in his own soul, how loyally he loved the under-dog, let justice
go as it might. Then there was Eli Pike, occupying himself in pulling a
rein from beneath the horse's tail. These two hated warfare, and were
nervously conscious that, should they fail in firmness, Ebenezer would
deal with them. Mary went swiftly up to the wagon, and laid one hand
upon the wheel.

"I've got John Veasey in my house," she began rapidly. "I can't stop to
talk. He's pretty sick."

Ebenezer cleared his throat again.

"We understood his folks had put him on the town," said he.

Mattie made a little eager sound, and then stopped.

"He ain't on the town yet," said Mary. "He's in my bedroom. An' there
he's goin' to stay. I've took this job." She turned away from them,
erect in her decision, and went up the path. Eli Pike looked after her,
with an understanding sympathy. He was the man who had walked two
miles, one night, to shoot a fox, trapped, and left there helpless with
a broken leg. Lothrop gazed straight ahead, and said nothing.

"Look here!" called Ebenezer. "Mary! Mary! you look here!"

Mary turned about at th