hat the eatables is put away proper or else give
to the poor--which will be you, I guess--and then she is to lock all the
doors and take the front-door key to Squire Allen, and tell him I'll
write to him. And what's more, you can say to the nasty thing that if I
find anything wrong in my house, or anything missin', I 'll hold her and
her husband responsible for it, and that I'm mighty glad I don't belong
to their church."

Then she slipped out of the back gate of the yard, and made her way
swiftly to the railroad-station. There was a train for the north which
passed Glenford at half-past twelve, and which could be flagged. There
was one man at the station, and he was very much surprised to see Miss
Port.

"Is anything the matter?" he said.

"Yes," she snapped, "there's some people sick, and I guess there'll be
more of 'em a good deal sicker in the morning. I've got to go."

"A case of pizenin'?" asked the man very earnestly.

"Yes," said she, wrapping her shawl around her; "the worse kind of
pizenin'!" Then she talked no more.

The servant-girl slept late, and there were a good many ladies in the
parlor when she came down. She did not give them a chance to ask her
anything, but told her message promptly. It was a message pretty fairly
remembered, although it had grown somewhat sharper in the night. When it
was finished the girl added: "And I'm to have all the eatables in the
house to take home to my mother, and Squire Allen is to pay me four
dollars and seventy-five cents, which has been owin' to me for wages for
ever so long."

_CHAPTER XXXVI_

_Cold Tinder._

Olive and Dick Lancaster sat together in the captain's parlor. She was
very quiet--she had been very quiet of late--but he was nervous.

"It is very kind, Mr. Lancaster," said Olive, breaking the silence, "for
you to come to see us instead of writing. It is so much pleasanter for
friends--"

"Oh, it was not kind," he said, interrupting her. "In fact, it was
selfishness. And now I want to tell you quickly, Miss Asher, while I
have the chance, the reason of my coming here to-day. It was not to
offer you my congratulations or my sympathy, although you must know that
I feel for you and your uncle as much in every way as any living being
can feel. I came to offer my love. I have loved you almost ever since I
knew you as much as any man can love a woman, and whenever I have been
with you I could hardly hold myself back from telling you. But I was