pie order. I had therefore
nothing to do but to prepare for going out. This I did quickly, and was
down-stairs sooner perhaps than I was expected. At all events Lucetta
and William parted very suddenly when they saw me, she in tears and he
with a dogged shrug and some such word as this:

"You're a fool to take on so. Since it's got to be, the sooner the
better, I say. Don't you see that every minute makes less our chances of
concealment?"

It made me feel like changing my mind and staying home. But the habit of
a lifetime is not easily broken into. I kept to my first decision.

XI

MEN, WOMEN, AND GHOSTS

Mr. Simsbury gave me quite an amiable bow as I entered the buggy. This
made it easy for me to say:

"You are on hand early this morning. Do you sleep in the Knollys house?"

The stare he gave me had the least bit of suspicion in it.

"I live over yonder," he said, pointing with his whip across the
intervening woods to the main road. "I come through the marshes to my
breakfast; my old woman says they owes me three meals, and three meals I
must have."

It was the longest sentence with which he had honored me. Finding him in
a talkative mood, I prepared to make myself agreeable, a proceeding
which he seemed to appreciate, for he began to sniff and pay great
attention to his horse, which he was elaborately turning about.

"Why do you go that way?" I protested. "Isn't it the longest way to the
village?"

"It's the way I'm most accustomed to," said he. "But we can go the other
way if you like. Perhaps we will get a glimpse of Deacon Spear. He's a
widower, you know."

The leer with which he said this was intolerable. I bridled up--but no,
I will not admit that I so much as manifested by my manner that I
understood him. I merely expressed my wish to go the old way.

He whipped up the horse at once, almost laughing outright. I began to
think this man capable of most any wicked deed. He was forced, however,
to pull up suddenly. Directly in our path was the stooping figure of a
woman. She did not move as we advanced, and so we had no alternative but
to stop. Not till the horse's head touched her shoulder did she move.
Then she rose up and looked at us somewhat indignantly.

"Didn't you hear us?" I asked, willing to open conversation with the old
crone, whom I had no difficulty in recognizing as Mother Jane.

"She's deaf--deaf, as a post," muttered Mr. Simsbury. "No use shouting
at her." His tone was bru