Black hastened to open her door, as she saw them hurrying up her wet
gravel path.
"Is the minister home?" demanded Lois Daggett breathlessly. "I want
he should come right down here and tell you what he told me this
noon. Abby Daggett seems to think I made it up out of whole cloth.
Don't deny it, Abby. You know very well you said.... I s'pose of
course he's told you, Mrs. Black."
"Mr. Elliot has gone out," said Mrs. Black rather coldly.
"Where's he gone?" demanded Lois.
Mrs. Black was being devoured with curiosity; still she felt vaguely
repelled.
"Ladies," she said, her air of reserve deepening. "I don't know what
you are talking about, but Mr. Elliot didn't eat any dinner, and he
is either sick or troubled in his mind."
"There! Now you c'n all see from that!" triumphed Lois Daggett.
Mrs. Deacon Whittle and Mrs. Judge Fulsom gazed incredulously at Mrs.
Solomon Black, then at one another.
Abby Daggett, the soft round of her beautiful, kind face flushed and
tremulous, murmured: "Poor man--poor man!"
Mrs. Solomon Black with a masterly gesture headed the women toward
her parlor, where a fire was burning in a splendidly nickeled stove
full five feet high.
"Now," said she; "we'll talk this over, whatever it is."
Chapter XXII
A mile from town, where the angry wind could be seen at work tearing
the purple rainclouds into rags and tatters, through which the hidden
sun shot long rays of pale splendor, Wesley Elliot was walking
rapidly, his head bent, his eyes fixed and absent.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231