of consequences, she slipped under the kitchen table, drawing the pail after her. The long fringe from the red cloth hung down about her in small, even tassels. The dining room door opened and she tried to stifle her swiftly coming breaths. Virginia could see a pair of legs, man’s legs, and they weren’t country legs either. Following them were the light frillings of a woman’s skirts.

“It’s warmer here,” said Miss Merriweather’s voice.

Molly and the man took chairs. From her position Virginia could not see his face.

“Your father’s ill,” he said in a voice rich and deep.

“Yes,” replied Molly. “He’s been near death for a long time. We’ve had to give him the greatest care. That’s why I haven’t told him anything.” 36

36

The man bent over until Jinnie could see the point of his chin.

“I see,” said he.... “Well, Molly, are you glad to have me back?”

Molly’s face came plainly within Jinnie’s view. At his question the woman went paler. Then the man leaned over and tried to take one of her hands. But she drew it away again and locked her fingers together in her lap.

“Aren’t you glad to see me back again?” he repeated.

Molly’s startled eyes came upward to his face.

“I don’t know—I can’t tell—I’m so surprised and––”

“And glad,” laughed the stranger in a deep, mesmeric voice. “Glad to have your husband back once more, eh?”

Virginia’s start was followed quickly by an imploration from Molly.

“Hush, hush, please don’t speak of it!”

“I certainly shall speak of it; I certainly shall. I came here for no other reason than that. And who would speak of it if I didn’t?”

Molly shivered. There was something about the man’s low, modulated tones that repelled Virginia. She tried in vain to see his face. She was sure that nowhere in the hills was there such a man.

“You’ve been gone so long I thought you’d forgotten or—or were dead,” 

 Prev. P 22/276 next