The old man gasped. He could not speak.
“Now, that’s all true, ain’t it?” she asked anxiously. “The ‘accident’ is this cut. The ‘fun’ral’ is old Mis’ Wentworth’s. I heard ter-day that they couldn’t have it until Saturday, so that’ll give us plenty of time ter get the folks here. I needn’t say whose fun’ral it is that’s goin’ ter be on Saturday, Thaddeus! I want yer ter hitch up an’ drive over ter Hopkinsville ter send the telegrams. The man’s new over there, an’ won’t know yer. You couldn’t send ’em from here, of course.”
Thaddeus Clayton never knew just how he allowed himself to be persuaded to take his part in this “crazy scheme,” as he termed it, but persuaded he certainly was.
It was a miserable time for Thaddeus then. First there was that hurried drive to Hopkinsville. Though the day was warm he fairly shivered as he handed those two fateful telegrams to the man behind the counter. Then there was the homeward trip, during which, like the guilty thing he was, he cast furtive glances from side to side.
Even home itself came to be a misery, for the sweeping and the dusting and the baking and the brewing which he encountered there left him no place to call his own, so that he lost his patience at last and moaned:
“Seems ter me, Harriet, you’re a pretty lively corpse!”
His wife smiled, and flushed a little.
“There, there, dear! don’t fret. Jest think how glad we’ll be ter see ’em!” she exclaimed.
Harriet was blissfully happy. Both the children had promptly responded to the telegrams, and were now on their way. Hannah Jane, with her husband and two children, were expected on Friday evening; but Jehiel and his wife and boy could not possibly get in until early on the following morning.
All this brought scant joy to Thaddeus. There was always hanging over him the dread horror of what he had done, and the fearful questioning as to how it was all going to end.