When they rose from their knees, Mr. Horton was breathless, so Miss Katherine had him at her mercy. She politely asked him to excuse her brother as he was not feeling well, at which Joseph gratefully withdrew.
“A guilty soul is a terrible thing, Miss Boulby,” said Mr. Horton mopping his forehead.
“Yes, I suppose it must be,” she returned calmly, “but what is even worse is to have a mind that is constantly imagining evil in others. Now, Mr. Horton, the ladies of your church have quite ignored us since we came, but I should be very much pleased if Mrs. Horton and some of the prominent ladies in the church would call and we can discuss what I can do and where I can fit in in church work.”
Mr. Horton fairly shone with triumph. Here was a repentant sinner.
“There is joy among—” he began but that was too much for Miss Katherine.
About this time Mr. Murphy was giving the pebbles on the shore the benefit of one of his frequent monologues: “I’ve seen them taken with it before,” he informed himself, “but never so bad as she’s got it. Treasure hunting is like yellow fever. You’ve got to let it burn itself up. I should think her treasure hunting fever would be about cured, but you never can tell with a woman. Perhaps she’s onto a new place by this time. I hope she won’t go tearing the place down to see if there’s a secret chamber anywhere. I like her to enjoy herself, but she’s apt to get into trouble with Skinner if she destroys much property. I’ll have to think up some way of satisfying her or she’ll land in the penitentiary.
“I wonder if she’s found any more qualities in the old Cap’s picture? I think the picture’s got all the strength when she’s around, for darn me if I ain’t as weak as water when she goes talking about him being the kind of man she admires! For I know that there’s just so many qualities that I’ll begin to dig up out of me or to plant in me. But she might come to the end of the choicest characteristics soon and give a feller time to cultivate a few.”
The Captain tugged at a large volume in his pocket. He succeeded in tearing it out. The place where he had been reading was marked by a slip of paper upon which was a long list of books written in a feminine hand. The name of the volume Mr. Murphy was reading was the twenty-first on the slip and was ‘Treasure Island.’
“If I’d ever had a villain like that Silver around me I’d ’ve strung him up. Such dilly-dallying around makes me sick,” commented the reader.
“Why, Mr. Murphy, do you talk to yourself or are you reading aloud? Your expression is wonderful if you were reading,” said the pleasant voice of Miss Boulby who had quite innocently chosen for her afternoon walk Mr. Murphy’s usual direction.