It was the half-witted son of Ephraim Adamson, John, commonly called Johnnie, the idiot! Why he had come hither, why he was allowed to come, none might say, nor why he came unattended by any of his kin as was the usual custom. But none molested him. A bold youth said "Hello, Johnnie," and Johnnie respectfully took off his hat to him with an amiable grin. They would have mocked him had they dared, but in truth none knew what to do with him.
When Aurora Lane had passed in part the gauntlet of the loitering youths, and was about to step down the stair into the street, she felt a heavy hand fall on her arm. Then a peal of laughter rose back of her—laughter on the threshold of the church itself. For what the half-wit did was what he had seen these others do. Sidling up to her, his hat off, he said, "May I see—may I see you home this—this evening?"
This was accounted the greatest jest, the most unfailingly mirthful thing in the recountal, ever known in the annals of Spring Valley.
Aurora Lane started back from him in sudden shocked loathing, swiftly resentful also of the mocking laughter that she heard from those who still stood within the sanctuary. Sanctuary? Was there such a place as sanctuary for her in all the world? Was there any place where she might be safe, where she might be unmolested?
"Go on away!" she said sharply, and would have hurried down the stair. She looked this way and that. There was not a man to whom she might appeal as her champion—not one! She must trust herself.
"Go along!" said she. But actually she saw tears in the eyes of the half-witted giant now. "No, Johnnie; but I'll walk with you with these others as far as the corner of the square."
"All right," said he. "I'll do—I'll do that." A wide gap opened in the ranks of the slow procession on the sidewalk now as these two joined in. Not too wide, however, for there were certain ones who must keep track of all details regarding this epochal event.
"Where is your father, Johnnie?" asked Aurora Lane, quietly and distinctly, so that all might hear.
"He—he—I don't—I don't know. I ain't—I ain't been home. I'm out!" said Johnnie.
"You've not been home? What do you mean?"