Jim went at once to Dr. Jebb's to report. Mrs. Jebb opened the door, greeted him with a hearty handshake, and was more than usually cordial. Dr. Jebb was kind, but embarrassed. He offered Jim a chair and began nervously:
"There was a rumour—there—that is—we missed you on Sunday."
Jim, with characteristic directness, said: "Doctor, I'll tell you all about it." Just then there was a timid knock and Mrs. Jebb reappeared. "May I be present, Jim?" she said. "I understand that you have something to talk about, and you know, you were always my boy."
Dr. Jebb looked puzzled. Jim said: "If I can't trust you, who is there left to trust?" And then told the story of his fall. He painted himself not quite so black as he might have done the day before, but black enough.
Dr. Jebb looked terribly worried and distressed. "I don't know what to say," he kept repeating. "All my heart is with you, but my judgment condemns you. I don't know what to say."
Then Mrs. Jebb spoke. "Now, Josiah, you know perfectly well that your affections always were a safer guide than your judgment. There was no bad intention on the part of the sinner—for we are all sinners—this was just an unfortunate accident, and Jim shows in every possible way his regret. There has been no public scandal, and so I think you had better drop the whole thing and forget it. I know enough about Jim to know that he has made out the worst possible case against himself."
"That may be," said Dr. Jebb, "but I fear we must bring the matter up before the deacons, at least."
"As long as you don't make it public by bringing it before the church," said Mrs. Jebb, "all right."
Thus it was that Dr. Jebb sent out a notice, to such of the deacons as he could not see personally, that a meeting was to be held at his house that night.
In the same afternoon another interview took place in Cedar Mountain. School-trustee Higginbotham was sitting in his office when the schoolteacher came up the boardwalk and into the insurance office.