This brought all the company safely back from the realm of sentiment and deep emotion to the commonplace level of hunger and good cheer awaiting it. So Eunice Maitland herself led the way to table with Nathan Pettijohn close beside her, and, since there were no chairs to sit upon, took her stand at the end, and, bowing her graceful old head, gave silent thanks to the Giver of a feast so glorious as this had proved.
Even Madam, who could not be persuaded to leave her lofty isolation upon the oat-bin, nor to loose her hold of her brass bound box with its precious enclosure—so much more valuable than the diamonds which had once sparkled within it—even she did consent to taste of that rare delicacy which had come to Marsden in ugly wooden tubs. Her portion, though, was brought upon a china dish, because Susanna feared the gentlewoman's fastidious palate would dislike the flavor of a wooden plate. But then, intimate as she was through hearsay with the Mansion household, Susanna had yet never heard about burnt suppawn, and how an old-time gentlewoman can eat it without grimacing, even though she choke in the event. And Alfaretta—Her happiness must be guessed at. There isn't time to tell it; nor how many times her wooden plate was filled and refilled. It seemed to Katharine, observant, as if the poor girl's mouth opened and closed like a trap over every morsel presented to it, and that there was no evidence of swallowing. But, then, Alfy had never before attended a Hallowe'en Corkis, and probably never would again.
Still observant, Katharine saw Aunt Eunice's dear face grow more and more thoughtful, yet with a thoughtfulness in no measure sad. Finally, she left Nathan to Mrs. Clackett's care and hastily crossed the room to Madam's side.
"Elinor, do you remember how hard the old Squire tried to tell us who were watching his last hours of something that troubled him? And how we failed to comprehend?"
"Surely, Eunice, I remember," answered the old wife, slightly aggrieved. "Why should I not if you do?"
"Because one night when you had dropped asleep he roused, almost like himself again, and saw me. Then he said: 'Eunice, I am very forgetful. But I remember something now that I must tell Elinor.' I was so foolish, I fancied some other time would do, and you were so tired. I couldn't bear that you should be awakened, and nodded toward the sofa where you lay. He seemed to understand, and murmured: 'Never mind. I'll tell you. There is provision ample. He didn't take it. I accused him because I missed it. I—I—secret chamber—Oh, my head!' Then he dropped away again, and afterward came only those hopeless efforts which you saw as well as I. Now, I believe I've had an inspiration. Verplanck's father, sane, recalled the fact that he had wrongly accused his son while his mind wandered. It was he who had emptied the brass bound box and bestowed its contents in some place he felt was safer. In the secret chamber, I believe. Let us go and search for them!"
"Eunice, how silly! As if I hadn't ransacked every inch of every room in the old Mansion—all for nothing. Besides, what could one do at night?"
"What may we not do? What is one pair of eyes to many? What one tallow dip to a hundred Jack-o'-lanterns, lighted with real 'store' candles? May we try? Shall I give the word?"
Madam stood up. She was so happy in her letter that she cared not what else might happen. Besides, it was impossible to avoid sharing the enthusiasm shining in the face of her lifelong friend.
"Eunice, you are positively as childish as Katharine herself. But do as you please, do as you please. All the world is welcome to the Mansion now that it's honor has come home! And, servantless almost as I am, I can comfortably feel that there is no room, nor closet even, in the old place that is not fit for the inspection of every Marsden housewife. Yes, thank God! I have never felt myself demeaned by any household task that presented, and cleanliness is part of pure religion. Do as you like, dear, do as you like."