“Oh, we won’t use such strong language as that. I came here merely to tell you that the house must be vacated soon as possible. Mr. Bascom has gone to New York on business and will not be back for two weeks. Meantime he wishes the house vacated, so that he can rent it to other parties.”
“When does the Senior Warden propose to eject his rector, if I may be allowed to ask?”
“Oh, there is no immediate hurry. Any time this week will do.”
“What does he want for this place?”
“I believe he expects fifteen dollars a month.”
“Well, of course that is prohibitive. Tell Mr. Bascom that we will surrender the house on Wednesday, and that we are greatly indebted to him for allowing us to occupy it rent-free for so long a time.”
As Donald showed the objectionable visitor out of the house, he caught sight of Hepsey Burke walking towards it. He half hoped she would pass by, but with a glance of suspicion and barely civil greeting 207 to Nelson as he walked away, she came on, and with a friendly nod to Maxwell entered the rectory.
“I’ve just been talkin’ to Mrs. Betty for her good,” she remarked. “I met her in town, lookin’ as peaked as if she’d been fastin’ double shifts, and I had a notion to come in and complete the good work on yourself.”
Maxwell’s worried face told its own story. He was so nonplused by the bolt just dropped from the blue that he could find no words of responsive raillery wherewith to change the subject.
Hepsey led the way to the parlor and seated herself, facing him judicially. In her quick mind the new evidence soon crystallized into proof of her already half-formed suspicions. She came straight to the point.