Late that afternoon Fanny Tweedie called, and a few minutes afterward Mrs. Stout excused herself, and went out wearing a sterner and more determined look than her usually jovial countenance was accustomed to. Fanny and Barbara talked girl-fashion for an hour. There was some laughter, and many tears, but both felt better for it, and the seal of their friendship was made secure. Fanny had brought a verbal message from her father that pleased Barbara, and cheered her greatly. Poor Ezra, he had been fond of her always, and now that she was in such dire need of friends he longed to help her, but Mrs. T. stood between him and everything—a human, female barrier.
"Is he coming?" Fanny asked, after a long pause in the conversation.
"Will?"
"Yes, of course, there's no other he, is there?"
"I have written him to come," Barbara replied.
"Does he know what has—happened?" said Fanny. Barbara shook her head. Will did not know exactly what had happened, but he was sure that something had gone wrong, and at that moment was speeding toward her in response to her tear-stained appeal. "Well," continued Fanny, "I'm sorry for some folks when he does find out."
Mrs. Stout would not go to Mr. Flint's church out of curiosity, or for any other reason, but she had heard a true report of that morning's sermon, and was filled to the bursting point with anger. She thought it best to keep the news from Barbara, however, and cautioned Fanny not to mention it. But a vent for her feelings she must find, and it was for that purpose that she had gone out. She had no definite plan in mind, but almost unconsciously walked toward the parsonage. Upon reaching the gate she stopped. The house was dark. How she hated it, and the man who lived there. Sometime, possibly, she might forgive the women who had refused to shelter Barbara, and perhaps the school committee, but the minister who had denounced her in the house of God she could never forgive. With such thoughts in her mind Mrs. Stout went up the path to the door and rang the bell vigorously. It seemed a long time before the door was finally opened by Mr. Flint, who held the lamp high in order that he could better see his visitor. Mrs. Stout noticed that his face was flushed, and that his eyes were unnaturally bright.
"Good evenin', Mr. Flint," she said, coldly.
"Oh, it is Mrs. Stout?" he replied when he heard her voice.