He found Mrs. Benton in the sitting-room, rocking herself to and fro in a splint-bottom chair. Her face was thin and care-worn, and her hair seemed whiter than the last time he had seen her, and he truthfully divined the cause.
Mrs. Benton's face brightened as her visitor entered the room, and she at once offered him a chair.
"It is good of you to come this morning, sir," she told him.
"I did not wish to miss the service," Douglas replied. "I thought you might like me to play a little," and he pointed to the violin which he had placed upon the table.
"I fear there will be no service this morning," and a troubled expression came into Mrs. Benton's eyes as she spoke. "Joe's been very strange of late, and has not been able to settle down to his work. He can't eat nor sleep, and I am greatly worried about him."
"He is grieving, I suppose."
"Yes, about poor Jean."
"Has he seen her lately?"
"Not since Friday. He may have gone to see her this morning, though, for he left here about half an hour ago, but he didn't tell me where he was going. He seems like a man in a dream."
"He didn't go down the road, Mrs. Benton, or I should have seen him. I was sitting in front of Jake's house reading for some time before I left to come here."