"There was a little church he built himself—is it still standing? You may not have heard, but he had a very simple little religion quite his own. He thought the people up here were more in need of help than foreign folks, but no regular sect would—would handle him. So he came up a road he used to call The Appointed Way and just settled down and learned to love all—the people and the work!"
Greeley was so utterly amazed that the hands which held the pail shook with excitement.
"That road what you came up is called The Way—short for Appointed Way. Yon is the little church."
Marcia Lowe raised up and through the thicket behind her she saw the deserted structure, which still bore the outlines of a church.
"Why, it's all boarded up!" she exclaimed. "Who owns it now?"
The exacting nature of the stranger's questions was unsettling to Greeley. She seemed determined to tag and classify all the real estate in the county.
"No one ain't damaged the building," he said drawlingly; "some of the folks think it is han'ted. I reckon Smith Crothers owns it."
"That man owns too much!" Marcia Lowe gave again her penetrating laugh. "And I should think the place would be haunted. Just think of boarding Uncle Theodore up! He who loved sunshine and air and sweetness so much!"
At this Greeley dropped the pail to the ground, and the indignant horse reared angrily. This was carrying things too far, and the man's eyes flashed.
"Uncle?" he gasped sternly.