"Mr. Sanders, you may take up two hours of my time. Time!" Mrs. Lumsden exclaimed bitterly—"why, time is about all I have left."
"Oh, it ain't nigh as bad as you think," remarked Mr. Sanders, as cheerfully as he could. "But I want to settle a p'int or two. Do you remember what time it was when Gabriel come home the night Hotchkiss was killed?"
Mrs. Lumsden reflected a moment. "Why, he went out directly after supper, and came in—well, I don't remember when he came in. I must have been asleep."
"Um-m," grunted Mr. Sanders.
"Is it important?" Mrs. Lumsden asked.
"It may turn out to be right down important," replied Mr. Sanders, and then he said no more, but sat looking at the floor, and wondering how Gabriel could be released from the tangled web that the spider, Circumstance, had woven about him.
As Mr. Sanders went out, he met Nan at the door, and he was amazed at the change that had come over her. Perplexity and trouble looked forth from her eyes, and there was that in her face that Mr. Sanders had never seen there before. "Why, honey!" he exclaimed, "you look like you've lost your best friend."
"Well, perhaps I have. Who is in there?" And when Mr. Sanders told her, she cried out, "Oh, why don't they leave her alone?"
"Well, they ain't pesterin' her much, honey. Go right in. Lucy Lumsden has got as much grit as a major gener'l, an' she'll be glad to see you."
But Nan stood staring at Mr. Sanders, as if she wanted to ask him a question, and couldn't find words for it. Her face was pale, and she had the appearance of one who is utterly forspent.