Galusha began to climb the bank. As his head rose above its upper edge he stopped.
“Ah—dear me, there's some one coming in this direction,” he said.
Howard started forward. “Coming? Coming here?” he cried. He sprang up the bank beside Mr. Bangs and peered over its top.
“Oh, confound it!” he exclaimed. “Lulie, it's your father.”
“Father? Coming here? Why, he started for church. He never comes to the cemetery on Sunday MORNING.”
“I can't help it, he's coming now. And there's some one with him, or coming after him. It looks like—Yes, it's Raish Pulcifer.”
Miss Hallett was very much distressed. “Oh, dear, dear, dear!” she cried. “If father finds us there will be another dreadful time. And I wouldn't have Raish Pulcifer see and hear it, of all people in the world. Oh, WHAT made father come? Nelson, can't we run away before he gets here? Into the pines, or somewhere?”
“No chance, Lulie. He would see us sure. If he should stop at the other end of the cemetery it might give us a chance, but he probably won't. He'll come to your mother's grave and that is close by here. Oh, hang the luck!”
Galusha looked at the young people; he was almost as distressed as they were. He liked young Howard; the latter had been very kind to him on the fateful Friday afternoon when he had alighted at South Wellmouth. He liked Lulie, also—had fancied her at first sight. He wished he might help them. And then he had an idea.
“I wouldn't—ah—interfere in your affairs for the world, Miss Hallett,” he faltered, “but if I might—ah—offer a suggestion, suppose I—ah—meet your father and talk with him for a few moments. Then you might—so to speak—ah—go, you know.”