“I have no authority over her in any way,” I went on. “She is Miss Cahoon's niece, but we are not her guardians. She has left our home of her own free will and neither I nor you nor anyone else shall follow her if I can help it. I am sorry to have deceived you. The deceit was unavoidable, or seemed to be. I am very, very sorry for you. That is all I can say now. Good morning.”
I left him standing there in the street and walked away. He called after me, but I did not turn back. He would have followed me, of course, but when I did look back I saw that the landlord of the inn was trying to talk with him and was detaining him. I was glad that the landlord had appeared so opportunely. I had said too much already. I had bungled this interview as I had that with Heathcroft.
I told Hephzy all about it. She appeared to think that, after all, perhaps it was best.
“When you've got a toothache,” she said, “you might as well go to the dentist's right off. The old thing will go on growlin' and grumblin' and it's always there to keep you in misery. You'd have had to tell him some time. Well, you've told him now, the worst of it, anyhow. The tooth's out; though,” with a one-sided smile, “I must say you didn't give the poor chap any ether to help along.”
“I'm afraid it isn't out,” I said, truthfully. “He won't be satisfied with one operation.”
“Then I'll be on hand to help with the next one. And, between us, I cal'late we can make that final. Poor boy! Well, he's young, that's one comfort. You get over things quicker when you're young.”
I nodded. “That is true,” I said, “but there is something else, Hephzy. You say I have acted for the best. Have I? I don't know. We know he cares for her, but—but does she—”
“Does she care for him, you mean? I don't think so, Hosy. For a spell I thought she did, but now I doubt it. I think—Well, never mind what I think. I think a lot of foolish things. My brain's softenin' up, I shouldn't wonder. It's a longshore brain, anyhow, and it needs the salt to keep it from spoilin'. I wish you and I could go clammin'. When you're diggin' clams you're too full of backache to worry about toothaches—or heartaches, either.”
I expected a visit from young Bayliss that very evening, but he did not come to the rectory. Instead Doctor Bayliss, Senior, came and requested an interview with me. Hephzy announced the visitor.
“He acts pretty solemn, Hosy,” she said. “I wouldn't wonder if his son had told him. I guess it's another toothache. Would you like to have me stay and help?”