It was here at last. The long-dreaded explosion was imminent. Kyan's chin shook. He braced himself for the blow. The minister prepared to come to the rescue.
“Yes,” went on Lavinia. “I—I put a lock on that door so's I—I could shut the room up when I wanted to. Well, when I was in there this afternoon the wind blew the door shut and—Hey?”
“I—I never said nothin',” panted Kyan.
“Yes, it blew to, the lock clicked, and there I was. If I hadn't had the other key in my pocket I don't know's I wouldn't have been in there yet. That would have been a pretty mess, wouldn't it! He! he! he!”
She laughed shrilly. The minister looked at her, then at her brother, and he, too, burst into a shout of laughter. Kyan did not laugh; yet his grip upon the chair relaxed, and over his countenance was spreading a look of relief, of hope and peace, like a clear sunrise after a stormy night.
“Well, I must go and get supper,” declared Lavinia. “You'll forgive me for leavin' you so, won't you, 'Bishy?”
Mr. Pepper sighed.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “I'll forgive you, Laviny.”
“I knew you would. I hope you ain't been too lonesome. Did you miss me? Was you worried?”
“Hey? Yes, I—I missed you consider'ble. I WAS gettin' sort of worried. I didn't s'pose you'd go off to ride with—with a feller and leave me all alone. But I forgive you.” He stopped, drew his hand across his forehead, and then added, “I s'pose I hadn't ought to complain. Maybe I'd better get used to it; I guess likely this is only the beginnin'.”