“But you said—”
“I just said I knew where Mr. Ellery goes every Sunday afternoon. He don't know anybody knows, but I do. That's all there is to it. I shan't tell. So—”
“Tell? Do you mean there's somethin' Mr. Ellery wouldn't want told? Don't you dare—I WILL see Laviny!”
“No, no, no, no! 'Tain't nothin' much. I just know where he goes after he leaves Elkanah's and who he goes to meet. I—Lordy! I hadn't ought to said that! I—Keziah Coffin, don't you ever tell I told you. I've said more'n I meant to. If it comes out there'd be the biggest row in the church that ever was. And I'd be responsible! I would! I'd have to go on the witness stand and then Laviny'd find out how I—Oh, oh, oh! what SHALL I do?”
The poor frightened creature's “jig” had, by this time, become a distracted fandango. But the housekeeper had no mercy on him. She was beginning to fear for her parson and, for the time, everything else, her own trouble and the recent interview with Nat, was pushed aside.
“What is it?” she persisted. “WHAT would bring on the row in the church? WHO does Mr. Ellery meet? Out with it! What do you mean?”
“I mean that the minister meets that Van Horne girl every Sunday afternoon after he leaves Elkanah's. There, now! It's out, and I don't give a darn if they hang me for it.”
Keziah turned white. She seized Mr. Pepper by the lapel of his Sunday coat and shook him.
“Grace Van Horne!” she cried. “Mr. Ellery meets Grace Van Horne on Sunday afternoons? Where?”
“Down in them pines back of Peters's pastur', on the aidge of the bank over the beach. He's met her there every Sunday for the last six weeks—longer, for what I know. I've watched 'em.”