“Stop! What game? What do you mean? Gracie! My Grace! What is it? For mercy sakes, Elkanah—”
“Humph! I wondered if I couldn't get some sense into you, finally. Lock that door!”
“I will! I will! But Elkanah—”
“Lock it! Give me the key!”
The click of the lock sounded sharply.
“Where's the lamp?” demanded Daniels. “And the matches? Don't stand there shaking.”
A smell of sulphur floated out into the hall. Then the sickly glow of the “fluid” lamp shone through the doorway.
“What ails you?” asked Elkanah. “Are you struck dumb? Now go and see if there's anybody else in the house.”
“But—but there ain't. I know there ain't. Hannah's gone and Gracie's at meetin' by this time.”
“She? Humph! Well, maybe she's at meeting and maybe she isn't. Maybe she's over in Peters's pines, hugging and kissing that man she's met there every Sunday for I don't know how long—Here! let go, you old fool! Let go, I tell you!”