“Ss-h-h! sshh!” he hissed. “Folks'll hear ye, and I'd be so ashamed if they did that I wouldn't dast to show my head. Can't show much of it, anyhow, just now. By gum! I'll do somethin' desperate. I—I dunno as I won't pizen her. I—”
“Hush! hush! you mustn't talk that way. I'm afraid you must be very fascinating, Mr. Pepper. If your sister is so very fearful of your meeting other women, it must be because she has good reason to fear.”
“Stop your foolishness! Oh!—I—I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery. That ain't no way to talk to a minister. But I'm goin' to go out when I want to if I bust a hole through the clapboards. I AIN'T fascinatin'. You ask any woman—except her—if I be, and see what they say. What'll I DO?”
“Ha, ha! I don't know, I'm sure. You might lock HER up, I suppose, just for a change.”
“Hey!” There was a sound from behind the pane as if the imprisoned one had slapped his knee. “By gum! I never thought of that. Would you now, Mr. Ellery? Would you? Sshh! sshh! somebody's comin'. Maybe it's her. Run around to the door, Mr. Ellery, quick. And don't tell her I've seen you, for mercy sakes! Don't now, will ye? Please! Run!”
The minister did not run, but he walked briskly around the corner. Sure enough, Lavinia was there, just unlocking the door. She expressed herself as very glad to see the caller, ushered him into the sitting room and disappeared, returning in another moment with her brother, whom she unblushingly said had been taking a nap. Abishai did not contradict her; instead, he merely looked apprehensively at the minister.
The call was a short one. Lavinia did seven eighths of the talking and Ellery the rest. Kyan was silent. When the visit was over, Miss Pepper escorted her guest to the door and bade him a voluble good-by. Over her shoulder the minister saw Kyan making frantic signs to him; he interpreted the signals as a request for secrecy concerning the interview by the window.
Several times during the remainder of that week he surprised his housekeeper by suddenly laughing aloud when there was, apparently, nothing to laugh at. He explained these outbursts by saying that he had thought of something funny. Keziah suggested that it must be mighty funny to make him laugh in the middle of sermon writing.
“I've heard sermons that were funny,” she said, “though they wasn't intended to be; but what I've heard of yours ain't that kind. I wish you'd let me in on the joke. I haven't been feelin' like laughin' for the last fortni't.”
She had been rather grave and preoccupied, for her, of late. Bustling and busy she always was, never sitting down to “rest,” as she called it, without a lap full of sewing. The minister's clothes were mended and his socks darned as they had not been since his mother's day. And with him, at meal times, or after supper in the sitting room, she was always cheerful and good-humored. But he had heard her sigh at her work, and once, when she thought herself unobserved, he saw her wipe her eyes with her apron.