In his own room at the end of the second-story hall, over the kitchen, Mr. Chase was sitting reading the local paper before retiring. It was a habit he had, one of which Captain Shadrach pretended to approve highly. “Best thing in the world, Isaiah,” declared the Captain. “Sleep's what everybody needs and I can't think of any surer way of gettin' to sleep than readin' the South Harniss news in that paper.”
Whether or not this unkind joke was deserved is not material; at all events Isaiah was reading the paper when he was very much startled by a knock at the door.
“Who—who is it?” he stammered.
“It is Mary,” whispered a voice outside the door. “I want to speak with you, Isaiah. You're not in bed, are you?”
Isaiah reluctantly relinquished the paper. “No, no,” he replied, “I ain't in bed. What's the matter? Zoeth ain't no worse, is he?”
“Let me in and I'll tell you.”
“Come on in. You don't need no lettin'.”
Mary entered. She was very grave and very earnest.
“What in the nation,” began Isaiah, “are you prowlin' around this hour of the night for?”
“Hush! Isaiah, you must tell me everything now. There's no use to say you won't—you MUST. Who was Edgar Farmer and what wrong did he do my uncles?”