"I know he ain't!" said Ithuriel Butters.
Vesta looked with interest at the stalwart old figure, and strong keen face. Most of the wrinkles in the face had come from smiling, but it was grave enough now.
"Will you come in and wait," she asked, "or leave a message?"
"Wal, I guess I won't do neither—this time!" said Mr. Butters, slowly.
Vesta looked at him in some perplexity; he returned a glance of grave meaning.
"You kin to him?" asked the old man. "Sister, or cousin, mebbe?"
"No! what is it? something has happened to Doctor Strong!" Vesta's hand tightened on the rail of the steps.
"Keepin' company with him, p'raps?"
"No, oh, no! will you tell me at once, please, and plainly, what has happened?"
Vesta spoke quietly; in her normal condition she was always quieter when moved; but the colour seemed to fall from her cheeks as her eyes followed those of the old man to something that lay long and still in the cart behind him.