The Reverend Castor coughed and answered, “Oh! My dear boy. We didn’t want to be rid of you. That’s the last thing....” He protested nervously and added, “I just dropped in for a moment to see how your wife was doing ... and the twins. You ought to be proud, my boy, of two such fine babies ... two. Most people are thankful for one.”
“I would have been, too.”
“You don’t mean you aren’t delighted with what God has sent you?”
“No ... of course not ... I was only making a joke.” It hardly seemed honest, Philip thought, to give God the credit for the twins.
“I suppose we’ll be having Mrs. Downes back with us in the choir soon.... Since Mrs. Timpkins has moved to Indianapolis I’ve asked your wife to be the leader and the librarian of the music.”
“Yes ... she ought to be back soon. She seems strong again.”
There was an awkward silence, and the Reverend Castor’s kindly blue eyes turned suddenly aside. He started to speak and then halted abruptly and seized Philip’s hand a second time. “Well, good-by. I must be off.”
He was gone quickly, and for a moment Philip stood looking after him, puzzled by his strange, nervous manner. He was sorry for this poor man, whom he had always disliked. It was a sorrow he could not explain, save that his life must be a hell with a wife like his, and all the women of the parish on his neck. He did his duty, the Reverend Castor. He never shirked. It was good of him to call on Naomi. She would like such attention from the head of her church. It would bring back to her, Philip thought, some of the old glory and importance that had waned steadily since the night they had got down from the train, shivering, and fearful of what lay before them.
And she would be pleased at being asked to lead the choir and take care of the music. It was odd what little things brought happiness to her. She had need of the little things, for he meant to hurt her. He was certain now that it was the only way out. It would be easier for her to face the truth.
He found her sitting in the parlor where the Reverend Castor had left her. She was dressed for the first time since the twins were born, and she had been crying. As he entered, she came over to him and, putting her arms about his neck, pressed her head against Jim Baxter’s overcoat, and said, “I’m ashamed, Philip ... I want to die. I couldn’t help it yesterday. It’s the way I feel! I feel so tired.”