“What is going on?” he demanded.
The spinster shrugged her shoulders and lifted her eyes heavenward, knowing that nothing could so madden the deacon as this mysterious inference of things too terrible to mention. She was right. Strong uttered a desperate “Bah!” and began pacing up and down the garden with reckless strides.
Mrs. Willoughby watched him with secret delight, and when he came to a halt, she wriggled to his side with simpering sweetness.
“What COULD folks say?” she asked. “A minister and a young circus riding girl living here like this with no one to—” She found no words at this point and Strong, now thoroughly roused, declared that the congregation should have no further cause for gossip, and went out quickly in search of Douglas.
When Strong was gone, Elverson looked at the set faces of the women, and attempted a weak apology for the pastor. “I dare say the young man was very lonely—very—before she came.”
“Lonely?” snapped Miss Perkins. “Well, if HE was LONELY, I didn't know it.”
The deacon excused himself nervously, and went to join Strong.
The women gathered up their buntings, and retired with bland smiles to the Sunday-school-room, feeling that they had accomplished enough for the time being.
Strong and Elverson crossed the yard, still in search of the pastor. They turned at the sound of fluttering leaves and beheld Douglas, hatless, tearing down the path. Strong called to him, but Douglas darted quickly behind the hedge. The deacons looked at one another in speechless astonishment. Presently the silence was broken by the distant voice of Polly counting from one to one hundred. The secret was out! The pastor, a leader of the church, was playing hide-and-seek.
“Mr. Douglas!” shouted Strong, when his breath had returned.