The family had once been rich, or at least well-to-do, the girl decided. The house was large and imposing, the rooms had been well furnished, but room furniture and table furniture had sadly deteriorated. The silk coverings of the chairs were worn, the expensive china was chipped and in odd pieces. Either shortness of means or a slight parsimony had attacked the household presided over by the stony dame at the head of the table.
Presently Justin saw his wife's gaze settle on the doorway, and, just as he turned to find out what new object had engaged her attention, a meek voice murmured, "The minister is in the parlour."
The rigid outline of Mrs. Prymmer's figure immediately softened into a gracious one. "Bring him in," she said, hospitably.
Mr. Huntington's stalwart form soon took the place vacated by Mary, and Mrs. Prymmer, bustling forward, with her plump palm outstretched, exclaimed in deep gratification, "This is a great honour, brother pastor. Sit down and have some breakfast."
"I have had my breakfast, thank you," and he glanced expectantly but without the slightest recognition at Derrice, who stared at him first in blank amazement, and then, springing to her feet with head thrown back, speechlessly extended both hands to him.
Mrs. Prymmer did not see the girl's pretty attitude. She had opened her mouth to make the necessary introduction, and was trying to disengage from the roof of it the tongue that so much hated the task set before it. However, there was no need for an introduction. Mr. Huntington, with more warmth than she had ever seen him bestow on any member of his flock, was shaking hands with her daughter-in-law, who plaintively murmured, "How delightful to see you! Why did not some one tell me you were here?"
Mrs. Prymmer was exceedingly disturbed. The young wife was an acquaintance of the minister's former worldly days,—days that it was not wise to remember. Or was he more than an acquaintance, a dear friend perhaps, for he certainly, with great kindness and almost with authority, was begging her to continue her breakfast,—which she did, only occasionally glancing at him over her shoulder, with faintly pink cheeks.
Mrs. Prymmer, emerging from her temporary eclipse, began a conversation with him, largely of an interrogatory character.
"You don't look well," she said, at last. "I guess you tired yourself out yesterday."
"H'm, yes, a clerical blue Monday," he said, giving her his words but fixing his attention on Derrice.