Her uncle reached for the salad, and helped himself deliberately before he enlightened her further.
"Jim Truscott," he said at last, without looking up.
"Jim Truscott?" exclaimed Aunt Mary, her round eyes wondering. Then she voiced a thought which had long since passed from her niece's mind. "What was he doing out here at this hour of the night?"
The parson shrugged.
"It seems he was waiting for me. He didn't call here, I s'pose?"
Mary shook her head. Betty was waiting to hear more.
"I feel sorry for him," he went on. "I'm inclined to think we've judged him harshly. I'm sure we have. It only goes to show how poor and weak our efforts are to understand and help our fellows. He is very, very repentant. Poor fellow, I have never seen any one so down on his luck. He doesn't excuse himself. In fact, he blames himself even more than we have done."
"Poor fellow," murmured Aunt Mary.
Betty remained silent, and her uncle went on.
"He's off down east to make a fresh start. He was waiting to tell me so. He also wanted to tell me how sorry he was for his behavior to us, to you, Betty, and he trusted you would find it possible to forgive him, and think better of him when he was gone. I never saw a fellow so cut up. It was quite pitiful."