"You? But I didn't know you were here."
"I was. I took the boat on official business," Elisha explained.
Marcia's laughter, crystalline as a mountain stream, musical as its melody, rippled through the room.
"Official business!" she repeated derisively. "Official business indeed! When, I'd like to know, did Wilton ever have any official business? Don't joke, Elisha. This taking my boat is no joking matter. It is a serious thing to leave me here with no way of getting ashore quickly. I didn't like it at all."
"I'm sorry," apologized the sheriff uncomfortably. "You see, an emergency arose—"
"No emergency is important enough for you to take my boat without asking. Please remember that."
"I will," squeaked the offender, coloring under the reprimand like a chastened schoolboy. "I won't do it again, I promise you."
"All right. You're forgiven this time. Now sit down and tell me the news."
His dignity, his pomposity put to rout Elisha, feeling very small indeed, backed into the nearest chair.
Instead of making the rafters of the Homestead quake at his presence; instead of humbling Heath, reducing Marcia to trembling admiration, here he sat cowed and apologetic.