. I had said too much already. I had bungled this
interview as I had that with Heathcroft.

I told Hephzy all about it. She appeared to think that, after all,
perhaps it was best.

"When you've got a toothache," she said, "you might as well go to the
dentist's right off. The old thing will go on growlin' and grumblin' and
it's always there to keep you in misery. You'd have had to tell him some
time. Well, you've told him now, the worst of it, anyhow. The tooth's
out; though," with a one-sided smile, "I must say you didn't give the
poor chap any ether to help along."

"I'm afraid it isn't out," I said, truthfully. "He won't be satisfied
with one operation."

"Then I'll be on hand to help with the next one. And, between us, I
cal'late we can make that final. Poor boy! Well, he's young, that's one
comfort. You get over things quicker when you're young."

I nodded. "That is true," I said, "but there is something else, Hephzy.
You say I have acted for the best. Have I? I don't know. We know he
cares for her, but--but does she--"

"Does she care for him, you mean? I don't think so, Hosy. For a spell
I thought she did, but now I doubt it. I think--Well, never mind what
I think. I think a lot of foolish things. My brain's softenin' up, I
shouldn't wonder. It's a longshore brain, anyhow, and it needs the
salt to keep it from spoilin'. I wish you and I could go clammin'.
When you're diggin' clams you're too full of backache to worry about
toothaches--or heartaches, either."

I expected a visit from young Bayliss that very evening, but he did not
come to the rectory. Instead Doctor Bayliss, Senior, came and requested
an interview with me. Hephzy announced the visitor.

"He acts pretty solemn, Hosy," she said. "I wouldn't wonder if his son
had told him. I guess it's another toothache. Would you like to have me
stay and help?"

I said I should be glad of her help. So, when the old gentleman was
shown into the study, he found her there with me. The doctor was very
grave and his usually ruddy, pleasant face was haggard and careworn. He
took the chair which I offered him and, without preliminaries, began to
speak of the subject which had brought him there.

It was as Hephzy had surmised. His son had told him everything, of his
love for Frances, of his asking my permission to marry her, and of our
talk before the inn.

"I am sure I don't need to tell you, Knowles," he said, "that all this
has shaken the boy's mother and me