ange and awful thing is
like. No description can possibly describe it," she said, with darkening
eyes and rising color.

"A most shocking and improper scene," said William Pressley, as one who
weighs his words. "A most shocking and improper scene."

Ruth looked at him wonderingly.

"Shocking--improper!" she faltered, perplexedly. "What a strange way to
think of it. To me it was a great, grave, terrible spectacle. The awe of
it overwhelmed me, alarmed as I was. Why, it was like seeing the Soul
universal--bared and quivering."

William Pressley said nothing more. He never discussed anything. Once he
had spoken, the subject seemed to him finally disposed of.

"Great Grief!" cried Miss Penelope in the blankest amazement and the
greatest dismay. "For the land's sake!"

As the faithful high-priestess of the coffee-pot she was always the
first to taste her own brew. She now set her cup down hastily. Her red,
wrinkled little face was a study. The widow Broadnax, whose cup was
untouched, sat silent and impassive as usual, regarding her with the
same dull, half-open, unwinking gaze.

"What under the sun!" gasped Miss Penelope, still more and more amazed
and dismayed, and growing angry as she rallied from the shock.

"Come, come!--if I can't eat breakfast in peace, I'll take to the woods.
What's the matter?" exclaimed the judge. "Didn't you get the coffee made
to suit you, after all that rumpus? Isn't it good?"

"Good!" shrieked Miss Penelope. "It's poisoned, I do believe! Don't
drink it, any of you, if you value your lives!"

"Oh, nonsense!" said the judge. "You are too hard to please, Sister
Penelope. And you spoil the rest of us, making the coffee yourself.
Never mind--never mind!"

He took a sip and made a wry face, but he hardly ever knew what he was
eating, and pushing the cup back, forgot all about it. He was more
interested in Ruth's account of the meeting, and asked many questions
about her ride home.

"This young doctor must be a fine fellow," he said. "I have been hearing
a good deal about him from Father Orin. They are already great friends,
it seems. They meet often among the poor and the sick, and work
together. I hope, my dear, that you thought to ask him to call. You
remembered, didn't you, to tell him that the latch-string of Cedar House
always hangs on the outside? I want to thank him and then I should like
to know such a man. He is an addition to the community."

"Oh, yes, I thought of that, of c