e."

For the first time Emily looked her cousin in the face.

"Auntie," she whispered, "I am--I have been frightened. Something I
heard upstairs frightened me."

"Somethin' you heard upstairs? Where? Has Georgie--"

"No, Georgie is asleep in his room. I locked the door. It wasn't
Georgie; it was something else."

"Somethin'--Emily Howes, do you want to scare me to DEATH? What IS it?"

"I don't know what it is. I heard it first when I came out of Georgie's
room a few minutes ago. Then I went down the hall to his door and
listened. Aunt Thankful, he--he is in there talking--talking to
someone."

"He? Talkin'? Who?"

"Mr. Cobb. It was dreadful. He was talking to--to--I don't know WHAT he
was talking to, but it was awful to hear."

"Talkin'? Solomon Cobb was talkin'? In his sleep, do you mean?"

"No, he wasn't asleep. He was talking to someone, or some THING, in that
room. And that wasn't all. I heard--I heard--Oh, I DID hear it! I know I
did! And yet it couldn't be! It couldn't!"

"Emily Howes, if you keep on I'll--WHAT did you hear?"

"I don't know. . . . Aunt Thankful, where are you going?"

Thankful did not answer. She was on her way to the front hall and the
stairs. Emily rushed after her and would have detained her if she could,
but Thankful would not be detained. Up the stairs they went together and
along the narrow dark hall. At the end of the hall was the door of the
back bedroom, or the larger room adjoining it. The door was closed,
but from beneath it shone lamplight in sharp, yellow streaks. And from
behind it came faintly the sound of a deep groan, the groan of a soul in
agony.

"He's sick," whispered Thankful. "The man's sick. I'm goin' to him."

"He isn't sick. It--it's something else. I tell you I heard--"

Thankful did not wait to learn what her cousin had heard. She tiptoed
down the hall and Emily followed. The two women crouched beside
the closed door of Mr. Cobb's room. And within that room they heard
Solomon's voice, now rising almost to a shriek, now sinking to a groan,
as its owner raved on and on, talking, pleading, praying.

"Oh, don't--don't, Abner!" cried Mr. Cobb. "Don't, no more! PLEASE
don't! I know what you mean. I know it all. I'm sorry. I know I ain't
done right. But I'll MAKE it right; I swear to the Almighty I will! I
know I've broke my word to you and acted wicked and mean, but I give you
my solemn word I'll make everything right. Only just quit and go away,
that's al