along the
walk, out through the wicket gate at the back, and down to the beach.
From here she turned into the path that zigzagged across town-lots, over
sand-dunes, through brush heaps, to the rear of the Captain's place.

She walked round the house to the side door. She lifted the heavy
knocker, and held it tightly as though fearing to let it drop against
the rusty iron plate. What if Uncle Josiah had forgotten his engagement,
and was not home? But Uncle Josiah had never yet forgotten a promise he
had made her. She let the piece of iron fall. The sound echoed through
the house. It frightened her, and she poised as though of a mind to run.
Instead of the usual hearty boom for her to "Come in," the door swung
wide, and she stood face to face with the minister.

"Oh!" she cried, stepping back into the shadows.

"I've been expecting you, Miss Fox. Will you come in?" he cordially
invited.

"You were expecting me? But I----"

Hardly knowing what she did, and certainly not realizing why she did it,
she accepted the invitation and entered. Her eyes slowly widened as he
closed the door. She stood poised like a wild thing ready for flight at
the slightest warning.

"I trust that your father isn't ill again?" said the minister
solicitously.

"No-o. That is, not yet. He's quite well, thank you. He isn't home, or
wasn't when I left."

"I'm glad."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm glad your father isn't ill," he explained, growing quite as
embarrassed as she.

"Oh! Yes. Thank you."

"Miss Fox, something must be wrong. May I help you?"

"No. Really, no. That is, not bad wrong, yet," she stammered. "Only he
promised to be home, and--well, he isn't."

"The Captain will be back soon. He asked me to entertain you till his
return. I fear I'm not doing it very well."

"Indeed, you are. That is, I guess you are. Is the Captain far away?"

"He took Miss Pipkin over to Miss Splinter's. Miss Splinter is very ill.
Won't you be seated?"

"Yes, thank you. No, I think I'll stand. Dear me! What can be the matter
with me? I'm acting quite stupid and silly, am I not?"

She tried to laugh, but her dry throat gave a cracked sound. Mr. McGowan
noticed, and did not complete the smile that was beginning to form about
his own lips.

"Really, I think I'll be going, and come back again. I feel so very
queerly, and--uncomfortable with--with----"

"With me in the room?" he finished with a sad smile. "I'm sorry. I'll
step into my study. If