in' for years, it turned out.
'Twas him, the dum thief, him and his stealin's that made the firm fail.
Wan't that enough to happen, I'd like to know? But that wan't all; no,
sir, that wan't the worst of it."

He paused, evidently expecting his hearer to make some comment. She was
leaning forward, her eyes fixed upon his face, but she did not speak.
Mr. Chase, judging by her expression that he had created the sensation
which, as story-teller, he considered his due, went on.

"No, sir-ee! that wan't the worst of it. You and me might have thought
losin' all our money was the worst that could be, but Marcellus
and Shadrach didn't think so. Marcellus was pretty nigh stove in
himself--there was nothin' on earth he loved the way he loved that
sister of his--but when he and Cap'n Shad thought of poor Zoeth they
couldn't think of much else. Shadrach had liked her and Marcellus had
loved her, but Zoeth had fairly bowed down and worshiped the ground she
trod on. Anything she wanted, no matter what, she could have if 'twas in
Zoeth's power to get it for her. He'd humored her and spiled her as if
she was a child and all he asked for doin' it was that she'd pat him
on the head once in a while, same as you would a dog. And now she'd
gone--run off with that thief! Why--"

Mary interrupted again. "Wait! Wait, Isaiah," she cried. "I tell you I
don't understand. You say--you say Captain Hall's sister had gone with
Mr. Farmer?"

"Sartin! she run off with him and nobody's laid eyes on either of 'em
since. That was why--"

"Stop! stop! What I don't understand is why Uncle Zoeth was so stricken
by the news. Why had HE humored and spoiled her? Was he in love with
her?"

Isaiah stared at her in blank astonishment.

"In love with her!" he repeated. "Course he was! Why wouldn't he be?
Wan't she his wife?"

There was no doubt about the sensation now. The color slowly faded from
Mary's cheeks.

"His WIFE?" she repeated slowly.

"Sartin! They'd been married 'most five year. Didn't I tell you? She was
a good deal younger'n he was, but--"

"Wait! What--what was her name?"

"Eh? Didn't I tell you that neither? That's funny. Her name was
Patience--Patience Hall."

The last doubt was gone. Clear and distinct to Mary's mind came a
sentence of Crawford's: "I saw her name first on the gravestone and it
made an impression on me because it was so quaint and old-fashioned.
'Patience, wife of Edwin Smith.'"

She heard very little of Isaiah's