imself can't, and I don't mean that for blasphemy either. Poor
soul--poor soul"--she wiped the tears that were rolling down her
cheeks,--"here I am the mother of eight children and never had to lose a
night's sleep on account of their not doing right, and here's Aurora
with her one and can't sleep nor eat for the shame and trouble he's
brought on her and all of us--for I'm a Googe. Life seems sometimes to
get topsy-turvy, and I for one can't make head nor tail of it. The
Colonel's always talking about Nature's 'levelling up,' but I don't see
any 'levelling'; seems to me as if she was turning everything up on edge
pretty generally.--Give me that rice I saw in the pantry, Ellen; I'm
going to make her a little broth; I've got a nice foreshoulder piece at
home, and it will be just the thing."

Ellen, rejoicing in such talkative companionship, after the three weeks
of dreadful silence in the house, did her bidding, at the same time
taking occasion to ask some questions on her own part, among them one
which set Mrs. Caukins speculating for a week: "Who do you suppose
killed Rag?"

Aurora was in bed, but propped to a sitting position by pillows. When
Father Honore entered she started forward.

"Have you heard anything?" Her voice was weak from physical exhaustion.

"No, Mrs. Googe--"

She sank back on the pillows; he drew a chair to the bedside.

"--But I have decided to go down to New York and search for myself. I
have a feeling he is there, not in Maine or Canada; and I know that city
from Washington Heights to the Battery."

"You think he'll be found?" She could scarcely articulate the words;
some terror had her by the throat; her eyes showed deadly fear.

"Yes, I think he will."

"But she won't do anything--I--I went to her--"

"Don't exert yourself too much, Mrs. Googe, but if you can tell me whom
you mean, to whom you have applied, it might help me to act
understandingly."

"To his aunt--I went last night."

"Mrs. Champney?"

She closed her eyes and made a motion of assent.

"And she will do nothing?"

"No."

"I fail to understand this. Surely she might give of her abundance to
save one who is of her own blood. Would it do any good, do you think,
for me to see her? I'll gladly go."

She shook her head. "You don't understand."

He waited in silence for some further word; for her to open her eyes at
least. But none was forthcoming; the eyes remained closed. After a while
he said gently:

"Perhaps