 CHAPTER 25 The tongues which Hyrum had said wagging were all experts, and before many days had passed the fields of gossip were green with springing slander and disgrace for this fair name of Phoebe Dean. All unconsciously she moved above it, making happy plans and singing her sweet song of hope. She did not mind work, for it was pleasant to feel strong again. She even hummed a sweet tune that she had heard Marcia play. Emmeline was puzzled to understand it all. But the thing that puzzled Emmeline most of all was that Hyrum Green had not been near the house since the day he had the talk with her about the village lot, and had boasted that he was going to marry Phoebe before another year. Steadily every day Hyrum's new house was growing. Emmeline could see it from her window, and she wondered if perhaps he was preparing to break his promise and court another girl instead of Phoebe. Or was this a part of his plan to stay away until the house was done? It troubled Emmeline every day. Neither could she understand how Phoebe could be happy and settle down so cheerfully, having driven her one suitable lover away. Phoebe had ventured to discuss the plan of her going away with Albert, who seemed rather disappointed to have her go, but was nevertheless willing, and said that he thought such a plan would have pleased her mother. He broached the subject to Emmeline, and thereupon brought down upon the family a storm of rage. Emmeline scoffed at the idea. She said that Phoebe was already spoiled for anything in life, and that if she used up her money getting more spoiling she couldn't see how in the world she expected to support herself, for she wouldn't be a party to Phoebe's living any longer on them if she spent her money on more schooling. Then Emmeline put on her bonnet and ran across the field to Hyrum's farm, where she found him at the knoll superintending the putting up of a great stone chimney. Say look I hear Hyrum green. She began excitedly, getting him off a little way from the workmen. What do you mean by such actions? Have you give up Phoebe Dean, or haven't you? Because if you ain't, you better be tendent to business. She got it into her fool head now to go off to school, and she'll do it too. I can see Albert's just soft enough to Hyrum smiled a peculiar smile. Don't you worry Emmeline, I know what I'm about, and you'll get your corner lot yet. Phoebe Dean won't go off to no boarding school, not yet a while, or I'll miss my guess, just you leave it to me. Oh, very well! said Emmeline, going off in a huff. She returned by a roundabout route to her home, where she proceeded to make life miserable for Phoebe and Albert in spite of all that they could do. Then one morning, low, the little town was agog with the gossip about Phoebe Dean, and it had grown into enormous proportions, for as it traveled from the circle of country roundabout into the town, it condensed into more tangible form, and the number of people who had seen Phoebe Dean with strange men at the edge of dark, or in lonely places, grew with each repetition. Everybody seemed to know it and be talking about it except Phoebe herself and her own family and friends. Somehow no one had quite dared to mention it before any of them yet, it was too new and startling. Sunday morning the deans went to church, and there were strange turnings away from them and much whispering, nodding, and nudging as they passed. It had not been expected that Phoebe would appear in church. It was considered brazen in her to do so. It was evidently all and more true. Hyrum Green came to church, but he did not look toward the dean's pew. He sat at the back with pious manner and drooping countenance, and after church made his melancholy way out without stopping to talk or attempting to get near Phoebe. This was observed significantly. Also the fact that Mrs. Bafford walked down the aisle in friendly converse with Phoebe Dean as if nothing had happened. Evidently she had not heard yet. Somebody ought to tell her. They discussed the matter in groups on the way home. Old Mrs. Baldwin and her daughter Belinda were much worried about it. They went so far as to call to the doctor and his wife who were passing their house that afternoon on the way to see a sick patient. Doctor, said Mrs. Baldwin, coming out to the sidewalk as the doctor drew up to speak with her. I ain't to go and to bother you a minute, but I just wanted to ask if you knew much about this story that's been going round about Phoebe Dean. It seems as though someone ought to tell Mrs. Bafford. She's been real kind to the girl, and she don't seem to have heard it. I don't know her so well, or I would, but somebody ought to do it. I didn't know but you or your wife would undertake to do it. They walked down the aisle together after church this morning, and it seemed too bad. David's Bafford wouldn't like to have his wife so conspicuous, I know. Belinda says he was out of town yesterday, so I suppose he hasn't heard about it yet, but I think something ought to be done. Yes, it is a very sad story, chirped the doctor's wife. I just heard it myself this morning. The doctor didn't want to believe it, but I tell him it comes very straight. Oh, yes, it's straight, said Mrs. Baldwin, with an ominous shake of her head and a righteous roll of her eyes. It's all too straight. I had it from a friend who had it from Hiram Green's aunt's cousin. She said Hiram was just bowed with grief over it, and they were going to have a real hard time to keep him from marrying her in spite of it. The doctor frowned. He was fond of Phoebe. He felt that they all had better mind their own business and let Phoebe alone. I would be quite willing to speak to Miss Hortense or Miss Amelia Bafford, said the doctor's wife. I'm intimate with them, you know, and they could do as they thought best about telling their niece. That's a good idea, said Mrs. Baldwin. That quite relieves my mind. I was real worried over that sweet little Miss Bafford, and she with that pretty little rose to bring up. They wouldn't, of course, want a scandal to come anywhere near them. They'd better look out for that griscombe girl. She comes from poor stock. I said long ago she'd never be any good, and she's been with that Phoebe Dean off and on a good bit. Oh, I think that was all kindness, said the doctor's wife. Mrs. Bafford was very kind during Phoebe Dean's illness. The doctor knew all about that. Yes, I suppose the doctor knows all about things. That's the reason I called you and on Sunday, too. But I thought it was a work of necessity and mercy. Well, good afternoon, doctor. I won't keep you any longer. There's that pretty Miss Bristol ought to be told, too, ma, reminded Belinda. That's so Belinda, said the doctor's wife. I'll take it upon myself to warn her, too. So sad, isn't it? Well, good-bye. And the doctor's shez drove on. The doctor was inclined to prevent his wife from taking part in the scandal business, but his wife had her own plans which she did not reveal. She shut her thin lips and generally did as she pleased. The very next day she took her way down the shaded street and called upon the aunts of the House of Bafford, and before she left she had dropped her eyes and told in sepulchral whispers of the disgrace that had befallen the young protege of their niece, Mrs. David Bafford. Aunt Amelia and Aunt Hortense lifted their hands in righteous horror and thanked the doctor's wife for the information, saying they were sure Marcia knew nothing of it, and of course they would tell her at once, and she would henceforth have nothing further to do with the deans. Then the doctor's wife went on her mission to Janet Bristol. Janet Bristol was properly scandalized and charmingly grateful to the doctor's wife. She said, of course, Phoebe was nothing to her, but she had thought her rather pretty and interesting. She was obviously bored with the rest of the good woman's call, and when it was over she betook herself to her writing desk, where she scribbled off a letter to her cousin Nathaniel concerning a party she wished to give and for which she wanted him and his friend Martin van Rensselier to come up. At the close she added a hasty post-script. The doctor's wife has just called. She tells me I must beware of your paragon, Miss Dean, as there is a terribly scandalous story going around about her and a young man. I didn't pay much attention to the horrid details of it, I never liked to get my mind filled with such things, but it is bad enough, and of course I shall have nothing further to do with her. I wonder Mrs. Bafford did not have the discernment to see she was not all right. I suspected it from the first, you know, and you see I was right. My intuitions are usually right. I am glad I have not had much to do with her. Now it happened that Rose was not well that Sunday, and Miranda had stayed at home with her, else she would surely have discovered the state of things and revealed it to Marcia, and it happened also that Marcia started off with David on a long ride early Monday morning. Therefore when Aunt Hortense came down on her direful errand Marcia was not there, and Miranda, seeing her coming, escaped with Rose through the back door for a walk in the woods, so another day passed without the scandal reaching either Miranda or Marcia. It was on Monday morning that the storm broke upon poor Phoebe's defenceless head. A neighbor had come over from the next farm a quarter of a mile away to borrow a cup of hop yeast. It was a queer time to borrow yeast at an hour in the week when every well-regulated family was doing its washing. But that was the neighbor's professed errand. She lingered a moment by the door with the yeast cup in her hand and talked to Amaline. Phoebe was in the yard hanging up clothes and singing. The little bird was sitting on the weather-vane and calling merrily, Phoebe, Phoebe! Are you going to let her stay here now? The visitor asked in a whisper fraught with meaning and nodding her head toward the girl in the yard. Stay! said Amaline, looking up aggressively. Why shouldn't she? Ain't she been here ever since her mother died? I suppose she'll stay till she gets married. Amaline was not fond of this neighbor, and therefore she did not care to reveal her family's secrets to her. She lived in a red house with windows both ways and knew all that went on for miles about. Guess she won't run much chance of that now, said the neighbor, with a disagreeable laugh. She was prepared to be sociable if Amaline opened her heart, but she knew how to scratch back when she was slapped. Well, I should like to know what you mean, Ms. Prynne. I'm sure I don't know why our Phoebe shouldn't marry as likely as any other girl and more so in some what ain't got good looks. Mrs. Prynne's daughter was not spoken of generally as a beauty. Good looks don't count for much when they ain't got good morals. Indeed. Ms. Prynne, you do talk kind of mysterious. Did you mean to insinuate that our Phoebe didn't have good morals? I didn't mean to insinuate anything, Ms. Dean. It's all over town the way she's been going on, and I don't see how you can pretend to hide it any longer. Phoebe knows it and believes it. I'd certainly like to know what you mean, demanded Amaline facing the woman angrily. I brung that girl up, and I guess I know what good morals is. Phoebe may have her weak points, but she's all right morally. Fax is fax, Ms. Dean, said the neighbor, with a relish. I deny that there's any fax to the contrary, screamed Amaline, now thoroughly excited into championing the girl whom she hated. The family honor was at stake. The deans had never done anything dishonorable or disgraceful. I suppose you don't deny that she spent the night out all night the time of the storm, do ya? How do you explain that? I should like to know what that has to do with morals. The neighbor proceeded to explain, with a story so plausible, that Amaline grew livid with rage. Well, pun my word, you've got a lot to do running round with such lies as them. Where'd you get all that I'd like to know? It all comes straight enough, and everybody knows it, if you are stone blind. Folks has seen her round in lonely places with a strange feller. They do say she kissed her right in plain sight of the road near the woods one day, and you know yourself she went off and stayed all night. She was seen in the stagecoach, long with a strange man. There's witnesses, you can't deny it. What I want to know is, what are you going to do about it? Because if you keep her here after that, I can't let my daughter come here any more. When girls is talked about like that, decent girls can't have nothing to do with them. You think you know a whole lot about that girl out there, singing songs in this brazen way with the whole town talking about her. But she's deceived you, that's what she's done, and I thought I'd be good enough neighbor to tell you, if you don't know already. But as you don't seem to take it as twas meant in kindness, I'd best be going. You'd best had, screamed Emmeline, and be sure you keep your precious daughter to home. Hums the place for delicate little creatures like that. You might find she was deceiving you if you looked sharp enough. Then Emmeline turned and faced the wandering Phoebe, who had heard the loud voices and slipped in through the woodshed to escape being drawn into the altercation. She had no idea what it was all about. She had been engaged with her own happy thoughts. I'd like to know what all this scandals about Phoebe Dean. Just sit down there and explain. What kind of goons on have you had, that all the town's talking about you? Miss Prinn comes and says she can't let her daughter come over here any more if you stay here. I don't know that it's much less, for she never come to mount to much. But I can't have folks talking that way. No decent girl ought to have her name kicked around in that style. I may not have had a great education like you think you've got to have, but I knowed enough to keep my name off folks' tongues, and it seems you don't. Now I'd like to know what young man or men you've been kiting round with. Answer me that. They say you've been seen in the woods alone and walking at night with a strange man and going off in the stagecoach. Now what in the world does it all mean? Phoebe, turning deathly white, with a sudden return of her recent weakness, sank upon a kitchen chair, her arms full of dried clothes, and a sate to understand the angry woman who stormed back and forth across her kitchen, livid with rage, pouring out a perfect torrent of wrath and incrimination. When there came a moment's interval Phoebe would try to answer her, but Emmeline, roused beyond control, would not listen. She stormed and raged at Phoebe, calling her names and telling her what a trial she had always been, until suddenly Phoebe's new found strength gave way entirely, and she dropped back in a faint against the wall, and would have fallen if Albert had not come in just then unperceived and caught her. He carried her upstairs tenderly and laid her on her bed. In a moment she opened her sad eyes again and looked up at him. What's the matter, Phoebe? He asked tenderly, been working too hard? But Phoebe could only answer by a rush of tears. Albert, troubled as a man always is by a woman's tears, stumbled downstairs to Emmeline to find out, and was met by an overwhelming story. Who says all that about my sister? He demanded, in a cool voice, and rising with a dignity that sat strangely upon his kindly figure. She ain't your sister, hissed Emmeline. She ain't any but a half relation to you, and it's time you told her so and turned her out of the house. She'll be a disgrace to you and your decent wife and children. I can't have my Alma brought up in a house with a girl that's disgraced herself like that. You keep still, Emmeline, said Albert gravely. You don't rightly know what you're saying. You've got excited. I'll attend to this matter. What I want to know is, who said this about my sister? I'll go get Hyrum Green to help me, and we'll face the scoundrel whoever it is, and make him take it back before the whole town. What if it's true? mocked Emmeline. It isn't true. It couldn't be true. You know it couldn't, Emmeline. I'm not so sure of that, raged his wife. Wait till you hear all! And she proceeded to recount what Miss Prynne had told her. I'm ashamed of you, Emmeline, that you'll think of such a thing for a minute, no matter who told you. Don't say another word about it. I'm going out to find Hyrum. Ain't you noticed that Hyrum ain't been coming here lately? Emmeline's voice was anything but pleasant. Albert looked at her in astonishment. Well, what of that? He's a good man, and he's fond of Phoebe. He'll be sure to go with me and defend her. Albert went out, and she saw him hurrying down the road toward Hyrum's. Hyrum, like an old spider, was waiting for him in the barn. He had been expecting him for two days, not thinking it would take so long for the news to spread into the home of the victim. He looked gloomy and noncommittal as Albert came up, and greeted him with half-averted eyes. I've come to get your help," said Albert, with expectant goodwill. Hyrum, have you heard all this fool talk about Phoebe? I can't really believe folks would say that about her, but Emmeline's got it in her head. Everybody knows it. Yes, I heard it. Admitted Hyrum, reaching out for a straw to chew. I spent one whole day last week going round trying to stop it, but to no use. I couldn't even find out who started it. You never can them things. But the worst of it is, it's all true. What? Yes," said Hyrum dismal-y. Tis, I'm sorry to say it to you, what's been my friend about her I hope to marry some day, but I seen some things myself. I seen that day they talk about in the edge of the woods, and I seen her cut and run when she heard my wagon coming, and when she looked up and see it was me she was deadly pale. That was the first I knowed she wasn't true to me. Hyrum closed his lying lips and looked off sorrowfully at the hills in the distance. Hyrum, you must be mistaken. There is some explanation. All right, Albert, glad you can think so. Wished I could. It most breaks my heart thinking about her. I'm all bound up in havin' her. I'd take her now with all her disgrace and run the risk of keepin' her straight if she'd promised to behave herself. She's mighty young, and it does seem too bad. But you see, Albert, I seen her myself with my own eyes in the stagecoach along with the same man what kissed her in the woods, and you know yourself she didn't come back till next night. With a groan Albert sank down on a box nearby, and covered his face with his hands. He had been well brought up, and disgrace like this was something he had never dreamed of. His agony amazed the ice-hearted Hyrum, and he almost quailed before the sight of such sorrow in a man, sorrow that he himself had made. It embarrassed him. He turned away to hide his contempt. It comes mighty hard on me to see you suffer that way, Albert, and not be able to help you. He whined after a minute. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll marry her anyway. I'll marry her and save her reputation. Nobody'll dust say anything about my wife, and if I marry her that'll be as much as to say this all ain't so, and maybe it'll die down. Albert looked up with manly tears in his eyes. That's real good of you, Hyrum. I'll take it as mighty kind of you if you think there isn't any other way to stop it. It seems hard on you, though. I ain't thinkin' of myself. Swelled Hyrum, I'm thinkin' of the girl, and I don't see no other way. When things is true, you know, there ain't no way of denying them, especially when folks has seen so many things. But just once get her good and respectably married and it'll all blow over and be forgot. They talked a long time, and Hyrum embellished the stories that had been told by many a new incident out of his fertile brain, until Albert was thoroughly convinced that the only way to save Phoebe's reputation was for her to be married at once to Hyrum. Albert went home at last, and entered the kitchen with a chastened air. Emeline eyed him keenly. Phoebe had not come downstairs, and his wife had all the work to do again. She was not enjoying the state of things. Albert sat down and looked at the floor. Hyrum has been very kind. He said slowly, most kind. He has offered to marry Phoebe at once and stop all this talk. A light of understanding began to dawn in Emeline's eyes. Hmm! she said, then after a thoughtful pause. But I guess Miss Phoebe Dean'll have a word to say about that. She don't like him a bit. Poor child! moaned Albert. She'll have to take him, whether she likes him or not. Poor little girl! I blame myself I didn't look after her better. Her mother was a real lady, and so good to me when I was home. I promised her I'd keep Phoebe safe. She was such a good woman, it would break her heart to have Phoebe go like this. Hmm! I don't reckon she was no better than other folks, only she set up to be. Sniffed Emeline. Anyhow, this is just what might have been expected from the headstrong way that girl went on. I see now why she was set on going off to school. She knowed this was a common, and she wanted to slip and run for it got out. But she got caught, sinners generally does. Emeline wrung out her dishcloth with satisfaction. I'll go up now and talk with Phoebe, said Albert, rising sadly as if he had not heard his wife. I'm sure I wish you joy of your errand. If she acts to you as she does to me, you'll come flying down faster and you went up. But Albert was tapping at Phoebe's door before Emeline had finished her sentence. CHAPTER 26 Phoebe said Albert, gently sitting down beside the bed where she lay wide-eyed, in white-faced misery, trying to comprehend what this new calamity might mean. I'm mighty sorry for you, little girl. I wish you had come to me with things more. I might have helped you better if I hadn't been so stupid. But I've found a way out of it all for you. I've found a good man that's willing to marry you and give you the protection of his name and home, and we'll just have you married right away quietly here at home, and that'll stop all the talk. Phoebe turned a look of mingled horror and helplessness on her brother. He did not comprehend it and thought she was grasping for a thread of hope. Yes, Phoebe, Hyrum Green is willing to marry you right off in spite of everything, and we've fixed it up to have the wedding right away, to-morrow. That'll give you time to straighten out your things and Hyrum to get the minister. But Albert stopped suddenly as Phoebe uttered a piercing scream of fear and started up as if she would fly from the room. Albert caught her and tried to soothe her. What's the matter now, little girl? Don't look like that. It'll all come out right. Is it because you don't like Hyrum enough? But, child, you'll get to like him more as you know him better. Then you'll be so grateful to think what he saved you from. And besides, Phoebe, there isn't any other way. We couldn't stand the disgrace. What would your mother think? She was always so particular about how you should be brought up. And to have you turn out disgraced would break her heart. Phoebe, don't you see there isn't any other way? Albert, I would rather die than marry that wicked man. He is a bad man. I know he is bad. He has been trying to make me marry him for a long time, and now he is just taking advantage of this terrible story. Albert, you know these stories are not true. You don't believe them, Albert, do you? She looked at him with piteous pleading in her beautiful eyes, and he had to turn his own eyes away to hide their wavering. He could not see how this sweet girl could have gone wrong, and yet there was the evidence. You do, said Phoebe. Albert, you do! You believe all this awful story about me. I never thought you would believe it. But Albert, listen, I will never marry Hyrum Green. You may kill me, or send me away, or anything you like, but you cannot make me marry him. Albert turned his eyes away from the pitiful figure of the pleading girl, and set his lips firmly. I'm sorry, Phoebe, but it's got to be done. He said sorrowfully, I can't have this talk go on. I'll give you a little more time to get used to it, but you can't have much, for this story has got to be stopped. You'll say a week. One week from today you'll have to marry Hyrum Green, or I'll be forced to turn you out of my house. And you know what that means. I couldn't allow any respectable person to harbour you. You've disgraced us all. But if you marry Hyrum, it'll be all right presently. Marriage covers up gossip. Why, Phoebe, think of my little girl Alma. If this goes on, everybody'll point their fingers at her and say her auntie was a bad girl and brought dishonour on the family, and Alma'll grow up without any friends. I've got to look out for my little girl as well as you, Phoebe, and you must believe me I'm doing the very best for you I know. Phoebe sat down weakly on the edge of her bed and stared wildly at him. She could not believe that Albert would talk to her so. She could not think of anything to say in answer. She could only stare blankly at him as if he were a terrible apparition. Albert thought she was quieting down and going to be reasonable, and with a few kind words he backed out of the room. Phoebe dropped back upon her pillow in a frenzy of horror and grief. Wild plans of running away rushed through her brain, which was after all utterly futile because her limbs seemed suddenly to have grown too feeble to carry her. Her brain refused to think, or to take in any facts except the great horror of scandal that had risen about her and was threatening to overwhelm her. Emeline declined to take any dinner up to her. She said if Phoebe wanted anything to eat she might come down and get it. She wasn't going to weigh down a girl like that any longer. Albert fixed a nice plate of dinner and carried it up, but Phoebe lay motionless with open eyes turned toward the wall and refused to speak. He put the plate on a chair beside her and went sadly down again. Phoebe wondered how long it would take one to die, and why God had not let her die when she had the fever. What had there been to live for anyway? One short bright month of happiness. The memory of it gripped her heart anew with shame and horror. What would they say, all those kind friends? Spafford and her husband, Miranda and Nathaniel Graham? Would they believe it too? Of course they would, if her own household turned against her. She was defenseless in a desolate world. She would never more have friends and smiles and comfort. She could not go away to school now for what good would an education be to her with such a disgrace clinging to her name and following her wherever she went? It would be of no use to run away. She might better stay here and die. They could not marry her to Hyrum Green if she was dead. Could one die in a week by just lying still? So the horror in her brain raged over and over, each time bringing some new phase of grief. And now it was a question if her friends would desert her, and now it was the haughty expression on Janet Bristol's face that day she carried the letter to Nathaniel. And now it was the leer on Hyrum's face as he put his arm about her on that terrible drive. And now it was the thought that she would have no more of Nathaniel's long, delightful letters. All day long she lay in this state, and when the darkness fell a half-delirious sleep came upon her, which carried the fears and thoughts of the day into its unresting slumber. The morning broke into the sorrow of yesterday, and Phoebe, weak and sick, arose with one thought in her mind, that she must write at once to Nathaniel Graham and tell him all. She must not be a disgrace to him. With trembling hands and eyes filled with tears she wrote, Dear Mr. Graham, I am writing to you for the last time. A terrible thing has happened. Everyone has been telling awful stories about me, and I am in disgrace. I want you to know that these things are not true. I do not even know how they started, for there has never been any foundation for them. But everybody believes them, and I will not disgrace you by writing to you any more. You will probably be told the worst that is said, and perhaps you will believe them as others do. I shall not blame you if you do, for it seems as if even God believed them. I do not know how to prove my innocence, nor what the end of this is to be. I only know that it is not right to keep you in ignorance of my shame, and to let you write any longer to one whose name is held in dishonor. I thank you for all the beautiful times you have put into my life, and I must say good-bye for ever. Gratefully, Phoebe Dean. The letter was blistered with tears before it was finished. She addressed it and hid it in her frock, before she began to wonder how it would get to the mail. Probably Miranda would never come near her again, and she could not be seen in the village. She dared not ask anyone else to mail the letter, lest it would never reach its destination. She spent the rest of the day in quietly putting to writes her little belongings, unpacking and gathering together things she would like to have destroyed if anything should happen to her. She felt weak and dizzy, and the food that Albert continued to bring her seemed nauseous. She could not bring herself to taste a mouthful. It was so useless to eat. One only ate to live, and living had been finished for her it appeared. It was not that she had resolved to make away with herself by starvation. She was too right-minded for that. She was simply stunned by the calamity that had befallen her, and was waiting for the outcome. Sometimes as she stood at the window looking out across the fields, which had been familiar to her since her childhood, she had a feeling that she was going away from them all soon. She wondered if it meant that she was going to die. She wondered if her mother felt so before she died. Then she wondered why she did not run away, but always when she thought that something seemed holding her back, for how could she run far when she could not keep up about her room but a few minutes at a time for dizziness and faintness? And how could she run fast enough to run away from shame? It could not be done. Whenever in her dreams she started to run away, she always stumbled and fell, and then seemed suddenly struck blind and unable to move further. And all the village came crowding about her and mocking her like a great company of kind crows met around a poor dead thing. Late Tuesday afternoon Miranda came out to see her. Emeline opened the door, and her countenance grew black when she recognized the visitor. Now you can just turn right around and march home, she commanded. We don't want no folks around. Phoebe deans in terrible disgrace, and you've had your part in it if I don't miss my guess. No, you ain't going to see her. She's up in her room, and been shut up there ever since she heard how folks has found out about her capers. You and your Miss Bafford can keep your prying, meddling fingers out of this, and let Phoebe dean alone from now on. We don't want to see you any more. Your spoiling and petting has only hastened the disgrace. The door slammed in Miranda's indignant face, and Emeline went back to her work. She needs a good shaken, remarked Miranda indignantly to herself, but it might tire me, and besides I've got other fish to fry. Undaunted she marched to the back shed and mounted to Phoebe's window, entering as if it had always been the common mode of ingress. Well, for the land, Phoebe dean, what's been to happenin' now? She asked mildly, surveying Phoebe, who lay white and weak upon her bed, with her untasted dinner beside her. Oh, don't you know all about it, Miranda? Phoebe began to sob. No, I don't know a thing. I've been shut up in the house cookin' for two men Mr. David Brung home last night, and they et and et till I thought there wouldn't be nothin' left for the family. They was railroad men or somethin'. No, I guessed was bank and men, I forget what. But they could eat if they did wear their best clothes every day. I would say, if I was you, I wouldn't talk very loud, for the lady downstairs wasn't real glad to see me this time, and she might invite me to leave rather suddened if she's spissioned I was up here. But Phoebe did not laugh as Miranda had hoped. She only looked at her guest with hungry, hopeless eyes, and it was a long time before Miranda could find out the whole miserable story. And, Miranda, I've written Mr. Graham a note telling him about it. Of course I couldn't disgrace him by continuing to write any longer, so I've said good-bye to him. Will you do me one last kindness? Will you mail it for me?" Phoebe's whisper was tragic. It brought tears to Miranda's well fortified eyes. "'Course I'll mail it for you, child. If you want me to, but taint the last kindness I'll do for you by a long run. Shucks! Do you think I'm going to give in this easy and see you sucked under? Not by a jug full. Now look a here, child. If the whole full world goes against you, I ain't a-going. Near my Mrs. Marsha ain't neither, I'm plum-sure of that. But if she did, I'd stick anyhow, so there. Cross my heart if I don't. Now do you believe me? And I'll find a way out of this somehow. I ain't thotted out yet, but don't you worry. You said up and eat that there piece of bread and butter. Never mind if you don't feel like it. You eat it for me. I can't do nothing if you don't keep your strength up. Now you do your part, and we'll get out of this pickle as good as we did out of the other one. I ain't going to have all my nursing wasted. Will you be good?" Phoebe promised meekly. She could not smile. She could only press Miranda's hand, while great tears welled through the long lashes on her cheeks. So that old serpent thinks he's got you fast, does he? Well he'll find himself mistaken yet, if I don't miss my guess. The game ain't all played out by a long shot. Marry you next week, will he? Well we'll see. I may dance at your wedding yet, but there won't be no Hyrum Green as bridegroom. I'd marry him myself, for I'd let him have you, you poor little white dove. Miranda pressed a great impulsive kiss upon Phoebe's white lips and stole out of the window. As she hurried along down the road, the waving grain in the fields on either side reminded her of whispered gossip. There seemed to be a harvest of scandal ripening all about the poor stricken girl whom she loved, and in her ignorant and original phraseology she murmured to herself the thought of the words of old, low an enemy hath done this. Miranda felt that she knew pretty well who the enemy was. CHAPTER 27 I have a notion I'd like to go to New York, said Miranda, bouncing in on Marsha. Well, said Marsha, I think you would enjoy the trip some time. We might keep a look out for somebody going who would be company, or perhaps Mr. Spafford will be going again soon, and he would have time to look after you. Frade I can't wait that long, said Miranda. I've took a great notion I'd like to have a balsarine frock, and if I'm going to have it I'd best get it straight off and get more good out of it. I look at it this way. I ain't going to be young but once, and time's getting on. If you don't get balsarine frocks when you're young, you most likely won't get them at all, because you'll think it ain't worth while. I've got a good bit of money laid by, and if you have no objections, and think you can spare me for a couple of days, I think I'd like to go down to New York and get it. I don't need no looking after, so you needn't worry about that. Nobody steals me, and as long as I got a tongue I can ask my way round New York as well as I can round Fundy, or any other place. Why, of course I can spare you, Miranda, and I suppose you'd be perfectly safe, only I thought you'd enjoy it more if you had good company. When did you think you'd like to go? Well, I've been planning it all out coming up the street. I've baked and washed, and the sweeping ain't much to do. If you don't mind, I think I'll go tomorrow morning. What in the world makes you want to go in such a hurry? Oh, I've just took the notion, said Miranda, smiling. Maybe I'll tell you when I get back, I shan't be gone more than a year. Marcia was a little worried at this sudden turn of affairs. It was not like Miranda to hide things from her. Yet she had such confidence in her that she finally settled down to the thought that it was only a whim, and perhaps a good night's sleep would overcome it. But the next morning she found the table fully set for breakfast, and the meal prepared and keeping warm. Beside her plate a scrawled note lay. Mrs. Marcia, dear, I'll likely be back tomorrow night or next, but don't worry. I got business to tend to, and I'll tell you about it when I get home. Yours till death, respectfully, Miranda Griscombe. P.S., you might pray if you're a mind. Take care of Febbi if I don't get back. Before Marcia could get time to run up and see Febbi, for she somehow felt that Miranda's sudden departure to New York had to do with her visit to Febbi the day before, Miss Hortense arrived with her most commandatory air. Marcia, I came on a very special errand. She began, primly. I was down on Monday, but you were away. There was reproach in the tone. Yes, I went with David, responded Marcia, brightly, but Miss Hortense would brook no interruption. It's of no consequence now. I would have come yesterday, but we had company all day, the Patterson's from above Schenectady. I couldn't leave very well. But I hurried down this morning. It's about that Dean-girl, Marcia. I suppose you haven't heard the dreadful reports that are going around. It really is disgraceful in a decent town. I'm only glad she got out of your house before it became town talk. It all shows what ingratitude there is in human nature, to think she should repay your kindness by allowing herself to be talked about in this shameful way. Marcia exclaimed in dismay, but Miss Hortense went straight on to the precise and bitter end, giving every detail in the scandal that had come to her ears, details at which even Hiram Green would have opened his eyes wide in surprise, and would never have believed that they grew out of his own story. Marcia listened in rising indignation. I am sorry that any such dreadful story is a broad-and-Hortense, she answered earnestly, but really if you knew the girl you would understand how impossible it is for this to be true, she is as sweet and pure and innocent as my little rose. I should be sorry to have David's child compared to that miserable girl, Marcia," said Miss Hortense severely, rising as she spoke, and I am sure that after my warning, if you do not shut that wretched creature forever out of your acquaintance, I shall feel at my duty to appeal to David, and tell him the whole story, though I should dislike to have to mention anything so indelicate before him. David is very particular about the character of women. He was brought up to be, and Amelia and I both agree that he must be told. I shall tell him myself, of course, and he will see if anything can be done to stop this ridiculous gossip," said Marcia indignantly. David is as fond of Phoebe as I am. You will find David will look on it in a very different way, my dear. You are young and a woman. You do not know the evil world. David is a man. Men know. Goodbye, my dear. I have warned you." And Aunt Hortense went pensively down the street, having done her duty. Marcia put her bonnet on, took little rose, and walked straight out to Albert Dean's house, but when she reached there was denied admission. Alma opened the door, but did not ask the caller in. In a moment she came back from consulting her mother and said, Ma says Aunt Phoebe is up in her room and don't wish to see no one. The door was shut unceremoniously by the stolid little girl, who was embarrassed before the beautiful smiling rose in her dainty attire. Marcia turned away, dismayed, hurt at the reception she had received, and walked slowly homeward. Wasn't that a funny little girl? said Rose. She wasn't very polite, was she, mother? Then Marcia went home to wait until she could consult with David. When Nathaniel received his cousin Janet's letter, his anger rose to white heat. Every throb of his heart told him that the stories about Phoebe were false. Like Miranda, he felt at once that an enemy had done this, and he felt like searching out the enemy at once and throttling him into repentance. He read the post-script through twice, and then sat for a few minutes in deep thought, his face shaded by his hand. The office work went on about him, but his thoughts were far away in a sunlit autumn wood. After a little he got up suddenly, and going into the inner office where he could be alone, sat down quickly and wrote, My dear Phoebe, he had never called her that before, it was always Miss Dean. I have loved you for a long time, ever since that afternoon when I found you among the autumn leaves in the woods. I have been trying to wait to tell you until I could be sure you loved me, but now I can wait no longer. I am lonely without you, I want you to be here with me. I love you, darling, and will love you for ever, and guard you tenderly, if you will give me the right. Will you forgive this abrupt letter and write immediately, giving me the right to come up and tell you all the rest? Yours in faithful love, Nathaniel Graham. After he had sent it off, enclosed to Miranda, he scribbled another to Janet. Dear Janet, it read, wherever did you get those ridiculous stories about Phoebe Dean. They are as false as they are foolish. Everybody that knows her at all knows they could not be true. I insist that you deny them whenever you have the opportunity, and for my sake that you go and call upon her. I may as well tell you that I am going to marry her if she will have me, and I want you, Janet, to be like a sister to her, as you have always been to me. Any breath against her name I shall consider as against mine also. So please, Janet, stand up for her for my sake. Our loving cousin, Nathaniel. After these two letters had been dispatched, Nathaniel put in the best days work he had ever done. Miranda had reached Albany in time to catch the evening boat down the Hudson. She was more tired than she had ever been in all the years of her hard-working life. The bouncing of the stagecoach, the constant change of scenery and fellow passengers, the breathlessness of going into a strange region, had worn upon her nerves. She had not let a single thing pass unnoticed, and the result was that even her iron nerves had reached their limit at last. Besides, she was more worried about Phoebe Dean than she had ever been about anything in her life. The ethereal look of the girl as she bade her good-bye the night before had gone to her heart. She half feared Phoebe might fall asleep and never awaken while she was gone on her desperate errand of mercy. "'Land's sake alive,' she muttered to herself, as she crept into her bunk in the tiny stateroom, and lay down without putting off any of her garments, save her bonnet and cape. "'Land's sake alive, I feel as if I'd been threshing. No, I feel as if I'd been threshed.' She corrected. I didn't know I had so many bones.' Nevertheless she slept little, having too much to attend to. She wakened at every step in the night, and she heard all the bells and calls of the crew. Half the time she thought the boat was sinking, and wondered if she would be able to swim when she struck the water. Anyhow she meant to try. She had heard it came natural to some people. When morning broke over the heights above the river, she watched them grow into splendor and majesty. And long before the city was in sight, she was on deck sniffing the air like a veteran war horse. Her eyes were dilated with excitement, and she made a curious and noticeable figure as she gripped her small bag of modest belongings, and sat strained up and ready for her first experience of city life. She felt a passing regret that she could not pause to take in more of this wonderful trip, but she promised herself to come that way again some day, and hurried over the gangplank with the others when the boat finally landed. Tucked safely away in her pocket was Phoebe's letter to Nathaniel, and safe in her memory was its address. Every passenger with whom she had talked upon the voyage, and she had entered into conversation with all except a man who reminded her of Hyrum Green, had given her detailed directions how to get to that address, and the directions had all been different. Some had told her to walk one way and take a cab, some another way. Some had suggested that she take a cab at the wharf. She did none of these things. She gripped her bag firmly and marched past all the officials through the buildings out into the street. There she stood a moment bewildered by the noise and confusion, a marked figure even in that hurrying throng of busy people. All boys and drivers immediately beset her. She looked each over carefully, and then calmly walked straight ahead. So far New York did not look very promising to her, but she meant to get into a quieter place before she made any inquiries. At last, after she had walked several blocks, and was beginning to feel that there was no quiet place and no end to the confusion, she met a benevolent old gentleman walking with a sweet-faced girl who looked as she imagined little Rosewood look in a few years. These she hailed and demanded directions, and ended by being put into a Broadway coach under the care of the driver, who was to put her out at her destination. Nathaniel was in the inner office attending to some special business when the office boy tapped at the door. There's a queer client out here, he whispered. We told her you were busy and could not be bothered, but she said she has come a long distance and must see you at once. Shall I tell her to come again? Nathaniel glanced through the door, and there, close behind the careful office boy, stood the wily Miranda. She had run no risks of not seeing Nathaniel. She had followed the boy strictly against orders. Her homely face was aglow with the light of her mission, but in spite of freckles and red hair and the dishevelled state of her appearance, Nathaniel put out an eager hand to welcome her. His first thought was that she had brought an answer to his letter to Phoebe, and his heart leaped up in sudden eagerness. Then at once he knew that it was too soon for that, for he had only sent his own letter in the evening mail. Come right in, Miranda! He said eagerly, I'm glad to see you. Are you all alone? Then something in her face caused a twinge of apprehension. Is everyone all well? Miranda sat down and waited until the door was shut. Then she broke forth. No, everything ain't all well. Everything's all wrong. Phoebe deans in terrible trouble, and she's wrote a letter saying good-bye to you, and asked me to mail it. I said I would, and I brung it along. I reckon it didn't make no difference whether it traveled in my pocket or in the mail bag, so it got here. She held out the letter, and Nathaniel's hand shook as he took it. Miranda noticed that he looked pale. What has happened, Miranda? He asked as he tore open the letter, hardly knowing what he feared. Oh, it's that old snake in the grass, said Miranda. I'd be willing to stake my life on that. No knowing how he'd done it, but it's done. There's plenty to help in a business like gossip when it comes to that. There's been awful lies told about her, and she's been crushed by it. Well, I had to come down to New York to get me a new balsarine frock, and I just thought I'd drop in and tell you the news. You don't know of a good store where I won't get cheated, do ya? She asked, making a pretense of rising. Sit down, Miranda, commanded Nathaniel. You're not going away to leave me like this. You must tell me all about it. Miranda, you know, don't you, that Phoebe is my dear friend. You know that I must hear all about it. Well, ain't she told you in the letter? I reckon you'll go back on her like her own folks have done, won't you? And let that scoundrel get her next week like he's planned. What do you mean, Miranda? Tell me at once all about it. You know Phoebe Dean is very dear to me. Miranda's eyes shone, but she meant to have things in black and white. How dear, she asked, looking up in a business-like way. Be you going to believe what they all say about her and let them folks go on talking till she's all wilted down and dead? Because if you be, you don't get a single word out of me. No, sir. Listen, Miranda, yesterday I wrote to Phoebe asking her to marry me. Satisfaction began to dawn upon the face of the self-appointed envoy extraordinary. Well, that ain't no sign you'd do it again today, said Miranda, dryly. You didn't know nothing about her being in trouble then. Yesterday morning, Miranda, I received a letter from my cousin telling me all about it, and I sat down at once and asked Phoebe to marry me. You sure you didn't do it out of pity? Asked Miranda, lifting sharp eyes to search his face. I shouldn't want to have nobody marry her out of pity, the way Hyrum Green's going to do the old Nimshi. Miranda, I love her with all my heart, and I will never believe a word against her. I shall make it the object of my life to protect her and make her happy, if she will give me the precious treasure of her love in return. Now are you satisfied, you cruel girl, and will you tell me the whole story? For the little I've heard from my cousin has only filled me with apprehension. Then the freckles beamed out and were lost in smiles, as Miranda reached a strong hand and grasped Nathaniel's firm white one with a hearty shake. You're the right stuff, I knowed you was, that's why I come. I didn't darts tell Miss Bafford what was up, because she wouldn't let me come, and Cheetah tried to work it out in some other way. But I had it all figured out, and there wasn't time for any fiddle in business. It had to be done twunced, if was to be did at all. So I told her I wanted a pleasure trip and a new balsarine, and I come. Now I'm going to tell you all about it, and then if there's time for the balsarine for the evening boat starts I'll get it, otherwise it'll have to get the go by this time, for I've got to get right back to Phoebe Dean. She looked just awful before I left, and there's no telling what they'll do to her while I'm gone. Nathaniel, with loving apprehension in his eyes, listened to the story told in Miranda's inimitable style, his face darkening with anger over the mention of Hiram's part, the scoundrel, he murmured, clutching his fingers as if he could hardly refrain from going after him and giving him what he deserved. He's all that, said Miranda, and a heap more. He's made that poor stupid Albert Dean think all those things is true, and he's come wine and round with his sorry this and sorry that, and offered to marry Phoebe Dean to save her reputation, as if he was fit for that angel to wipe her feet on. Oh, I'd like to see him strung up, I would. There's only one man I ever heard tell of that was so mean, and he lived here in New York. His name was Temple, Harry Temple. If you ever come crossed him, just give him a dig for my sake. He and Hiram Green ought to be tied up in a bag together and sent off the earth to stay. One of them big, hot-looking stars would be a fine place, I often think at night. Albert, he's awful taken back by disgrace, and he's told Phoebe she has to get married in just a week, or he'll have to turn her out of the house. Monday morning's the time set for the marriage, and Albert lows he won't wait another day. He's promised his wife he'll keep to that. Nathaniel's face grew stern as he listened and asked questions. At last he said, Miranda, do you think Phoebe cares for me? Will she be willing to marry me? Well, I should think, if I know anything at all about Phoebe Dean, she'd give her two eyes to, but she'll be terrible set against marrying you with her in disgrace. She'll think it'll bring shame on you. Bless her dear heart, murmured Nathaniel. I suppose she will. And he touched her letter tenderly as if it had been a living thing. Miranda's eyes glistened with jubilation, but she said nothing. But we will persuade her out of that, added Nathaniel, with a light of joy in his eyes. If you are quite sure it will make her happy, he added, looking at Miranda keenly. I wouldn't want to have her marry me just to get out of trouble. There must be other ways of helping her, though this way is best. Well, I guess you needn't worry about love. She'll love you all right, or my name isn't Miranda. Well then, we will just have a substitute bridegroom. I wonder if we'll have trouble with Hyrum. I suppose very likely we will, but I guess we can manage that. Let me see. This is Thursday. I can manage my business by tomorrow night, so that I can leave it for a few days. If you can stay here till then, I will take you to my landlady, who is very kind, and will make your stay pleasant. Then we can go back together and plan the arrangements. You'll have to help me, you know, for you are the only medium of communication. No, I can't stay a minute longer than tonight, said Miranda, rising in a panic and glancing out the window at the sun, as if she feared it were already too late to catch the boat. I've got to get back to Phoebe Dean. She won't eat, and she's just fading away. There might not be any bride by time you get there. Sides, she can't get your letter till I give back, know how. I'll have to go home on the boat to-night, and you come to-morrow. You see, if there's going to be a wedding, I'd like real well to get my balsarine made in time to wear to it. That'll give me plenty of time, with Miss Bafford to help cut it out. Do you suppose there's time for me to go to a store? It took a long time to get up here from the river. Nathaniel arose. You have plenty of time, and if you'll wait ten minutes I will go with you. We can get some dinner and go to the store, and we can arrange things on the way. Miranda settled down in the great office chair and watched Nathaniel's white fingers as they wrote on the legal paper. When it was finished and folded, he took another piece of paper and wrote, My darling, I have just received your letter, and I am coming to you as quickly as I can arrange my business to get away. Miranda will bring you this, and will tell you all I have said. I will be there in time for the wedding morning, and if you will have me instead of Hiram Green, I shall face the whole world by your side, and tell them they are liars. Then I will bring you back with me to stay with me always. My heart is longing to see and comfort you, but I must not write any more, for I have a great deal to do before I go. Only this I must say, if you do not feel you love me and do not want to marry me, I will help you some other way to get free from this trouble, and to have it all explained before the world. There is just one thing I am resolved upon, and that is that you shall be guarded and loved by me, whether you will marry me or not. You are too precious to suffer. Yours with more love than you can ever fathom, Nathaniel. He sealed, addressed it, and handed it to Miranda, who took it with a gleam of satisfaction in her honest eyes. She was almost willing to run home without her balsarine, now that she had that letter. She did not know what he had written, of course, but she knew it was the right thing, and would bring the light of hope again to Phoebe's eyes. Then they went out into the bustling strange streets of the city. Miranda was too excited to eat much, though Nathaniel took her to his own boarding-place and tried to make her feel at home. He kept asking if it wasn't almost time for the boat to leave, until he had to explain to her just how much time there was and how quickly they could get to the wharf. They went to a store, and Miranda did not take long to pick out her frock. It seemed as if the very one she had always longed for most lay draped upon the counter, and with quick decision she bought it. It had great stripes of soft colors in palm leaf pattern, blended into harmony in oriental manner in the exquisite fabric. It seemed to her almost too fine to go with red hair, but she bought it with joyous abandon. The touch of rich blue and orange and crimson, with the darker greens and browns, stood out against the delicate whiteness of the background, and delighted her eye. She bought a dainty ruffled muslin shoulder cape to wear with it, and a great shovel bonnet with a white veil tossed hilariously back from its cumbersome sheer depths. Then Nathaniel added a parasol with a pearl handle that would unhinge and fold up, and Miranda climbed into the coach and rode off to the evening boat, feeling that she had had the greatest day of her life. She looked about her on the interesting sights of the city, with a kind of pity that they had to stay there and not go with her to the wedding. CHAPTER XXVIII Miranda reached home on the afternoon coach, and bounced into the house with a face full of importance. Well, I'm glad to get back. Did you find the blueberry pies? I put them out in the pantry winter to cool and forgot them. I thought of them when I was on the boat, but was most too late to come back then, so I kept on. Here's my balsarine. Do you like it? And she tossed the bundle into Marcia's lap. I'm going right at it when I get the work done in the morning, for I want to have it to wear at Phoebe Dean's wedding. Did you know she was going to marry Nathaniel Graham? Say, where's that rose? I most start for a sight of her little sweet face. You're looking real good yourself, all's well? Marcia listened smilingly to Miranda's torrent of words, and gradually drew the whole story from her housemaid, laughing heartily over the various episodes of Miranda's journey, and gravely tender over what Nathaniel had said. Then Miranda heard about Marcia's call on Phoebe, and how she had written Phoebe a letter asking what she could do to help her, and inviting her to come at once to them, but had received no answer. And you won't, neither, said Miranda, decidedly. She'll never get no letter, I'm sure of that. If that old skunk of a Hiram Green don't get it first, Ms. Dean will ferret it out and keep it from her. She's the meanest thing in the shape of a woman I've seen yet, and I've had some experience. Then Miranda rapidly sketched her plan of procedure, and Marcia added some suggestions. Together they prepared the supper with the single object of getting Miranda off to Phoebe as soon as the darkness should come. It was quite dark, and Phoebe was lying in a still white heap upon her bed when Miranda stole softly in. By her side lay a long white package she had taken from her little trunk in the closet, and on it was pinned a note. Dear Miranda, if I die please take this, from Phoebe. She had not lighted her candle, and she had not eaten a mouthful all day. The terrible faintness and weakness were becoming constant now. She could only lie on her bed and wait. She could not even think any more. The enemies all about her, with their terrible darts, had pierced her soul, and her life seemed ebbing away. She felt it going, and did not have the desire to stop it. It was good to be at rest. Miranda stole in softly, and began to move quietly about the room, finding the candle and softly striking the flint and tinder. Phoebe became gradually conscious of her presence, as out of the midst of a misty dream. Then Miranda came and looked down tenderly into her face. Raise your head up, you poor little thing, and drink this, whispered Miranda, putting a bottle of strong cordial to her lips, that she had taken the precaution to bring with her. I've got two of the nicest letters for you that ever was writ, and another one from my Mrs. Marsha, and if you don't get some color into them cheeks and some brightness into them eyes now, my name ain't Miranda. Miranda handed out the letters one at a time in their order. She brought the candle, and Phoebe with her trembling hands opened to the first, recognizing the handwriting, and then sat up and read with bated breath. Oh, Miranda! she said, looking up with a faint color in her cheeks. He has asked me to marry him. Wouldn't it be beautiful? But he didn't know when he wrote it. And the brown head went down as if it were stricken like a lily before a fierce blast. Shucks! said Miranda, dabbing away the mistiness from her eyes. Yes, he did know, too. His cousin wrote him. Here, you read the other one. Again Phoebe sat up and read, while Miranda held the candle, and tried not to seem to look over her shoulder at the words she could feel in her soul if she could not see with her eyes. Oh, it can't be true! said Phoebe, with face aglow with something that almost seemed the light of another world. And I mustn't let him, of course. It wouldn't be right for him to have a wife like this. Shucks! said Miranda again. Yes, tis true, too, and right, and all the rest. And you've got to set up and get spry, for there's a sight to do, and I can't stay much longer. That wedding's coming off on Monday morning. Time set for it. Taint good luck to put off weddings, and this one's going to go through all right. Mr. Nathaniel, he's going to bring his cousin and the judge. And my Mr. David and Mrs. Marsh's come in, whether they're asked or not, because they no-twent no use for him to wait for an invite from that sister-in-law of Yorn, so they're coming any way. Mr. Nathaniel said as how you weren't to worry. He'll get here Saturday night sure, and if there was any other arrangement you'd like to make he was ready, and you could send your word by me. But he agreed with me to make less talk if the wedding come off at your home where it was to be in the first place, and then you could go right away from here and never come back no more. Say, have you got anything that's fit to wear? Because if you ain't, I'll let you have my new balsarene to wear. I'll have it all done by sat day night. Mrs. Marsh is going to help me. Between tears and smiles Phoebe came to herself. Marenda fed her with some strong broth which she had brought along and which she managed to heat after laboriously holding the pale over the candle flame. Then together in the dim candle light the two girls opened the great white box that lay on the floor beside the bed. It's my wedding dress, Marenda. Mother made it for me long ago before she died, and put it in my trunk to keep for me. It was marked for my little girl when she is going to be married. I opened it and found the letter on the top, for I thought I was going to die and I wanted to read Mother's last letter. But I did not take the frock out because I thought I would never wear it, and it made me feel so bad that I left it in its wrappings. I thought if I died I would like to have you have it, because it is the most precious thing I have, and you have done more for me than anybody else ever did but Mother. Marenda gulped a sudden unexpected sob at this tribute, and it was some time before she could recover her equanimity, though she said shucks several times. They took the white bridal garment out of its wrappings, and Phoebe tried it on, there in the dimness of the room. It was thin white book muslin, all daintily embroidered about the neck and sleeves by the dead mother's hand. It fell in soft sheer folds about the white-faced girl, and made her look as if she were just going to take her flight to another world. In another paper was the veil of fine-thread lace, simple and beautiful, and a pair of white gloves which had been the mother's, both yellow with age and breathing a perfume of lavender. A pair of dainty little white slippers lay in the bottom of the box, wrapped in tissue paper also, Marenda's eyes shone. Now you'll look like the right kind of a bride! She said, standing back and surveying her charge, that's better in all the balsarenes in New York. You shall wear the balsarene and stand up with me, Marenda," whispered Phoebe, smiling. No, sir, we ain't going to have this here wedding spoiled by no red hair and freckles, even if Taz got a balsarene. Janet Bristol's got to stand up. She'll make a picture for folks to talk about. Senator Nathaniel said he'd manage his cousin all right, and twid quiet the talk-down if his folks took sides long of you. No, sir, I ain't going to do no standing in this show. I'm going to set, and take it all in. Come now, you get into bed, and I'll blow out the light and go home. I reckon I'll be back tomorrow night to take any messages you want took. There'll be plenty a chance for you to rest for Monday. Don't say nothing to your folks. Let them go on with their plans, and then kinder spry them. The next morning Phoebe arose, and feeling much refreshed, dressed herself carefully and went downstairs. She had a quiet, grave look upon her face, but in her eyes there was a strange light which she could not keep back. Emmeline looked up in surprise when Phoebe came and took hold with the work. She began to say something sliding, but the look in Phoebe's face somehow stopped her. It was a look of joyful exaltation, and Emmeline, firmly believing the girl was justly talked about, could not understand and thought at hypocrisy. Albert came in in a few minutes and looked relieved. Well, Phoebe, I'm glad you've made up your mind to act sensibly and come downstairs. It wasn't right to fight against what had to be, and every one of us knew was for the best, he said. Phoebe did not answer. In spite of the help that was coming to her, it hurt her that Albert believed the slander against her, and the tears came into her eyes as he spoke. Emmeline saw them, and spoke up in a sermonizing tone. It's right she should feel her shame and repent, Albert. Don't go and soft-soap it over, as if she hadn't done nothing to feel sorry for her. Then Phoebe spoke. I have done nothing to feel sorry for, Emmeline. I have not sinned. I am only sorry that you have been willing to believe all this against me. Then she went quietly on with her work and said no more, though Emmeline's speech was unsealed, and she gave Phoebe much good advice during the course of the day. The next morning, near church time, Emmeline told Phoebe that Hiram was coming over to see her that morning, and she might open the front parlor to receive him. I don't wish to see Hiram, Emmeline. She answered calmly. I have nothing whatever to say to him. Well, upon my word, Phoebe Dean, said Emmeline, getting red in the face with indignation over the girl, going to get married tomorrow morning and not wanting to see Hiram Green. I should think you'd want to talk over arrangements. Yes, I am going to be married tomorrow morning, said Phoebe, with a triumphant ring to her voice, but I do not want to see Hiram Green. I have no arrangements to talk over with him. My arrangements are all made." Phoebe went away to her room and remained there the rest of the day. Nathaniel had arrived. She knew that by special messenger coming and going over the woodshed roof. There had been sweet messages of cheer, and he had promised to come for her in the morning. Everything was arranged. She could possess her soul in peace and quietness and weight. Her enemies would soon be put to flight. Nathaniel had promised her that, and although she could not see in the least how, she trusted him perfectly. She had sent her love to him and the locket with her mother's picture. It was all she had to give her lover, and he understood. It was the one she had worn the first time he ever saw her. The bell's arena frock was finished. The last hook was set in place before supper Saturday night, and Marcia had pronounced it very becoming. It was finished in spite of the fact that Miranda had made several secret excursions into the region of Hyrum Green's house and farm. She had made discoveries which she told no one, but over which she chuckled when quite alone in the kitchen at work. On her first trip she had seen him go out to his milking, and had passed close to the house where his window was open. She had glanced in, and there on the sill her sharp eyes had discovered the bit of red seal with the lion's head upon it. She had carried too many letters with that seal not to know it at once, and she gleefully seized it and carried it to Nathaniel. She had evidence at last which would give her power over the enemy. She also discovered that Hyrum Green attended to his milking himself and that he had a habit, if one might judge from two mornings as samples, of going to the spring-house himself with the milk, and placing the pans on the great stone shelf. This she had seen by judicious hiding behind shrubbery and trees, and spring-house itself, and spying upon him. Birds and squirrels tell no tales, and the dewy grass soon dried off and left no trace of her footsteps. During one of these excursions she had examined the fastening of the spring-house most carefully, and knew the possibilities of button, hasp, staple, and peg. The Spaffords and Miranda went to church as usual, and so did the Bristols. The advent of Nathaniel and his friend, Mr. Van Rensselier, in the Bristol pew, diverted attention from the empty seat behind them, for this morning the deans were conspicuous by their absence. The day passed quietly. Miranda made her usual visit in the early evening. Phoebe had asked her to stay with her, but Miranda said she had some things to do, and departed sooner than usual. The night settled into stillness, and Phoebe slept in joyous assurance that it was her last night in the room where she had seen so much sorrow. In the morning she went down to breakfast as usual. She did not eat much, to be sure, but drank some milk, and then washed the breakfast-dishes as calmly as if she expected to keep on washing them all the rest of her life in this same kitchen. "'Hyrum will be over about half-past nine, I reckon,' said Albert. He had been instructed by Emmeline to say this. The minister won't come till ten. If you need to talk to Hyrum you'll have plenty of time between. You better be all ready.' "'I shall not need to talk to Hyrum,' said Phoebe as she hung up the dish-towels. There was that in her voice as she said it that made Albert look after her, wonderingly. "'She's the queerest girl I ever see,' grumbled Emmeline. One would think by her looks that she expected a chariot of fire to come down and take her straight up to heaven, like Lija. It's kind of dreadful the way she acts. If I was Hyrum I'd be afraid to marry her.' Miranda arrived over the shed-roof soon after Phoebe went upstairs. She wore her old calico, and if one who knew had observed closely, he would have said it was a calico that Miranda never used any more, for it was very old. Her hair was combed with precision, and on her head was an elaborate New York bonnet with a large barrage veil. But her balsarine was in a bundle under her arm. It was not calculated for roof travel. It was well for her plans that the shed-roof was back and well hidden from the kitchen door, else Miranda might have been discovered. "'There, Emmeline can have that for a floorcloth,' said Miranda, as she flung her old calico in the corner. I don't calculate to return for it.' She fastened her balsarine with satisfaction, adjusted her muslin shoulder cape, her bonnet, and mantilla, the latter a gift from Mrs. Bafford, laid her new sunshade on a chair, and pronounced herself ready. "'Has Hyrum Green come yet?' asked Phoebe anxiously. She was dreading a scene with Hyrum. "'Well, no, not exactly,' said Miranda. "'And what's more, I don't think he will. Fact is I've got him fixed for a spell, but I ain't going to say nothing more about it at present, except that he's detained by business elsewhere. It's best you shouldn't know nothing about it if there's questions asked, but you don't need to worry, lest something quite unusual happens, he ain't likely to turn up till after the ceremony. Now what's to do to you yet? Them hooks all fastened? My, but you do look handsome.' "'Oh, Miranda, you haven't done anything dreadful, have you?' "'No, I ain't,' laughed Miranda. "'You'd just split your sides laughin' if you could see him bout now. But there, don't say another word. I hear voices. The bristles have come, and the minister, too. I reckon your sister-in-law'll have her hands full, slam in the door in all them faces.' Phoebe, aghast, pulled the curtain aside and peered out. There in the yard were several carriages, and more driving in the gate. She could hear a great many voices all at once. She saw Mrs. Dozenberry and Susanna getting out of their shezz, and Lemuel Skinner and his wife Hannah, and she thought she heard the village dressmaker's voice, high above all, sharp and rasping, the way it always was when she said, "'That seam needs pressin'. It does hike up a mite, but it'll be all right when it's pressed.' Phoebe retreated in dismay from the window. "'Oh, Miranda, how did all these people get down there? Emmeline will be so angry. She is in her room dressing yet. It doesn't seem as if I dared go down.' "'For the land's sake, how should I know? I suppose Providence sent them, for they can't say a single word after the ceremony's over. Their mouths'll be all nicely stopped. Don't you worry.' Miranda answered innocently, but for one instant, as she looked at Phoebe's frightened face, her guilty heart misgave her. Perhaps she had gone a step too far. For it was Miranda who had slipped here and there after church on Sunday, and whispered a brief invitation to those who had gossiped the hardest, wording it in such a way that they all thought it was a personal invitation from Phoebe. In every case she had added, "'Don't say nothing till after it's over!' And each thinking himself especially favoured, had arrived in conscious pride. And as they passed Hyrum Green's new house, they had remarked to themselves what a fine man he was for sticking to Phoebe in spite of all the talk. But Miranda never told her part in this, and Emmeline never got done wondering who invited all those people. Miranda's momentary confusion was covered by a gentle tap on the door, and Phoebe in a flutter rushed to hide her friend. "'I'm afraid it's Emmeline,' she whispered. "'She may not let you go down.' "'Like to see her keep me up,' said Miranda boldly. "'My folks has come. I ain't frayed now.' And she boldly swept the trembling bride out of the way, and threw the door open. Janet Bristol, in a silken gown of palest pink, entered and walked straight up to Phoebe. "'You dear little thing,' she exclaimed. "'How sweet you look! That frock is beautiful, and the veil makes you perfect. Nathaniel asked me to bring you this and make you wear it. It was his mother's.' She fastened a rope of pearls around Phoebe's neck, and kissed her as a sister might have done. Miranda stood back and gazed with satisfaction on the scene. All was as it should be. She saw nothing further to be desired. Her compunctions were gone. "'Nathanael is waiting for you at the foot of the stairs,' whispered Janet. "'He has his mother's ring for you. He wanted me to tell you. Come, they are ready. You must go ahead.' Down the stairs went the trembling bride, followed by her bridesmaid. Miranda grasped her precious parasol and tiptoed on behind. Nathaniel stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting for her. Emmeline, with a red and angry face, was waiting on her most unexpected guests, and had no time to notice what was going on about her. The original wedding guests, consisting of a row of little greens and the old housekeeper, were submerged in the Sunday gowns of the new arrivals. "'Where's Hyrum?' whispered Albert, in Emmeline's ear, just as she was giving Hyrum's aunt Kazia Dart a seat at the best end of the room. "'Goodness! Ain't he come yet? I suppose he was upstairs talking to Phoebe. I heard voices.' She wheeled round, and there stood the wedding party. Nathaniel, tall and handsome, with his shy pale bride upon his arm, Janet, sparkling in her pink gown and enjoying the discomforture of guests and hostess alike, and smiling over at Martin van Rensselaer, who stood supporting the bridegroom on the other side, it bewildered Emmeline. The little assemblage reached out into the front door yard, and peeped curiously in at the doors and windows as if loath to lose the choice scene that was passing. The old minister was talking now, and a hush fell over the company. Anger and amazement held Emmeline still as the ceremony progressed. "'Dearly beloved, we are gathered together,' said the minister, and Emmeline looked around for Hyrum. Surely the ceremony was not beginning without him! And who was that girl in white under the veil? Not Phoebe! It could not be Phoebe Dean! Two but a few short minutes before had been hanging up her dish-towels. Where did she get that veil and frock? What had happened? How did all these people get here? Had Phoebe invited them? And why did not somebody stop it? Let him speak now or forever after hold his peace, came the words, and Emmeline gave a great gasp and thought of the corner lot opposite the Ciceter Church. It was then that Emmeline became conscious of Miranda in her balsarine and New York bonnet, the very impersonation of mischief, standing in the doorway just behind the bride and watching the scene with a face of triumph. An impulse came to her to charge across the room upon the offending girl and put her out. Here surely was one who had no right in her house and knew it too. Then all at once she caught the eye of Judge Bristol fixed sternly upon her face, and she became aware of her own countenance and restrained her feelings. For after all it was no mean thing to be allied to the house of Bristol and to know that the cloud of dishonor which had threatened them was lifted forever. She looked at Judge Bristol's fine face and heavy white hair and began to swell with conscious pride. The last eye will was spoken, the benediction was pronounced, and the hush that followed was broken by Nathaniel's voice. I want to say a few words, he said, about a terrible mistake that has been made by the people of this village regarding my wife's character. I have made a most thorough investigation of the matter during the last two days, and I find that the whole thing originated in an infamous lie told with intention to harm one who is entirely innocent. I simply wish to say that whoever has spoken against my wife will have to answer to me for his words in a court of justice, and if any of you who are my friends wish to question any of her past actions, be kind enough to come directly to me, and they will be fully explained, for there is not a thing in her past that will not bear the searching light of purity and truth. As soon as he had ceased speaking, David and Marcia stepped up with congratulations. There was a little stir among the guests, the guilty ones melted away faster than they had gathered, each one anxious to get out without being noticed. The Bristol coach, drawn by two white horses, with coachmen and footmen in livery, drew up before the door. Nathaniel handed Phoebe in, and they were driven away in triumph, the guests that they passed shrinking out of sight into their vehicles as far as possible. Albert and Emmeline looked into each other's dazed faces, then turned to the old housekeeper and the row of little greens, their faces abnormally shining from unusual contact with soap and water, and asked in concert, but where is Hyrum? Miranda, as she rode guilessly in the cariol with Mrs. Spafford, answered the same question from that lady with, Where do you suppose? I shed him in the spring house early this morning. Then David Spafford laid down upon his knee the reins of the old gray horse, and laughed loud and long, could not stop laughing, and all day long it kept breaking out as he remembered Miranda's innocent look and thought of Hyrum Green, wrathful and helpless, shut in his own spring house while his wedding went on without him. There was a wedding breakfast elaborate and gay at Judge Bristol's, presided over by Janet, who seemed as happy as though she had planned the match herself, and whose smiling wishes were carried out immediately by Martin Van Rensselaer. There was one more duty for Nathaniel to perform before he took his bride away to a happier home, he must find and face Hyrum Green. So leaving Phoebe in the care of Mrs. Spafford and his cousin Janet, and himself accompanied by his uncle, Martin Van Rensselaer, and Lemuel Skinner in the capacity of Village Constable, he got into the family cariol and drove out to Hyrum's farm. Now Nathaniel had not been idle during the Sabbath which intervened between his coming back to the village and his marriage. Aside from the time he spent at the morning church service, he had been doing a Sabbath day's work which he felt would stand well to his account. He had carefully questioned several of the best known gossips in the village with regard to the story about Phoebe. He had asked keen questions that gave him a plain clue to the whole diabolical plot. His first act had been to mount his fast horse and ride out to Anne Jane Bloodgoods, where he had a full account of Phoebe's visit together with a number of missionary items which would have met with more of his attention at another time. Possessed of several valuable facts, he had gone pretty straight to most of the houses which Hyrum had visited on the first afternoon when he scattered the seed of scandal. And facing the embarrassed scandal-mongers, Nathaniel had made them tell just who had been the first to speak to them of this. In every case, after a careful sifting down, each owned that Hyrum himself had told them the first word. If Nathaniel had not been a lawyer and keen at his calling, he might not have been able so well and so quickly to have followed the story to its source as he did. Possibly his former encounter with Hyrum Green and his knowledge of many of his acts helped him in unraveling the mystery. The old housekeeper and the little greens had not been at home long when the carrielle drew up in front of the door and the four men got out. I've been everywhere but to the spring-house," said the housekeeper, shaking her head dullfully, and I can't find trace of him no more. Taint likely he'd be in the spring-house for the door is shut and fastened. I can see the button from the buttery winder. It's the way I always tell when he's coming into breakfast. It's my opinion he's cleared out, because he don't want to marry that gal, that's what I think. When did you last see Mr. Green? Didn't the judge, sternly? Why I seen him take the milk-pales and go down towards the barn to milk, and I ain't seen him since. I thought to our queer he didn't come eat his breakfast, but he's kind of uncertain that way, so I hurried up and got off to help Ms. Dean. Have the cows been milked? The judge's voice ignored the old woman's elaborate explanations. The hired man, he says so, I ain't been down to look myself. Where are the milk-pales? Well, now I ain't thought to look. What does he usually do with his milk? He surely has not taken that with him. Did he bring it in? That ought to give us a clue. He most generally takes it straight to the spring-house, began the old woman. Let us go to the spring-house, said Nathaniel. I don't see what business tis of yarn, complained the old woman, but they were already on the way, so after a moment's hesitation she threw her apen around her shoulders and went after them. The row of little greens followed, a curious and perplexed little procession, ready for any scene of interest that might be about to open before them, even though it involved their unloving father. It was Lemuel Skinner, with his cherry lips pursed importantly, who stepped forward by virtue of his office, turned the wooden button, drew out the peg, pulled off the hasp, and threw the heavy door open. Outstumbled Hyrum Green, half-blinded by the light and rubbing his eyes. Mr. Green, we have called to see you on a matter of importance. Began Lemuel apologetically, quite as if it were the custom to meet householders on the threshold of their spring-houses. Sorry, I can't wait to hear it, swaggered Hyrum, blinking, and trying to make out who these men were. I got an engagement, fact is I'm going to be married, and I'm late already. I'll have to be excused, Lem. It's quite unnecessary, Mr. Green, said Lemuel, putting out a detaining hand excitedly. Quite unnecessary, I assure you. The wedding is all over. You're not expected any more. Hyrum stood back and surveyed Lemuel with contempt. Gosh, ninety, he sneered. How could that be when I wasn't there? I guess you don't know I was going to marry Phoebe Dean. I'm right, sure there wouldn't be no one else marry her. Nathaniel stepped forward, his face white with indignation. You are speaking of my wife, Mr. Green, he said, and his voice was enough to arrest the attention of even the self-complacency of a Hyrum Green. Let me never hear you speak of her in that way again. She did not, at any moment in her life, intend to marry you. You know that well, though you have tried to weave a web of falsehood about her that would put her in your power. The whole thing is known to me from beginning to end, and I do not intend to let it pass lightly. My wife's good name is everything to me, though it seems you are willing to marry one whom you had yourself defamed. I have come here this morning, Mr. Green, to give you your choice between going to jail or going with me at once and taking back all the falsehoods you have told about my wife. Hyrum, in sudden comprehension and fear, glanced around the group, took in the fact of the presence of Judge Bristol, remembered Nathaniel's thread of the year before about bringing him up before his uncle, remembered that Lemuel Skinner was constable, and was filled with consternation. With the instinct of a coward and a bully, he made a sudden lunch forward towards Nathaniel, his fists clenched, and his whole face expressing the fury of a wild animal brought to bay. You lie! He hissed. But the next instant he lay sprawling at Nathaniel's feet, with Lemuel bustling over him like an excited old hen. Which was Martin van Rensselier who had tripped him up just in time. Now, gentlemen, gentlemen, don't let's get excited! Cackled Lemuel laying an ineffective hand on the prostrate Hyrum. Step aside, Mr. Skinner, said Nathaniel, towering over Hyrum. Let me settle this matter first. Now, sir, you may take your choice. Will you go to jail and await your trial for slander? Or will you come with us to the people before whom you scattered this outrageous scandal and take it all back? You've made a big mistake, blustered Hyrum. I never told no stories about Phoebe Dean. It's somebody else's done it, if it ain't true. I was going to marry her to save her reputation. How did you think that would save her reputation? questioned Judge Bristol, and somehow his voice made cold chills creep down Hyrum's spine. Why, I—I was going to deny everything after we was married. Your stories don't hang very well together, remarked the Judge dryly. You will be obliged to deny them now, said Nathaniel wrathfully. Take your choice at once. I'm not sure after all, but the best way would be to house you in jail without further delay. It is almost a crime to let such a low-lived scoundrel as you walk at large. No one's reputation will be safe in the hands of a villain like you. Take your choice at once. I will give you two minutes to decide. Nathaniel took out his watch. There was silence over the meadow behind the spring house, but a little bird from a tree up the road called, Phoebe, Phoebe, insistently, and a strange tender light came into Nathaniel's eyes. The time is up, said Nathaniel. What do you want me to do? asked the captive sullenly. I want you to go with me to every house that you visited the day you started this mischief and take it all back. Tell them it was untrue, and that you got it up out of whole cloth for your own evil purposes. But I can't tell a lie, said Hyrum piously. Can't you? Well, it will not be necessary. Hyrum, which will you choose? Do you prefer to go to jail? Gentlemen, I'm in your hands. Wind the coward. Remember I have little children. You should have remembered that yourself and not brought shame upon them and other innocent beings. It was the judge who spoke these words like a sentence in court. Where have I got to go? Nathaniel named over the places. Hyrum looked black and swallowed his mortification. Well, I suppose I've got to go. I'm sure I don't want to lose my good name by going to jail. They set him upon his feet, and the little posse moved slowly up the slope to the house and thence to the cariol. After they were seated in the cariol, Hyrum in the back seat with Lemiel and Martin on either side of him, Nathaniel turned to Hyrum. Now, Mr. Green, we are going first to your aunt's house, and then around to the other places in order. You are to make the following statement and nothing else. You are to say, I have come to take back the lies which I told about Miss Phoebe Dean, and to tell you that they are none of them true. I originated them for my own purposes." Hyrum's face darkened. He looked as if he would like to kill Nathaniel. He reached out along arm again as if he would strike him, but Lemiel clutched him convulsively, while Martin threw his whole weight upon the other side, and he subsided. You will have from now until we reach the jail to think about it, Mr. Green. If you prefer to go to jail instead, you will not be hindered. Mr. Skinner is here to arrest you on my charge if you will not comply with these conditions. Even and silent sat Hyrum. He did not raise his eyes to see the curious passersby as he drove through town. They looked at Nathaniel and the judge, driving with solemn mean as if on some portentous errand. They noted the stranger and the constable on either side of the lowering Hyrum, and they drew their own conclusions, for the news of the wedding had spread like wildfire through the village. Then they stood and watched the carry-all out of sight, and even followed it to see if it stopped at the jail. As they drew near the jail, Nathaniel turned around once more to Hyrum. Shall we stop and let you out here, or are you willing to comply with the conditions? Hyrum raised his eyelashes and gave a sideways glance at the locality, then lowered them quickly as he encountered the impudent gaze of a small boy and muttered, drive on. Hyrum went through the distasteful ordeal sullenly. He repeated the words which Nathaniel insisted upon, after one or two vain attempts to modify them in his own favour, which only made it worse for him in the eyes of his listeners. "'Pon my word!' said Aunt Kazia Dart, in a mortified tone. "'If I'd have told fibs like that, I'd have stuck to them, and never give in no matter what. I'm shame to own I'm kin to such a sneak, Hyrum Green. Didn't their gals enough round the country thought all that to do?' At the dozen berries Susanna rendered Hyrum the sympathy of silently weeping in the background, while the widow dozen berries stood coldly in the foreground, acting as if the whole performance were a personal affront. She closed the interview by calling after Hyrum from her front door. "'I'm sorry to see you in trouble, Mr. Green. Remember you'll always find a friend here.' And Hyrum brightened up some. Nevertheless there was very little of his old conceit left when he had gone over the whole ground, and was finally set free to go his way to his own home. Then Nathaniel and Phoebe hastened away in the family coached towards Albany to begin their long life journey together. Late that afternoon Hank Williams coming up from the village brought with him a letter for Hyrum Green, which he stopped to leave, hoping to find out from Hyrum what had happened during the afternoon. The old housekeeper took the letter, saying, "'Hyrum won't well,' and Hank went onward, crestfallen. A few minutes later Hyrum tore open his letter. It read, "'Muster Green, you have been found out. We want no more liars and criminals in our tone. We have fond the seals off in Phoebe Dean's letter in your possession, and we have other good evidence that you open United Stott's mail. We will give you one week to sell at, and Levtown, if you ever show your head again near, or in New York, you will be tarred and fothered in punishment, according to law. Yours for revenge, a feller townsman.' That night, while his household slept, Hyrum Green went forth from his house to parts unknown, leaving his little children to the tender mercy of Aunt Kezia Dart, or whoever might be touched with a feeling of pity for them. And Miranda, who, without the counsel or knowledge of any one, had written the remarkable epistle, which sent him out, laid down serenely and slept the sleep of the just. And that same night the moon shone brightly over the Hudson River, like a path of silver for the two who sat long on deck, talking of how they loved Miranda with laughter that was nigh to tears. The End End of Chapter 28 End of Phoebe Dean by Grace Livingston Hill Recorded by Tricia G. Thanks for listening.