for the deed," she whispered back. "Father Forbes will be here in a
minute. Do you know is it too late?"

Even as she spoke, the outer doorway was darkened by the commanding bulk
of a newcomer's figure. The flash of a silk hat, and the deferential way
in which the assembled neighbors fell back to clear a passage, made his
identity clear. Theron felt his blood tingle in an unaccustomed way
as this priest of a strange church advanced across the room--a
broad-shouldered, portly man of more than middle height, with a shapely,
strong-lined face of almost waxen pallor, and a firm, commanding tread.
He carried in his hands, besides his hat, a small leather-bound case. To
this and to him the women courtesied and bowed their heads as he passed.

"Come with me," whispered the tall girl with the parasol to Theron; and
he found himself pushing along in her wake until they intercepted the
priest just outside the bedroom door. She touched Father Forbes on the
arm.

"Just to tell you that I am here," she said. The priest nodded with
a grave face, and passed into the other room. In a minute or two the
workmen, Mrs. MacEvoy, and her helper came out, and the door was shut
behind them.

"He is making his confession," explained the young lady. "Stay here for
a minute."

She moved over to where the woman of the house stood, glum-faced and
tearless, and whispered something to her. A confused movement among the
crowd followed, and out of it presently resulted a small table, covered
with a white cloth, and bearing on it two unlighted candles, a basin of