Mr. Royall's bushy black eyebrows were drawn together in a frown, and he
sat drumming with ink-stained nails on the edge of his desk.

"What do you want to earn money for?" he asked.

"So's to get away when I want to."

"Why do you want to get away?"

Her contempt flashed out. "Do you suppose anybody'd stay at North Dormer
if they could help it? You wouldn't, folks say!"

With lowered head he asked: "Where'd you go to?"

"Anywhere where I can earn my living. I'll try here first, and if I
can't do it here I'll go somewhere else. I'll go up the Mountain if I
have to." She paused on this threat, and saw that it had taken effect.
"I want you should get Miss Hatchard and the selectmen to take me at the
library: and I want a woman here in the house with me," she repeated.

Mr. Royall had grown exceedingly pale. When she ended he stood up
ponderously, leaning against the desk; and for a second or two they
looked at each other.

"See here," he said at length as though utterance were difficult,
"there's something I've been wanting to say to you; I'd ought to have
said it before. I want you to marry me."

The girl still stared at him without moving. "I want you to marry me,"
he repeated, clearing his throat. "The minister'll be up here next