promised escort joined her.

The remnants of his forsaken Quakerism hung around him; his coat was
buff, his hat straight in the brim, his manner prim, and when he spoke
it was in the speech of his people. His complexion was very light, hair,
eyebrows and lashes, and the down on his chin--almost flaxen; his face
was browned by exposure to the weather, but so well formed that Susannah
found him very good to look upon, the features pointed and delicate, but
not without strength.

"Thou wilt walk as far as thy home with me?" he asked.

He held Smith's huge umbrella, but he did not hold it with the same
strength, nor did he show the same skill in keeping it against the wind.

He spoke as they walked. "Thou hast walked a long way. Art weary?"

"Yes--no--I don't know." What did it matter whether she was tired or
not? Baffled curiosity was exciting her. "You are a stranger here. Are
you a friend of the Smiths?"

"I have experienced the great benefit of being acquainted with the
prophet for the last fourteen days."

"But he's not a prophet," said Susannah resentfully.

"Did'st thou never find thyself to be mistaken when thou wast most sure?
Hast thou not perceived that thy Bible tells thee in many different ways
that God chooses not as men choose?"