"Mr. Brimbecomb! Mr. Brimbecomb!" she called.

Silence, as dense as that in God's Acre near her, reigned in the house.
She called again, a little louder. Suddenly she heard a rapid step upon
the road and crept back again to the corner of the building.

Everett Brimbecomb was passing under the arc light, and Fledra could see
his handsome face plainly in its rays.

He stopped a moment and looked at Shellington's house, with a shrug of
his shoulders. Again he resumed his way; but halted as Fledra called his
name softly. From her hiding-place in the shadow of the porch she came
slowly forward.

"Can I talk with you a few moments, Mr. Brimbecomb?" she faltered. "I
know that you can help me, if you will."

Everett's heart began to beat furiously. Something in the appealing girl
attacked him as nothing else had. How slim she looked, how lithe and
graceful, and yet so childishly young! He compared her with Ann in rapid
thought, and remembered that he had never felt toward Horace's sister as
he did toward this obscure girl.

"Come in," he murmured; "we can't talk here. Come in."

"Let me tell you out here in the night," stammered Fledra.

Everett touched her arm, urging her forward.