"Go on," said Mrs. Blandford, curtly.

"Wa'al, the stranger sez, sez he, 'Show me the way to the stables,' sez
he, and without taken' no for an answer, ups and meanders through the
hall, outer the kitchen inter the yard, ez if he was justice of the
peace; and when he gets there he sez, 'Fetch out his hoss and harness
up, and be blamed quick about it, and tell Ned Blandford that Dick
Demorest hez got to leave town to-night, and ez ther ain't a blamed
puritanical shadbelly in this hull town ez would let a hoss go on hire
Sunday night, he guesses he'll hev to borry his.' And afore I could
say Jack Robinson, he tackles the hoss up and drives outer the yard,
flinging this two-dollar-and-a-half-piece behind him ez if I wur a
Virginia slave and he was John C. Calhoun hisself. I'd a chucked it
after him if it hadn't been the Lord's Day, and it mout hev provoked
disturbance."

"Mr. Demorest is worldly, but one of Edward's old friends," said Mrs.
Blandford, with a slight kindling of her eyes, "and he would not have
refused to aid him in what might be an errand of grace or necessity. You
can keep the money, Ezekiel, as a gift, not as a wage. And go to bed. I
will sit up for Mr. Blandford."

She passed out and up the staircase into her bedroom, pausing on her way
to glance into the empty back parlor and take the lamp from the table.
Here she noticed that her husband had evidently changed his clothes
again and taken a heavier overcoat from the closet. Removing her own
wraps she again descended to the lower apartment, brought out the volume
of sermons, placed it and the lamp in the old position, and with
her abstracted eyes on the page fell into her former attitude. Every