"Absolutely!" he said firmly. "I--I have never even heard of the
Reverend Dwight Johnstone--"

There was a scream from Mrs. Hutchins, and a creak as she fell into her
chair again.

"Your father!" she said, over and over. "What can we say to your
father?"

"And that is all you will say?" demanded Miss Patty scornfully. "'You
don't know;' 'there's a mistake;' 'you never saw the letter before!' Oh,
if I were only a man!"

"I'll tell you what we'll do," Mr. Pierce said, with something like
hope in his voice. "We'll send for Mr. Van Alstyne! That's the thing, of
course. I'll send for--er--Jim."

Mr. Van Alstyne's name is Sam, but nobody noticed.

"Mr. Van Alstyne!" repeated Miss Patty in a dazed way.

I guessed it was about time to make a diversion, so I knocked and walked
in with the tray, and they all glared at me. Mrs. Hutchins was collapsed
in a chair, holding a wet handkerchief to her eyes, and one side of
her cap was loose and hanging down. Miss Patty was standing by a table,
white and angry, and Mr. Pierce was about a yard from her, with the
letter in his hands. But he was looking at her.

"I've brought your supper, Mr. Carter," I began. Then I stopped and
stared at Miss Patty and Mrs. Hutchins. "Oh," I said.