He was alone. The smallpox had him in its grip. He was alone and he was going to die. Why didn't some one come? Where was Mrs. Coffin? And Grace? She was somewhere near him--Parker had said so--and he must see her before he died. He called her name over and over again.

The wind felt cold on his forehead. He stumbled amidst the beach gra.s.s.

What was this thing across his path? A rope, apparently, but why should there be ropes in that house? There had never been any before. He climbed over it and it was a climb of hundreds of feet and the height made him giddy. That was a house, another house, not the one he had been living in. And there were lights all about. Perhaps one of them was the light at the parsonage. And a big bell was booming. That was his church bell and he would be late for the meeting.

Some one was speaking to him. He knew the voice. He had known it always and would know it forever. It was the voice he wanted to hear. "Grace!"

he called. "Grace! I want you. Don't go! Don't go! Grace! oh, my dear!

don't go!"

Then the voice had gone. No, it had not gone. It was still there and he heard it speaking to him, begging him to listen, pleading with him to go somewhere, go back, back to something or other. And there was an arm about his waist and some one was leading him, helping him. He broke down and cried childishly and some one cried with him.

Early the next morning, just as day was breaking, a buggy, the horse which drew it galloping, rocked and b.u.mped down the lighthouse lane.

Dr. Parker, his brows drawn together and his lips set with anxiety, was driving. He had been roused from sleep in the hotel at Hyannis by a boy with a telegram. "Come quick," it read. "Mr. Ellery sick." The sender was Noah Ellis, the lightkeeper. The doctor had hired a fast horse, ridden at top speed to Bayport, gotten a fresh horse there and hurried on. He stopped at his own house but a moment, merely to rouse his wife and ask her if there was any fresh news. But she had not even heard of the minister's seizure.

"My soul, Will!" she cried, "you don't think it's the smallpox, do you?"

"Lord knows! I'm afraid so," groaned her husband. "WHAT made me leave him? I ought to have known better. If that boy dies, I'll never draw another easy breath."

He rushed out, sprang into the buggy, and drove on. At the ropes, early as it was, he found a small group waiting and gazing at the shanty.

The lightkeeper was there and two or three other men. They were talking earnestly.

"How is he, Noah?" demanded the doctor, jumping to the ground.

"I don't know, doc," replied Ellis. "I ain't heard sence last night when I telegraphed you."

"Haven't heard? What do you mean by that? Haven't you been with him?"

"No-o," was the rather sheepish reply. "You see, I--I wanted to, but my wife's awful scart I'll catch it and--"

"The devil!" Dr. Parker swore impatiently. "Who is with him then? You haven't left him alone, have you?"

"No-o," Noah hesitated once more. "No-o, he ain't alone. She's there."

"She? Who? Keziah Coffin?"

"I don't cal'late Keziah's heard it yet. We was waitin' for you 'fore we said much to anybody. But she's there--the--the one that found him. You see, he was out of his head and wanderin' up the lane 'most to the main road and she'd been callin' on Keziah and when she come away from the parsonage she heard him hollerin' and goin' on and--"

"Who did?"

"Why"--the lightkeeper glanced at his companions--"why, doc, 'twas Grace Van Horne. And she fetched him back to the shanty and then come and got me to telegraph you."

"Grace Van Horne! Grace Van--Do you mean to say she is there with him NOW?"

"Yes. She wouldn't leave him. She seemed 'most as crazy's he was. My wife and me, we--"

But Parker did not wait to hear the rest. He ran at full speed to the door of the shanty. Grace herself opened it.

"How is he?" demanded the doctor.

"I think he seems a little easier; at any rate, he's not delirious. He's in there. Oh, I'm so thankful you've come."

"Is that the doctor?" called Ellery weakly from the next room. "Is it?"

"Yes," replied Parker, throwing off his coat and hat. "Coming, Mr.

Ellery."

"For G.o.d's sake, doctor, send her away. Don't let her stay. Make her go.

Make her GO! I've got the smallpox and if she stays she will die. Don't you understand? she MUST go."

"Hush, John," said Grace soothingly. "Hush, dear."

Dr. Parker stopped short and looked at her. She returned the look, but without the slightest semblance of self-consciousness or embarra.s.sment.

She did not realize that she had said anything unusual, which must sound inexplicably strange to him. Her thoughts were centered in that adjoining room and she wondered why he delayed.

"Well?" she asked impatiently. "What is it? Why do you wait?"

The doctor did not answer. However, he waited no longer, but hurried in to his new patient.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT

The news was flying from house to house along the main road. Breakfasts were interrupted as some neighbor rushed in to tell the story which another neighbor had brought to him or her. Mr. Ellery was very sick and it was feared he had the smallpox, that was what Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife, told those who lived near her. By the time the Corners heard of it the tale had grown until the minister was said to be dying.

And when it reached Gaius Winslow's home at the upper end of the town he was reported dead. This was denied, upon investigation, but soon another rumor grew and spread; Grace Van Horne was with him, had taken him back to the shanty, and insisted upon staying there until the doctor came.

Facing that dreadful disease and--It was wonderful--and queer.

At the Danielses' house the servant girl rushed into the dining room to serve the toast and the story at one swoop. Captain Elkanah's dignity deserted him for an instant and his egg spoon jingled to the floor.

Annabel's face turned a dull red. Her eyes flashed sparks.

"Pa!" she cried, "I--I--if you don't do something now I'll never--"

Her father shook his head warningly. "Debby," he said to the maid, "you needn't wait."

Debby departed reluctantly. After the kitchen door had closed, Captain Elkanah said: "My dear, we mustn't be too hasty in this matter.

Remember, Mr. Ellery is very sick. As for--for the Van Horne girl, we haven't heard the whole truth yet. She may not be there at all, or it may be just an accident--"

"Accident! Pa, you make me boil. Accident! Accidents like that don't happen. If you let her stay there, or if--Oh, to think of it! And we were calling him a hero and--and everything! Hero! he stayed there just so she might--"

"Hush! hush, child!"

"I shan't hush. Pa, are you going to let him disgrace himself with HER?"

"No, no. Probably there ain't any idea of his marrying her. If there is--"

"If there is you put him out of the church and out of this town. And as for HER--O-oh! And we've been having him here at dinner and--and I have--Oh, I shall die! I wish I WAS dead!"

Then followed hysterics and agony, greedily listened to by Debby, whose ear was at the crack of the door. Captain Elkanah soothed and pleaded and tried to pacify. It ended by his promising to investigate and, if necessary, take steps 'immejitly.'