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Sir William laughed. "There, he's coming now, Billy," she whispered, as the lawyer's tall form swung about the curve in the road. "No, don't go yet; perhaps he will have something more to tell us." Here this fine old seaman fairly broke down, and stepping to the bulwarks, hid his face in his hands, whilst convulsion after convulsion seemed to rend his sturdy figure..

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"Anse!" she snorted. "Who's talkin' about Anse? It's Croaker I mean. Look here what that darlin' crow brought me jest a few minutes ago." Billy followed slowly, hoping, fearing, trusting that Croaker's intentions were of the best. The crow was carrying on a murmured conversation with himself, flapping his wings, nodding his head sagely and in other ways manifesting his eagerness to accommodate his master. When he grew tired of walking he flew and Billy had to run to keep him in sight. Straight through the grove, across the green valley and on through the stumpy fallow went the crow, Billy panting and perspiring behind. Straight on to the pine-hedged creek and still on, until the lonely pine grove of the haunted house came into view. A slim girl in a gingham dress stood in front of the counter placing parcels in a basket. She turned a flushed face, lit with brown roguish eyes, on Caleb, as he came in. Maurice chuckled. "Why, Missis Spencer told her what great stuff it was to use in doin' up thimble-berries; sorta takes the flat taste off 'em. So Ma, she's goin' to try it.".