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"She lives at Uphill Cottage, and lay in of a very fine baby a fortnight yesterday, and has done very poorly since. You cannot tell me how she does?" At the conclusion of the service, Deacon Ringold called a few of the leading church members together and to them spoke his mind thus: "His Ma wouldn't let him come. Afraid he'd get wet an' go sick ag'in. Gee! that coffee smells good, Erie.".

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And the worthy old lady's eyes grew dim as she pronounced the words "our Lucy." "Go in presently and see if she's done, and ask if she'll have some fruit pie or cake, and report if the tray is still on the deck." "Rejected, but she has a hankering for him still," said the old lady with one of those smiles of knowingness which make the lineaments[Pg 200] ghastly when bitter sorrow and tragic trouble are the topics talked about. At last, sick and dizzy, he turned from the place and with raft and pole fought his way back to the shore. Never again, he told himself, would he try to fathom further what lay in Lost Man's Swamp. Weary and perspiring, he climbed the wooded upland. He turned and dipped into the willows, intending to take the shortest way home through the hardwoods. On top of the beech knoll he paused for a moment to let his eyes rest on the big house in the walnut grove. In some vague way his mind connected its owner with that dead waste of stinking marsh. Why, he wondered, had Hinter chosen this lonely spot on which to build his home? As he turned to strike across the neck of woods between him and the causeway the man about whom he had just been thinking stepped out from a clump of hazel-nut bushes directly in his path..