“Ain’t.  I’ve been there,” said Jerome, shortly, and broke away.

“Where did ye look?”

“Everywhere,” the boy called back.  But Jake followed him up.

“Stop a minute,” said he; “I want to know.  Did you go as fur ’s the pond?”

“What should I want to go to the pond for, like to know?” Jerome looked around at him fiercely.

“I didn’t know but he might have fell in the pond; it’s pretty near.”

“I’d like to know what you think my father would jump in the pond for?” Jerome demanded.

“Lord, I didn’t say he jumped in.  I said fell in.”

“You know he couldn’t have fell in.  You know he would have had to gone in of his own accord.  I’ll let you know my father wa’n’t the man to do anything like that, Jake Noyes!” The boy actually shook his puny fist in the man’s face.  “Say it again, if ye dare!” he cried.

“Lord!” said Jake Noyes, with half-comical consternation.  He screwed up one blue eye after a fashion he had—­people said he had acquired it from dropping drugs for the doctor—­and looked with the other at the boy.

“Say it again an’ I’ll kill ye, I will!” cried Jerome, his voice breaking into a hoarse sob, and was off.

“Be ye crazy?” Jake Noyes called after him.  He stood staring at him a minute, then went into the house on a run.

Jerome ran to the place where he had left his father’s team, untied the horse, climbed up on the seat, and drove home.  He could not go fast; the old horse could proceed no faster than a walk with a load.  When he came in sight of home he saw a blue flutter at the gate.  It was Elmira’s shawl; she was out there watching.  When she saw the team she came running down the road to meet it.  “Where’s father?” she cried out.  “Jerome, where’s father?”

“Dun’no’,” said Jerome.  He sat high above her, holding the reins.  His pale, set face looked over her head.

“Jerome—­haven’t you—­seen—­father?”

“No.”

Elmira burst out with a great wail.  “Oh, Jerome, where’s father?  Jerome, where is he?  Is he killed?  Oh, father, father!”

“Keep still,” said Jerome.  “Mother ’ll hear you.”

“Oh, Jerome, where’s father?”

“I tell you, hold your tongue.  Do you want to kill mother, too?”

Poor little Elmira, running alongside the team, wept convulsively.  “Elmira, I tell you to keep still,” said Jerome, in such a voice that she immediately choked back her sobs.

Jerome drew up the wood-team at the gate with a great creak.  “Stand here ’side of the horse a minute,” he said to Elmira.  He swung himself off the load and went up the path to the house.  As he drew near the door he could hear his mother’s chair.  Ann Edwards, crippled as she was, managed, through some strange manipulation of muscles, to move herself in her rocking-chair all about the house.  Now the jerking scrape of the rockers on the uncarpeted floor sounded loud.  When Jerome opened the door he saw his mother hitching herself rapidly back and forth in a fashion she had when excited.  He had seen her do so before, a few times.