“Who’s sick?  Who wants him?”

“And—­and—­all the rest of the houses round here was shut up ’cause everybody’s to meetin’.  I peeked in at the meetin’ house and he ain’t there, and I see your light and—­”

“Who’s sick?  Tell me that, won’t you?”

“Cap’n Eben.  He’s awful sick.  I cal’late he’s goin’ to die, and Gracie, she—­”

“Cap’n Eben?  Eben Hammond!  Dyin’?  What are you talkin’ about?”

“Huh! huh!” puffed the messenger impatiently.  “Didn’t I tell ye?  Cap’n Eben’s adyin’.  I seen him.  All white and still and—­and awful.  And Gracie, she’s all alone and—­”

“Alone?  Where’s Nat?”

“She don’t know.  He ain’t to home.  But I got to find Dr. Parker.”

“Hold on!  Stop!  I’ll tell you where the doctor is most likely.  Up to Mrs. Prince’s.  She’s been poorly and he’s prob’ly been called there.  Run! run fast as ever you can and get him and I’ll go to Grace this minute.  The poor thing!  Have you told anybody else?”

“No, no! ain’t seen nobody but you to tell.  They was prayin’ over to meetin’, and the fellers that waits outside to keep comp’ny with the girls ain’t got there yet.  And I never met nobody.  And ’twas so blasted dark I fell down four times and tore my best pants and—­”

“S-sh-sh!  Listen to me!  Don’t tell anybody.  Not a soul but the doctor.  Half this town’ll be runnin’ to find out if you do, and that poor girl must be distracted already.  I’ll go to her.  You get Dr. Parker and tell him to hurry.”

“I’ll tell him; don’t you fret.”

He was gone, running harder than ever.  A moment later Keziah followed him, running also.

It was a misty, black night, and Trumet sidewalks were uneven and hard to navigate.  But she stumbled on, up the main road to the Corners, down the “Turn-off,” past the chapel of the Come-Outers, from the open window of which sounded the drone of a high, nasal voice.  Josiah Badger was “testifying,” and Keziah caught a fragment of the testimony as she hurried by.

“I says to ’em, says I, I says to ’em, ’I don’t care about your smart mum-mum-minister and what fine sermons he preaches.  Let him be smart,’ I says.  Says I, ‘Smartness won’t g-g-g-git ye into heaven.’ ("Amen!”) ’No, sirree! it takes more’n that.  I’ve seen smart folks afore and they got c-c-cuk-catched up with sooner or later.  Pride goes ahead of a tumble, I’ve heard tell, and—­”

This was all that Keziah heard of Mr. Badger’s testimony, for, as she ran on, a rattle of wheels and the thud of hoofs came from behind her.  Then a rocking chaise, drawn by a galloping horse, shot by.  Dr. Parker’s carriage, she was sure.  The Higgins boy must have met the doctor and delivered his message.

The horse and chaise were standing by the front gate of the tavern as she pantingly drew near it.  The side door of the house was ajar and she opened it softly and entered.  The dining room was empty.  There was a light on the sitting-room table and low voices came from the little bedroom adjoining.  Then, from the bedroom, emerged Dr. Parker and Grace Van Horne.  The girl was white and there were dark circles under her eyes.  The doctor was very grave.