UT, my dear, good woman!"
The little old maid, primly seated on the re-covered sofa, looked the Reverend Mr. Paul in the face, with eyes at once weary and stubborn.
"I'm tired of being a 'good woman'!" she replied in a hushed, sick-room voice.
"Don't, don't!" he ejaculated. "You of all women! Thank God, you couldn't be anything else but a good woman!" Mr. Paul fairly bristled truculent approval of her maiden past.
"Yes," she agreed sadly. "I am afraid I am too old now."
The elderly adviser paled.
"I can only account for your extraordinary conduct," he quavered, "on the ground of demoniac possession. I refuse to believe that one so exemplary can seriously speak as you are speaking or contemplate such actions."
Miss Peck refolded her long hands precisely, almost as if invisible fingers creased and turned them, like putting old lace carefully away.
"I'm sorry," she said meekly, "that I told John anything about it. I ought to have gone over to the city and writ back, but somehow I felt as if John, bein' my brother an' the head of the family, I shud speak to him. I might have known he'd go to you."
"Of course he came to me." Mr. Paul's withered-apple visage wrinkled in indignation. "Have I not always been the devoted friend of every member of your family—your father, your dear mother; those sainted women, your aunts? He would have neglected his duty if he had not come to me."
Miss Peck set her narrow lips.
"Thank you; but there isn't the slightest use arguin'. You're not looking at the rights of the case—leastways, not at my rights. I took care of Mother and Aunt Sue and Sister Emma till the Lord took 'em, an' I don't believe the Lord intends me to take up John's cross for him, an' nurse his wife and children so's he can let Martha go and only keep one servant.
"All my life I've been in somebody else's groove—I ain't never found my own. Now, I just want to do somethin' it's a human pleasure to do. I've wanted what was live an' pretty, an' all I ever had was a cat. I wanted young people when I was young, an' I never cud have 'em, because there wuz always them as it wuz my plain duty to do for. An' the money I inherited from Grandpa Steele I had to spend on keepin' the household goin'; because they said, bein' an unmarried woman, I hadn't but myself to spend it on.
"Oh, I know John's been count in' on gettin' me to housekeep for Eliza, an' my income'll come in handy, an' mebbe with me puttin' in my money on the livin' expenses, he cud spare enough of his for an automobile. Well, he's lookin' to better himself, an' I'm lookin' to better myself, an' them two ain't one!"
"Your brother very properly and very generously offers you the shelter of his home." Mr. Paul looked with an appraising eye at the spacious parlor and its old-fashioned but once costly furniture. "And you could rent this place to summer folks for three or, maybe, four hundred dollars."
She nodded acquiescence at that.
"Mr. Smith says six, on account of the shade trees an' garden. I've told him to go ahead and rent, for, as I said to John, I'm thinkin' of bein' gone some time. I know there's a groove for me somewhere, an' I'm goin' to find it."
"And your brother has a right to know where you are going." The Family Friend was suddenly dragged back to the consideration of the enormity of Miss Peck's avowed intentions. "You, an unmarried woman!"
The ghost of a smile trembled on the virgin lips.
"I'm goin' to jine a friend—a woman friend—an' Mr. Smith is my lawyer, an' if John wants to find out about my health or—or happiness, or anythin' brotherly like that, why, Elisha will be in touch with me 'count of my rents an' such." The bitterness and irony deepened in her voice. "I'm leavin' to-night on the eight-thirty; an' thank you for yer visit. Good-by."
She rose, and, perforce, he rose also.
"It shall not be said that I allowed you to stray unwarned!" he rumbled.
She glanced at him—was it coquettishly? Mr. Paul could hardly believe his eyes.
"Why, if you're thinkin' of comin' over to Providence with me, it wud look better to take the mornin' train."
"What!" exclaimed the outraged shepherd.