Deforrest Young sat alone in his bachelor apartments, which he'd obtained after the quarrel with Waldstricker over the churching of Tessibel Skinner. He was in Ithaca in response to a letter from Mrs. Waldstricker, stating that she would meet him in his rooms this afternoon.
His mind was busily at work with many problems. For the past week he had had no word from Tessibel Skinner. Her silence was significant. Mischief-making anxiety, which always pictures the worst side of a situation, tormented him cruelly. He hoped Helen might have news from the shanty by the lakeside.
When Mrs. Waldstricker finally appeared, his first impulse was to ask about the squatter girl, but the troubled expression of his sister's face checked the question on his lips. He drew her tenderly into his arms, and attempted to comfort her with reassuring pats and caresses.
"You shouldn't have ventured out, dear," he chided. "Sit down here!... There! Now tell me what's the matter."
"I'm so miserable, Forrie," she wept. "I can't do a thing with Ebenezer.... He's in such a state of temper all the time!"
"Don't try to talk for a moment, dearest," soothed the lawyer, much moved.
"But I must--I want to! It seems as if my whole life has been upset in some unaccountable manner. And it isn't any better since Frederick and Madelene went away. I was in hopes after they'd gone, I might have some peace."
"Is it still--" Young's inquiry was broken off by his auditor's exclamation.
"Yes, it's Tessibel Skinner! He seems perfectly possessed about her. I can't understand why, either. I always tell him she's nothing to us. He has even gone so far--Oh, Forrie, dear, tell me it isn't so!"
"What isn't so?" asked Deforrest, puzzled.
"Ebenezer says--he says you'd marry--" The inquisitor's courage oozed away before she finished her sentence. Her brother turned and strode up and down the room, while Mrs. Waldstricker's eyes, full of questioning anguish, followed his tall figure.
"I suppose he said I'd marry Tessibel Skinner. Is that it?" His voice was low, deep and intense. Wheeling about he looked across at his sister.
She got up from her chair and went to him. Her desire to placate her brother supported her determination to know his precise attitude toward her husband. She placed her hand on his arm and replied hurriedly, "Yes, that's what he said. I told him it was no such thing; that you did what you could for the lonely child without a thought--"
Deforrest's hand closed over the speaker's.
"You were mistaken, then," he asserted quietly. "I'd have married Tessibel Skinner long ago, if she'd consented."