He was not used to conspiring, and being only a man, he
had not those curious instinctive gifts of inspiration and luminous
conception which fairly radiate around the brain of clever womankind.
It was some time--a very long time indeed--before any light stole in upon
his Stygian darkness, and then, when the light did come, it came in
skyrocket guise, and had its share of cons attached to its very evident
pros.
"But I don't care," he declared viciously, as he rose and began to
undress; "something's got to be done,--some chances have got to be
taken,--as well that as anything else. Perhaps better--very likely better."
Then he laughed over his unconscious imitation of his aunt's phraseology,
and made short work of finishing his disrobing and getting to bed.
It was when Lucinda crept forth to begin to unlock the house at 6.30 upon
the morning after, that the fact of the nephew's arrival was first known
to anyone except Janice.
Lucinda saw the coat and hat,--recognized the initial on the handkerchief
in the inside pocket, threw out her arms and gave a faint squeak in utter
bewilderment, and then tore off at once to the barn to tell Joshua.
She found Joshua milking the cow.
"What do you think!" she panted briefly, with wide-open eyes and uplifted
hands; "Joshua Whittlesey, what do you think?"
"I don't think nothin'," said Joshua. "I'm milkin'."
"What would you say if I told you as he was come."
"I'd say he was here."
"Well, he is.
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