“I was up there this arternoon,” said Ben Bates, “and he seemed powerful bad in the throat.  Grandmother Scates tied an old stocking ’round his throat and gin him a bowl of catnip tea and he kinder thought he’d be all right to-morrer.  I told him you’d have a conniption fit if he didn’t show up, but Grandmother Scates shook her head kind o’ doubtful and said, ‘The Lord’s will be done.  What can’t be cured must be endured;’ and I guess that’s about the way it will be.”

The outer door opened and ’Zekiel Pettengill entered.  The creaking of the opening door attracted the attention of all.  When the girls saw who it was, they ran and gathered about him, a dozen voices crying out, “Where is Huldy?  We all thought she’d come with you.”

’Zekiel shook his head.

“You don’t know?” asked Tilly James, incredulously.  ’Zekiel shook his head again.  “Of course you do,” said Tilly contemptuously.

She turned away, followed by a number of the girls.  “He knows well enough,” she observed in an undertone, “but he won’t tell.  He’s gone on Huldy, and when a feller’s gone on a girl he’s pretty sure to keep the run of her.”

In the meantime Lindy Putnam had been using her most persuasive powers of coaxing on ’Zekiel and with same success, for ’Zekiel told quite a long story, but with very little information in it.  He told the crowd of girls gathered about him that he’d be twenty-eight on the third of January, and that ever since he was a little boy, which was, of course, before any of those present were born, he’d always followed the rule of not saying anything unless he knew what he was talking about.

“Now,” said ’Zekiel, feeling that it was better to talk on than to stand sheep-facedly before this crowd of eager, expectant faces, “I might tell yer that Huldy was ter hum and wasn’t comin’ up to-night, but yer see, p’r’aps she’s on the road now and may pop in here any minute!  Course you all know Deacon Mason’s got a boarder, a young feller from the city.  P’r’aps he’ll come up with Huldy.  But I heerd tell his health wa’n’t very good and mebbe he went to bed right after supper.”

“What’s he down here for anyway?” asked Tilly James.

“Now you’ve got me,” replied ’Zekiel.  “I s’pose he had some purpose in view, but you see I ain’t positive even of that.  As I said before, I heerd he’s come down here for his health.  It’s too late for rakin’ hay, and as hard work’s the best country doctor, p’r’aps he’ll go to choppin’ wood; but there’s one point I feel kinder positive on.”

“What is it?  What is it?” cried the girls, as they looked into his face inquiringly.

“Wall, I think,” drawled ’Zekiel, “that when he gits what he’s come for, he’ll be mighty apt to pull up stakes and go back to Boston.”

Again the outer door creaked upon its hinges, and again every face was turned to see who the new-comer might be.

“Here she is,” cried a dozen voices; and the owners thereof rushed forward to greet and embrace Miss Huldy Mason, the Deacon’s daughter and the most popular girl in the village.