Never before had she shown so much opposition towards one of her husband’s hobbies, but this galloped so ruthlessly over her own familiar fields that she had plucked up boldness to try to veer it away.

Somebody passed the window swiftly, the door opened abruptly, and Mrs. Deborah Thayer entered. “Good-mornin’,” said she, and her voice rang out like a herald’s defiance.

Sarah Barnard arose, and went forward quickly.  “Good-mornin’,” she responded, with nervous eagerness.  “Good-mornin’, Mis’ Thayer.  Come in an’ set down, won’t you?”

“I ’ain’t come to set down,” responded Deborah’s deep voice.

She moved, a stately high-hipped figure, her severe face almost concealed in a scooping green barege hood, to the centre of the floor, and stood there with a pose that might have answered for a statue of Judgment.  She turned her green-hooded head slowly towards them all in turn.  Sarah watched her and waited, her eyes dilated.  Cephas rolled out another pie, calmly.  Charlotte knitted fast; her face was very pale.

“I’ve come over here,” said Deborah Thayer, “to find out what my son has done.”

There was not a sound, except the thud of Cephas’s rolling-pin.

“Mr. Barnard!” said Deborah.  Cephas did not seem to hear her.

“Mr. Barnard!” she said, again.  There was that tone of command in her voice which only a woman can accomplish.  It was full of that maternal supremacy which awakens the first instinct of obedience in man, and has more weight than the voice of a general in battle.  Cephas did not turn his head, but he spoke.  “What is it ye want?” he said, gruffly.

“I want to know what my son has done, an’ I want you to tell me in so many words.  I ain’t afraid to face it.  What has my son done?”

Cephas grunted something inarticulate.

“What?” said Deborah.  “I can’t hear what you say.  I want to know what my son has done.  I’ve heard how you turned him out of your house last night, and I want to know what it was for.  I want to know what he has done.  You’re an old man, and a God-fearing one, if you have got your own ideas about some things.  Barnabas is young, and apt to be headstrong.  He ain’t always been as mindful of obedience as he might be.  I’ve tried to do my best by him, but he don’t always carry out my teachin’s.  I ain’t afraid to say this, if he is my son.  I want to know what he’s done.  If it’s anything wrong, I shall be jest as hard on him as the Lord for it.  I’m his mother, but I can see his faults, and be just.  I want to know what he has done.”

Charlotte gave one great cry.  “Oh, Mrs. Thayer, he hasn’t done anything wrong; Barney hasn’t done anything wrong!”