“Oh, that poor woman!” cried Fanny.

“I’d like to know what they’ll do next,” cried Mrs. Zelotes.  “I should call it pretty work.”

“Nahum Beals has acted to me as if he was half crazy for some time,” said Fanny.

“No doubt about it,” said Lee; “but I shouldn’t wonder if he had to swing.”

“It’s dreadful,” said Fanny.  “I wonder when she’s comin’ home.”

“Seems as if they might have got somebody besides that girl to have gone there,” said Mrs. Zelotes.

“She happened to be right on the spot,” said Lee, importantly.

Andrew seemed speechless; he leaned against the mantel-shelf, gazing from one to the other, breathing hard.  He had had bitter feelings against the murdered man, and a curious sense of guilt was over him.  He felt almost as if he were the murderer.

“Andrew, I dun’no’ but you’d better go up there and see if she’s comin’ home,” said Fanny; and he answered heavily that maybe he had better, when they heard wheels, which stopped before the house.

“They’re bringin’ her home,” said Lee.

Andrew ran and threw open the front door.  He had a glimpse of Robert’s pale face, nodding to him from the buggy as he drove away, and Ellen came hastening up the walk.

“Well, Ellen, this is pretty dreadful news,” said her father, tremulously.

“So you have heard?”

“Amos Lee has just come in.  It’s a terrible thing, Ellen.”

“Yes, it’s terrible,” returned Ellen, in a quick, strained voice.  She entered the sitting-room, and when she met her mother’s anxious, tender eyes, she stood back against the wall, with her hands to her face, sobbing.  Fanny ran to her, but her grandmother was quicker.  She had her arms around the girl before the mother had a chance.

“If they couldn’t get somebody besides you,” she said, in a voice of intensest love and anger, “I should call it pretty work.  Now you go straight to bed, Ellen Brewster, and I’m goin’ to make a bowl of sage tea, and bring it up, and see if it won’t quiet your nerves.  I call it pretty work.”

“Yes, you’d better go to bed, Ellen,” said Andrew, gulping as if he were swallowing a sob.

Mrs. Zelotes fairly forced Ellen towards the door, Fanny following.

“Don’t talk and wake Amabel,” whispered Ellen, forcing back her sobs.

“Was he dead when you got there, Ellen?” called out Lee.

Mrs. Zelotes turned back and looked at him.  “It’s after midnight, and time for you to be goin’ home,” she said.  Then the three disappeared.  Lee grinned sheepishly at Andrew.

“Your mother is a stepper of an old woman,” said he.

“It’s awful news,” said Andrew, soberly.  “Whatever anybody may have felt, nobody expected—­”

“Of course they didn’t,” retorted Lee, quickly.  “Nahum went a step too far.”  He started for the door as he spoke.

“Well, he was crazy, without any doubt!” said Andrew.