One of the very first to hear of the minister’s illness was Keziah Coffin.  Mrs. Parker told her and Keziah started for the beach before the tale of Grace’s part in the night’s happenings reached the village.  She did not wait for a conveyance, hardly waited to throw a shawl over her shoulders, but began to cover the three miles on foot.  She had walked nearly two thirds of the distance when Captain Zeb Mayo overtook her and gave her a seat in his chaise.

They said little during the drive, the shock and anxiety forbidding conversation.  At the ropes was the same group, larger now, and Dr. Parker’s horse was hitched to one of the posts.

“You can’t go in, Mrs. Coffin,” said Thoph Black.  “The doctor give us his orders not to let nobody get by.  I guess nobody wants to, but all the same—­”

Keziah paid not the slightest attention to Mr. Black.  She stooped beneath his arm, under the rope and was on her way to the shanty before they realized her intention.  Captain Zeb roared a command for her to return, but she kept on.  No one followed, not even the captain.  Mrs. Mayo had strictly forbidden his passing the dead line.

Keziah opened the door and entered the little building.  The living room was empty, but at the sound of her step some one came from the room adjoining.  That some one was Grace.

“Aunt Keziah!” she cried.  “What did you come here for?  Why did you?”

“Gracie!” exclaimed the housekeeper.  “You?—­You?”

Dr. Parker appeared, holding up a hand for silence.

“Hush!” he cried.  “He’s quiet now and I think he will sleep.  Don’t talk here.  Go outside, if you must talk—­and I suppose you must.”

Grace led the way.  Fortunately, the door was on the side not visible from the spot where Captain Zeb and the rest were standing.  Keziah, bewildered and amazed at the girl’s presence, followed dumbly.

“Now, auntie,” whispered Grace, turning to her, “you want to know how he is, of course.  Well, I think he is better.  The doctor thinks so, too.  But why did you come here?”

“Why did I come?  I?  Why, because my place was here.  I belonged here.  For the love of mercy’s sakes what are you doin’ here?  With him?  And the smallpox!”

“Hush.  I can’t help it.  I don’t care.  I don’t care for anything any more.  I’m glad I came.  I’m glad I was the one to find him and help him.  No matter what happens—­to me—­I’m glad.  I never was so glad before.  I love him, Aunt Keziah.  I can say it to you, for you know it—­you must know it.  I love him and he needed me and I came.  He was calling my name when I found him.  He might have died there, alone in the wet and cold, and I saved him.  Think what that means to me.”

The girl was in a sort of frenzy of excitement and hysterical exaltation.  All the night she had been calm and quiet, repressing her feelings, and tending the man she loved.  Now, with some one to whom she could confide, she was calm no longer.  Keziah answered her soothingly, questioning her from time to time, until, at last, she learned the whole story.