“But there are other doors.  She didn’t take them all, did she?”

“No—­o, but—­Well, the fact is, Mr. Ellery, I—­I—­I’m locked in.”

“Locked in?”

“Yes, locked in this room.  She—­she—­Oh, consarn it all, Mr. Ellery, she’s locked me in this room a-purpose, so’s I won’t get out and go somewheres without her knowin’ it.”

“What?”

“Um—­h’m; that’s what she’s done.  Did you ever hear of anything like that in your born days?”

This surprising disclosure was funny enough, but the tone of grieved indignation in which Mr. Pepper told of his imprisonment was funnier still.  The minister coughed violently and looked the other way.

“She done it a-purpose,” continued Kyan, in a burst of confidence.  “She had me put one of them new-fangled spring locks on the door of this room t’other day, ’cause she said she was afraid of tramps and wanted some place to shut herself up in if one of em come.  And—­and after dinner to-day she sent me in here for somethin’ and then slammed the door on me.  Said she cal’lated I’d stay put till she got back from Thankful’s.  She knew mighty well I couldn’t get out of the window, ’cause it won’t open no further’n ’tis now.  I wa’n’t never so provoked in my life.  ‘Tain’t no way to treat your own brother, lockin’ him up like a young one; now, is it?”

Ellery’s reply was not made immediately.  He had heard numerous stories concerning this odd household, some of which seemed too absurd for belief.  But this performance was more ridiculous than anything he had heard.

“’Tain’t right, is it, Mr. Ellery?” demanded Kyan.

“Why,” answered the caller chokingly, “I—­I—­it is rather unusual, that’s a fact.  May I ask what you’ve done to—­”

“Done?  I ain’t done nothin’.  She’s so darned scared some other woman’ll get my money that—­you see, a month or so ago I—­I—­well, she thought I done somethin’, or was plannin’ to do somethin’ that—­Keziah Coffin never told you anything about me, did she?”

“No, indeed.  What could Mrs. Coffin tell me about you?”

“All right.  Nothin’, nothin’.  Only if she did, tain’t so.  But I ain’t goin’ to stand it no more, Mr. Ellery.  Bein’ shut up in a darned old—­excuse my swearin’, I didn’t mean to, though I got reason enough, land knows—­bein’ shut up in a room full of trunks and odds and ends is goin’ too fur.  I never want to smell old clothes ag’in long’s I live.  Would you stand it if you was me, Mr. Ellery?”

“Why, of course I mustn’t interfere in your family matters, Mr. Pepper.  Perhaps I’d better call some other time.  Good afternoon.”

“Hold on! hold on! you ain’t answered me yet.  You’re a minister and I go to your meetin’ house.  Tell me what you’d do if you was me.  Would you stand it?”

Ellery laughed aloud.

“No,” he said, “I suppose I shouldn’t.”

“I bet you wouldn’t!  What would you do?”