"We don't know where." Her fingers trembled, and she lost
her stitch. She was furious with herself for not being calmer. It
seemed as if gran'ther had a right to demand it of her. The minister
bent his brows impatiently.
"Why, I depended on seeing Mr. Oldfield," said he, with the
fractiousness of a man recently ill. "This sickness of mine has put me
back tremendously. I've got to make the address, and I don't know what
to say. I meant to read town records and hunt up old stories; and then
when I was sick I thought, 'Never mind! Mr. Oldfield will have it all
at his tongue's end.' And now he isn't here, and I'm all at sea without
him."
This was perhaps the first time that Young Nick's Hattie had ever
looked upon her father's pursuits with anything but a pitying eye. A
frown of perplexity grew between her brows. Her brain ached in
expanding. Mary leaned forward, her face irradiated with pure delight.
"Why, yes," said she, at once accepting the minister for a friend,
"gran'ther could tell you, if he was here. He knows everything."
"You see," continued the minister, now addressing her, "there are facts
enough that are common talk about the town, but we only half know them.
The first settlers came from Devon.
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