He knew all about
Rachel and her father. She had told him everything.
"I'll go after her," he said gently. "Get me my hat and coat.
I'll slip down the back stairs and over to the Cove."
"You must get out of the pantry window, then," said Mrs. Spencer
firmly, mingling comedy and tragedy after her characteristic
fashion. "The kitchen is full of women. I won't have this known
and talked about if it can possibly be helped."
The bridegroom, wise beyond his years in the knowledge that it
was well to yield to women in little things, crawled obediently
out of the pantry window and darted through the birch wood. Mrs.
Spencer had stood quakingly on guard until he had disappeared.
So Rachel had gone to her father! Like had broken the fetters of
years and fled to like.
"It isn't much use fighting against nature, I guess," she thought
grimly. "I'm beat. He must have thought something of her, after
all, when he sent her that teapot and letter. And what does he
mean about the 'day they had such a good time'? Well, it just
means that she's been to see him before, sometime, I suppose, and
kept me in ignorance of it all."
Mrs. Spencer shut down the pantry window with a vicious thud.
"If only she'll come quietly back with Frank in time to prevent
gossip I'll forgive her," she said, as she turned to the kitchen.
Rachel was sitting on her father's knee, with both her white arms
around his neck, when Frank came in.
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