the town Hiram stopped again and again stood for a while in brooding thought. Then, finally, he turned slowly, not the way that led homeward, but taking the road that led between the bare and withered fields and crooked fences toward Billy Martin’s.
It would be hard to say just what it was that led Hiram to seek Billy Martin’s house at that time of day—whether it was fate or ill fortune. He could not have chosen a more opportune time to confirm his own undoing. What he saw was the very worst that his heart feared.
Along the road, at a little distance from the house, was a mock-orange hedge, now bare, naked, leafless. As Hiram drew near he heard footsteps approaching and low voices. He drew back into the fence corner and there stood, half sheltered by the stark network of twigs. Two figures passed slowly along the gray of the roadway in the gloaming. One was his stepbrother, the other was Sally Martin. Levi’s arm was around her, he was whispering into her ear, and her head rested upon his shoulder.
Hiram stood as still, as breathless, as cold as ice. They stopped upon the side of the road just beyond where he stood. Hiram’s eyes never left them. There for some time they talked together in low voices, their words now and then reaching the ears of that silent, breathless listener.
Suddenly there came the clattering of an opening door, and then Betty Martin’s voice broke the silence, harshly, shrilly: “Sal!—Sal!—Sally Martin! You, Sally Martin! Come in yere. Where be ye?”
The girl flung her arms around Levi’s neck and their lips met in one quick kiss. The next moment she was gone, flying swiftly, silently, down the road past where Hiram stood, stooping as she ran. Levi stood looking after her until she was gone; then he turned and walked away whistling.
His whistling died shrilly into silence in the wintry distance,
