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David Spafford. She’s writin’ to him on business an’ she don’t rightly know his street an’ number in New York.” Mr. Clark willingly wrote the address, and Miranda took it to the post office, and sped back to Marcia, happy in the accomplishment of her purpose. In the same mail bag that brought Miranda’s package came a letter from Aunt Clarinda. David’s face lit up with a pleased smile.
Perchance fortune would favor him again and David Spafford would pass by and see him. There would be one more opportunity to stare insolently at him and defy him, before he bent his neck to obey. David had given him the day in which to do what he would, and he would make no move until the time was over and the coach he had named departed, but he knew that then he would bring down retribution.
Spafford, Hannah decided upon an immediate trip to the metropolis. “Hannah’s gone to New York to find out what’s become of that nimshi Harry Temple. She thought she had him fast, an’ she’s been holdin’ him over poor Lemuel Skinner’s head like thet there sword hangin’ by a hair I heard the minister tell about last Sunday, till Lemuel, he don’t know but every minute’s gone’ll be his last.
David Spafford let himself in at his own door, and went in search of Marcia. He wanted to find Marcia for a purpose.
"'Tain't everyone as'd want to come into this wilderness, but my auntie's cousin, Alethea-Belle Buchanan, is willin' to take the job." "Is she able?" we asked doubtfully. "She's her father's daughter," Mrs. Spafford replied. "Abram Buchanan was as fine an' brave a man as ever preached the Gospel. An' clever, too.
The one thought his speech had conveyed to her had come through those words “my sorrowful commission.” She felt the need of sitting down, for her limbs would no longer bear her up, and she felt she must immediately know what was the matter. “Mrs. Spafford, may I ask you once more to speak your forgiveness?
I’ll tell her they didn’t have what she sent me for. Good-bye. You better hurry.” So saying, she disappeared into the kitchen; and Marcia, startled by such easy morality, stood dazed until the knocker sounded forth again, this time a little more peremptorily, as the elder aunt took her turn at it. And so at last Marcia was face to face with the Misses Spafford.
“It is not a matter for discussion!” said David Spafford, utterly ignoring the other’s blustering words. “I am fully informed as to all that occurred yesterday afternoon, and I tell you once more, it would be well for you to leave town at once. I have nothing further to say.”
Within a week we knew that the big boys were becoming unmanageable, but no such information leaked from Alethea-Belle's lips. Each evening at supper we asked how she had fared during the day. Always she replied primly: "I thank you; I'm getting along nicely, better than I expected." Mrs. Spafford, a peeper through doors and keyholes, explained the schoolmarm's methods.
He seemed to be rarely fitted for the work. Once he was called back to New York for a day or two, and Harry Temple happened to see him as he arrived. That night he wrote to Hannah a friendly letter—Harry was by no means through with Hannah yet—and casually remarked that he saw David Spafford was in New York again. He supposed now that Mrs.
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