succeeded.

Mrs. Coffin went out into the kitchen and resumed her business of making
a dried-apple pie. There was a hot fire in the stove and she opened the
back door to let in the fresh air. She worked briskly, rolling out the
dough, filling the deep dish, and pinking the edges of the upper crust
with a fork. She was thinking as she worked, but not of the minister or
his visitor.

She put the pie in the oven and set the damper. And, as she knelt by the
stove, something struck her lightly on the back of the neck. She looked
up and about her, but there was no one in sight. Then she picked up the
object which had struck her. It was a cranberry, withered and softened
by the winter frosts.

She looked at the cranberry, then at the open door, and her eyes
twinkled. Running quickly to the threshold she peered out. The back yard
was, apparently, empty, save for a few hens belonging to near neighbors,
and these had stopped scratching for a living and were huddled near the
fence.

"Hum!" she mused. "You rascal! Eddie Snow, if it's you, I'll be after
you in a minute. Just because you're big enough to quit school and drive
store wagon is no reason why I can't--Hey? Oh!"

She was looking down below the door, which opened outward and was swung
partly back on its hinges. From under the door projected a boot, a man's
boot and one of ample size.

Keziah's cheeks, already red from the heat of the stove, reddened still