diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:18 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:18 -0700 |
| commit | c146b8575616d9e33789524a91f5b92045974dfd (patch) | |
| tree | acf85bc0710a90a7fd1bed652ffbab28a3cb79eb | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2068-0.txt | 12573 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2068-0.zip | bin | 0 -> 228941 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2068-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 242646 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2068-h/2068-h.htm | 15395 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2068.txt | 12572 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2068.zip | bin | 0 -> 227499 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/kziac10.txt | 13129 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/kziac10.zip | bin | 0 -> 226803 bytes |
11 files changed, 53685 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2068-0.txt b/2068-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c0fbcbd --- /dev/null +++ b/2068-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12573 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Keziah Coffin + +Author: Joseph C. Lincoln + +Release Date: May 13, 2006 [EBook #2068] +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEZIAH COFFIN *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson + + + + + +KEZIAH COFFIN + +by Joseph C. Lincoln + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH HEARS OF TWO PROPOSALS AND THE BEGINNING OF A THIRD + +II.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH UNEARTHS A PROWLER + +III.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH ASSUMES A GUARDIANSHIP + +IV.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON DECIDES TO RUN IT BLINDFOLD + +V.-- IN WHICH THE PARSON CRUISES IN STRANGE WATERS + +VI.-- IN WHICH OLD FRIENDS MEET + +VII.-- IN WHICH CAPTAIN NAT PICKS UP A DERELICT + +VIII.-- IN WHICH THE PARSON AND MR. PEPPER DECLARE THEIR INDEPENDENCE + +IX.-- IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT + +X.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH'S TROUBLES MULTIPLY + +XI.-- IN WHICH CAPEN EBEN RECEIVES A CALLER + +XII.-- IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN MAKES PORT + +XIII.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH BREAKS THE NEWS + +XIV.-- IN WHICH THE SEA MIST SAILS + +XV.-- IN WHICH TRUMET TALKS OF CAPTAIN NAT + +XVI-- IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE + +XVII.-- IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED + +XVIII.--IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT + +XIX.-- IN WHICH A RECEPTION IS CALLED OFF + +XX.-- IN WHICH THE MINISTER RECEIVES A LETTER + +XXI.-- IN WHICH MR. STONE WASHES HIS HANDS + +XXII.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON PREACHES ONCE MORE + + + + +KEZIAH COFFIN + +by Joseph C. Lincoln + + + + +CHAPTER I + +IN WHICH KEZIAH HEARS TWO PROPOSALS AND THE BEGINNING OF A THIRD + + +Trumet in a fog; a fog blown in during the night by the wind from the +wide Atlantic. So wet and heavy that one might taste the salt in it. +So thick that houses along the main road were but dim shapes behind +its gray drapery, and only the gates and fences of the front yards +were plainly in evidence to the passers-by. The beach plum and bayberry +bushes on the dunes were spangled with beady drops. The pole on Cannon +Hill, where the beacon was hoisted when the packet from Boston dropped +anchor in the bay, was shiny and slippery. The new weathervane, a +gilded whale, presented to the “Regular” church by Captain Zebedee Mayo, +retired whaler, swam in a sea of cloud. The lichened eaves of the little +“Come-Outer” chapel dripped at sedate intervals. The brick walk leading +to the door of Captain Elkanah Daniels's fine residence held undignified +puddles in its hollows. And, through the damp stillness, the muttered +growl of the surf, three miles away at the foot of the sandy bluffs by +the lighthouse, sounded ominously. + +Directly opposite Captain Elkanah's front gate, on the other side of the +main road, stood the little story-and-a-half house, also the captain's +property, which for fourteen years had been tenanted by Mrs. Keziah +Coffin and her brother, Solomon Hall, the shoemaker. But Solomon had, +the month before, given up his fight with debt and illness and was +sleeping quietly in Trumet's most populous center, the graveyard. And +Keziah, left alone, had decided that the rent and living expenses were +more than her precarious earnings as a seamstress would warrant, and, +having bargained with the furniture dealer in Wellmouth for the sale of +her household effects, was now busy getting them ready for the morrow, +when the dealer's wagon was to call. She was going to Boston, where a +distant and condescending rich relative had interested himself to the +extent of finding her a place as sewing woman in a large tailoring +establishment. + +The fog hung like a wet blanket over the house and its small yard, where +a few venerable pear trees, too conservative in their old age to venture +a bud even though it was almost May, stood bare and forlorn. The day was +dismal. The dismantled dining room, its tables and chairs pushed into a +corner, and its faded ingrain carpet partially stripped from the floor, +was dismal, likewise. Considering all things, one might have expected +Keziah herself to be even more dismal. But, to all outward appearances, +she was not. A large portion of her thirty-nine years of life had been +passed under a wet blanket, so to speak, and she had not permitted +the depressing covering to shut out more sunshine than was absolutely +necessary. “If you can't get cream, you might as well learn to love your +sasser of skim milk,” said practical Keziah. + +She was on her knees, her calico dress sleeves, patched and darned, but +absolutely clean, rolled back, uncovering a pair of plump, strong arms, +a saucer of tacks before her, and a tack hammer with a claw head in +her hand. She was taking up the carpet. Grace Van Horne, Captain Eben +Hammond's ward, who had called to see if there was anything she might do +to help, was removing towels, tablecloths, and the like from the drawers +in a tall “high-boy,” folding them and placing them in an old and +battered trunk. The pair had been discussing the subject which all +Trumet had discussed for three weeks, namely, the “calling” to the +pastorate of the “Regular” church of the Rev. John Ellery, the young +divinity student, who was to take the place of old Parson Langley, +minister in the parish for over thirty years. Discussion in the village +had now reached a critical point, for the Reverend John was expected +by almost any coach. In those days, the days of the late fifties, the +railroad down the Cape extended only as far as Sandwich; passengers made +the rest of their journey by stage. Many came direct from the city by +the packet, the little schooner, but Mr. Ellery had written that he +should probably come on the coach. + +“They say he's very nice-looking,” remarked Miss Van Horne soberly, +but with a MISCHIEVOUS glance under her dark lashes at Keziah. The lady +addressed paused long enough to transfer several tacks from the floor to +the saucer, and then made answer. + +“Humph!” she observed. “A good many years ago I saw a theater show up +to Boston. Don't be shocked; those circumstances we hear so much tell +of--the kind you can't control--have kept me from goin' to theaters +much, even if I wanted to. But I did see this entertainment, and a fool +one 'twas, too, all singin' instead of talkin'--op'ra, I believe they +called it. Well, as I started to say, one of the leadin' folks in it was +the Old Harry himself, and HE was pretty good-lookin'.” + +Grace laughed, even though she had been somewhat shocked. + +“Why, Aunt Keziah!” she exclaimed--those who knew Keziah Coffin +best usually called her aunt, though real nephews and nieces she had +none--“why, Aunt Keziah! What do you mean by comparing the--the person +you just mentioned with a MINISTER!” + +“Oh, I wasn't comparin' 'em; I'll leave that for you Come-Outers to do. +Drat this carpet! Seems's if I never saw such long tacks; I do believe +whoever put 'em down drove 'em clean through the center of the earth and +let the Chinymen clinch 'em on t'other side. I haul up a chunk of the +cellar floor with every one. Ah, hum!” with a sigh, “I cal'late +they ain't any more anxious to leave home than I am. But, far's the +minister's concerned, didn't I hear of your Uncle Eben sayin' in prayer +meetin' only a fortni't or so ago that all hands who wa'n't Come-Outers +were own children to Satan? Mr. Ellery must take after his father some. +Surprisin', ain't it, what a family the old critter's got.” + +The girl laughed again. For one brought up, since her seventh year, +in the strictest of Come-Outer families, she laughed a good deal. Many +Come-Outers considered it wicked to laugh. Yet Grace did it, and hers +was a laugh pleasant to hear and distinctly pleasant to see. It made her +prettier than ever, a fact which, if she was aware of it, should have +been an additional preventive, for to be pretty smacks of vanity. +Perhaps she wasn't aware of it. + +“What do you think Uncle Eben would say if he heard that?” she asked. + +“Say I took after my father, too, I presume likely. Does your uncle know +you come here to see me so often? And call me 'aunt' and all that?” + +“Of course he does. Aunt Keziah, you mustn't think Uncle Eben doesn't +see the good in people simply because they don't believe as he does. +He's as sweet and kind as--” + +“Who? Eben Hammond? Land sakes, child, don't I know it? Cap'n Eben's the +salt of the earth. I'm a Regular and always have been, but I'd be glad +if my own society was seasoned with a few like him. 'Twould taste better +to me of a Sunday.” She paused, and then added quizzically: “What d'you +s'pose Cap'n Elkanah and the rest of our parish committee would say if +they heard THAT?” + +“Goodness knows! Still, I'm glad to hear you say it. And uncle says you +are as good a woman as ever lived. He thinks you're misled, of course, +but that some day you'll see the error of your ways.” + +“Humph! I'll have to hurry up if I want to see 'em without spectacles. +See my errors! Land sakes! much as I can do to see the heads of these +tacks. Takin' up carpets is as hard a test of a body's eyesight as 'tis +of their religion.” + +Her companion put down the tablecloth she was folding and looked +earnestly at the other woman. To an undiscerning eye the latter would +have looked much as she always did--plump and matronly, with brown hair +drawn back from the forehead and parted in the middle; keen brown eyes +with a humorous twinkle in them--this was the Keziah Coffin the later +generation of Trumet knew so well. + +But Grace Van Horne, who called her aunt and came to see her so +frequently, while her brother was alive and during the month following +his death, could see the changes which the month had wrought. She saw +the little wrinkles about the eyes and the lines of care about the +mouth, the tired look of the whole plucky, workaday New England figure. +She shook her head. + +“Religion!” she repeated. “I do believe, Aunt Keziah, that you've got +the very best religion of anybody I know. I don't care if you don't +belong to our church. When I see how patient you've been and how +cheerful through all your troubles, it--” + +Mrs. Coffin waved the hammer deprecatingly. “There! there!” she +interrupted. “I guess it's a good thing I'm goin' away. Here's you and I +praisin' up each other's beliefs, just as if that wasn't a crime here +in Trumet. Sometimes when I see how the two societies in this little +one-horse place row with each other, I declare if it doesn't look as if +they'd crossed out the first word of 'Love your neighbor' and wrote in +'Fight,' instead. Yet I'm a pretty good Regular, too, and when it comes +to whoopin' and carryin' on like the Come-Outers, I--Well! well! +never mind; don't begin to bristle up. I won't say another word about +religion. Let's pick the new minister to pieces. ANY kind of a Christian +can do that.” + +But the new minister was destined to remain undissected that morning, +in that house at least. Grace was serious now and she voiced the matter +which had been uppermost in her mind since she left home. + +“Aunt Keziah,” she said, “why do you go away? What makes you? Is it +absolutely necessary?” + +“Why do I go? Why, for the same reason that the feller that was hove +overboard left the ship--cause I can't stay. You've got to have vittles +and clothes, even in Trumet, and a place to put your head in nights. +Long's Sol was alive and could do his cobblin' we managed to get along +somehow. What I could earn sewin' helped, and we lived simple. But when +he was taken down and died, the doctor's bills and the undertaker's used +up what little money I had put by, and the sewin' alone wouldn't keep +a healthy canary in bird seed. Dear land knows I hate to leave the old +house I've lived in for fourteen years and the town I was born in, but +I've got to, for all I see. Thank mercy, I can pay Cap'n Elkanah his +last month's rent and go with a clear conscience. I won't owe anybody, +that's a comfort, and nobody will owe me; though I could stand that, I +guess,” she added, prying at the carpet edge. + +“I don't care!” The girl's dark eyes flashed indignantly. “I think it's +too bad of Cap'n Elkanah to turn you out when--” + +“Don't talk that way. He ain't turnin' me out. He ain't lettin' houses +for his health and he'll need the money to buy his daughter's summer +rigs. She ain't had a new dress for a month, pretty near, and here's +a young and good-lookin' parson heavin' in sight. Maybe Cap'n Elkanah +would think a minister was high-toned enough even for Annabel to marry.” + +“He's only twenty-three, they say,” remarked Grace, a trifle +maliciously. “Perhaps she'll adopt him.” + +Annabel was the only child of Captain Elkanah Daniels, who owned the +finest house in town. She was the belle of Trumet, and had been for a +good many years. + +Keziah laughed. + +“Well,” she said, “anyhow I've got to go. Maybe I'll like Boston first +rate, you can't tell. Or maybe I won't. Ah, hum! 'twouldn't be the first +thing I've had to do that I didn't like.” + +Her friend looked at her. + +“Aunt,” she said, “I want to make a proposal to you, and you mustn't be +cross about it.” + +“A proposal! Sakes alive! What'll I say? 'This is so sudden!' That's +what Becky Ryder, up to the west part of the town, said when Jim Baker, +the tin peddler, happened to ask her if she'd ever thought of gettin' +married. 'O James! this is so sudden!' says Becky. Jim said afterwards +that the suddenest thing about it was the way he cleared out of that +house. And he never called there afterwards.” + +Grace smiled, but quickly grew grave. + +“Now, auntie,” she said, “please listen. I'm in earnest. It seems to me +that you might do quite well at dressmaking here in town, if you had +a little--well, ready money to help you at the start. I've got a few +hundred dollars in the bank, presents from uncle, and my father's +insurance money. I should love to lend it to you, and I know uncle +would--” + +Mrs. Coffin interrupted her. + +“Cat's foot!” she exclaimed. “I hope I haven't got where I need to +borrow money yet a while. Thank you just as much, deary, but long's I've +got two hands and a mouth, I'll make the two keep t'other reasonably +full, I wouldn't wonder. No, I shan't think of it, so don't say another +word. NO.” + +The negative was so decided that Grace was silenced. Her disappointment +showed in her face, however, and Keziah hastened to change the subject. + +“How do you know,” she observed, “but what my goin' to Boston may be the +best thing that ever happened to me? You can't tell. No use despairin', +Annabel ain't given up hope yet; why should I? Hey? Ain't that somebody +comin'?” + +Her companion sprang to her feet and ran to the window. Then she broke +into a smothered laugh. + +“Why, it's Kyan Pepper!” she exclaimed. “He must be coming to see you, +Aunt Keziah. And he's got on his very best Sunday clothes. Gracious! I +must be going. I didn't know you expected callers.” + +Keziah dropped the tack hammer and stood up. + +“Kyan!” she repeated. “What in the world is that old idiot comin' here +for? To talk about the minister, I s'pose. How on earth did Laviny ever +come to let him out alone?” + +Mr. Pepper, Mr. Abishai Pepper, locally called “Kyan” (Cayenne) Pepper +because of his red hair and thin red side whiskers, was one of Trumet's +“characters,” and in his case the character was weak. He was born in the +village and, when a youngster, had, like every other boy of good family +in the community, cherished ambitions for a seafaring life. His sister, +Lavinia, ten years older than he, who, after the death of their parents, +had undertaken the job of “bringing up” her brother, did not sympathize +with these ambitions. Consequently, when Kyan ran away she followed him +to Boston, stalked aboard the vessel where he had shipped, and collared +him, literally and figuratively. One of the mates venturing to offer +objection, Lavinia turned upon him and gave him a piece of her mind, to +the immense delight of the crew and the loungers on the wharf. Then she +returned with the vagrant to Trumet. Old Captain Higgins, who skippered +the packet in those days, swore that Lavinia never stopped lecturing her +brother from the time they left Boston until they dropped anchor behind +the breakwater. + +“I give you my word that 'twas pretty nigh a stark calm, but there was +such a steady stream of language pourin' out of the Pepper stateroom +that the draught kept the sails filled all the way home,” asserted +Captain Higgins. + +That was Kyan's sole venture, so far as sailoring was concerned, but he +ran away again when he was twenty-five. This time he returned of his +own accord, bringing a wife with him, one Evelyn Gott of Ostable. Evelyn +could talk a bit herself, and her first interview with Lavinia ended +with the latter's leaving the house in a rage, swearing never to set +foot in it again. This oath she broke the day of her sister-in-law's +funeral. Then she appeared, after the ceremony, her baggage on the wagon +with her. The bereaved one, who was sitting on the front stoop of his +dwelling with, so people say, a most resigned expression on his meek +countenance, looked up and saw her. + +“My land! Laviny,” he exclaimed, turning pale. “Where'd you come from?” + +“Never mind WHERE I come from,” observed his sister promptly. “You just +be thankful I've come. If ever a body needed some one to take care of +'em, it's you. You can tote my things right in,” she added, turning to +her grinning driver, “and you, 'Bishy, go right in with 'em. The idea +of your settin' outside takin' it easy when your poor wife ain't been +buried more'n an hour!” + +“But--but--Laviny,” protested poor Kyan, speaking the truth unwittingly, +“I couldn't take it easy AFORE she was buried, could I?” + +“Go right in,” was the answer. “March!” + +Abishai marched, and had marched under his sister's orders ever since. +She kept house for him, and did it well, but her one fear was that some +female might again capture him, and she watched him with an eagle +eye. He was the town assessor and tax collector, but when he visited +dwellings containing single women or widows, Lavinia always accompanied +him, “to help him in his figgerin',” she said. + +Consequently, when he appeared, unchaperoned, on the walk leading to the +side door of the Coffin homestead, Keziah and her friend were surprised. + +“He's dressed to kill,” whispered Grace, at the window. “Even his tall +hat; and in this fog! I do believe he's coming courting, Aunt Keziah.” + +“Humph!” was the ungracious answer. “He's come to say good-by, I s'pose, +and to find out where I'm goin' and how much pay I'm goin' to get and if +my rent's settled, and a few other little things that ain't any of +his business. Laviny put him up to it, you see. She'll be along pretty +quick. Well, I'll fix him so he won't talk much. He can help us take +down that stovepipe. I said 'twas a job for a man, and a half one's +better than none--Why, how d'ye do, 'Bishy? Come right in. Pretty thick +outside, isn't it?” + +Mr. Pepper entered diffidently. + +“Er--er--how d'ye do, Keziah?” he stammered. “I thought I'd just run in +a minute and--” + +“Yes, yes. Glad to see you. Take off your hat. My sakes! it's pretty +wet. How did Laviny come to let you--I mean how'd you come to wear a +beaver such a mornin's this?” + +Kyan removed the silk hat and inspected its limp grandeur ruefully. + +“I--I--” he began. “Well, the fact is, I come out by myself. You see, +Laviny's gone up to Sarah B.'s to talk church doin's. I--I--well, I kind +of wanted to speak with you about somethin', Keziah, so--Oh! I didn't +see you, Gracie. Good mornin'.” + +He didn't seem overjoyed to see Miss Van Horne, as it was. In fact, +he reddened perceptibly and backed toward the door. The girl, her eyes +twinkling, took up her jacket and hat. + +“Oh! I'm not going to stop, Mr. Pepper,” she said. “I was only helping +Aunt Keziah a little, that's all. I must run on now.” + +“Run on--nonsense!” declared Keziah decisively. “You're goin' to stay +right here and help us get that stovepipe down. And 'Bishy'll help, too. +Won't you, 'Bish?” + +The stovepipe was attached to the “air-tight” in the dining room. +It--the pipe--rose perpendicularly for a few feet and then extended +horizontally, over the high-boy, until it entered the wall. Kyan looked +at it and then at his “Sunday clothes.” + +“Why, I'd be glad to, of course,” he declared with dubious enthusiasm. +“But I don't know's I'll have time. Perhaps I'd better come later and do +it. Laviny, she--” + +“Oh, Laviny can spare you for a few minutes, I guess; 'specially as she +don't know you're out. Better take your coat off, hadn't you? Grace, +fetch one of those chairs for Ky--for 'Bishy to stand in.” + +Grace obediently brought the chair. It happened to be the one with a +rickety leg, but its owner was helping the reluctant Abishai remove the +long-tailed blue coat which had been his wedding garment and had adorned +his person on occasions of ceremony ever since. She did not notice the +chair. + +“It's real good of you to offer to help,” she said. “Grace and I didn't +hardly dast to try it alone. That pipe's been up so long that I wouldn't +wonder if 'twas chock-full of soot. If you're careful, though, I don't +believe you'll get any on you. Never mind the floor; I'm goin' to wash +that before I leave.” + +Reluctantly, slowly, the unwilling Mr. Pepper suffered himself to be led +to the chair. He mounted it and gingerly took hold of the pipe. + +“Better loosen it at the stove hole first,” advised Keziah. “What was it +you wanted to see me about, 'Bish?” + +“Oh, nothin', nothin',” was the hasty response. “Nothin' of any +account--that is to say--” + +He turned redder than ever and wrenched at the pipe. It loosened at its +lower end and the wires holding it in suspension shook. + +“I guess,” observed the lady of the house, “that you'd better move that +chest of drawers out so's you can get behind it. Grace, you help me. +There! that's better. Now move your chair.” + +Kyan stepped from the chair and moved the latter to a position between +the high-boy and the wall. Then he remounted and gripped the pipe in the +middle of its horizontal section. + +“Seems to stick in the chimney there, don't it?” queried Keziah. “Wiggle +it back and forth; that ought to loosen it. What was it you wanted to +say, 'Bish?” + +Apparently, Mr. Pepper had nothing to say. The crimson tide had reached +his ears, which, always noticeable because of their size and spread, +were now lit up like a schooner's sails at sunset. His hands trembled on +the pipe. + +“Nothin', nothin', I tell you,” he faltered. “I--I just run in to say +how d'ye do, that's all.” + +“Really, I think I'd better be going,” said Grace, glancing from Kyan's +embarrassed face to that of the unsuspecting Mrs. Coffin. “I'm afraid +I'm in the way.” + +“No, no!” shouted the occupant of the chair. “No, no, you ain't!” + +“But I'm afraid I am. And they'll be expecting me at home. Aunt Keziah, +I--” + +“Don't be in such a hurry,” interrupted Keziah. “Does stick in the +chimney, don't it? Tell you what you can do, Grace; you can go in the +woodshed and fetch the hammer that's in the table drawer. Hurry up, +that's a good girl.” + +Kyan protested that he did not need the hammer, but his protest was +unheeded. With one more glance at the couple, Grace departed from the +kitchen, biting her lips. She shut the door carefully behind her. Mr. +Pepper labored frantically with the pipe. + +“No use to shake it any more till you get the hammer,” advised Keziah. +“Might's well talk while you're waitin'. What was it you wanted to tell +me?” + +Abishai drew one hand across his forehead, leaving a decorative smooch +of blacking on his perspiring countenance. He choked, swallowed, and +then, with a look at the closed door, seemed to reach a desperate +resolve. + +“Keziah,” he whispered hurriedly, “you've known me quite a spell, ain't +you?” + +“Known you? Known you ever since you were born, pretty nigh. What of +it?” + +“Yes, yes. And I've known you, you know. Fact is, we've known each +other.” + +“Hear the man! Land sakes! don't everybody in Trumet know everybody +else? What ARE you drivin' at?” + +“Keziah, you're a single woman.” + +His companion let go of the chair, which she had been holding in place, +and stepped back. + +“I'm a single woman?” she repeated sharply. “What do you mean by that? +Did--did anybody say I wasn't?” + +“No, no! 'Course not. But you're a widow, so you BE single, you know, +and--” + +“Well? Did you think I was twins? Get down off there this minute. You've +gone crazy. I thought so when I saw that beaver. Either that or you've +been drinkin'. Grace! What DOES make her so long gettin' that hammer?” + +Finding the hammer did seem to take a long time. There was no sound from +the kitchen. Kyan, steadying himself with one hand on the pipe, waved +the other wildly. + +“S-s-sh! s-sh-h!” he hissed. “Hush! be still! Don't get her in here. +Keziah, you're single and so am I. You ain't got nobody to take care of +you and I ain't, neither--that is, I don't want to be took care of--I +mean, I've been took care of too much.” + +Mrs. Coffin took another step in the direction of the kitchen. + +“He IS loony!” she exclaimed under her breath. “I--” + +“No, no! I ain't loony. I want to make a proposal to you. I want to see +if you won't marry me. I'm sick of Laviny. Let's you and me settle down +together. I could have some peace then. And I think a whole lot of you, +too,” he added, apparently as an afterthought. + +Keziah's face was red now, and growing redder every instant. + +“Kyan Pepper!” she cried in amazed incredulity. “Kyan Pepper, do you--” + +“Hurry up!” pleaded Abishai, in agitated impatience. “Say yes quick. +She'll be back in a minute.” + +“Say YES! Why, you--” + +“Don't stop to argue, Keziah. I've got 'most fifteen hundred dollars in +the bank. Laviny keeps the pass book in her bureau, but you could get it +from her. I own my house. I'm a man of good character. You're poor, +but I don't let that stand in the way. Anyhow, you're a first-rate +housekeeper. And I really do think an awful lot of you.” + +Mrs. Coffin stepped no farther in the direction of the kitchen. Instead, +she strode toward the rickety chair and its occupant. Kyan grasped the +pipe with both hands. + +“You poor--miserable--impudent--” began the lady. + +“Why, Keziah, don't you WANT to?” He spoke as if the possibility of +a refusal had never entered his mind. “I cal'lated you'd be glad. +You wouldn't have to go away then, nor--My soul and body! some one's +knockin' at the door! AND THIS DUMMED PIPE'S FETCHED LOOSE!” + +The last sentence was a smothered shriek. Keziah heeded not. Neither +did she heed the knock at the door. Her hands were opening and closing +convulsively. + +“Be glad!” she repeated. “Glad to marry a good-for-nothin' sand-peep +like you! You sassy--GET down off that chair and out of this house! Get +down this minute!” + +“I can't! This stovepipe's loose, I tell you! Be reason'ble, Keziah. +Do--don't you touch me! I'll fall if you do. Pl-e-ase, Keziah!--O Lordy! +I knew it. LAVINY!” + +The door opened. On the threshold, arms akimbo and lips set tight, stood +Lavinia Pepper. Her brother's knees gave way; in their collapse they +struck the chair back; the rickety leg wabbled. Kyan grasped at the pipe +to save himself and, the next moment, chair, sections of stovepipe, and +Mr. Pepper disappeared with a mighty crash behind the high-boy. A cloud +of soot arose and obscured the view. + +Keziah, too indignant even to laugh, glared at the wreck. In the doorway +of the kitchen Grace Van Horne, hammer in hand, leaned against the jamb, +her handkerchief at her mouth and tears in her eyes. Lavinia, majestic +and rigid, dominated the scene. From behind the high-boy came coughs, +sneezes, and emphatic ejaculations. + +Miss Pepper was the first to speak. + +“Abishai Pepper,” she commanded, “come out of that this minute.” + +Her answer was a tremendous sneeze. Then from the dusky cloud by the +wall sounded a voice feebly protesting. + +“Now, Laviny,” began poor Kyan, “I never in my life--” + +“Do you hear me? Come out of that!” + +There was a sound of scrambling. More soot floated in the air. Then +around the corner of the high-boy appeared Mr. Pepper, crawling on his +hands and knees. His hair was streaked with black; his shirt front and +collar and shirt sleeves were spotted and smeared with black; and from +his blackened cheeks his red whiskers flamed like the last glowing +embers in a fire-scarred ruin. + +“Laviny,” he panted, “I never was so surprised and upsot in all my life +afore.” + +This was too much for Grace. She collapsed in a chair and laughed +hysterically. Even the wrathful Keziah smiled. But Lavinia did not +smile. For that matter, neither did her brother. + +“Hum!” sneered Miss Pepper. “Upsot! Yes, I see you're upsot. Get up, and +try to look as much like a Christian as you can!” + +Kyan rose from his knees to his feet and rubbed his back. He glanced +reproachfully at Grace, then fearfully at his sister. + +“I was just tryin' to help Keziah take down her stovepipe,” he +explained. “You see, she didn't have no man to--” + +“Yes, I see. Well, I judge you got it down. Now you go out to the sink +and wash your face. Heavens and earth! Look at them clothes!” + +“I do hope you didn't hurt yourself, Abishai,” said the sympathetic +Keziah. Then, as remembrance of what had led to the upset came to her, +she added: “Though I will say 'twas your own fault and nobody else's.” + +Lavinia whirled on her. + +“His own fault, was it?” she repeated, her voice shrill and trembling. +“Thank you very much, marm. I cal'late 'twas his own fault comin' +here, too, wa'n't it? Nobody led him on, I s'pose. Nobody put him up to +riggin' out in his best bib and tucker and sneakin' here the minute I +was out of the house. No, nobody did! Of COURSE not!” + +“No, nobody did,” said Keziah briskly. “And you may know what you're +hintin' at, but I don't.” + +“Dear me! Ain't we innocent! We've got plenty of money, WE have. +Widowers with property ain't no attraction to US. Everybody knows +that--oh, yes! And they never talk of such a thing--oh, no! Folks don't +say that--that--Well,” with a snarl in the direction of the kitchen, +“are you anywheres nigh clean yet? Get your coat and hat on and come +home with me.” + +She jerked her brother into the blue coat, jammed the tall hat down upon +his head, and, seizing him by the arm, stalked to the door. + +“Good day, marm,” she said. “I do hope the next widower you get to take +down your stovepipe--yes, indeed! ha! ha!--I hope you'll have better +luck with him. Though I don't know who 'twould be; there ain't no more +idiots in town that I know of. Good day, and thank you kindly for your +attentions to our family.” + +She pulled the door open and was on the step; but Mrs. Coffin did not +intend to let her go in just that way. + +“Laviny Pepper,” she declared, her eyes snapping, “I don't know what +you're talkin' about, but if you dare to mean that I want any of your +money, or your brother's money, you're mistaken--'cause I don't. And I +don't want your brother either--Lord help him, poor thing! And I tell +you right now that there's nobody that does; though some kind-hearted +folks have said 'twould be a Christian act to poison him, so's to put +him out of his misery. There! Good mornin' to you.” + +She slammed the door. Lavinia was speechless. As for her brother, but +one remark of his reached Grace, who was watching from the window. + +“Laviny,” pleaded Kyan, “just let me explain.” + +At nine o'clock that night he was still “explaining.” + +Keziah turned from the door she had closed behind her visitor. + +“Well!” she ejaculated. “WELL!” + +Her friend did not look at her. She was still gazing out of the window. +Occasionally she seemed to choke. + +Keziah eyed her suspiciously. + +“Humph!” she mused. “'Twas funny, wasn't it?” + +“Oh, dreadfully!” was the hurried answer. + +“Yes. Seems to me you took an awful long time findin' that hammer.” + +“It was away back in the drawer. I didn't see it at first.” + +“Hum! Grace Van Horne, if I thought you heard what that--that THING said +to me, I'd--I'd--Good land of mercy! somebody ELSE is comin'.” + +Steps, measured, dignified steps, sounded on the walk. From without came +a “Hum--ha!” a portentous combination of cough and grunt. Grace dodged +back from the window and hastily began donning her hat and jacket. + +“It's Cap'n Elkanah,” she whispered. “I must go. This seems to be your +busy morning, Aunt Keziah. I”--here she choked again--“really, I didn't +know you were so popular.” + +Keziah opened the door. Captain Elkanah Daniels, prosperous, pompous, +and unbending, crossed the threshold. Richest man in the village, +retired shipowner, pillar of the Regular church and leading member of +its parish committee, Captain Elkanah looked the part. He removed +his hat, cleared his throat behind his black stock, and spoke with +impressive deliberation. + +“Good morning, Keziah. Ah--er--morning, Grace.” Even in the tone given +to a perfunctory salutation like this, the captain differentiated +between Regular and Come-Outer. “Keziah, I--hum, ha!--rather expected to +find you alone.” + +“I was just going, Cap'n Daniels,” explained the girl. The captain bowed +and continued. + +“Keziah,” he said, “Keziah, I came to see you on a somewhat important +matter. I have a proposal I wish to make you.” + +He must have been surprised at the effect of his words. Keziah's face +was a picture, a crimson picture of paralyzed amazement. As for Miss Van +Horne, that young lady gave vent to what her friend described afterwards +as a “squeal,” and bolted out of the door and into the grateful +seclusion of the fog. + + +CHAPTER II + +IN WHICH KEZIAH UNEARTHS A PROWLER + + +The fog was cruel to the gossips of Trumet that day. Mrs. Didama Rogers, +who lived all alone, except for the society of three cats, a canary, +and a white poodle named “Bunch,” in the little house next to Captain +Elkanah's establishment, never entirely recovered from the chagrin +and disappointment caused by that provoking mist. When one habitually +hurries through the morning's household duties in order to sit by the +front window and note each passer-by, with various fascinating surmises +as to his or her errand and the reasons for it, it is discouraging to be +able to see only one's own front fence and a scant ten feet of sidewalk. +And then to learn afterwards of a dozen most exciting events, each +distinctly out of the ordinary, which might have been used as excuses +for two dozen calls and as many sensations! As Captain Zeb Mayo, the +irreverent ex-whaler, put it, “That fog shook Didama's faith in the +judgment of Providence. 'Tain't the 'all wise,' but the 'all seein'' +kind she talks about in meetin' now.” + +The fog prevented Mrs. Rogers's noting the entrance of Mr. Pepper at the +Coffin front gate. Also his exit, under sisterly arrest. It shut from +her view the majestic approach of Captain Elkanah Daniels and Grace's +flight, her face dimpled with smiles and breaking into laughter +at frequent intervals. For a young lady, supposed to be a devout +Come-Outer, to hurry along the main road, a handkerchief at her mouth +and her eyes sparkling with fun, was a circumstance calculated to +furnish material for enjoyable scandal. And Didama missed it. + +Other happenings she missed, also. Not knowing of Captain Daniels's call +upon Keziah, she was deprived of the pleasure of wonder at the length of +his stay. She did not see him, in company with Mrs. Coffin, go down +the road in the opposite direction from that taken by Grace. Nor their +return and parting at the gate, two hours later. She did not see--but +there! she saw nothing, absolutely nothing--except the scraggy spruce +tree in her tiny front yard and the lonely ten feet of walk bordering +it. No one traversed that section of walk except old Mrs. Tinker, who +was collecting subscriptions for new hymn books for the Come-Outer +chapel. And Didama was particularly anxious NOT to see her. + +The dismal day dragged on. The silver-leaf trees dripped, the hedges +were shining with moisture. Through the stillness the distant surf along +the “ocean side” of the Cape growled and moaned and the fog bell at the +lighthouse clanged miserably. Along the walk opposite Didama's--the +more popular side of the road--shadowy figures passed at long intervals, +children going to and from school, people on errands to the store, and +the like. It was three o'clock in the afternoon before a visitor came +again to the Coffin front gate, entered the yard and rapped at the side +door. + +Keziah opened the door. + +“Halloa!” she exclaimed. “Back, are you? I begun to think you'd been +scared away for good.” + +Grace laughed as she entered. + +“Well, auntie,” she said, “I don't wonder you thought I was scared. +Truly, I didn't think it was proper for me to stay. First Kyan and then +Cap'n Elkanah, and both of them expressing their wishes to see you alone +so--er--pointedly. I thought it was time for me to go. Surely, you give +me credit for a little delicacy.” + +Keziah eyed her grimly. + +“Humph!” she sniffed. “If you'd been a little less delicate about +fetchin' that hammer, we might have been spared at least one smash-up. I +don't s'pose Laviny'll ever speak to me again. Oh, dear! I guess likely +I'll never get the memory of that--that Kyan thing out of my mind. I +never was so set back in my born days. Yes, you can laugh!” + +She laughed herself as she said it. As for Grace, it was sometime before +that young lady became coherent. + +“He DID look so funny!” she gasped. “Hopping up and down on that shaky +chair and holding on to that pipe and--and--O Aunt Keziah, if you could +have seen your face when I opened that door!” + +“Yes; well, I will say you was sometime gettin' it open. And then, on +top of the whole fool business, in parades Elkanah Daniels and--” + +She paused. Her companion looked delightedly expectant. + +“Yes,” she cried eagerly. “Then Cap'n Elkanah came and the very first +thing he said was--I almost laughed in his face.” + +“Almost! Humph! that's no exaggeration. The way you put out of that door +was a caution.” + +“Yes, but what did the cap'n mean? Is it a secret? Ahem! shall I +congratulate you, auntie?” + +“Grace Van Horne! there's born fools enough in this town without your +tryin' to be one. You know 'twa'n't THAT. Though what 'twas was surprise +enough, I will say,” she added. “Grace, I ain't goin' away to-morrow.” + +“You're not? Oh, splendid! Has the cap'n decided to let you stay here?” + +“I guess his decidin' wouldn't influence me, if twas stayin' in his +house he meant. The only way I could live here would be on his charity, +and that would be as poor fodder as sawdust hasty puddin', even if I +was fond of charity, which I ain't. He said to me--Well, you take your +things off and I'll tell you about it. You can stay a little while, +can't you?” + +“Yes, I was going to stay all the afternoon and for supper, if you'd let +me. I knew you had so much to do and I wanted to help. I told uncle and +he said certainly I ought to come. He said he should try to see you and +say good-by before you left tomorrow.” + +“You don't say! And me a Regular! Well, I'm much obliged, though I guess +your Uncle Eben won't see me to-morrow--nor speak to me again, when he +knows what I AM going to do. Grace, I ain't goin' to leave Trumet, not +for the present, anyhow. I've got a way of earnin' my livin' right here. +I'm goin' to keep house for the new minister.” + +The girl turned, her hat in her hand. + +“Oh!” she cried in utter astonishment. + +Keziah nodded. “Yes,” she affirmed. “That was what Elkanah's proposal +amounted to. Ha! ha! Deary me! When he said 'proposal,' I own up for +a minute I didn't know WHAT was comin'. After Kyan I was prepared +for 'most anything. But he told me that Lurany Phelps, who the parish +committee had counted on to keep house for Mr. Ellery, had sent word her +sister was sick and couldn't be left, and that somebody must be hired +right off 'cause the minister's expected by day after to-morrow's coach. +And they'd gone over every likely candidate in town till it simmered +down to Mehitable Burgess. And Cap'n Zeb Mayo spoke right up in the +committee meetin' and gave out that if Mehitable kept house for Mr. +Ellery he, for one, wouldn't come to church. Said he didn't want to hear +sermons that was inspired by HER cookin'. Seems she cooked for the Mayos +one week when Mrs. Mayo had gone to Boston, and Cap'n Zeb declares his +dreams that week was somethin' awful. 'And I'm a man with no nerves and +mighty little imagination,' he says. 'Land knows what effect a dose of +Mehitable's biscuits might have on a MINISTER.' + +“And so,” continued Keziah, “they decided Mehitable wouldn't do, and +finally somebody thought of me. I have a notion 'twas Zeb, although +Cap'n Elkanah did his best to make me think 'twas himself. And the cap'n +was made a delegate to come and see me about it. Come he did, and we +settled it. I went down to the parsonage with him before dinner and +looked the place over. There's an awful lot of sweepin' and dustin' to +be done afore it's fit for a body to live in. I did think that when I'd +finished with this house I could swear off on that kind of dissipation +for a while, but I guess, judgin' by the looks of that parsonage, what +I've done so far is only practice.” She paused, glanced keenly at her +friend and asked: “Why! what's the matter? You don't act nigh so glad as +I thought you'd be.” + +Grace said of course she was glad; but she looked troubled, +nevertheless. + +“I can hardly make it seem possible,” she said. “Is it really +settled--your salary and everything? And what will you do about your +position in Boston?” + +“Oh, I'll write Cousin Abner and tell him. Lord love you, HE won't care. +He'll feel that he did his duty in gettin' me the Boston chance and if I +don't take it 'tain't his fault. HIS conscience'll be clear. Land sakes! +if I could clean house as easy as some folks clear their consciences I +wouldn't have a backache this minute. Yes, the wages are agreed on, too. +And totin' them around won't make my back ache any worse, either,” she +added drily. + +Grace extended her hand. + +“Well, Aunt Keziah,” she said, “I'm ever and ever so glad for you. +I know you didn't want to leave Trumet and I'm sure everyone will be +delighted when they learn that you're going to stay.” + +“Humph! that includes Laviny Pepper, of course. I cal'late Laviny's +delight won't keep her up nights. But I guess I can stand it if she can. +Now, Grace, what is it? You AIN'T real pleased? Why not?” + +The girl hesitated. + +“Auntie,” she said, “I'm selfish, I guess. I'm glad for your sake; you +mustn't think I'm not. But I almost wish you were going to do something +else. You are going to live in the Regular parsonage and keep house +for, of all persons, a Regular minister. Why, so far as my seeing you is +concerned, you might as well be in China. You know Uncle Eben.” + +Keziah nodded understandingly. + +“Yes,” she said, “I know him. Eben Hammond thinks that parsonage is +the presence chamber of the Evil One, I presume likely. But, Grace, you +mustn't blame me, and if you don't call I'll know why and I shan't blame +you. We'll see each other once in a while; I'll take care of that. And, +deary, I HAD to do it--I just had to. If you knew what a load had been +took off my mind by this, you'd sympathize with me and understand. I've +been happier in Trumet than I ever was anywhere else, though I've seen +some dark times here, too. I was born here; my folks used to live here. +My brother Sol lived and died here. His death was a heavy trouble to +me, but the heaviest came to me when I was somewheres else and--well, +somehow I've had a feelin' that, if there was any real joys ever planned +out for me while I'm on this earth, they'd come to me here. I don't know +when they'll come. There's times when I can't believe they ever will +come, but--There! there! everybody has to bear burdens in this life, I +cal'late. It's a vale of tears, 'cordin' to you Come-Outer folks, though +I've never seen much good in wearin' a long face and a crape bathin' +suit on that account. Hey? What are you listenin' to?” + +“I thought I heard a carriage stop, that was all.” + +Mrs. Coffin went to the window and peered into the fog. + +“Can't see anything,” she said. “'Tain't anybody for here, that's sure. +I guess likely 'twas Cap'n Elkanah. He and Annabel were goin' to drive +over to Denboro this afternoon. She had some trimmin' to buy. Takes more +than fog to separate Annabel Daniels from dressmakin'. Well, there's a +little more packin' to do; then I thought I'd go down to that parsonage +and take a whack at the cobwebs. I never saw so many in my born days. +You'd think all the spiders from here to Ostable had been holdin' camp +meetin' in that shut-up house.” + +The packing took about an hour. When it was finished, the carpet rolled +up, and the last piece of linen placed in the old trunk, Keziah turned +to her guest. + +“Now, Gracie,” she said, “I feel as though I ought to go to the +parsonage. I can't do much more'n look at the cobwebs to-night, but +to-morrow those spiders had better put on their ascension robes. The +end of the world's comin' for them, even though it missed fire for the +Millerites when they had their doin's a few years ago. You can stay +here and wait, if 'twon't be too lonesome. We'll have supper when I get +back.” + +Grace looked tempted. + +“I've a good mind to go with you,” she said. “I want to be with you as +much as I can, and HE isn't there yet. I'm afraid uncle might not like +it, but--” + +“Sho! Come along. Eben Hammond may be a chronic sufferer from acute +Come-Outiveness, but he ain't a ninny. Nobody'll see you, anyway. This +fog's like charity, it'll cover a heap of sins. Do come right along. +Wait till I get on my things.” + +She threw a shawl over her shoulders, draped a white knitted “cloud” + over her head, and took from a nail a key, attached by a strong cord to +a block of wood eight inches long. + +“Elkanah left the key with me,” she observed. “No danger of losin' it, +is there. Might as well lose a lumber yard. Old Parson Langley tied it +up this way, so he wouldn't miss his moorin's, I presume likely. The +poor old thing was so nearsighted and absent-minded along toward the +last that they say he used to hire Noah Myrick's boy to come in and look +him over every Sunday mornin' before church, so's to be sure he hadn't +got his wig on stern foremost. That's the way Zeb Mayo tells the yarn, +anyhow.” + +They left the house and came out into the wet mist. Then, turning to +the right, in the direction which Trumet, with unconscious irony, calls +“downtown,” they climbed the long slope where the main road mounts the +outlying ridge of Cannon Hill, passed Captain Mayo's big house--the +finest in Trumet, with the exception of the Daniels mansion--and +descended into the hollow beyond. Here, at the corner where the +“Lighthouse Lane” begins its winding way over the rolling knolls and +dunes to the light and the fish shanties on the “ocean side,” stood +the plain, straight-up-and-down meeting house of the Regular society. +Directly opposite was the little parsonage, also very straight up and +down. Both were painted white with green blinds. This statement is +superfluous to those who remember Cape architecture at this period; +practically every building from Sandwich to Provincetown was white and +green. + +They entered the yard, through the gap in the white fence, and went +around the house, past the dripping evergreens and the bare, wet lilac +bushes, to the side door, the lock of which Keziah's key fitted. There +was a lock on the front door, of course, but no one thought of meddling +with that. That door had been opened but once during the late pastor's +thirty-year tenantry. On the occasion of his funeral the mourners came +and went, as was proper, by that solemn portal. + +Mrs. Coffin thrust the key into the keyhole of the side door and essayed +to turn it. + +“Humph!” she muttered, twisting to no purpose; “I don't see why--This +must be the right key, because--Well, I declare, if it ain't unlocked +already! That's some of Cap'n Elkanah's doin's. For a critter as fussy +and particular about some things, he's careless enough about others. +Mercy we ain't had any tramps around here lately. Come in.” + +She led the way into the dining room of the parsonage. Two of the blinds +shading the windows of that apartment had been opened when she and +Captain Daniels made their visit, and the dim gray light made the room +more lonesome and forsaken in appearance than a deeper gloom could +possibly have done. The black walnut extension table in the center, +closed to its smallest dimensions because Parson Langley had eaten alone +for so many years; the black walnut chairs set back against the wall at +regular intervals; the rag carpet and braided mats--homemade donations +from the ladies of the parish--on the green painted floor; the dolorous +pictures on the walls; “Death of Washington,” “Stoning of Stephen,” and +a still more deadly “fruit piece” committed in oils years ago by a now +deceased boat painter; a black walnut sideboard with some blue-and-white +crockery upon it; a gilt-framed mirror with another outrage in oils +emphasizing its upper half; dust over everything and the cobwebs +mentioned by Keziah draping the corners of the ceiling; this was the +dining room of the Regular parsonage as Grace saw it upon this, her +first visit. The dust and cobwebs were, in her eyes, the only novelties, +however. Otherwise, the room was like many others in Trumet, and, if +there had been one or two paintings of ships, would have been typical of +the better class. + +“Phew!” exclaimed Keziah, sniffing disgustedly. “Musty and shut up +enough, ain't it? Down here in the dampness, and 'specially in the +spring, it don't take any time for a house to get musty if it ain't +aired out regular. Mr. Langley died only three months ago, but we've +been candidatin' ever since and the candidates have been boarded round. +There's been enough of 'em, too; we're awful hard to suit, I guess. +That's it. Do open some more blinds and a window. Fresh air don't hurt +anybody--unless it's spiders,” with a glare at the loathed cobwebs. + +The blinds and a window being opened, more light entered the room. Grace +glanced about it curiously. + +“So this is going to be your new home now, Aunt Keziah,” she observed. +“How queer that seems.” + +“Um--h'm. Does seem queer, don't it? Must seem queer to you to be so +near the headquarters of everything your uncle thinks is wicked. Smell +of brimstone any, does it?” she asked with a smile. + +“No, I haven't noticed it. You've got a lot of cleaning to do. I wish I +could help. Look at the mud on the floor.” + +Keziah looked. + +“Mud?” she exclaimed. “Why, so 'tis! How in the world did that come +here? Wet feet, sure's you're born. Man's foot, too. Cap'n Elkanah's, +I guess likely; though the prints don't look hardly big enough for his. +Elkanah's convinced that he's a great man and his boots bear him out +in it, don't they? Those marks don't look broad enough for his +understandin', but I guess he made 'em; nobody else could. Here's the +settin' room.” + +She threw open another door. A room gloomy with black walnut and +fragrant with camphor was dimly visible. + +“Cheerful's a tomb, ain't it?” was Mrs. Coffin's comment. “Well, we'll +get some light and air in here pretty soon. Here's the front hall and +there's the front stairs. The parlor's off to the left. We won't bother +with that yet a while. This little place in here is what Mr. Langley +used to call his 'study.' Halloa! how this door sticks!” + +The door did stick, and no amount of tugging could get it open, though +Grace added her efforts to those of Keziah. + +“'Tain't locked,” commented Mrs. Coffin, “cause there ain't any lock on +it. I guess it's just swelled and stuck from the damp. Though it's odd, +I don't remember--Oh, well! never mind. Let's sweeten up this settin' +room a little. Open a window or two in here. We'll have to hurry if we +want to do anything before it gets dark. I'm goin' into the kitchen to +get a broom.” + +She hurried out, returning in a moment or two with a broom and a most +disgusted expression. + +“How's a body goin' to sweep with that?” she demanded, exhibiting the +frayed utensil, the business end of which was worn to a stub. “More +like a shovel, enough sight. Well, there's pretty nigh dust enough for +a shovel, so maybe this'll take off the top layers. S'pose I'll ever get +this house fit for Mr. Ellery to live in before he comes? I wonder if +he's a particular man?” + +Grace, who was struggling with a refractory window, paused for breath. + +“I'm sure I don't know,” she replied. “I've never seen him.” + +“Nor I either. Sol was so bad the Sunday he preached that I couldn't go +to meetin'. They say his sermon was fine; all about those who go down to +the sea in ships. That's what got the parish committee, I guess; they're +all old salts. I wonder if he's as fine-lookin' as they say?” + +Miss Van Horne tossed her head. She was resting, prior to making another +assault on the window. + +“I don't know,” she said. “And I'm sure I don't care. I don't like +good-looking ministers.” + +“Deary me! You're different from most females in this town, then. And +you spoke of his good looks yourself this very mornin'. Why don't you +like the good-lookin' ones?” + +“Oh, because they're always conceited and patronizing and superior--and +spoiled. I can just imagine this Mr. Ellery of yours strutting about in +sewing circle or sociables, with Annabel and Georgianna Lothrop and the +rest simpering and gushing and getting in his way: 'O Mr. Ellery, I did +so enjoy that sermon of yours Sunday!' and 'O Mr. Ellery, it was SO good +of you to come this afternoon!' Pooh! I'm glad I'm a Come-Outer. Not +that I would simper over him if I wasn't. He couldn't patronize me--not +more than once, at any rate.” + +Keziah was greatly amused. + +“Sakes alive!” she chuckled. “You're awfully high and mighty, seems to +me. And changeable since mornin'. You was willin' enough to talk about +him then. Now, Gracie, you mustn't take a spite against poor Mr. Ellery +just because I've got to keep house for him. 'Tain't his fault; he don't +even know it yet.” + +“I don't care. I know he'll be a conceited little snippet and I shall +hate the sight of him. There! there! Auntie, you mustn't mind me. I +told you I was a selfish pig. But don't you ask me to LIKE this precious +minister of yours, because I shan't do it. He has no business to come +and separate me from the best friend I've got. I'd tell him so if he was +here--What was that?” + +Both women looked at each other with startled faces. They listened +intently. + +“Why, wa'n't that funny!” whispered Keziah. “I thought I heard--” + +“You DID hear. So did I. What do you suppose--” + +“S-s-s-h-h! It sounded from the front room somewhere. And yet there +can't be anybody in there, because--My soul! there 'tis again. I'm goin' +to find out.” + +She grasped the stubby broom by the handle and moved determinedly toward +the front hall. Grace seized her by the arm. + +“Don't you do it, auntie!” she whispered frantically. “Don't you DO it! +It may be a tramp.” + +“I don't care. Whoever or whatever it is, it has no business in this +house, and I'll make that plain in a hurry. Just like as not it's a cat +got in when Elkanah was here this forenoon. Don't be scared, Grace. Come +right along.” + +The girl came along, but not with enthusiasm. They tiptoed through the +dark, narrow hall and peered into the parlor. This apartment was dim and +still and gloomy, as all proper parlors should be, but there was no sign +of life. + +“Humph!” sniffed Keziah. “It might have been upstairs, but it didn't +sound so. What did it sound like to you?” + +“Like a footstep at first; and then like something falling--and +rustling. Oh, what is the matter?” + +Mrs. Coffin was glancing back down the hall with a strange expression on +her face. Her grip upon the broom handle tightened. + +“What IS it?” pleaded the girl in an agonized whisper. + +“Grace,” was the low reply, “I've just remembered somethin'. That study +door isn't stuck from the damp, because--well, because I remember now +that it was open this mornin'.” + +Before her companion could fully grasp the import of this paralyzing +fact, Keziah strode down the hall and seized the knob of the study door. + +“Whoever you are in there,” she commanded sternly, “open this door and +come out this minute. Do you hear? I'm orderin' you to come out.” + +There was an instant of silence; then a voice from within made answer, a +man's voice, and its tone indicated embarrassment. + +“Madam,” it said, “I--I am--I will be out in another minute. If you will +just be patient--” + +Grace interrupted with a smothered shriek. Keziah brandished the broom. + +“Patient!” she repeated sharply. “Well, I like that! What do you mean +by--Open that door! Grace, run out and get the--the constable.” + +This command was delivered entirely for effect. The office of constable +in Trumet is, generally speaking, a purely honorary one. Its occupant +had just departed for a week's cruise as mate of a mackerel schooner. +However, the effect was instantaneous. From behind the door came sounds +of hurry and commotion. + +“Don't get the police on my account, please,” said the voice. “If you +will be patient until I get this--I'm just as anxious to come out as you +can be to have me. Of all the ridiculous--” + +“Come out then!” snapped Keziah. “Come out! If you're so everlastin' +anxious, then come out. Patience! Of all the cheek! Why don't you come +out NOW?” + +The answer was brisk and to the point. Evidently, the unknown's stock of +the virtue which he demanded of others was diminishing. + +“Well, to be frank, since you insist,” snapped the voice, “I'm not fully +dressed.” + +This was a staggerer. For once Keziah did not have a reply ready. +She looked at Grace and the latter at her. Then, without words, they +retreated to the sitting room. + +“Shall--shall I go for help?” whispered the girl. “Hadn't we better +leave him here and--He doesn't sound like a tramp, does he. What DO you +suppose--” + +“I hope you won't be alarmed,” continued the voice, broken by panting +pauses, as if the speaker was struggling into a garment. “I know this +must seem strange. You see, I came on the coach as far as Bayport +and then we lost a wheel in a rut. There was a--oh, dear! where IS +that--this is supremely idiotic!--I was saying there happened to be a +man coming this way with a buggy and he offered to help me along. He was +on his way to Wellmouth. So I left my trunk to come later and took my +valise. It rained on the way and I was wet through. I stopped at Captain +Daniels's house and the girl said he had gone with his daughter to the +next town, but that they were to stop here at the parsonage on their +way. So--there! that's right, at last!--so I came, hoping to find them. +The door was open and I came in. The captain and his daughter were not +here, but, as I was pretty wet, I thought I would seize the opportunity +to change my clothes. I had some dry--er--things in my valise and +I--well, then you came, you see, and--I assure you I--well, it was the +most embarrassing--I'm coming now.” + +The door opened. The two in the sitting room huddled close together, +Keziah holding the broom like a battle-ax, ready for whatsoever might +develop. From the dimness of the tightly shuttered study stepped the +owner of the voice, a stranger, a young man, his hair rumpled, his +tie disarranged, and the buttons of his waistcoat filling the wrong +buttonholes. Despite this evidence of a hasty toilet in semidarkness, he +was not unprepossessing. Incidentally, he was blushing furiously. + +“I'm--I'm sure I beg your pardon, ladies,” he stammered. “I scarcely +know what to say to you. I--” + +His eyes becoming accustomed to the light in the sitting room, he was +now able to see his captors more clearly. He looked at Keziah, then at +Miss Van Horne, and another wave of blushes passed from his collar up +into the roots of his hair. Grace blushed, too, though, as she perfectly +well knew, there was no reason why she should. + +Mrs. Coffin did not blush. This young fellow, although evidently not a +tramp or a burglar, had caused her some moments of distinct uneasiness, +and she resented the fact. + +“Well,” she observed rather tartly, “I'm sorry you don't know what to +say, but perhaps you might begin by telling us who you are and what you +mean by makin' a--er--dressin' room of a house that don't belong to +you, just because you happened to find the door unlocked. After that +you might explain why you didn't speak up when we first come, instead +of keepin' so mighty quiet. That looks kind of suspicious to me, I must +say.” + +The stranger's answer was prompt enough now. It was evident he resented +the suspicion. + +“I didn't speak,” he said, “because you took me by surprise and I +wasn't, as I explained--er--presentable. Besides, I was afraid of +frightening you. I assure you I hurried as fast as I could, quietly, and +when you began to talk”--his expression changed and there was a twitch +at the corner of his mouth--“I tried to hurry still faster, hoping you +might not hear me and I could make my appearance--or my escape--sooner. +As for entering the house--well, I considered it, in a way, my house; at +least, I knew I should live in it for a time, and--” + +“Live in it?” repeated Keziah. “LIVE in it? Why! mercy on us! you don't +mean to say you're--” + +She stopped to look at Grace. That young lady was looking at her with +an expression which, as it expressed so very much, is beyond ordinary +powers of description. + +“My name is Ellery,” said the stranger. “I am the minister--the new +minister of the Regular society.” + +Then even Keziah blushed. + + +CHAPTER III + +IN WHICH KEZIAH ASSUMES A GUARDIANSHIP + + +Didama would have given her eyeteeth--and, for that matter, the entire +upper set--to have been present in that parsonage sitting room when the +Rev. John Ellery made his appearance. But the fates were against Didama +that day and it was months afterwards before she, or any of what +Captain Zeb Mayo called the “Trumet Daily Advertisers,” picked up a hint +concerning it. Keziah and Grace, acquainted with the possibilities of +these volunteer news gatherers, were silent, and the Reverend John, +being in some respects a discreet young man with a brand-new ministerial +dignity to sustain, refrained from boasting of the sensation he had +caused. He thought of it very often, usually at most inconvenient times, +and when, by all the requirements of his high calling, his thought +should have been busy with different and much less worldly matters. + +“I declare!” said Mrs. Thankful Payne, after the new minister's first +call at her residence, a week after his arrival at Trumet, “if Mr. +Ellery ain't the most sympathetic man. I was readin' out loud to him +the poem my cousin Huldy B.--her that married Hannibal Ellis over to +Denboro--made up when my second husband was lost to sea, and I'd just +got to the p'int in the ninth verse where it says: + + 'The cruel billows crash and roar, + And the frail craft is tempest-tossed, + But the bold mariner thinks not of life, but says, + “It is the fust schooner ever I lost.”' + +And 'twas, too, and the last, poor thing! Well, I just got fur as this +when I looked up and there was the minister lookin' out of the window +and his face was just as red, and he kept scowlin' and bitin' his +lips. I do believe he was all but sheddin' tears. Sympathy like that I +appreciate.” + +As a matter of fact, Mr. Ellery had just seen Grace Van Horne pass that +window. She had not seen him, but for the moment he was back in that +disgusting study, making a frenzied toilet in the dusk and obliged to +overhear remarks pointedly personal to himself. + +Grace left the parsonage soon after the supposed tramp disclosed +his identity. Her farewells were hurried and she firmly refused Mrs. +Coffin's not too-insistent appeal to return to the house “up street” + and have supper. She said she was glad to meet Mr. Ellery. The young +minister affirmed his delight in meeting her. Then she disappeared in +the misty twilight and John Ellery surreptitiously wiped his perspiring +forehead with his cuff, having in his late desire for the primal +necessities forgotten such a trifling incidental as a handkerchief. + +“Well, Mr. Ellery,” observed Keziah, turning to her guest, or employer, +or incumbrance--at present she was more inclined to consider him the +latter--“well, Mr. Ellery, this has been kind of unexpected for all +hands, ain't it? If I'd known you was comin' to-day, I'd have done my +best to have things ready, but Cap'n Elkanah said not before day after +to-morrow and--but there, what's the use of talkin' that way? I didn't +know I was goin' to keep house for you till this very forenoon. Mercy +me, what a day this has been!” + +The minister smiled rather one-sidedly. + +“It's been something of a day for me,” he admitted. “I am ahead of time +and I've made a lot of trouble, I'm afraid. But yesterday afternoon I +was ready and, to tell the truth, I was eager to come and see my new +home and get at my work. So I started on the morning train. Then the +stage broke down and I began to think I was stranded at Bayport. +But this kind-hearted chap from Wellmouth--I believe that's where he +lived--happened to pull up to watch us wrestling with the smashed wheel, +and when he found I was in a hurry to get to Trumet, offered to give me +a lift. His name was--was Bird. No, that wasn't it, but it was something +like Bird, or some kind of a bird.” + +“Bird?” repeated Keziah thoughtfully. “There's no Birds that I know of +in Wellmouth. Hum! Hey? 'Twa'n't Sparrow, was it?” + +“That was it--Sparrow.” + +“Good land! Emulous Sparrow. Run consider'ble to whiskers and tongue, +didn't he?” + +“Why, yes; he did wear a beard. As for tongue--well, he was +conversational, if that's what you mean.” + +“That's what I mean. If you rode twelve mile with Emulous, you must have +had an earache for the last six. Did he ask a question or two about your +personal affairs, here and there between times?” + +Mr. Ellery laughed. + +“Yes, one or two, between times,” he admitted. + +“I shan't die of surprise. Did you tell him who you was?” + +“No-o, to be honest, I didn't. He was so very anxious to find out, +that--well, I dodged. I think he believed I was going to visit Captain +Daniels.” + +“Good enough! If I was governor of this state I wouldn't send any +Thanksgivin' proclamations down this way. I'd just write Em Peters and +Didama Rogers and a couple more like them and save myself the trouble. +They'd have all I wanted to proclaim spread from one end of the county +to the other in less'n a day, and a peck or two of extrys pitched in +for good measure. I'm awful glad you didn't tell Emulous you was the +minister. You see, Trumet's Trumet, and, considerin' everything, maybe +it's just as well nobody knows about your bein' shut up in that study. +Not but what 'twas all right, you know, but--” + +“I understand. I'm not proud of it. Still, some one may have seen me +come here.” + +“No, no, they didn't. This fog is as thick as Injun-meal puddin'. Nobody +saw you.” + +“Well,” with some hesitation, “the young lady who was here with you--” + +“Oh, Grace Van Horne! She's all right. She won't tell. She ain't that +kind.” + +“Van Horne? That doesn't sound like a New England name.” + +“'Tisn't. Her folks come from Jersey somewheres. But she was adopted +by old Cap'n Hammond, who keeps the tavern down on the bay shore by the +packet wharf, and she's lived in Trumet since she was six years old. Her +father was Teunis Van Horne, and he was mate on Cap'n Eben's coastin' +schooner and was drowned off Hatteras. Eben was saved just by the skin +of his teeth and got a broken hip and religion while it happened. His +hip's better except that he's some lame; but his religion's been more +and more feverish ever since. He's one of the head Come-Outers, and +built their chapel with his own money. You mustn't think I'm speakin' +lightly of religion, nor of Cap'n Eben, either. He's a dear good soul as +ever was, but he is the narrowest kind of Come-Outer. His creed is +just about as wide as the chapel door, and that's as narrow as the way +leadin' to salvation; it IS the way, too, so the Come-Outers think.” + +“What are Come-Outers? Some new sect?” + +“Sakes alive! Haven't you heard of Come-Outers? Cat's foot! Well, you'll +hear of 'em often enough from now on. They're folks who used to go to +our church, the Regular, but left because the services was too worldly, +with organs and choir singin', and the road to paradise too easy. No +need for me to tell you any more. You'll learn.” + +Mr. Ellery was interested. He had been in Trumet but once before, on the +occasion when he preached his trial sermon, and of that memorable +visit remembered little except the sermon itself, the pews filled +with captains and their families, and the awe-inspiring personality of +Captain Elkanah Daniels, who had been his host. To a young man, the ink +upon his diploma from the theological school still fresh, a trial sermon +is a weighty matter, and the preaching of it weightier still. He had +rehearsed it over and over in private, had delivered it almost through +clinched teeth, and had returned to his room in the Boston boarding +house with the conviction that it was an utter failure. Captain Elkanah +and the gracious Miss Annabel, his daughter, had been kind enough to +express gratification, and their praise alone saved him from despair. +Then, to his amazement, the call had come. Of casual conversation at the +church and about the Daniels's table he could recall nothing. So there +was another religious organization in town and that made up of seceders +from his own church. He was surprised. + +“Er--this Miss Van Horne?” he asked. “Is she a--Come-Outer?” + +Mrs. Coffin nodded. + +“Yes,” she said. “She's one. Couldn't be anything else and live with her +Uncle Eben, as she calls him.” + +The minister experienced a curious feeling of disappointment and +chagrin. This young person, already predisposed to regard a clergyman of +his denomination with disapproval, had seen him for the first time under +most humiliating circumstances. And he should never have the opportunity +to regain her favor, or his own self-respect, by his efforts in the +pulpit. No matter how well he might preach she would never hear him. + +“Has this Captain Hammond no children of his own?” he asked. + +Keziah's answer was short for her. + +“Yes,” she said. “One.” + +“Ah! another daughter?” + +“No, a son. Name's Nathaniel, and he's a sea captain. He's on his way +from Surinam to New York now. They expect him to make port most any +time, I believe. Now, Mr. Ellery, I s'pose we've got to arrange for your +supper and stayin' overnight; and with this house the way 'tis and all, +I don't see--” + +But the minister was still interested in the Hammond household. + +“This Nathaniel Hammond?” he asked. “You don't seem enthusiastic over +him. Is he a black sheep?” + +This reply also was short, but emphatic. + +“No,” said Keziah. “He's a fine man.” + +Then she resumed her semisoliloquy concerning her companion's +entertainment. + +“I guess,” she said, “that the best thing for you to do will be to go to +Cap'n Elkanah's. They'll be real glad to see you, I know, and you'll +be in time for supper, for Elkanah and Annabel have been to Denboro and +they'll be late home. They can keep you overnight, too, for it's a big +house with lots of rooms. Then, after breakfast to-morrow you come right +here. I'll have things somewhere near shipshape by then, I guess, though +the cleanin'll have to be mainly a lick and a promise until I can really +get at it. Your trunk'll be here on the coach, I s'pose, and that'll be +through early in the forenoon. Get on your hat and coat and I'll go with +you to Elkanah's.” + +The young man demurred a little at thrusting himself upon the +hospitality of the Daniels's home, but Keziah assured him that his +unexpected coming would cause no trouble. So he entered the now dark +study and came out wearing his coat and carrying his hat and valise in +his hand. + +“I'm sure I'm ever so much obliged to you,” he said. “And, as we are +going to be more or less together--or at least I guess as much from what +you say--would you mind if I suggest a mutual introduction. I'm John +Ellery; you know that already. And you--” + +Keziah stopped short on her way to the door. + +“Well, I declare!” she exclaimed. “If I ain't the very worst! Fact is, +you dropped in so ahead of time and in such a irregular sort of way, +that I never once thought of introducin' anybody; and I'm sure Grace +didn't. I'm Keziah Coffin, and Cap'n Elkanah and I signed articles, so +to speak, this mornin', and I'm goin' to keep house for you.” + +She explained the reason upsetting the former arrangement by which +Lurania Phelps was to have had the position. + +“So I'm to keep house for you,” she concluded. Adding: “For a spell, +anyhow.” + +“Why do you say that?” asked the minister. + +“Well, you might not like me. You may be particular, you know.” + +“I think I can run that risk.” + +“Yes; well, you can't tell. Or I might not like you. You see, I'm pretty +particular myself,” she added with a laugh. + +At the Daniels's door Keziah turned her new charge over to Matilda Snow, +the hired girl. It was an indication of the family's social position +that they kept “hired help.” This was unusual in Trumet in those days, +even among the well to do. + +“Good night,” said the young man, extending his hand. “Good night, +Miss--or is it Mrs.--Coffin?” + +“Mrs. Good night.” + +“She's a widow,” explained Matilda. “Husband died 'fore she come back +here to live. Guess he didn't amount to much; she never mentions his +name.” + +“There was one thing I meant to tell her,” mused the minister, +hesitating on the threshold. “I meant to tell her not to attempt any +cleaning up at the parsonage to-night. To-morrow will do just as well.” + +“Heavens to Betsy!” sniffed the “hired help,” speaking from the depths +of personal conviction, “nobody but a born fool would clean house in the +night, 'specially after the cleanin' she's been doin' at her own place. +I guess you needn't worry.” + +So Mr. Ellery did not worry. And yet, until three o'clock of the +following morning, the dull light of a whale-oil lantern illuminated the +rooms of the parsonage as Keziah scrubbed and swept and washed, giving +to the musty place the “lick and promise” she had prophesied. If the +spiders had prepared those ascension robes, they could have used them +that night. + +After breakfast the wagons belonging to the Wellmouth furniture dealer +drove in at the gate of the little house opposite Captain Elkanah's, and +Keziah saw, with a feeling of homesickness which she hid beneath smiles +and a rattle of conversation, the worn household treasures which had +been hers, and her brother's before her, carried away out of her life. +Then her trunks were loaded on the tailboards of the wagons, to be left +at the parsonage, and with a sigh and a quick brush of her hand across +her eyes, she locked the door for the last time and walked briskly down +the road. Soon afterwards John Ellery, under the eminently respectable +escort of Captain Elkanah and Miss Annabel, emerged from the Daniels's +gate and followed her. Mrs. Didama Rogers, thankful for a clear +atmosphere and an unobstructed view, saw them pass and recognized the +stranger. And, within a quarter of an hour, she, arrayed in a hurried +calling costume, was spreading the news along the main road. The “Trumet +Daily Advertiser” had, so to speak, issued an extra. + +Thus the new minister came to Trumet and thus Keziah Coffin became his +housekeeper. She entered upon her duties with the whole-hearted energy +peculiar to her. She was used to hard work, and, as she would have said, +felt lonesome without it. She cleaned that parsonage from top to bottom. +Every blind was thrown open and the spring sunshine poured in upon the +braided mats and the rag carpets. Dust flew in clouds for the first +day or two, but it flew out of windows and doors and was not allowed to +settle within. The old black walnut furniture glistened with oil. The +mirrors and the crockery sparkled from baths of hot water and soap. Even +St. Stephen, in the engravings on the dining-room wall, was forced to a +martyrdom of the fullest publicity, because the spots and smears on the +glass covering his sufferings were violently removed. In the sleeping +rooms upstairs the feather beds were beaten and aired, the sheets and +blankets and patchwork comforters exposed to the light, and the window +curtains dragged down and left to flap on the clothesline. The smell of +musty dampness disappeared from the dining room and the wholesome odors +of outdoors and of good things cooking took its place. + +Keziah, in the midst of her labors, found time to coach her employer +and companion in Trumet ways, and particularly in the ways which Trumet +expected its clergymen to travel. On the morning following his first +night in the parsonage, he expressed himself as feeling the need of +exercise. He thought he should take a walk. + +“Well,” said his housekeeper from her station opposite him at the +breakfast table, “if I was you I wouldn't take too long a one. You'd +better be back here by ten, anyhow. Where was you thinkin' of goin'?” + +Mr. Ellery had no particular destination in mind. He would like to see +something of the village and, perhaps, if she could give him the names +of a few of his parishioners, he might make a few calls. Keziah shook +her head. + +“Gracious goodness!” she exclaimed. “I wouldn't advise you to do that. +You ain't been here long enough to make forenoon calls. If you should +catch some of the women in this town with aprons and calico on, they'd +never forgive you in this world. Wait till afternoon; they'll be +expectin' you then and they'll be rigged out in their best bibs and +tuckers. S'pose you found Annabel Daniels with her hair done up in +curl papers; what do you think would happen? Mornin's are no time +for ministers' calls. Even old Mr. Langley never made calls in the +forenoon--and he'd been here thirty-odd years.” + +“All right, you know best. Much obliged for the advice. Then I'll simply +take my walk and leave the calls until later.” + +“I'd be back by ten, though. Folks'll begin callin' on you by that +time.” + +“They will? Doesn't the rule work both ways?” + +“Not with new ministers it don't. Cat's foot! You don't s'pose Didama +Rogers and Laviny Pepper and their kind'll wait any longer'n they can +help afore they come to see what you look like, do you?” + +“Well, they must have seen me when I preached here before. I remember--” + +“Mercy on us! that was in meetin'. Meetin's diff'rent. All they could +say to you then was how much they liked your sermon. They say that to +every minister that comes, no matter how they may pick him to pieces +afterwards. But here they can ask you questions; about how you came to +come here and what you think of it far's you've got, and what your views +are on certain points in the creed. Likewise, who your folks were and +whether they was well off, and a few things like that. Then they'll want +to see what kind of clothes you wear and--” + +“Whew!” Ellery whistled. “You're unfolding a pleasant prospect for me, I +must say. Am I supposed to be catechized on all of my private affairs?” + +“Of course! A minister hasn't got any private affairs; he's a public +character. There!” she laughed, as she poured the coffee, “I mustn't +discourage you. But don't you see that every mother's son--and, for that +matter, every daughter and children's child unto the third and fourth +generation--feel that, so long as they pay pew rent or put a cent in the +collection, they own a share in you. And we always keep a watch on our +investments down this way. That's the Yankee shrewdness you read so much +about, I guess.” + +The minister absently played with his spoon. + +“I'm afraid you're a cynic,” he said. + +“No, no, I ain't. Though sometimes, considerin' everything, I feel as +though I had excuse enough if I wanted to belong to that tribe. But +you're young. You mustn't mind my sayin' that; if you was old, of +course, I wouldn't talk about ages. But you are young and this is your +first church. So you must start right. I'm no cynic, bless you. I've got +trust in human nature left--most kinds of human nature. If I hadn't, I'd +have more money, I s'pose. Perhaps you've noticed that those who trust a +good deal are usually poor. It's all right, Mr. Ellery; you go and take +your walk. And I'll walk into that pantry closet. It'll be a good deal +like walkin' into the Slough of Despond, but Christian came out on the +other side and I guess likely I will, if the supply of soapsuds holds +out.” + +When, promptly at ten o'clock, the minister returned from his walk, +he found Mrs. Rogers waiting in the sitting room. It is a prime +qualification of an alert reporter to be first on the scene of +sensation. Didama was seldom beaten. Mr. Ellery's catechism began. +Before it was over Keziah opened the door to admit Miss Pepper and +her brother. “Kyan” was nervous and embarrassed in the housekeeper's +presence. Lavinia was a glacier, moving majestically and freezing as it +moved. Keziah, however, was not even touched by the frost; she greeted +the pair cordially, and begged them to “take off their things.” + +It was dinner time before the catechizers departed. The catechized came +to the table with an impaired appetite. He looked troubled. + +“Don't let it worry you, Mr. Ellery,” observed Keziah calmly. “I think +I can satisfy you. Honest and true, I ain't half as bad as you might +think.” + +The minister looked more troubled than before; also surprised. + +“Why, Mrs. Coffin!” he cried. “Could you hear--” + +“No, no! I couldn't hear nothin' in that closet except my own opinion +on dirt and dust. But if I was as deaf as the man that set on the +powder keg and dropped his pipe ashes into it, it wouldn't have made any +difference. The man said after they picked him up that they needn't have +been so rough, he'd have moved without bein' pushed if they'd have made +signs they wanted to use the keg. And if I was out in the next lot I'd +have known what you was listenin' to in that sittin' room. They hinted +that they were real sorry for you, but 'twasn't any of THEIR doin's. The +parish committee, bein' just men, was apt to make mistakes in certain +matters. Of course everything MIGHT be well enough, and if you wa'n't +TOO particular about cookin' and so on, why--Anyhow, you mustn't think +that THEY were criticisin'. 'Twas only that they took an interest +and--That was about it, wasn't it?” + +“Mrs. Coffin, I--I hope you don't think I paid any attention to their +remarks--of that kind, I mean. Honestly, I did my best to stop them. I +said--” + +“Man alive! I'm not worried. Why should you be? We were talkin' about +trust just now--or I was. Well, you and I'll have to take each other on +trust for a while, until we see whether we're goin' to suit. If you see +anything that I'm goin' wrong in, I wish you'd tell me. And I'll do the +same by you, if that's agreeable. You'll hear a lot of things said about +me, but if they're very bad I give you my word they ain't true. And, to +be real frank, I'll probably hear some about you, which I'll take for +what they're worth and considerin' who said 'em. That's a good wholesome +agreement, I think, for both of us. What do you think?” + +John Ellery said, with emphasis, that he thought well of it. He began to +realize that this woman, with her blunt common sense, was likely to be +a pilot worth having in the difficult waters which he must navigate as +skipper of the Regular church in Trumet. Also, he began to realize that, +as such a skipper, he was most inexperienced. And Captain Daniels +had spoken highly--condescendingly but highly--of his housekeeper's +qualifications and personality. So the agreement was ratified, with +relief on his part. + +The first Sunday came and with it the first sermon. He read that sermon +to Keziah on Saturday evening and she approved of it as a whole, though +she criticised some of its details. + +“Don't be afraid to put in plenty of salt,” she said. “Where you've +got the Christian life and spirit written down as bein' like a quiet, +peaceful home, free from all distrust, and like that, why don't you +change it to a good safe anchorage, where the soul can ride forever +without fear of breakers or no'theasters or the dangers besettin' the +mariner on a lee shore. They'll understand that; it gets right home to +'em. There's scarcely a man or a woman in your congregation that ain't +been out of sight of land for weeks on a stretch.” + +The breakfast hour on Sunday would be at nine o'clock, instead of seven, +as on week days, she told him. + +“Trumet lays to bed Sunday mornin's,” she explained. “It's almost a part +of its religion, as you might say, and lived up to more conscientious +than some other parts, I'm afraid. Six days shalt thou labor and wear +comfort'ble clothes; and on the seventh you must be lazy and dress up. +Likewise you must have baked beans Saturday for supper, as we're havin' +'em, and more beans with fish balls next mornin'. That is, if you want +to be orthodox.” + +The service began at eleven o'clock. At half past ten the sexton, +old Mr. Jubal Knowles, rang the “first bell,” a clanging five-minute +reminder. Twenty minutes later he began on the second and final call. +Mr. Ellery was ready--and nervous--before the first bell had finished +ringing. But Keziah, entering the sitting room dressed in black alpaca +and carrying the hymn book with her name in gilt letters on the cover, +forbade his leaving the parsonage thus early. + +“I shall go pretty soon,” she said, “but you mustn't. The minister ain't +expected until the last bell's 'most done. Parson Langley used to wait +until the Winslows went in. Gaius Winslow is a widower man who lives up +to the west end of the town and he's got nine children, all boys. You'll +know 'em because they always drive down to meetin' in one carryall with +a white horse. Gaius is as punctual as a boardin'-house dinner. The +old parson used to wait until the last Winslow had toddled up the +meetin'-house steps and then he'd come out of this side door with +his sermon in his hand. It's a pretty good rule to remember and saves +watchin' the clock. Besides, it's what we've been used to, and that goes +a good ways with some folks. Good-by, Mr. Ellery. You'll see me in the +third pew from the back, on the right side, wishin' you luck just as +hard as I can.” + +So, as in couples or family groups, afoot or in all sorts of vehicles, +the members of Trumet's Regular society came to the church to hear their +new minister, that functionary peeped under the parlor window shade of +the parsonage and waited, fidgetting and apprehensive, for the +Winslows. They arrived at last, and were not hard to recognize, for ten +individuals packed into one carriage are hard to overlook anywhere. As +Gaius, with the youngest in his arms, passed in at the church door, John +Ellery passed out of the parsonage gate. The last bell clanged its final +stroke, the vibrations ceased, the rustle of skirts and the sounds of +decorous coughing subsided and were succeeded by the dry rattle of the +hymn-book pages, the organ, presented by Captain Elkanah and played by +his daughter, uttered its preliminary groan, the service began. + +Outside the spring breeze stirred the budding silver-leafs, the distant +breakers grumbled, the crows in the pines near Captain Eben Hammond's +tavern cawed ribald answers to the screaming gulls perched along the top +of the breakwater. And seated on one of the hard benches of the little +Come-Outer chapel, Grace Van Horne heard her “Uncle Eben,” who, as +usual, was conducting the meeting, speak of “them who, in purple and +fine linen, with organs and trumpets and vain shows, are gathered +elsewhere in this community to hear a hired priest make a mock of the +gospel.” (A-MEN!) + +But John Ellery, the “hired priest,” knew nothing of this. He did know, +however, that he was the center of interest for his own congregation, +the people among whom he had been called to labor. Their praise or +criticism meant everything to him; therefore he preached for dear life. + +And Keziah Coffin, in the third pew from the back, watched him intently, +her mind working in sympathetic unison with his. She was not one to +be greatly influenced by first impressions, but she had been favorably +impressed by this young fellow, and had already begun to feel that sense +of guardianship and personal responsibility which, later on, was to make +Captain Zebedee Mayo nickname the minister “Keziah's Parson.” + +The sermon was a success. + + +CHAPTER IV + +IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON DECIDES TO RUN IT BLINDFOLD + + +On Monday afternoon the minister made a few calls. Keziah made out a +short list for him to follow, a “sort of chart of the main channel,” she +called it, “with the safe ports marked and the shoals and risky places +labeled dangerous.” + +“You see,” she said, “Trumet ain't a course you can navigate with your +eyes shut. We divide ourselves into about four sets--aristocrats, poor +relations, town folks, and scum. The aristocrats are the big bugs like +Cap'n Elkanah and the other well-off sea captains, afloat or ashore. +They 'most all go to the Regular church and the parish committee is +steered by 'em. The poor relations are mainly widows and such, whose +husbands died or were lost at sea. Most of them are Regulars. The town +folks are those that stay ashore and keep store or run salt works or +somethin'. And the scum work around on odd jobs or go fishin'. So, if +you really want to be safe, you must call on the aristocrats first, +after that on the poor relations, and so on down. You won't be bothered +with scum much; they're mainly Come-Outers.” + +Ellery took the list from her hand and looked it over. + +“Hum!” he said musingly. “Am I supposed to recognize these--er--class +distinctions?” + +“Yes. That is, not in meetin' or sewin' circle or anything like that, or +not out and out and open anywhere. But you want to cultivate a sort of +different handshake and how-dy-do for each set, so's to speak. Gush all +you want to over an aristocrat. Be thankful for advice and always SO +glad to see 'em. With the poor relations you can ease up on the gush and +maybe condescend some. Town folks expect condescension and superiority; +give it to 'em. When it comes to scum, why--well, any short kind of a +bow and a 'Mornin' 'll do for them. 'Course the Lord, in His infinite +mercy, made 'em, same as He did potato bugs, but it's necessary to keep +both bugs and them down to their proper place.” + +She delivered this in the intervals between trips to the kitchen with +the dinner dishes. The minister listened with a troubled expression on +his face. + +“Mrs. Coffin,” he said, “I guess I'm dull. There was a Scotch professor +at college and the fellows used to say his bump of humor was a dent. +Maybe mine isn't much better. Are you joking?” + +Keziah stacked the cups and saucers. + +“I ain't jokin',” she declared. “I've been a poor relation in this +village for a good while and my brother was a shoemaker and on the upper +fringe of the town-folk class. My humor bump would have to stick up like +Cannon Hill afore I could see any joke in that.” + +“But you're not seriously advising me to treat a rich man differently +from a poor one?” + +“Not openly different--no. But if you want to steer a perfectly SAFE +course, one that'll keep deep water under your keel the whole voyage, +why, there's your chart.” + +Mr. Ellery promptly tore the “chart” into small pieces. + +“I'm going out,” he said. “I shall be back by supper time.” + +Mrs. Coffin eyed him grimly. + +“Goin' to run it blindfold, are you?” she asked. + +“Yes, I am.” + +Her grimness disappeared and she smiled. + +“I'll have your supper ready for you,” she said. “Bring back a good +appetite.” + +The young man hesitated on the threshold. + +“Mrs. Coffin,” he demanded, “would YOU have called only on the +aristocrats at first?” + +She shook her head, smiling still. + +“No,” she replied, “not me. I've always taken risks. But I didn't +know but you might be a safe sailor. It saves a lot of trouble in this +world.” + +“How about the next?” + +“Oh, well, perhaps even the scum may count for somethin' over there.” + She turned to face him and her smile vanished. “Go on, Mr. Ellery,” she +said. “Go and call where you please. Far be it from me that I should +tell you to do anything else. I suppose likely you hope some day to be +a great preacher. I hope you will. But I'd enough sight rather you was a +good man than the very greatest. No reason why you can't be both. There +was a preacher over in Galilee once, so you told us yesterday, who was +just good. 'Twa'n't till years afterwards that the crowd came to realize +that he was great, too. And, if I recollect right, he chummed in with +publicans and sinners. I'm glad you tore up that fool paper of mine. I +hoped you might when I gave it to you. Now you run along, and I'll wash +dishes. If cleanliness is next to godliness, then a parson ought to eat +out of clean plates.” + +As a matter of fact, the minister's calls were in the nature of a +compromise, although an unintentional one. He dropped in on Zebedee +Mayo, owner of the big house on the slope of the hill. Captain Zeb took +him up into what he called his “cupoler,” the observatory on the top of +the house, and showed him Trumet spread out like a map. The main road +was north and south, winding and twisting its rutted, sandy way. Along +it were clustered the principal houses and shops, shaded by silver-leaf +poplars, a few elms, and some willows and spruces. Each tree bent +slightly away from the northeast, the direction from which blew the +heavy winter gales. Beyond the main road were green slopes and pastures, +with swamps in the hollows, swamps which were to be cranberry bogs in +the days to come. Then the lower road, with more houses, and, farther +on, the beach, the flats--partially uncovered because it was high +tide--and the bay. + +Behind the Mayo house was the crest of Cannon Hill, more hills, pastures +and swamps, scattered houses and pine groves. Then began the tumbled, +humped waste of sand dunes, and, over their ragged fringes of beach plum +and bayberry bushes, the deep blue of the wide Atlantic. The lighthouse +was a white dot and the fish shanties a blotch of brown. Along the inner +edge of the blue were scars of dancing white, the flashing teeth of +hungry shoals which had torn to pieces and swallowed many a good ship. +And, far out, dotted and sprinkled along the horizon, were sails. + +“See?” said Captain Zeb, puffing still from the exertion of climbing +the ladder to the “cupoler,” for he was distinctly “fleshy.” “See? The +beacon's up. Packet come in this mornin'. There she is. See her down +there by the breakwater?” + +Sure enough, the empty barrel, painted red, was hoisted to the top of +its pole on the crest of Cannon Hill. And, looking down at the bay and +following the direction of the stubby pointing finger, Ellery saw a +little schooner, with her sails lowered, lying, slightly on her side, +in a shallow pool near a long ridge of piled stones--the breakwater. A +small wharf made out from the shore and black figures moved briskly upon +it. Carts were alongside the schooner and there more dots were busy. + +“Eben's pennant's flyin',” said Captain Zeb. “He always sets colors +when the packet's in. Keeps packet tavern, Eben does. That's it, that +old-fashioned, gambrel-roofed house on the rise by the wharf. Call it +'Saints' Rest,' they do now, 'cause Eben's so mighty religious.” + +The minister saw the long, rambling house, with one lonely, twisted tree +in its yard, a flag flying from a pole beside it. So that was where +the Hammonds lived. And where the girl lived who was certain he was a +“conceited snippet.” Whatever he might be in reality he hoped it was not +that. “Snippet” was not in his dictionary, but he didn't like the sound +of it. + +“Who owns the packet?” he asked, to make conversation. + +“Zach Foster. Married Freewill Doane's daughter over to Harniss. She's +dead now.” + +“A good sailor, is he?” + +Captain Zeb spat in supreme disgust. + +“Good farmer!” he snorted. “Zach took over the packet for a debt when +the chap that used to run her died. His dad, old man Foster, raised +garden truck at the same time mine went to sea. Both of us took after +our fathers, I guess. Anyhow, my wife says that when I die 'twill be of +salt water on the brain, and I'm sure Zach's head is part cabbage. Been +better for him if he'd stuck to his garden. However, I s'pose he does +his best.” + +“They say angels can do no more.” + +“Um-m. Well, Zach'll be an angel pretty soon if he keeps on cruisin' +with that old hooker as she is. 'Bijah Perry, he's mate and the only +good seaman aboard, tells me that most of the riggin's rotten and the +main topmast ain't sound, by a good deal. The old man's put off havin' +her overhauled for two reasons, one that repairs cost money, and t'other +that puttin' off is the main sheet of his gospel. When there's no rain +the roof don't leak and long's it don't blow too hard 'most any kind of +gear'll hold. That's philosophy--cabbage philosophy.” + +Ellery decided that he should like Captain Zeb, although it was evident +that the old whaler had decided opinions of his own which he did not +hesitate to express. He judged that the Mayos were of the so-called +aristocracy, but undoubtedly unique specimens. He visited four more +households that afternoon. The last call was at Mrs. Thankful Payne's, +and while there, listening to the wonderful “poem,” he saw Miss Van +Horne pass the window, as has already been told. He came home to a Cape +Cod supper of scalloped clams, hot biscuits, and baked Indian pudding, +and Keziah greeted him with a cheery smile which made him feel that it +WAS home. His summary disposal of the “chart” had evidently raised him +in his housekeeper's estimation. She did not ask a single question as to +where he had been. + +Next day he had a taste of Trumet's real aristocracy, the genuine +article. Captain Elkanah Daniels and his daughter made their first +formal call. The captain was majestic in high hat, fur-collared cape, +tailed coat, and carrying a gold-headed cane. Miss Annabel wore her +newest gown and bonnet and rustled as she walked. They entered the +sitting room and the lady glanced superciliously about the apartment. + +“Hum--ha!” barked Captain Elkanah. “Ahem! Mr. Ellery, I trust you're +being made comfortable. The parish committee are--hum--ah--anxious that +you should be. Yes?” + +The minister said that he was very comfortable indeed. + +“It isn't what you've been used to, we know,” observed Miss Annabel. +“Mr. Langley, our former pastor, was a sweet old gentleman, but he was +old-fashioned and his tastes were queer, especially in art. Have you +noticed that 'fruit piece' in the dining room? Isn't it too ridiculous?” + +Ellery admitted that the fruit piece was rather funny; but no doubt it +had been a gift and so + +--“Yes, indeed. I guess it was a present, fast enough. Nobody would buy +such a thing. It seems strange to pa and me that, although so many of +our people have been abroad, they have such strange ideas of art. Do you +remember the beautiful marbles in the palaces at Florence, Mr. Ellery? +Of course you've seen them?” + +The minister was obliged to admit that he had never been abroad. + +“Oh, is that so? I've been so many times with pa that it seems almost +as if everybody was as familiar with Yurrup as I am. You remember what I +said about the marbles, pa?” + +Her parent nodded. + +“Hum--ha! Oh, yes, yes,” he said. “That was when I was in the +fruit-carrying trade and made a voyage to Valenchy.” + +“Valencia, pa,” corrected Annabel. “And Valencia is in Spain.” + +“I know it. But we went to Leghorn afterwards. I sailed to Cronstadt for +some years regular. Cronstadt is in Rooshy, Mr. Ellery.” + +“Russia, pa,” snapped his daughter. Then she changed the subject to +church and parish affairs. They spoke of the sewing circle and the +reading society and the Friday-evening meetings. + +“The Come-Outers are so vexed with us,” tittered Miss Annabel, “that +they won't even hold prayer meeting on the same night as ours. They have +theirs on Thursday nights and it's as good as a play to hear them shout +and sing and carry on. You'll enjoy the Come-Outers, Mr. Ellery. They're +a perfect delight.” + +And as they rose to go Captain Elkanah asked: + +“Is there anything you'd like done about the parsonage, Mr. Ellery? +If so, it shall be done immejitly. How are you satisfied with your +housekeeper?” + +“Very well, indeed, Captain Daniels,” was the prompt reply. + +“She's a character, isn't she?” giggled Annabel. “She was born here +in Trumet, but went away to New Bedford when she was young and grew up +there. Her maiden name was Hall, but while she was away she married a +man named Ansel Coffin. They didn't live together very long and weren't +happy, I guess. I don't know whose fault it was, nobody knows much +of anything about it, for that's the one thing she won't talk about. +Anyhow, the Coffin man was lost to sea, and after a while she came back +to keep house for her brother Solomon. She's an awful odd stick, but +she's a good cook, I believe; though I'm afraid you won't get the meals +people such as ourselves, who've been so much in the city, are used to.” + +Ellery thought of the meals at his city boarding house and shuddered. He +was an orphan and had boarded for years. Incidentally, he had worked his +way through college. Captain Elkanah cleared his throat. + +“Keziah,” he commanded. “Hum--ha! Keziah, come in here a minute.” + +Keziah came in response to the call, her sewing in her hand. The +renovation of the parsonage had so far progressed that she could now +find time for a little sewing, after the dinner dishes were done. + +“Keziah,” said the captain pompously, “we expect you to look out for Mr. +Ellery in every respect. The parish committee expects that--yes.” + +“I'll try,” said Mrs. Coffin shortly. + +“Yes. Well, that's all. You can go. We must be going, too, Mr. +Ellery. Please consider our house at your disposal any time. Be +neighborly--hum--ha!--be neighborly.” + +“Yes,” purred Annabel. “DO come and see us often. Congenial society is +very scarce in Trumet, for me especially. We can read together. Are you +fond of Moore, Mr. Ellery? I just dote on him.” + +The last “hum--ha” was partially drowned by the click of the gate. +Keziah closed the dining-room door. + +“Mrs. Coffin,” said the minister, “I shan't trouble the parish +committee. Be sure of that. I'm perfectly satisfied.” + +Keziah sat down in the rocker and her needle moved very briskly for a +moment. Then she said, without looking up: + +“That's good. I own up I like to hear you say it. And I am glad there +are some things I do like about this new place of mine. Because--well, +because there's likely to be others that I shan't like at all.” + +On Friday evening the minister conducted his first prayer meeting. +Before it, and afterwards, he heard a good deal concerning the +Come-Outers. He learned that Captain Eben Hammond had preached against +him in the chapel on Sunday. Most of his own parishioners seemed to +think it a good joke. + +“Stir 'em up, Mr. Ellery,” counseled Lavinia Pepper. “Stir 'em up! Don't +be afraid to answer em from the pulpit and set 'em where they belong. +Ignorant, bigoted things!” + +Others gave similar counsel. The result was that the young man became +still more interested in these people who seemed to hate him and all he +stood for so profoundly. He wished he might hear their side of the case +and judge it for himself. It may as well be acknowledged now that John +Ellery had a habit of wishing to judge for himself. This is not always a +politic habit in a country minister. + +The sun of the following Thursday morning rose behind a curtain of fog +as dense as that of the day upon which Ellery arrived. A flat calm in +the forenoon, the wind changed about three o'clock and, beginning with +a sharp and sudden squall from the northwest, blew hard and steady. Yet +the fog still cloaked everything and refused to be blown away. + +“There's rain astern,” observed Captain Zeb, with the air of authority +which belongs to seafaring men when speaking of the weather. “We'll get +a hard, driving rain afore mornin', you see. Then, if she still holds +from the northwest'ard, it'll fair off fine.” + +“Goin' out in this, Mr. Ellery!” exclaimed Keziah, in amazement, as the +minister put on his hat and coat about seven that evening. “Sakes alive! +you won't be able to see the way to the gate. It's as dark as a nigger's +pocket and thicker than young ones in a poor man's family, as my father +used to say. You'll be wet through. Where in the world are you bound for +THIS night?” + +The minister equivocated. He said he had been in the house all day and +felt like a walk. + +“Well, take an umbrella, then,” was the housekeeper's advice. “You'll +need it before you get back, I cal'late.” + +It was dark enough and thick enough, in all conscience. The main road +was a black, wet void, through which gleams from lighted windows were +but vague, yellow blotches. The umbrella was useful in the same way +that a blind man's cane is useful, in feeling the way. The two or +three stragglers who met the minister carried lanterns. One of these +stragglers was Mr. Pepper. Kyan was astonished. + +“Well, I snum!” cried Kyan, raising the lantern. “If 'tain't Mr. Ellery. +Where you bound this kind of night?” + +Before the minister could answer, a stately figure appeared and joined +the pair. Lavinia, of course. + +“Well, Mr. Ellery,” she said. “Ain't you lost, out in this fog? Anybody +sick?” + +No, no one was sick. + +“That's a mercy. Goin' callin', be you?” + +“No.” + +“Hum! Queer weather for a walk, I call it. Won't be many out to-night, +except Come-Outers goin' to holler their lungs loose at prayer meetin'. +He, he! You ain't turned Come-Outer, have you, Mr. Ellery? You've headed +right for the chapel.” + +Ellery's reply was hurried and a bit confused. He said good night and +went on. + +“Laviny,” whispered the shocked Kyan, “do you think that was +a--er--polite thing to say to a parson? That about his turnin' +Come-Outer? He didn't make much answer, seemed to me. You don't think he +was mad, do ye?” + +“I don't care if he was,” snorted Miss Pepper. “He could tell a body +where he was goin' then. Nobody can snub me, minister or not. I think +he's kind of stuck-up, if you want to know, and if he is, he'll get took +down in a hurry. Come along, don't stand there with your mouth open like +a flytrap. I'd like to know what he was up to. I've a precious good mind +to follow him; would if 'twa'n't so much trouble.” + +She didn't. Yet, if she had, she would have deemed the trouble worth +while. For John Ellery stumbled on through the mist till he reached the +“Corners” where the store was located and the roads forked. There, he +turned to the right, into the way called locally “Hammond's Turn-off.” + A short distance down the “Turn-off” stood a small, brown-shingled +building, its windows alight. Opposite its door, on the other side of +the road, grew a spreading hornbeam tree surrounded by a cluster of +swamp blackberry bushes. In the black shadow of the hornbeam Mr. Ellery +stood still. He was debating in his mind a question: should he or should +he not enter that building? + +As he stood there, groups of people emerged from the fog and darkness +and passed in at the door. Some of them he had seen during his fortnight +in Trumet. Others were strangers to him. A lantern danced and wabbled up +the “Turn-off” from the direction of the bay shore and the packet wharf. +It drew near, and he saw that it was carried by an old man with long +white hair and chin beard, who walked with a slight limp. Beside him was +a thin woman wearing a black poke bonnet and a shawl. In the rear of +the pair came another woman, a young woman, judging by the way she was +dressed and her lithe, vigorous step. The trio halted on the platform of +the building. The old man blew out the lantern. Then he threw the door +open and a stream of yellow light poured over the group. + +The young woman was Grace Van Horne. The minister recognized her at +once. Undoubtedly, the old man with the limp was her guardian, Captain +Eben Hammond, who, by common report, had spoken of him, Ellery, as a +“hired priest.” + +The door closed. A few moments thereafter the sound of a squeaky +melodeon came from within the building. It wailed and quavered and +groaned. Then, with a suddenness that was startling, came the first +verse of a hymn, sung with tremendous enthusiasm: + + “Oh, who shall answer when the Lord shall call + His ransomed sinners home?” + +The hallelujah chorus was still ringing when the watcher across the +street stepped out from the shadow of the hornbeam. Without a pause he +strode over to the platform. Another moment and the door had shut behind +him. + +The minister of the Trumet Regular church had entered the Come-Outer +chapel to attend a Come-Outer prayer meeting! + + +CHAPTER V + +IN WHICH THE PARSON CRUISES IN STRANGE WATERS + + +The Come-Outer chapel was as bare inside, almost, as it was without. +Bare wooden walls, a beamed ceiling, a raised platform at one end with +a table and chairs and the melodeon upon it, rows of wooden settees for +the congregation--that was all. As the minister entered, the worshipers +were standing up to sing. Three or four sputtering oil lamps but dimly +illumined the place and made recognition uncertain. + +The second verse of the hymn was just beginning as Ellery came in. Most +of the forty or more grown people in the chapel were too busy wrestling +with the tune to turn and look at him. A child here and there in the +back row twisted a curious neck but twisted back again as parental +fingers tugged at its ear. The minister tiptoed to a dark corner and +took his stand in front of a vacant settee. + +The man whom Ellery had decided must be Captain Eben Hammond was +standing on the low platform beside the table. A quaint figure, +patriarchal with its flowing white hair and beard, puritanical with its +set, smooth-shaven lips and tufted brows. Captain Eben held an open hymn +book back in one hand and beat time with the other. He wore brass-bowed +spectacles well down toward the tip of his nose. Swinging a heavy, +stubby finger and singing in a high, quavering voice of no particular +register, he led off the third verse: + + “Oh, who shall weep when the roll is called + And who shall shout for joy?” + +The melodeon and the hymn book were in accord as to the tune, but +Captain Eben and the various members of the congregation seemed to have +a desire to improvise. They sang with spirit, however, and the rhythmic +pat of feet grew louder and louder. Here and there men and women were +swaying and rocking their bodies in time to the music. The chorus for +each verse was louder than the one preceding it. + +Another hymn was given out and sung. And another and still another. The +windows rattled. The patting grew to a steady “thump! thump!” Momentary +pauses between lines were punctuated by hallelujahs and amens. Standing +directly in front of the minister was a six-foot, raw-boned individual +whose clothes smelled strongly of fish, and whose hands, each swung +at the end of an exposed five inches of hairy red wrist, looked like +flippers. At the end of the third hymn this personage sprang straight up +into the air, cracked the heels of a pair of red cowhide boots together, +and whooped: “Glory be! Send the PAOWER!” in a voice like the screech +of a northeast gale. Mr. Ellery, whom this gymnastic feat had taken by +surprise, jumped in sympathy, although not as high. + +The singing over, the worshipers sat down. Captain Eben took a +figured handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. The thin, +nearsighted young woman who had been humped over the keyboard of the +melodeon, straightened up. The worshipers relaxed a little and began to +look about. + +Then the captain adjusted his spectacles and opened a Bible, which he +took from the table beside him. Clearing his throat, he announced that +he would read from the Word, tenth chapter of Jeremiah: + +“'Thus saith the Lord. Learn not the way of the heathen, and be not +dismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed at them. + +“'For the customs of the people are vain: for one cutteth a tree out of +the forest, the work of the hands of the workmen, with the ax.'” + +He read in a measured singsong, stopping occasionally to hold the book +in a better light and peering at the fine print through his spectacles. +And as he read, there was a sudden rustle on one of the back benches. A +child had turned, stared, and pulled at its mother's sleeve. The rustle +grew and spread. + +Captain Eben drawled on to the twentieth verse: + +“'My tabernacle is spoiled and all my cords are broken: my children are +gone forth from me, and they are not: there is none to stretch forth my +tent any more, and to set up my curtains! + +“'For the pastors are become brutish and have not sought the Lord: +therefore they shall not prosper, and--'” + +“A-MEN!” + +The shout came from the second bench from the front, where Ezekiel +Bassett, clam digger and fervent religionist, was always to be found on +meeting nights. Ezekiel was the father of Susannah B. Bassett, “Sukey +B.” for short, who played the melodeon. He had been, by successive +seizures, a Seventh Day Baptist, a Second Adventist, a Millerite, a +Regular, and was now the most energetic of Come-Outers. Later he was to +become a Spiritualist and preside at table-tipping seances. + +Ezekiel's amen was so sudden and emphatic that it startled the reader +into looking up. Instead of the faces of his congregation, he found +himself treated to a view of their back hair. Nearly every head +was turned toward the rear corner of the room, there was a buzz of +whispering and, in front, many men and women were standing up to look. +Captain Eben was scandalized. + +“Well!” he exclaimed. “Is this a prayer meetin' or--or--what? Brethren +and sisters, I must say--” + +Ezekiel Bassett stepped forward and whispered in his ear. The +captain's expression of righteous indignation changed to one of blank +astonishment. He, too, gazed at the dark corner. Then his lips tightened +and he rapped smartly on the table. + +“Brethren and sisters,” he thundered, in the voice which, of old, had +enforced obedience aboard his coasting schooner, “remember this is the +house of the Lord. Be reverent!” + +He waited until every eye had swung about to meet his. Then he regarded +his abashed but excited hearers with a steady and prolonged stare. + +“My friends,” he said, “let us bow in prayer.” + +John Ellery could have repeated that prayer, almost word for word, years +after that night. The captain prayed for the few here gathered together: +Let them be steadfast. Let them be constant in the way. The path they +were treading might be narrow and beset with thorns, but it was the path +leading to glory. + +“Scoffers may sneer,” he declared, his voice rising; “they may make a +mock of us, they may even come into Thy presence to laugh at us, but +theirs is the laugh that turns to groanin'. O Lord, strengthen us +to-night to speak what's in our hearts, without fear.” (“A-men!”) “To +prophesy in Thy name! To bid the mockers and them that dare--dare to +profane this sanctuary be careful. Hired singers and trumpets and vain +shows we have not” (“Thank the Lord! Amen!”), “but the true faith and +the joy of it we do have.” (“Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Glory!”) + +And so on, his remarks becoming more personal and ever pointing like +a compass needle to the occupant of that seat in the corner. The +minister's determination to attend a Come-Outer meeting, though it had +reached the sticking point only a half hour before, was the result of +considerable deliberation. He had argued with himself and had made up +his mind to find out for himself just what these people did. He was +finding out, certainly. His motives were good and he had come with no +desire to scoff, but, for the life of him, he could not help feeling +like a criminal. Incidentally, it provoked him to feel that way. + +“O Lord,” prayed Captain Hammond, the perspiration in beads on his +forehead, “Thou hast said that the pastors become brutish and have not +sought Thee and that they shan't prosper. Help us tonight to labor with +this one that he may see his error and repent in sackcloth and ashes.” + +They sang once more, a hymn that prophesied woe to the unbeliever. +Then Ezekiel Bassett rose to “testify.” The testimony was mainly to the +effect that he was happy because he had fled to the ark of safety while +there was yet time. + +“I found out,” he shouted, “that fancy music and--ah--and--ah--sot +sermons and fine duds and suchlike wa'n't goin' to do ME no good. +I needed somethin' else. I needed good times in my religion” + (“Hallelujah!”) “and I've found 'em right here. Yes, sir! right here. +And I say this out loud,” turning to glare at the intruder, “and I don't +care who comes to poke fun at me for sayin' it.” (“Amen!”) + +A sharp-nosed female followed Mr. Bassett. She spoke with evident +feeling and in a voice that trembled and shook when her emotion carried +it aloft. SHE'D had enough of high-toned religion. Yes, and of them that +upheld it. When her brother Simeon was took bad with phthisic, “wheezin' +like a busted bellerses” and 'twas “up and down, trot, trot, trot,” to +fetch and carry for him day in and night out, did the folks from the +Reg'lar church help her? She guessed NOT. The only one that came nigh +her was Laviny Pepper, and she came only to gas and gabble and find out +things that wa'n't none of her business. What help she got was from +a Come-Outer, from Eben Hammond, bless his good soul! (“Amen!”) That +phthisic settled her for Reg'larism. Yes, and for them that preached it, +too. So there! + +Captain Eben called for more testimony. But the testifiers were, to use +the old minstrel joke, backward in coming forward that evening. At an +ordinary meeting, by this time, the shouts and enthusiasm would have +been at their height and half a dozen Come-Outers on their feet at once, +relating their experiences and proclaiming their happiness. But tonight +there was a damper; the presence of the leader of the opposition cast a +shadow over the gathering. Only the bravest attempted speech. The others +sat silent, showing their resentment and contempt by frowning glances +over their shoulders and portentous nods one to the other. + +“Come, brethren,” commanded the captain sharply; “we are waitin' to hear +you. Are you afraid? If your faith is real, nothin' nor nobody should +keep you from cryin' it out loud. Now, if ever, is the accepted time. +Speak up for the spirit that's in you.” + +An elderly man, grave and quiet, arose and said a few words, dignified +and solemn words of prayer and thankfulness for the comfort this little +society of true believers had been to him. Ellery realized that here +was another sort of Come-Outer, one of the Hammond type. Evidently, they +were not all like Ezekiel and the shrill-voiced woman. + +Then, from the settee in front of him, rose the lengthy and fishy person +with the cowhide boots and enormous hands. His name was Josiah Badger +and he was, according to Trumet's estimate, “a little mite lackin' in +his top riggin'.” He stuttered, and this infirmity became more and more +apparent as he grew eloquent. + +“I--I ain't afraid,” he proclaimed. “They can call me a C-C-Come-Outer +all they want to. I--I don't care if they do. Let 'em, I say; l-let 'em! +They can p-p-poke their fun and p-p-p-pup-pup-poke it, but I tell 'em +to h-heave ahead and p-pup-pup-POKE. When I used to g-go to their old +Reg'lar meetin' house, all I done was to go to sleep. But I don't go +to sleep here, glory hallelujah! No, sir! There's too much b-b-blessed +noise and we have too g-good times to g-go to sleep here. That old +K-Kyan Pepper called me t-town f-fool t'other day. T-tut-town fool's +what he called me. Says I to him, says I: 'You-you-y-you ain't got spunk +enough to be a fool,' I says, 'unless Laviny says you c-can be. You old +Reg'lar p-p-pepper shaker, you!” + +By this time tee-hees from the children and chuckles from some of the +older members interfered with Mr. Badger's fervent but jerky discourse. +Captain Eben struck the table smartly. + +“Silence!” he thundered. “Silence! Brother Badger, I beg your pardon for +'em. Go on!” + +But Josiah's train of thought had evidently been derailed by the +interruption. + +“I--I--I cal'late that's about all,” he stammered and sat down. + +The captain looked over the meeting. + +“I'm ashamed,” he said, “ashamed of the behavior of some of us in the +Lord's house. This has been a failure, this service of ours. We have +kept still when we should have justified our faith, and allowed the +presence of a stranger to interfere with our duty to the Almighty. And +I will say,” he added, his voice rising and trembling with indignation, +“to him who came here uninvited and broke up this meetin', that it would +be well for him to remember the words of Scriptur', 'Woe unto ye, false +prophets and workers of iniquity.' Let him remember what the Divine +wisdom put into my head to read to-night: 'The pastors have become +brutish and have not sought the Lord; therefore they shall not +prosper.'” + +“Amen!” “Amen!” “Amen!” “So be it!” The cries came from all parts of the +little room. They ceased abruptly, for John Ellery was on his feet. + +“Captain Hammond,” he said, “I realize that I have no right to speak in +this building, but I must say one word. My coming here to-night may have +been a mistake; I'm inclined to think it was. But I came not, as you +seem to infer, to sneer or to scoff; certainly I had no wish to disturb +your service. I came because I had heard repeatedly, since my arrival +in this town, of this society and its meetings. I had heard, too, that +there seemed to be a feeling of antagonism, almost hatred, against me +among you here. I couldn't see why. Most of you have, I believe, been at +one time members of the church where I preach. I wished to find out for +myself how much of truth there was in the stories I had heard and to +see if a better feeling between the two societies might not be brought +about. Those were my reasons for coming here to-night. As for my being +a false prophet and a worker of iniquity”--he smiled--“well, there is +another verse of Scripture I would call to your attention: 'Judge not, +that ye be not judged.'” + +He sat down. There was silence for a moment and then a buzz of +whispering. Captain Eben, who had heard him with a face of iron +hardness, rapped the table. + +“We will sing in closin',” he said, “the forty-second hymn. After which +the benediction will be pronounced.” + +The Regular minister left the Come-Outers' meeting with the unpleasant +conviction that he had blundered badly. His visit, instead of tending +toward better understanding and more cordial relationship, had +been regarded as an intrusion. He had been provoked into a public +justification, and now he was quite sure that he would have been more +politic to remain silent. He realized that the evening's performance +would cause a sensation and be talked about all over town. The +Come-Outers would glory in their leader's denunciation of him, and his +own people would perhaps feel that it served him right. If he had only +told Mrs. Coffin of what he intended to do. Yet he had not told her +because he meant to do it anyhow. Altogether it was a rather humiliating +business. + +So that old bigot was the Van Horne girl's “uncle.” It hardly seemed +possible that she, who appeared so refined and ladylike when he met her +at the parsonage, should be a member of that curious company. When +he rose to speak he had seen her in the front row, beside the thin, +middle-aged female who had entered the chapel with Captain Hammond and +with her. She was looking at him intently. The lamp over the speaker's +table had shone full on her face and the picture remained in his memory. +He saw her eyes and the wavy shadows of her hair on her forehead. + +He stepped off the platform, across the road, out of the way of +homeward-bound Come-Outers, and stood there, thinking. The fog was +as heavy and wet as ever; in fact, it was almost a rain. The wind +was blowing hard from the northwest. The congregation dispersed in +chattering groups, their lanterns dipping and swinging like fireflies. +The chatter dealt entirely with one subject--himself. He heard his name +mentioned at least twenty times. Out of the gusty, dripping blackness +came Mr. Badger's voice. + +“By time!” crowed Josiah, “he was took down a few p-p-pup-pegs, wa'n't +he! My! how Eben did g-gi-gi-give it to him. He looked toler'ble white +under the gills when he riz up to heave out his s-s-sus-sassy talk. And +foolish, too. I cal'late I won't be the only town fuf-fuf-fool from now +on. He! he!” + +The noises died away in the distance. Within the chapel the tramp +of heavy boots sounded as the lights were blown out, one by one. The +minister frowned, sighed, and turned homeward. It is not pleasant to be +called a fool, even by a recognized member of the fraternity. + +He had taken but a few steps when there was a rustle in the wet grass +behind him. + +“Mr. Ellery,” whispered a voice, “Mr. Ellery, may I speak to you just a +moment?” + +He wheeled in surprise. + +“Why! why, Miss Van Horne!” he exclaimed. “Is it you?” + +“Mr. Ellery,” she began, speaking hurriedly and in a low voice, “I--I +felt that I must say a word to you before--” + +She paused and glanced back at the chapel. Ezekiel Bassett, the janitor, +having extinguished the last lamp, had emerged from the door and was +locking up. In another moment he clumped past them in the middle of the +road, the circle of light from his lantern just missing them as they +stood in the grass at the side under the hornbeam and blackberry bushes. +He was alone; Sukey B. had gone on before, other and younger masculine +escort having been providentially provided. + +Mr. Bassett was out of hearing before Grace finished her sentence. The +minister was silent, waiting and wondering. + +“I felt,” she said, “that I must see you and--explain. I am SO sorry you +came here to-night. Oh, I wish you hadn't. What made you do it?” + +“I came,” began Ellery, somewhat stiffly, “because I--well, because I +thought it might be a good thing to do. As I said--” + +“Yes, I know. But it wasn't. It was so--so--” + +“So foolish. Thank you, I'm aware of it. I've heard myself called a +fool already since I left your church. Not that I needed to hear it. I +realize the fact.” + +There was a bitterness in his tone, unmistakable. And a little laugh +from his companion did not tend to soothe his feelings. + +“Thank you,” he said. “Perhaps it is funny. I did not find it so. Good +evening.” + +This was priggish, but it must be borne in mind that John Ellery was +very, very fresh from the theological school, where young divines are +taught to take themselves seriously. He was ashamed of himself as soon +as he said it, which proved that his case was not beyond hope. + +The girl detained him as he was turning away. + +“I wasn't laughing at that,” she said. “I know who called you that--that +name. It was Josiah Badger, and he really is one, you know. I was +thinking of his testimony in meeting and how he called Ky--Abishai--a +pepper shaker. That was ridiculous enough, but it reminded me of +something else about Mr. Pepper, and I HAD to laugh. It wasn't at you, +truly.” + +So the minister begged her pardon; also he remained where he was, and +heard the drops from the tree patter hollow on his hat. + +“I came after you,” went on Grace rapidly and with nervous haste, +“because I felt that you ought not to misjudge my uncle for what he said +to-night. He wouldn't have hurt your feelings for the world. He is a +good man and does good to everybody. If you only knew the good he does +do, you wouldn't--you wouldn't DARE think hardly of him.” + +She stamped her foot in the wet grass as she said it. She was evidently +in earnest. But Ellery was not in the mood to be greatly impressed +by Eben Hammond's charity or innate goodness. The old tavern keeper's +references to himself were too fresh in his mind. “False prophet” and +“worker of iniquity!” + +“I'm not judging your uncle,” he declared. “It seemed to me that the +boot was on the other leg.” + +“I know, but you do judge him, and you mustn't. You see, he thought +you had come to make fun of him--and us. Some of the Regular people do, +people who aren't fit to tie his shoes. And so he spoke against you. +He'll be sorry when he thinks it over. That's what I came to tell you. I +ask your pardon for--for him.” + +“Why--why, that's all right. I think I understood--” + +“I'm not asking it because he's a Come-Outer and you're a Regular +minister. He isn't ashamed of his religion. Neither am I. I'm a +Come-Outer, too.” + +“Yes. I--I supposed you were.” + +“Yes, I am. There, good night, Mr. Ellery. All I ask is that you don't +think too hardly of uncle. He didn't mean it.” + +She turned away now, and it was the minister who detained her. + +“I've been thinking,” he said slowly, for in his present state of mind +it was a hard thing to say, “that perhaps I ought to apologize, too. +I'm afraid I did disturb your service and I'm sorry. I meant well, +but--What's that? Rain?” + +There was no doubt about it; it was rain and plenty of it. It came in +a swooping downpour that beat upon the trees and bushes and roared upon +the roof of the chapel. The minister hurriedly raised his umbrella. + +“Here!” he cried, “let me--Miss Van Horne! Where are you?” + +The answer came from a short distance down the “Turn-off.” + +“Good night,” called the girl. “I must run.” + +Evidently, she WAS running. Therefore the young man ran after her. He +caught up with her in a moment, in spite of some stumbles over the rough +road. + +“Here!” he commanded, “you must take the umbrella. Really, you must. You +haven't one and you'll be wet through.” + +She pushed the umbrella aside. + +“No, no,” she answered. “I don't need it; I'm used to wet weather; truly +I am. And I don't care for this hat; it's an old one. You have a long +way to go and I haven't. Please, Mr. Ellery, I can't take it.” + +“Very well,” was the sternly self-sacrificing reply, “then I shall +certainly go with you.” + +“But I don't wish you to.” + +“I can't help that. I'm not going to let you go unprotected through +this flood. Especially as you might have been at home before this if you +hadn't stopped to speak with me.” + +“But you mustn't.” + +“I shall.” + +Here was the irresistible force and the immovable object. They stood +stock still in the middle of the road, while the rain drops jumped as +they struck the umbrella top. The immovable object, being feminine, +voiced the unexpected. + +“All right,” she said; “then I suppose I shall have to take it.” + +“What?” + +“The umbrella. I'm sorry, and you'll get dreadfully wet, but it's your +own fault.” + +He could feel her hand near his own on the handle. He did not relinquish +his grasp. + +“No,” he said. “I think, on the whole, that that is unreasonable. I +SHOULD get wet and, though I don't mind it when it is necessary, I--” + +“Well?” rather sharply, “what are you going to do?” + +“Go with you as far as your gate. I'm sorry, if my company is +distasteful, but--” + +He did not finish the sentence, thinking, it may be, that she might +finish it for him. But she was silent, merely removing her hand from the +handle. She took a step forward; he followed, holding the umbrella above +her head. They plashed on, without speaking, through the rapidly forming +puddles. + +Presently she stumbled and he caught her arm to prevent her falling. To +his surprise he felt that arm shake in his grasp. + +“Why, Miss Van Horne!” he exclaimed in great concern, “are you crying? +I beg your pardon. Of course I wouldn't think of going another step with +you. I didn't mean to trouble you. I only--If you will please take this +umbrella--” + +Again he tried to transfer the umbrella and again she pushed it away. + +“I--I'm not crying,” she gasped; “but--oh, dear! this is SO funny!” + +Mr. Ellery gazed blankly at her through the rain-streaked dark. This was +the most astonishing young person he had met in his twenty-three years +of worldly experience. + +“Funny!” he repeated. “Well, perhaps it is. Our ideas of fun seem to +differ. I--” + +“Oh, but it IS so funny. You don't understand. What do you think your +congregation would say if they knew you had been to a Come-Outers' +meeting and then insisted on seeing a Come-Outer girl home?” + +John Ellery swallowed hard. A vision of Captain Elkanah Daniels and the +stately Miss Annabel rose before his mind's eye. He hadn't thought of +his congregation in connection with this impromptu rescue of a damsel in +distress. + +“Ha, ha!” he laughed mournfully. “I guess it is rather funny, after +all.” + +“It certainly is. Now will you leave me and go back to your parsonage?” + +“Not unless you take the umbrella.” + +“Very well. It is a beautiful evening for a walk, don't you think so? +Mr. Ellery, I'm afraid we shan't have you with us in Trumet very long.” + +“Why not?” + +“Oh, because you're so very, very original. Are your sermons that way, +too? Captain Elkanah doesn't like his ministers to be too original.” + +The minister set his teeth. At that moment he felt an intense desire +to bid the Daniels family mind their own business. Then another thought +struck him. + +“Possibly your Uncle Eben might be somewhat--er--surprised if he +knew you were with me. Perhaps he might have something to say on the +subject.” + +“I guess he would. We shall know very soon. I ran away and left him with +Mrs. Poundberry, our housekeeper. He doesn't know where I am. I wonder +he hasn't turned back to look for me before this. We shall probably meet +him at any moment.” + +She seemed to enjoy the prospect of the meeting. Ellery wondered what on +earth he should say to Captain Hammond--that is, provided he was allowed +to say anything. + +Suddenly a heavier gust of rain and wind beat upon them. The minister +struggled with the umbrella. The gust passed and with it the fog. An +instant before it had been all about them, shutting them within inky +walls. Now it was not. Through the rain he could see the shadowy +silhouettes of bushes at the road side. Fifty yards away the lighted +windows of the Hammond tavern gleamed yellow. Farther on, over a ragged, +moving fringe of grass and weeds, was a black flat expanse--the bay. And +a little way out upon that expanse twinkled the lights of a vessel. A +chain rattled. Voices shouting exultingly came to their ears. + +“Why!” exclaimed Grace in excited wonder, “it's the packet! She was due +this morning, but we didn't expect her in till to-morrow. How did she +find her way in the fog? I must tell uncle.” + +She started to run toward the house. The minister would have followed +with the umbrella, but she stopped him. + +“No, Mr. Ellery,” she urged earnestly. “No, please don't. I'm all right +now. Thank you. Good night.” + +A few steps farther on she turned. + +“I hope Cap'n Elkanah won't know,” she whispered, the laugh returning to +her voice. “Good night.” + +Ellery stood still in the rain and watched her. He saw her pass the +lighted windows and open a door. Into the yellow radiance she flashed +and disappeared. A minute more and the bulky form of Eben Hammond, +lantern in hand, a sou'wester on his head and his shoulders working +themselves into an oilskin coat, burst out of the door and hurriedly +limped down toward the shore. On the threshold, framed in light, stood +his ward, gazing after him. And the minister gazed at her. + +From the bay came the sound of oars in row-locks. A boat was approaching +the wharf. And suddenly from the boat came a hail. + +“Halloo! Ahoy, dad! Is that you?” + +There was an answering shout from the wharf; a shout of joy. Then +a rattle of oars and a clamor of talk. And Grace still stood in the +doorway, waiting. + +The lantern bobbed up the slope. As it reached the tavern gateway, the +minister saw that it was now carried by a tall, active man, who walked +with a seaman's stride and roll. Captain Eben was close beside him, +talking excitedly. + +They entered the yard. + +“Grace! Grace!” screamed Captain Eben. “Gracie, girl, look who's come! +Look!” + +The tall man ran forward. + +“Hi, Grace!” he cried in a deep, hearty voice. “Is that you? Ain't you +got a word for your old messmate?” + +The girl stepped out into the rain. + +“Why! why, NAT!” she cried. + +The big man picked her up bodily in his arms and carried her into the +house. Captain Eben followed and the door closed. + +John Ellery picked his way homeward through the puddles and the pouring +rain. + +He found Keziah in the sitting room, seated by the table, evidently +writing a letter. She looked tired and grave--for her. + +“Well!” she exclaimed as he entered. “I guess you're soppin' now, sartin +sure. There's a light in your room. Take off your wet things and throw +'em down to me, and I'll dry 'em in the kitchen. Better leave your boots +here now and stand that umbrella in the sink. The kettle's on the stove; +you'd better have somethin' hot--ginger tea or somethin'. I told you not +to go out such a night as this. Where in the world have you been?” + +The minister said he would tell her all about it in the morning. Just +now he thought he had better go up and take off his wet clothes. He +declined the ginger tea, and, after removing his boots, went upstairs to +his room. + +Keziah dipped her pen in the ink and went on with her letter. + +“I inclose ten dollars,” she wrote. “It is all I can send you now. More +than I ought to afford. Goodness knows why I send anything. You don't +deserve it. But while I live and you do I can't--” + +The minister called from the landing. + +“Here is my coat,” he said. “The cuffs and lower part of the sleeves are +pretty wet. By the way, the packet came in to-night. They didn't expect +her so soon on account of the fog. There was a passenger aboard whom I +think must be that Nathaniel Hammond you told me of.” + +Keziah's pen stopped. The wet coat struck the hall floor with a soft +thump. The tick of the clock sounded loud in the room. A sheet of +wind-driven rain lashed the windows. + +“Did you hear?” called the minister. “I said that Nathaniel Hammond, +Captain Eben's son, came on the packet. I didn't meet him, but I'm sure +it was he. Er--Mrs. Coffin, are you there? Do you hear me?” + +The housekeeper laid the pen down beside the unfinished letter. + +“Yes,” she said, “I hear you. Good night.” + +For minutes she sat there, leaning back in her chair and staring at the +wall. Then she rose, went into the hall, picked up the coat, and took it +out into the kitchen, where she hung it on the clotheshorse by the cook +stove. After a while she returned to the table and took up the pen. Her +face in the lamplight looked more tired and grave than ever. + +It was a long time before John Ellery fell asleep. He had much to think +of--of the morrow, of the talk his rash visit to the chapel would cause, +of the explanation he must make to Captain Elkanah and the rest. But the +picture that was before his closed eyes as he lay there was neither of +Captain Elkanah nor the parish committee; it was that of a girl, with +dark hair and a slim, graceful figure, standing in a lighted doorway and +peering out into the rain. + + +CHAPTER VI + +IN WHICH OLD FRIENDS MEET + + +When Ellery came down to breakfast the rain was over, the wind had +gone down, and the morning sunshine was pouring in at the dining-room +windows. Outside the lilacs were in bud, the bluebirds were singing, and +there was a sniff of real spring in the air. The storm was at an end and +yet the young minister was conscious of a troublesome feeling that, for +him, it was just beginning. + +However, he had determined while dressing to make a clean breast of it +to his housekeeper--a nominally clean breast, that is. There were some +things he would not tell her, some that he would not speak of to anyone, +the picture in the doorway for instance. True, it was only a picture +and of no moment, but it was pleasant to remember. One of the very few +pleasant things connected with the previous evening. + +So, as they sat opposite each other at the table, he began his +confession. The muffins scorched in the oven and the coffeepot boiled +over as he told his story, for Keziah was too much interested to think +of trifles. Interested and astounded, for, since Come-Outers had been +Come-Outers and the split in the society took place, no Regular minister +had crossed the threshold of a seceder's dwelling, much less attended +their services and walked home with a member of their congregation. She +knew what this amazing procedure was likely to mean, if her parson did +not. + +“Well!” she exclaimed when the recital was finished. “Well!” + +“I--I'm afraid I was too hasty,” observed Mr. Ellery thoughtfully. +“Perhaps it would have been wiser not to have done it.” + +“Perhaps 'twould. Yes, I wouldn't wonder a mite.” + +“It will be talked about some, I suppose. Don't you think so?” + +“Some, yes.” + +“I'm afraid some of my own people may think it queer.” + +“Queer! Say, Mr. Ellery, you remind me of a half-breed Portugee +feller--half Portugee and a half Indian--that went to sea with my +father, back in the old days. He hardly ever spoke a word, mainly +grunted and made signs. One day he and another fo'mast hand went aloft +in a calm to do somethin' to the tops'l. The half-breed--they called him +Billy Peter and he always called himself that--was out on the end of +the yard, with his foot on the rope underneath, I forget the name of it, +when the tarred twine he had for a shoe string caught. Tryin' to get +it loose it broke sudden, his shoe pulled off, he lost his balance and +fell. He grabbed at the yard, saved himself for a second, fell again, +grabbed the next yard, then a rope and so on down, grabbin' and pullin' +all the way. First his shoe hit the deck, then his sheath knife, then +a piece of rope, and finally himself, landin' right on top of the Irish +cook who was goin' aft from the galley with father's dinner. + +“There was the greatest racket you ever heard, pans fallin', dishes +smashin', men yellin', and the cook swearin'. Father run on deck, +thinkin' the ship was dismasted. He found the cook and Billy Peter +sittin' in the middle of the mess, lookin' at each other. Neither was +hurt a mite. The mates and the crew, part of 'em, was standin' starin' +at the pair. + +“'For Heaven sakes!' says father; 'what happened?' + +“The half-breed looked up and rubbed his head. 'Ugh!' says he, 'Billy +Peter bust his shoe string.' + +“The cook, his name was O'Neill, looked at him disgusted. 'Well, +begorra!' says he, 'Billy Peter, you don't exaggerate none, do ye! It's +a good thing BOTH of 'em didn't bust or we'd have foundered.' + +“You remind me of Billy Peter, Mr. Ellery, you don't exaggerate. Queer? +Some folks think your goin' to that meetin' last night QUEER? At this +moment one half of Trumet is talkin' about it and runnin' out to tell +the other half. I guess I'd better hurry up with this breakfast. We're +goin' to have callers.” + +Strange to say, however, this prophecy of early morning visitors did +not prove true. Nine o'clock, then ten, and no visitor came to the +parsonage. Mrs. Coffin affirmed that she did not understand it. Where +was Didama? Where Lavinia Pepper? Had the “Trumet Daily Advertiser” + suspended publication? + +At half past ten the gate slammed. Keziah peered from the window. + +“Humph!” she ejaculated. “Here comes Elkanah and he's got storm signals +set, by the looks. He's comin' after you, Mr. Ellery.” + +“Very well,” was the calm reply; “let him come.” + +“What are you goin' to say to him?” + +“Nothing, except that I did what I considered right at the time. Show +him into the study, Mrs. Coffin, please.” + +Captain Daniels marched to the dining-room door, his gold-headed cane +marking time like a drumbeat. He nodded curtly to Keziah, who answered +the knock, and stepped across the threshold. + +“Hum--ha!” he barked. “Is the minister--hum--ha! is Mr. Ellery in?” + +“Yes, he's in.” + +“Tell him I want to see him.” + +The housekeeper announced the visitor. + +“He's as sour as a skimmin' of last week's milk,” she whispered. “Don't +be afraid of him, though.” + +“Oh, I'm not. Show him in.” + +“All right. Say, Mr. Ellery, it's none of my business, but I wouldn't +say anything about your seein' Grace home. That's none of HIS business, +either, or anybody else's.” + +The head of the parish committee stalked into the study and the +door closed behind him. A rumble of voices in animated conversation +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 +more. Her lips twitched and her eyes sparkled. + +“Hum!” she said again. “They say you can tell the Old Scratch by his +footprints, even if you can't smell the sulphur. Anyhow, you can tell +a Hammond by the size of his boots. Come out from behind that door this +minute. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?” + +The owner of the boot stepped forth from behind the door and seized her +by both hands. + +“Halloo, Keziah!” he cried joyfully. “My, but it's good to see you.” + +“Halloo, Nat!” said Keziah heartily. “It's kind of good to see you, +too.” + +The rest of him was in keeping with his boots. He was big and +broad-shouldered and bearded. His face, above the beard, was tanned to a +deep reddish brown, and the corners of his eyes were marked with dozens +of tiny wrinkles. He was dressed in blue cloth and wore a wide-brimmed, +soft felt hat. He entered the kitchen and tossed the hat into a corner. + +“Well!” he exclaimed. “Why don't you act surprised to see a feller? Here +I've been cruisin' from the Horn to Barnegat and back again, and you +act as if I'd just dropped in to fetch the cup of molasses I borrowed +yesterday. What do you mean by it?” + +“Oh, I heard you'd made port.” + +“Did, hey? That's Trumet, sure pop. You ain't the only one. I sneaked +off acrost lots so's to dodge the gang of neighbors that I knew would +be sailin' into our yard, the whole fleet loaded to the gunwale with +questions. Wanted to see you first, Keziah.” + +“Yes. So, instead of callin' like a Christian, you crept up the back way +and threw cranberries at me. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?” + +“Not a mite.” He took a handful of the frostbitten berries from his +coat pocket and inspected them lovingly. “Ain't they fine?” he asked, +crunching two or three between his teeth. “I picked 'em up as I came +along. I tell you, that's the home taste, all right.” + +“Don't eat those frozen things. They'll give you your never-get-over.” + +“What? Cape Cod cranberries! Never in the world. I'd rather eat sand +down here than the finest mug my steward can cook. Tell you what I'll +do, though; I'll swear off on the cranberries if you'll give me a +four-inch slice of that pie I saw you put in the oven. Dried-apple, I'll +bet my sou'wester. Think you might ask a feller to sit down. Ain't you +glad to see me?” + +Mrs. Coffin pulled forward one of the kitchen chairs. He seated himself +on it and it groaned under his weight. + +“Whew!” he whistled. “Never made to stand rough weather, was it? Well, +AIN'T you glad?” + +Keziah looked at him gravely. + +“You know I'm glad, Nat,” she said. + +“So? I hoped you would be, but I did want to hear you say it. Now you +come to anchor yourself and let's have a talk. I've been countin' on it +ever since we set tops'ls off Surinam.” + +The housekeeper took the other chair. + +“How are you--” she began. He stopped her. + +“S-shh!” he interrupted. “Don't say anything for a minute. Let me look +at you. Just as clean and wholesome and good-lookin' as ever. They don't +make girls like that anywhere else but down on this old sand bar. Not a +day older, by the jumpin'--” + +She held up her hand. + +“Hush, Nat,” she protested; “don't talk foolish. Girl? Not a day older? +Why, if feelin's count for anything, I'm as old as Methusaleh. Haven't I +had enough to make me old?” + +He was grave immediately. + +“I beg your pardon, Keziah,” he said. “I'm a dough head, that's a fact. +I hadn't forgot about Sol, but I was so glad to be home again and to see +dad and Grace and the old town and you that everything else flew out of +my mind. Poor Sol! I liked him.” + +“He liked you, too. No wonder, considerin' what you did to--” + +“Belay! Never mind that. Poor chap! Well, he's rid of his sufferin's at +last. Tell me about it, if you can without bringin' all the trouble back +too plain.” + +So she told him of her brother's sickness and death, of having to give +up the old home, and, finally, of her acceptance of the housekeeper's +position. He listened, at first with sympathy and then with suppressed +indignation. + +“By the jumpin' Moses!” he exclaimed. “And Elkanah was goin' to turn you +out of house and home. The mean, pompous old--” + +“Hush! hush! he's in there with Mr. Ellery.” + +“Who? Elkanah?” + +“Yes; they're in the study.” + +“By the jumpin'--Let me talk to him for a few minutes. I'LL tell him +what's good for his health. You just listen.” + +He rose from the chair, but she made him sit down again. + +“No, no,” she protested. “He wasn't to blame. He had to have his rent +and I didn't feel that I could afford to keep up a whole house, just for +myself. And, besides, I ought to be thankful to him, I suppose. He got +me this place.” + +“He did?” + +“Yes, he did. I rather guess Zeb Mayo or somebody may have suggested it +to him first, but--” + +“Humph! I rather guess so, too.” + +“Well, you can't always tell. Sometimes when you really get inside of a +person you find a generous streak that--” + +“Not in a Daniels. Anybody that got inside of Elkanah would find nothin' +but Elkanah there, and 'twould be crowded at that. So he's talkin' to +the new parson, hey? Bossin' him, too, I'll bet.” + +“I ain't so sure. Mr. Ellery's young, but he's got a mind of his own.” + +Captain Hammond chuckled and slapped his knee. + +“Ho, ho!” he laughed. “I've been hearin' somethin' about that mind. Went +to the chapel last night, I understand, and he and dad had a set-to. Oh, +I heard about it! Wish I might have been there.” + +“How does your father act about it?” + +“'Bout the way a red-hot stove acts when you spill water on it; every +time he thinks of the minister he sizzles. Ho, ho! I do wish I could +have been there.” + +“What does Grace say?” + +“Oh, she doesn't say much. I wouldn't wonder if she felt the way I do, +though we both keep quiet. I'll tell you, between ourselves and the +ship's pump, that I sort of glory in the young chap's spunk.” + +“Good! So do I. I like him.” + +“See here, Keziah! I'm gettin' frightened. You ain't settin' your cap to +be a parson's wife, are you? Because--” + +“Don't be silly. I might adopt him, but that's all, I guess.” + +Her friend leaned forward. + +“Keziah,” he said earnestly, “there's no sense in your slavin' yourself +to death here. I can think of a good deal pleasanter berth than that. +Pleasanter for me, anyhow, and I'd do my best to make it pleasant for +you. You've only got to say the word and--No? Well, then all I can do is +hope through another voyage.” + +“Please don't, Nat. You know.” + +“No, I don't know.” + +“Well, perhaps you don't. But I know. I like you, Nat. I count on you as +the straightest, truest friend I've got; and I want to keep on countin' +on you just that way. Mayn't I?” + +“'Course you can, Keziah. But--” + +“Then don't say another word, please.” + +He sighed and looked out at the open door. The kitchen clock ticked loud +in the silence. + +“All right,” he said at last. “All right, but I'm goin' to keep on +hopin'.” + +“You mustn't, Nat.” + +“Keziah, when you set your foot down you're pretty stubborn; but I've +got somethin' of a foot myself. You remember you said so a few minutes +ago. Hi, hum! Well, speakin' of dad reminds me that I'm kind of worried +about him.” + +“You are? Why? Isn't he well?” + +“Pretty well, but he ain't strong, and he gets too excited over things +like last night's foolishness. Grace tells me that the doctor says he +must be careful or he'll drop off sudden some of these days. He had a +shock five or six years ago, a little one, and I've been anxious about +him ever since. I've got to go to New York off and on for the next +month; after that I hope to be home for a spell and I can keep an eye on +him. Keziah, if you'll listen I'll whisper somethin' to you--religion's +a good thing and so's a mustard plaster, but both of 'em can be put on +too strong. Dad is just a little mite crazy on Come-Outers, I'm afraid.” + +“Oh, no, I guess not! You mustn't worry. How did Grace look to you?” + +“Like the harbor light on a stormy night. She's a brick, that girl, and +gets prettier every minute. Wonder to me some of the young chaps down +here don't carry her off by main strength. She'll make somebody a good +wife.” + +“Um-hm. Have--have you ever thought of her that way yourself?” + +“Keziah!” + +“Well, don't get mad. I think a lot of Grace, and I don't know anyone +I'd rather see you marry.” + +“I do. Keziah, that's enough of that. Are you and dad in partnership to +get me spliced and out of the way? He was at me this mornin' along the +same line. Don't say anything like that again, even in fun. YOU know +why.” + +“All right, all right. Now tell me about yourself. Have you had a good +voyage? How do you like your owners? How did Zach Foster ever get the +packet in through yesterday's fog?” + +“Voyage was all right. Some rugged weather on the trip out, but homeward +bound we slid along like a slush bucket on a greased plank. Owners +are all right. Good people as ever I sailed for. As for Zach and the +packet--Ho, ho!” + +He laughed, rocking back and forth on the chair, which creaked in +sympathy. + +“What's the joke?” demanded the housekeeper. “Don't do that! That chair +wasn't made for elephants to use.” + +“Hey? 'Tis pretty weak in the knees, ain't it? Dad would say 'twas a +piece with the creed of those that owned it. I--What's that? Somebody's +comin'. I'm goin' to clear out. I don't want to be put through my +catechism yet a while.” + +“No, you mustn't go. I want you to meet Mr. Ellery. You sit out on +the wash bench by the back door till I get rid of whoever 'tis that's +comin'. Scoot!” + +Nat “scooted,” stopping to snatch up his hat as he ran. Keziah went into +the dining room and admitted Captain Zebedee Mayo, who was panting from +the exertion of his walk. + +“Whew!” puffed Captain Zeb, mopping his forehead. “How be you, Keziah? +What? You ain't all alone! Thought you'd have a cabin full of gab +machines by this time. Have they been and gone?” + +“No, they haven't been. I--My land, my pie!” + +She rushed into the kitchen and snatched the pastry from the oven. Her +new caller followed her. + +“So they ain't been, hey?” he said. “That's queer.” + +“Elkanah's here. He's in there with the minister now.” + +“He is? Givin' the young feller Hail Columby, I cal'late. Well, now, +he shan't. He, he! When they told me how the minister passed old +hop-and-go-fetch-it what was due him at the chapel last night I riz up +and hoorayed till my wife shut the windows. She said the neighbors all +thought I was loony, anyhow, and I needn't prove it to 'em. He, he! But +Elkanah ain't got any funny bone. He's as solemn as a stuffed owl, and +he'll--Well, I'm goin' to put MY oar in. I'm parish committee, too, I +cal'late, and I've got somethin' to say, even if I wa'n't christened +Daniels. Here goes!” + +He headed for the study, but before he crossed the threshold of the +kitchen Ellery and his visitor came out into the dining room. Captain +Elkanah's face was flushed, and he fidgeted. The minister looked +determined but calm. + +“Ahoy there, Elkanah!” hailed Zebedee cheerfully. “'Mornin', Mr. Ellery. +Been havin' officers' counsel, have you?” + +“Good morning, Captain Mayo,” said the minister. + +“'Mornin', Zebedee,” grunted Elkanah. “I have--hum--ha!--been +discussing the regrettable affair of last night with Mr. Ellery. I have +tried--hum--ha! to show him that respectable people of our society don't +associate with Come-Outers, and that for a Regular minister to go to +their meetings is something neither the congregation nor the parish +committee approves of. No--er--hum--ha! no!” + +“And I explained to Captain Daniels,” observed the minister, “that I +went there for what seemed to me good reasons, and, as they did seem to +me good at the time, I'm not ashamed of having gone. It was an honest +mistake on my part and I may make more.” + +“But the society--” began Elkanah. Captain Zeb interrupted him. + +“Don't worry about the society, Mr. Ellery,” he said with emphasis. “Nor +about the parish committee, either. Great fishhooks! the most of us are +tickled to death over what you said to Eben Hammond. We think it's a +mighty good joke. YOU didn't know, of course, and what you did was done +innocent. He! he! he! Did you lay him out, hey?” + +“Zebedee,” began Captain Daniels, “I must say I can't see anything to +laugh at.” + +“You never could, Elkanah. I remember that time when you and me and some +of the fellers home from sea went out sailin' and the boom knocked you +overboard with your Sunday clothes on. Lordy, how the rest of us did +holler! but you never cracked a smile. If you'd seen yourself when we +hauled you in! whiskers runnin' salt water; beaver hat lookin' like a +drownded kitten--” + +“There! There! Never mind that. I think you'll find a good many of the +society feel as I do, shocked and--hum--ha!--sorry. I'm surprised they +haven't been here to say so.” + +“I expected them,” remarked the minister. + +“So did I,” chimed in Captain Zeb. “But I cal'late to know why they +ain't been. They're all too busy crowin' over the way Nat Hammond +fetched the packet home last night. WHAT? You ain't heard? Great +fishhooks! it's the best thing ever--” + +“I've heard about it,” snapped Elkanah impatiently. “Mr. Ellery, I'm +glad you realize that your action was a mistake and I will take pains to +have that immejitly made plain to--” + +“YOU ain't heard, Keziah, have you?” broke in Zebedee. “Nor you, Mr. +Ellery? Well, I must tell you. Here's where I gain a lap on Didama +Rogers. Seems the Deborah S.--that's the packet's name, Mr. Ellery--she +hauled out of Boston night afore last on the ebb, with a fair wind and +sky clear as a bell. But they hadn't much more'n got outside of Minot's +'fore the fog shut down, thicker'n gruel for a sick rich man. The wind +held till 'long toward mornin'; then she flattened to a dead calm. 'Bije +Perry, the mate, he spun the yarn to me, and he said 'twas thick and +flat as ever he see and kept gettin' no better fast. + +“They drifted along till noon time and then they was somewheres out in +the bay, but that's about all you could say. Zach, he was stewin' and +sputterin' like a pair of fried eels, and Lafayette Gage and Emulous +Peters--they're Denboro folks, Mr. Ellery, and about sixteen p'ints +t'other side of no account--they was the only passengers aboard except +Nat Hammond, and they put in their time playin' high low jack in the +cabin. The lookout was for'ard tootin' a tin horn and his bellerin' +was the most excitin' thing goin' on. After dinner--corned beef and +cabbage--trust Zach for that, though it's next door to cannibalism to +put cabbage in HIS mouth--after dinner all hands was on deck when Nat +says: 'Hush!' he says. 'Don't I hear somethin'?' + +“They listened, and then they all heard it--all 'cept Zach, who's deef +in his larboard ear. + +“'Stand by!' roars Nat. 'It's a squall, dead astern and comin' abilin'! +I'll take her, 'Bije. You look out for them tops'ls.' + +“So Nat grabs the wheel and 'Bije tears for'ard and sends the two +fo'mast hands aloft on the jump. Zach was skipper, but all he done was +race around and holler and trip over his own feet. Oh, he's a prize +sailor, he is! Don't talk to me about them Fosters! I--” + +“Nobody is talkin' about 'em but you, Zeb,” observed Keziah drily. “Go +on. How about the squall?” + +“It hit 'em 'fore they got even one tops'l clewed down. That one, the +foretops'l 'twas, split to rags. The main tops'l was set, and when the +squall struck, the rotten old topmast went by the board 'Kerrash-o!' +'Course splinters flew like all possessed, and one of 'em, about a foot +long, sailed past Nat's head, where he stood heavin' his whole weight on +the wheel, and lit right on the binnacle, smashin' it to matches. + +“They say Nat never paid the least attention, no more'n if the chunk of +wood had been a June bug buzzin' past. He just held that wheel hard down +and that saved the packet. She come around and put her nose dead in +the wind just in time. As 'twas, 'Bije says there was a second when the +water by her lee rail looked right underneath him as he hung onto the +deck with finger nails and teeth. + +“Well, there they was, afloat, but with their upper riggin' gone and +the compass smashed flat. A howlin' no'thwester blowin' and fog thick as +ever. Zach was a whimperin', fidgetin' old woman, Lafayette and Emulous +was prayin' in the scuppers--and that ain't an exercise they're used to, +neither--and even 'Bije was mighty shook up and worried--he says he was +himself. But Nat Hammond was as cool and refreshin' as the bottom of my +well up home. + +“'Better clear away that mess aloft, hadn't you?' he says to the +skipper. + +“Zach said he guessed so; he wa'n't sure of nothin'. However, they +cleared it away, and incidentally 'Bije yanked the prayer meetin' out +of the scuppers and set 'em to work. Then Nat suggests gettin' the spare +compass and, lo and behold you! there wa'n't any. Compasses cost money +and money's made to keep, so Zach thinks. + +“So there they was. Wind was fair, or ought to be, but 'twas blowin' +hard and so thick you couldn't hardly see the jib boom. Zach he wanted +to anchor, then he didn't, then he did, and so on. Nobody paid much +attention to him. + +“'What'll we do, Nat?' says 'Bije. He knew who was the real seaman +aboard. + +“'Keep her as she is, dead afore it, if you ask me, says Nat. 'Guess +we'll hit the broadside of the cape somewheres if this gale holds.' + +“So they kept her as she was. And it got to be night and they knew +they'd ought to be 'most onto the edge of the flats off here, if their +reck'nin' was nigh right. They hove the lead and got five fathom. No +flats about that. + +“Zach was for anchorin' again. 'What do you think, Nat?' asks 'Bije. + +“'Anchor, of course, if you want to,' Nat says. 'You're runnin' this +craft. I'm only passenger.' + +“'But what do you THINK?' whines Zach. 'Can't you tell us what you do +think?' + +“'Well, if 'twas me, I wouldn't anchor till I had to. Prob'ly 'twill +fair off to-morrow, but if it shouldn't, we might have to lay out here +all day. Anyhow, we'd have to wait for a full tide.' + +“'I'm afraid we're off the course,' says 'Bije, else we'd been acrost +the bar by this time.' + +“'Well,' Nat tells him, 'if we are off the course and too far inshore, +we would have made the bar--the Bayport bar--if not the Trumet one. And +if we're off the course and too far out, we'd ought to have deeper water +than five fathom, hadn't we? 'Course I'm not sure, but--What's that, +lands-man?' + +“'Three and a half, sir,' says the feller with the lead. That showed +they was edgin' in somewheres. Nat he sniffed, for all the world like a +dog catchin' a scent, so 'Bije declares. + +“'I can smell home,' he says. + +“Three fathom the lead give 'em, then two and a half, then a scant two. +They was drawin' six feet. Zach couldn't stand it. + +“'I'm goin' to anchor,' he squeals, frantic. 'I believe we're plumb over +to Wellmouth and drivin' right onto Horsefoot Shoal.' + +“'It's either that or the bar,' chimes in 'Bije. 'And whichever 'tis, we +can't anchor in the middle of it.' + +“'But what'll we do?' shouts Zach. 'Can't nobody say somethin' to DO?' + +“'Tell you I smell home,' says Nat, calm and chipper, 'and I'd know that +smell if I met it in Jericho. Ha! there she deepens again. That was the +bar and we're over it.' + +“The wind had gone down to a stiff sailin' breeze, and the old Debby S. +slapped along afore it. Sometimes there was twelve foot under her keel +and sometimes eight or nine. Once 'twas only seven and a half. Zach and +'Bije both looked at each other, but Nat only smiled. + +“'Oh, you can laugh!' hollers Zach. ''Tain't your vessel you're runnin' +into danger. YOU aint paid out your good money--' + +“Nat never answered; but he stopped smilin'. + +“And all to once the water deepened. Hammond swung her up into the wind. + +“'NOW you can anchor,' says he. + +“'And 'bout time, too, I guess,' says 'Bije. 'I cal'late the skipper's +right. This IS Horsefoot and we're right between the shoals. Yes, sir, +and I hear breakers. Lively there!' + +“They hove over the mudhook and dropped the sails. Nat shook his head. + +“'Breakers or not,' says he, 'I tell you I've smelt home for the last +half hour. Now, by the jumpin' Moses, I can TASTE it!' + +“And inside of a couple of shakes come the rain. It poured for a while +and then the fog cleared. Right acrost their bows was Trumet, with the +town clock strikin' ten. Over the flat place between the hills they +could see the light on the ocean side. And they was anchored right +in the deep hole inside the breakwater, as sure as I'm knee high to a +marlin spike! + +“'Bije just stared at Hammond with his mouth open. + +“'Nat,' says he, 'you're a seaman, if I do say it. I thought I was a +pretty good bay pilot, but I can't steer a vessel without a compass +through a night as black as Pharaoh's Egypt, and in a thick fog besides, +and land her square on top of her moorin's. If my hat wa'n't sloshin' +around thirty mile astern, I snum if I wouldn't take it off to you this +minute!' + +“'Nat,' stammers Zach, 'I must say I--' + +“Nat snapped him shut like a tobacco box. 'You needn't,' says he. 'But +I'll say this to you, Zach Foster. When I undertake to handle a vessel +I handle her best I know how, and the fact that I don't own her makes no +difference to me. You just put that down somewheres so you won't forget +it.' + +“And this mornin',” crowed Captain Zebedee, concluding his long yarn, +“after that, mind you, that lubber Zach Foster is around town tellin' +folks that his schooner had been over the course so often she COULDN'T +get lost. She found her way home herself. WHAT do you think of that?” + +The two members of the parish committee left the parsonage soon after +Captain Mayo had finished his story. Elkanah had listened with growing +irritation and impatience. Zebedee lingered a moment behind his +companions. + +“Don't you fret yourself about what happened last night, Mr. Ellery,” + he whispered. “It'll be all right. 'Course nobody'd want you to keep up +chummin' in with Come-Outers, but what you said to old Eben'll square +you this time. So long.” + +The minister shut the door behind his departing guests. Then he went out +into the kitchen, whither the housekeeper had preceded him. He found her +standing on the back step, looking across the fields. The wash bench was +untenanted. + +“Hum!” mused Ellery thoughtfully, “that was a good story of Captain +Mayo's. This man Hammond must be a fine chap. I should like to meet +him.” + +Keziah still looked away over the fields. She did not wish her employer +to see her face--just then. + +“I thought you would meet him,” she said. “He was here a little while +ago and I asked him to wait. I guess Zeb's yarn was too much for him; he +doesn't like to be praised.” + +“So? Was he here? At the Regular parsonage? I'm surprised.” + +“He and I have known each other for a long while.” + +“Well, I'm sorry he's gone. I think I should like him.” + +Keziah turned from the door. + +“I know you would,” she said. + + +CHAPTER VII + +IN WHICH CAPTAIN NAT PICKS UP A DERELICT + + +It is probable that John Ellery never fully realized the debt of +gratitude he owed to the fog and the squall and to Captain Nat Hammond. +Trumet, always hungry for a sensation, would have thoroughly enjoyed +arguing and quarreling over the minister's visit to Come-Outer meeting, +and, during the fracas, Keziah's parson might have been more or less +battered. But Captain Nat's brilliant piloting of the old packet was +a bit of seamanship which every man and woman on that foam-bordered +stretch of sand could understand and appreciate, and the minister's +indiscretion was all but forgotten in consequence. The “Daily +Advertisers” gloated over it, of course, and Captain Elkanah brought it +up at the meeting of the parish committee, but there Captain Zeb Mayo +championed the young man's course and proclaimed that, fur's he was +concerned, he was for Mr. Ellery more'n ever. “A young greenhorn +with the spunk to cruise single-handed right into the middle of the +Come-Outer school and give an old bull whale like Eben the gaff is the +man for my money,” declared Zebedee. Most of his fellow-committee agreed +with him. “Not guilty, but don't do it again,” was the general verdict. + +As for the Come-Outers, they professed to believe that their leader had +much the best of the encounter, so they were satisfied. There was a +note of triumph and exultation in the “testimony” given on the following +Thursday night, and Captain Eben divided his own discourse between +thankfulness for his son's safe return and glorification at the +discomfiture of the false prophets. Practically, then, the result of +Ellery's peace overture was an increased bitterness in the feeling +between the two societies and a polishing of weapons on both sides. + +Keziah watched anxiously for a hint concerning her parson's walk in the +rain with Grace, but she heard nothing, so congratulated herself that +the secret had been kept. Ellery did not again mention it to her, nor +she to him. A fortnight later he preached his great sermon on “The +Voyage of Life,” and its reference to gales and calms and lee shores and +breakers made a hit. His popularity took a big jump. + +He met Nat Hammond during that fortnight. The first meeting was +accompanied by unusual circumstances, which might have been serious, but +were actually only funny. + +The tide at Trumet, on the bay side, goes out for a long way, leaving +uncovered a mile and a half of flats, bare and sandy, or carpeted with +seaweed. Between these flats are the channels, varying at low water from +two to four feet in depth, but deepening rapidly as the tide flows. + +The flats fascinated the young minister, as they have many another +visitor to the Cape, before or since. On cloudy days they lowered with +a dull, leaden luster and the weed-grown portions were like the dark +squares on a checkerboard, while the deep water beyond the outer bar was +steely gray and angry. When the sun shone and the wind blew clear from +the northwest the whole expanse flashed into fire and color, sapphire +blue, emerald green, topaz yellow, dotted with white shells and ablaze +with diamond sparkles where the reflected light leaped from the flint +crystals of the wet, coarse sand. + +The best time to visit the flats--tide serving, of course--is the early +morning at sunrise. Then there is an inspiration in the wide expanse, a +snap and tang and joy in the air. Ellery had made up his mind to take a +before-breakfast tramp to the outer bar and so arose at five, tucked a +borrowed pair of fisherman's boots beneath his arm, and, without saying +anything to his housekeeper, walked down the lawn behind the parsonage, +climbed the rail fence, and “cut across lots” to the pine grove on the +bluff. There he removed his shoes, put on the boots, wallowed through +the mealy yellow sand forming the slope of the bluff, and came out on +the white beach and the inner edge of the flats. Then he plashed on, +bound out to where the fish weirs stood, like webby fences, in the +distance. + +It was a wonderful walk on a wonderful day. The minister enjoyed every +minute of it. Out here he could forget the petty trials of life, the +Didamas and Elkanahs. The wind blew his hat off and dropped it in a +shallow channel, but he splashed to the rescue and laughed aloud as he +fished it out. It was not much wetter than it had been that night of +the rain, when he tried to lend his umbrella and didn't succeed. This +reflection caused him to halt in his walk and look backward toward the +shore. The brown roof of the old tavern was blushing red in the first +rays of the sun. + +A cart, drawn by a plodding horse and with a single individual on its +high seat, was moving out from behind the breakwater. Some fisherman +driving out his weir, probably. + +The sand of the outer bar was dimpled and mottled like watered silk by +the action of the waves. It sloped gradually down to meet the miniature +breakers that rolled over and slid in ripples along its edge. Ellery +wandered up and down, picking up shells and sea clams, and peering +through the nets of the nearest weir at the “horsefoot crabs” and squid +and flounders imprisoned in the pound. There were a few bluefish there, +also, and a small school of mackerel. + +The minister had been on the bar a considerable time before he began to +think of returning to the shore. He was hungry, but was enjoying himself +too well to mind. The flats were all his that morning. Only the cart and +its driver were in sight and they were half a mile off. He looked at +his watch, sighed, and reluctantly started to walk toward the town; he +mustn't keep Mrs. Coffin's breakfast waiting TOO long. + +The first channel he came to was considerably deeper than when he forded +it on the way out. He noticed this, but only vaguely. The next, however, +was so deep that the water splashed in at the top of one of his boots. +He did notice that, because though he was not wearing his best clothes, +he was not anxious to wet his “other ones.” The extent of his wardrobe +was in keeping with the size of his salary. + +And the third channel was so wide and deep that he saw at once it could +not be forded, unless he was willing to plunge above his waist. This +was provoking. Now he realized that he had waited too long. The tide had +been flowing for almost an hour; it had flowed fast and, as he should +have remembered, having been told, the principal channels were eight +feet deep before the highest flats were covered. + +He hurried along the edge, looking for a shallower place, but found +none. At last he reached the point of the flat he was on and saw, to +his dismay, that here was the deepest spot yet, a hole, scoured out by a +current like a mill race. Turning, he saw, creeping rapidly and steadily +together over the flat behind him, two lines of foam, one from each +channel. His retreat was cut off. + +He was in for a wetting, that was sure. However, there was no help for +it, so he waded in. The water filled his boots there, it gurgled about +his hips, and beyond, as he could see, it seemed to grow deeper and +deeper. The current was surprisingly strong; he found it difficult to +keep his footing in the soft sand. It looked as though he must swim for +it, and to swim in that tide would be no joke. + +Then, from behind him, came a hail. He turned and saw moving toward him +through the shallow water now covering the flat beyond the next channel, +the cart he had seen leave the shore by the packet wharf, and, later, on +the outer bar. The horse was jogging along, miniature geysers spouting +beneath its hoofs. The driver waved to him. + +“Hold on, mate,” he called. “Belay there. Stay where you are. I'll be +alongside in a shake. Git dap, January!” + +Ellery waded back to meet this welcome arrival. The horse plunged into +the next channel, surged through it, and emerged dripping. The driver +pulled the animal into a walk. + +“Say,” he cried, “I'm cruisin' your way; better get aboard, hadn't you? +There's kind of a heavy dew this mornin'. Whoa, Bill!” + +“Bill” or “January” stopped with apparent willingness. The driver leaned +down and extended a hand. The minister took it and was pulled up to the +seat. + +“Whew!” he panted. “I'm much obliged to you. I guess you saved me from a +ducking, if nothing worse.” + +“Yes,” was the answer, “I wouldn't wonder if I did. This ain't Saturday +night and 'twould be against Trumet principles to take a bath any other +time. All taut, are you? Good enough! then we'll get under way.” He +flapped the reins and added, “G'long, Julius Caesar!” + +The horse, a sturdy, sedate beast to whom all names seemed to be alike, +picked up his feet and pounded them down again. Showers of spray flew +about the heads of the pair on the seat. + +“I ain't so sure about that duckin',” commented the rescuer. “Hum! I +guess likely we'll be out of soundin's if we tackle that sink hole you +was undertakin' to navigate. Let's try it a little further down.” + +Ellery looked his companion over. + +“Well,” he observed with a smile, “from what I've heard of you, Captain +Hammond, I rather guess you could navigate almost any water in this +locality and in all sorts of weather.” + +The driver turned in surprise. + +“So?” he exclaimed. “You know me, do you? That's funny. I was tryin' to +locate you, but I ain't been able to. You ain't a Trumetite I'll bet on +that.” + +“Yes, I am.” + +“Tut! tut! tut! you don't tell me. Say, shipmate, you hurt my pride. I +did think there wa'n't a soul that ever trod sand in this village that I +couldn't name on sight, and give the port they hailed from and the names +of their owners. But you've got me on my beam ends. And yet you knew +ME.” + +“Of course I did. Everybody knows the man that brought the packet home.” + +Nat Hammond sniffed impatiently. + +“Um--hm!” he grunted. “I cal'late everybody does, and knows a lot more +about that foolishness than I do myself. If ever a craft was steered +by guess and by godfrey, 'twas that old hooker of Zach's t'other night. +Well--Humph! here's another piece of pilotin' that bids fair to be a +mighty sight harder. Heave ahead, Hannibal! hope you've got your web +feet with you.” + +They had moved along the edge of the flat a short distance and now +turned into the channel. The horse was wading above its knees; soon the +water reached its belly and began to flow into the body of the cart. + +“Pick up your feet, shipmate,” commanded Nat. “You may get rheumatiz if +you don't. This'll be a treat for those sea clams back in that bucket +amidships. They'll think I've repented and have decided to turn 'em +loose again. They don't know how long I've been countin' on a sea-clam +pie. I'll fetch those clams ashore if I have to lug 'em with my teeth. +Steady, all hands! we're off the ways.” + +The cart was afloat. The horse, finding wading more difficult than +swimming, began to swim. + +“Now I'm skipper again, sure enough,” remarked Hammond. “Ain't gettin' +seasick, are you?” + +The minister laughed. + +“No,” he said. + +“Good! she keeps on a fairly even keel, considerin' her build. THERE +she strikes! That'll do, January; you needn't try for a record voyage. +Walkin's more in your line than playin' steamboat. We're over the worst +of it now. Say! you and I didn't head for port any too soon, did we?” + +“No, I should say not. I ought to have known better than to wait out +there so long. I've been warned about this tide. I--” + +“S-sh-sh! YOU ought to have known better! What do you think of me? Born +and brought up within sight and smell of this salt puddle and let myself +in for a scrape like this! But it was so mighty fine off there on the +bar I couldn't bear to leave it. I always said that goin' to sea on +land would be the ideal way, and now I've tried it. But you took bigger +chances than I did. Are you a good swimmer?” + +“Not too good. I hardly know what might have happened if you hadn't--” + +“S-sh-sh! that's all right. Always glad to pick up a derelict, may be a +chance for salvage, you know. Here's the last channel and it's an easy +one. There! now it's plain sailin' for dry ground.” + +The old horse, breathing heavily from his exertions, trotted over the +stretch of yet uncovered flats and soon mounted the slope of the beach. +The minister prepared to alight. + +“Captain Hammond,” he said, “you haven't asked me my name.” + +“No, I seldom do more'n once. There have been times when I'D just as +soon cruise without too big letters alongside my figurehead.” + +“Well, my name is Ellery.” + +“Hey? WHAT? Oh, ho! ho! ho!” + +He rocked back and forth on the seat. The minister's feelings were a bit +hurt, though he tried not to show it. + +“You mustn't mind my laughin',” explained Nat, still chuckling. “It +ain't at you. It's just because I was wonderin' what you'd look like if +I should meet you and now--Ho! ho! You see, Mr. Ellery, I've heard of +you, same as you said you'd heard of me.” + +Ellery smiled, but not too broadly. + +“Yes,” he admitted, “I imagined you had.” + +“Yes, seems to me dad mentioned your name once or twice. As much as +that, anyhow. Wonder what he'd say if he knew his son had been takin' +you for a mornin' ride?” + +“Probably that it would have been much better to have left me where you +found me.” + +The captain's jolly face grew serious. + +“No, no!” he protested. “Not so bad as that. Dad wouldn't drown anybody, +not even a Regular minister. He's a pretty square-built old craft, even +though his spiritual chart may be laid out different from yours--and +mine.” + +“From yours? Why, I supposed--” + +“Yes, I know. Well, WHEN I go to meetin', I generally go to the chapel +to please father. But when it comes right down to a confession of faith, +I'm pretty broad in the beam. Maybe I'd be too broad even for you, Mr. +Ellery.” + +The minister, who had jumped to the ground, looked up. + +“Captain Hammond,” he said, “I'm very glad indeed that I met you. Not +alone because you helped me out of a bad scrape; I realize how bad it +might have been and that--” + +“Shsh! shh! Nothin' at all. Don't be foolish.” + +“But I'm glad, too, because I've heard so many good things about you +that I was sure you must be worth knowing. I hope you won't believe I +went to your father's meeting with any--” + +“No, no! Jumpin' Moses, man! I don't find fault with you for that. I +understand, I guess.” + +“Well, if you don't mind the fact that I am what I am, I'd like to shake +hands with you.” + +Nat reached down a big brown hand. + +“Same here,” he said. “Always glad to shake with a chap as well +recommended as you are. Yes, indeed, I mean it. You see, you've got a +friend that's a friend of mine, and when she guarantees a man to be A. +B., I'll ship him without any more questions.” + +“Well, then, good-by. I hope we shall meet again and often. And I +certainly thank you for--” + +“That's all right. Maybe you'll fish ME out of the drink some day; you +never can tell. So long! Git dap, Gen'ral Scott!” + +He drove off up the beach, but before he turned the corner of the +nearest dune he called back over his shoulder: + +“Say, Mr. Ellery, if you think of it you might give my regards +to--to--er--the lady that's keepin' house for you.” + +Breakfast had waited nearly an hour when the minister reached home. +Keziah, also, was waiting and evidently much relieved at his safe +arrival. + +“Sakes alive!” she exclaimed, as she met him at the back door. “Where in +the world have you been, Mr. Ellery? Soakin' wet again, too!” + +Ellery replied that he had been for a walk out to the bar. He sat down +on the step to remove the borrowed boots. A small rivulet of salt water +poured from each as he pulled them off. + +“For a walk! A swim, you mean. How could you get in up to your waist if +you just walked? Did you fall down?” + +“No, not exactly. But I waited too long and the tide headed me off.” + +“Mercy on us! you mustn't take chances on that tide. If you'd told me +you was goin', I'd have warned you to hurry back.” + +“Oh, I've been warned often enough. It was my own fault, as usual. I'm +not sure that I don't need a guardian.” + +“Humph! well, I ain't sure either. Was the channels very deep?” + +“Deep enough. The fact is, that I might have got into serious trouble if +I hadn't been picked up.” + +He told briefly the story of his morning's adventure. The housekeeper +listened with growing excitement. + +“Heavens to Betsy!” she interrupted. “Was the channel you planned to +swim the one at the end of the flat by the longest weir leader?” + +“Yes.” + +“My soul! there's been two men drowned in that very place at half tide. +And they were good swimmers. After this I shan't dare let you out of my +sight.” + +“So? Was it as risky as that? Why, Captain Hammond didn't tell me so. I +must owe him more even than I thought.” + +“Yes, I guess you do. He wouldn't tell you, though; that ain't his way. +Deary me! for what we've received let us be thankful. And that reminds +me that biscuits ought to be et when they're first made, not after +they've been dried up on the back of the stove forever and ever amen. +Go on and change those wet things of yours and then we'll eat. Tryin' to +swim the main channel on the flood! My soul and body!” + +“Captain Nat sent his regards to you, Mrs. Coffin,” said the minister, +moving toward the stairs. + +“Did, hey?” was the housekeeper's reply. “Want to know!” + + +CHAPTER VIII + +IN WHICH THE PARSON AND MR. PEPPER DECLARE THEIR INDEPENDENCE + + +That afternoon, when dinner was over, the Reverend John decided to make +a few duty calls. The first of these he determined should be on the +Peppers. Lavinia and her brother had called at the Parsonage several +times, but as yet he had not paid them a visit. It was not a ceremony +to which he looked forward with delight, but it must be performed. +Miss Pepper had hinted several times, at sewing circle and after prayer +meeting, of “partiality” and “only stoppin' in where they had fancy +curtains up to the windows.” So, as it could not be put off longer, +without causing trouble, he determined to go through with it. + +The Pepper house was situated just off the main road on the lane leading +over the dunes to the ocean and the light. It was a small building, its +white paint dingy and storm beaten, and its little fenced-in front +yard dotted thickly with clumps of silver-leaf saplings. A sign, nailed +crookedly on a post, informed those seeking such information that within +was to be found “Abishai G. W. Pepper, Tax Collector, Assessor, Boots +and Shoes Repaired.” And beneath this was fastened a shingle with the +chalked notice, “Salt Hay for sale.” + +The boot and shoe portion of the first sign was a relic of other days. +Kyan had been a cobbler once, but it is discouraging to wait three +or four weeks while the pair of boots one has left to be resoled are +forgotten in a corner. Captain Zeb Mayo's pointed comment, “I want my +shoe leather to wear while I'm alive, not to be laid out in after I die +of old age,” expressed the general feeling of the village and explained +why custom had left Mr. Pepper and flown to the more enterprising +shoemaker at “The Corners.” The tax collectorship might have followed +it, but here Lavinia kept her brother up to the mark. She went with +him on his rounds and it gave her opportunity to visit, and afterwards +comment upon, every family in town. + +The minister walked up the dusty lane, lifted the Pepper gate and swung +it back on its one hinge, shooed away the three or four languid and +discouraged-looking fowls that were taking a sun bath on the clam-shell +walk, and knocked at the front door. No one coming in answer to the +knock, he tried again. Then he discovered a rusty bell pull and gave it +a sharp tug. The knob came off in his hand and he hurriedly thrust it +back again into its place. Evidently, that bell was solely for ornament. + +He came to the conclusion that no one was at home and felt a guilty +sense of relief in consequence. But his conscience would not let him +depart without another try, so he clenched his fist and gave the cracked +door panel a series of tremendous thumps. A thin black cat, which had +evidently been asleep beneath the step, burst from its concealment and +fled in frantic terror. Then from somewhere in the rear of the house +came the sound of a human voice. + +“Hi!” it called faintly. “Whoever you be, don't bust that door down. +Come round here.” + +Ellery walked around the corner of the building. The voice came again. + +“Say!” it wailed, “why don't you answer? Be you comin'? If you're a +peddler, you needn't.” + +“I'm not a peddler,” was the minister's amused reply. + +“Oh, ain't ye? All right. Come along, then.” + +Ellery “came along” as far as the angle where the ell joined the main +body of the house. So far as he could see every door and window was +closed and there were no signs of life. However, he stepped to the door, +a green-painted affair of boards, and ventured another knock. + +“Don't start that poundin' again!” protested the voice. “Come round to +t'other side where I be.” + +So around went the Reverend John, smiling broadly. But even on “t'other +side” there was no one to be seen. And no door, for that matter. + +“Why!” exclaimed the voice, “if 'tain't Mr. Ellery! How d'ye do? Glad to +see you, Mr. Ellery. Fine day, ain't it? Here I be at this window.” + +Sure enough; one of the windows on this side of the house was raised +about six inches at the bottom, the shade was up, and peering beneath +the sash the minister discerned the expressive features of Abishai +Pepper--or as much of those features as the size of the opening +permitted to be seen. + +“Oh!” exclaimed the visitor, “is that you, Mr. Pepper? Well, I'm glad to +see you, at last. You are rather hard to see, even now.” + +Kyan was plainly embarrassed. He stammered as he answered. + +“Yes,” he agreed, “I--I shouldn't wonder if I be. How be you? Pretty +smart?” + +“Yes, thank you. I'm well.” + +“Er--er--come to call, did you?” + +“Why, yes, that was my intention.” + +“Hum! Er--er--Laviny, she's gone over to Thankful Payne's. She heard +that Thankful's cousin up to Middleboro had died--passed away, I +mean--and she thought she'd run over and find out if Thankful was willed +anything. She said she'd be back pretty soon.” + +“Very well. Then, as she won't be gone long, perhaps I'll come in and +wait.” + +He was moving away toward the corner when a shout from beneath the +window sash brought him to a halt. + +“Hi!” called Abishai. “Hi, Mr. Ellery! don't go to that door. 'Tain't no +use; it's locked.” + +“Locked? Well, you can unlock it, can't you?” + +“No, not very well. That is, I--Mr. Ellery, come back here, won't ye? I +don't want anybody to hear.” + +The house of the nearest neighbor being several hundred yards away, +the likelihood of being overheard was improbable; but the minister came +back, nevertheless. + +“You see, Mr. Ellery,” stammered Kyan, “I--I'd like to have you come in +fust rate, but--er--Laviny she's got the key.” + +Ellery was surprised. + +“She has!” he exclaimed. + +“Um--hm, she's got it. She took it with her.” + +“But there are other doors. She didn't take them all, did she?” + +“No--o, but--Well, the fact is, Mr. Ellery, I--I--I'm locked in.” + +“Locked in?” + +“Yes, locked in this room. She--she--Oh, consarn it all, Mr. Ellery, +she's locked me in this room a-purpose, so's I won't get out and go +somewheres without her knowin' it.” + +“What?” + +“Um--h'm; that's what she's done. Did you ever hear of anything like +that in your born days?” + +This surprising disclosure was funny enough, but the tone of grieved +indignation in which Mr. Pepper told of his imprisonment was funnier +still. The minister coughed violently and looked the other way. + +“She done it a-purpose,” continued Kyan, in a burst of confidence. “She +had me put one of them new-fangled spring locks on the door of this room +t'other day, 'cause she said she was afraid of tramps and wanted some +place to shut herself up in if one of em come. And--and after dinner +to-day she sent me in here for somethin' and then slammed the door on +me. Said she cal'lated I'd stay put till she got back from Thankful's. +She knew mighty well I couldn't get out of the window, 'cause it won't +open no further'n 'tis now. I wa'n't never so provoked in my life. +'Tain't no way to treat your own brother, lockin' him up like a young +one; now, is it?” + +Ellery's reply was not made immediately. He had heard numerous stories +concerning this odd household, some of which seemed too absurd for +belief. But this performance was more ridiculous than anything he had +heard. + +“'Tain't right, is it, Mr. Ellery?” demanded Kyan. + +“Why,” answered the caller chokingly, “I--I--it is rather unusual, +that's a fact. May I ask what you've done to--” + +“Done? I ain't done nothin'. She's so darned scared some other woman'll +get my money that--you see, a month or so ago I--I--well, she thought +I done somethin', or was plannin' to do somethin' that--Keziah Coffin +never told you anything about me, did she?” + +“No, indeed. What could Mrs. Coffin tell me about you?” + +“All right. Nothin', nothin'. Only if she did, tain't so. But I ain't +goin' to stand it no more, Mr. Ellery. Bein' shut up in a darned +old--excuse my swearin', I didn't mean to, though I got reason enough, +land knows--bein' shut up in a room full of trunks and odds and ends is +goin' too fur. I never want to smell old clothes ag'in long's I live. +Would you stand it if you was me, Mr. Ellery?” + +“Why, of course I mustn't interfere in your family matters, Mr. Pepper. +Perhaps I'd better call some other time. Good afternoon.” + +“Hold on! hold on! you ain't answered me yet. You're a minister and I +go to your meetin' house. Tell me what you'd do if you was me. Would you +stand it?” + +Ellery laughed aloud. + +“No,” he said, “I suppose I shouldn't.” + +“I bet you wouldn't! What would you do?” + +“I don't know. You're of age, Mr. Pepper, and you must decide for +yourself. I think I should declare my independence. Really, I must go. +I--” + +“Don't be in such a hurry. I want advice. I need it. And, so fur's +DECLARIN' goes, that don't do me no good. She can declare more things in +a minute than I can think of in a week. Tongue! I never heard--No, no! +Never mind the declarin'. What would you DO? S'posin' you wanted to go +outdoor without havin' her tagged to your coat tails, how'd you stop the +taggin'?” + +The absurdity of the affair was too much for the visitor. He roared a +“Ha, ha!” that caused Abishai to wave a warning hand beneath the sash. + +“Ss-h-h! sshh!” he hissed. “Folks'll hear ye, and I'd be so ashamed if +they did that I wouldn't dast to show my head. Can't show much of it, +anyhow, just now. By gum! I'll do somethin' desperate. I--I dunno as I +won't pizen her. I--” + +“Hush! hush! you mustn't talk that way. I'm afraid you must be very +fascinating, Mr. Pepper. If your sister is so very fearful of your +meeting other women, it must be because she has good reason to fear.” + +“Stop your foolishness! Oh!--I--I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery. That +ain't no way to talk to a minister. But I'm goin' to go out when I want +to if I bust a hole through the clapboards. I AIN'T fascinatin'. You ask +any woman--except her--if I be, and see what they say. What'll I DO?” + +“Ha, ha! I don't know, I'm sure. You might lock HER up, I suppose, just +for a change.” + +“Hey!” There was a sound from behind the pane as if the imprisoned one +had slapped his knee. “By gum! I never thought of that. Would you now, +Mr. Ellery? Would you? Sshh! sshh! somebody's comin'. Maybe it's her. +Run around to the door, Mr. Ellery, quick. And don't tell her I've seen +you, for mercy sakes! Don't now, will ye? Please! Run!” + +The minister did not run, but he walked briskly around the corner. +Sure enough, Lavinia was there, just unlocking the door. She expressed +herself as very glad to see the caller, ushered him into the sitting +room and disappeared, returning in another moment with her brother, whom +she unblushingly said had been taking a nap. Abishai did not contradict +her; instead, he merely looked apprehensively at the minister. + +The call was a short one. Lavinia did seven eighths of the talking and +Ellery the rest. Kyan was silent. When the visit was over, Miss Pepper +escorted her guest to the door and bade him a voluble good-by. Over +her shoulder the minister saw Kyan making frantic signs to him; +he interpreted the signals as a request for secrecy concerning the +interview by the window. + +Several times during the remainder of that week he surprised his +housekeeper by suddenly laughing aloud when there was, apparently, +nothing to laugh at. He explained these outbursts by saying that he +had thought of something funny. Keziah suggested that it must be mighty +funny to make him laugh in the middle of sermon writing. + +“I've heard sermons that were funny,” she said, “though they wasn't +intended to be; but what I've heard of yours ain't that kind. I wish +you'd let me in on the joke. I haven't been feelin' like laughin' for +the last fortni't.” + +She had been rather grave and preoccupied, for her, of late. Bustling +and busy she always was, never sitting down to “rest,” as she called it, +without a lap full of sewing. The minister's clothes were mended and his +socks darned as they had not been since his mother's day. And with +him, at meal times, or after supper in the sitting room, she was always +cheerful and good-humored. But he had heard her sigh at her work, and +once, when she thought herself unobserved, he saw her wipe her eyes with +her apron. + +“No, no,” she protested, when he asked if anything had gone wrong. “I'm +all right. Got a little cold or somethin', I guess, that's all.” + +She would not give any other explanation and absolutely refused to see +the doctor. Ellery did not press the matter. He believed the “cold” to +be but an excuse and wondered what the real trouble might be. It seemed +to him to date from the evening of his chapel experience. + +He told no one, not even her, of Kyan's confidential disclosure, and, +after some speculation as to whether or not there might be a sequel, put +the whole ludicrous affair out of his mind. He worked hard in his study +and at his pastoral duties, and was conscious of a pleasant feeling that +he was gaining his people's confidence and esteem. + +A week from the following Sunday he dined in state at the Daniels's +table. Captain Elkanah was gracious and condescending. Annabel was more +than that. She was dressed in her newest gown and was so very gushing +and affable that the minister felt rather embarrassed. When, after the +meal was over, Captain Elkanah excused himself and went upstairs for +his Sabbath nap, the embarrassment redoubled. Miss Annabel spoke very +confidentially of her loneliness, without “congenial society,” of +how VERY much she did enjoy Mr. Ellery's intellectual sermons, and +especially what a treat it had been to have him as a guest. + +“You must dine here every Sunday,” she said. “It will be no trouble at +all, and if you say no, I shall feel that it is because you don't want +to see me--FATHER and me, of course, I mean.” + +The minister didn't accept this pressing invitation; on the other +hand, he could not refuse it absolutely. He did not like Miss Daniels +overmuch, but she was the daughter of his leading parishioner and she +and her parent did seem to like him. So he dodged the issue and said she +was very kind. + +He left the big house as soon as he could without giving offense, and +started back toward the parsonage. But the afternoon was so fine and the +early summer air so delightful that he changed his mind and, jumping the +fence at the foot of Cannon Hill, set off across the fields toward the +bluffs and the bay shore. + +The sun was low in the west as he entered the grove of pines on the +bluff. The red light between the boughs made brilliant carpet patterns +on the thick pine needles and the smell was balsamy and sweet. Between +the tree trunks he caught glimpses of the flats, now partially covered, +and they reminded him of his narrow escape and of Nat Hammond, his +rescuer. He had met the captain twice since then, once at the store and +again on the main road, and had chatted with him. He liked him immensely +and wished he might count him as an intimate friend. But intimacy +between a Regular clergyman and the son of the leader of the Come-Outers +was out of the question. Partisans on both sides would shriek at the +idea. + +Thinking of the Hammond family reminded him of another member of it. Not +that he needed to be reminded; he had thought of her often enough since +she ran away from him in the rain that night. And the picture in the +doorway was not one that he could forget--or wanted to. If she were +not a Come-Outer, he could meet her occasionally and they might become +friends. She was a disconcerting young person, who lacked proper respect +for one of his profession and laughed when she shouldn't--but she was +interesting, he admitted that. + +And then he saw her. She was standing just at the outer edge of the +grove, leaning against a tree and looking toward the sunset. She wore a +simple white dress and her hat hung upon her shoulders by its ribbons. +The rosy light edged the white gown with pink and the fringes of her +dark hair were crinkly lines of fire. Her face was grave, almost sad. + +John Ellery stood still, with one foot uplifted for a step. The girl +looked out over the water and he looked at her. Then a crow, one of +several whirling above the pines, spied the intruder and screamed a +warning. The minister was startled and stepped back. A dead limb beneath +his foot cracked sharply. Grace turned and saw him. + +“Oh!” she cried. “Who is it?” + +Ellery emerged from the shadow. + +“Don't be frightened, Miss Van Horne,” he said. “It is--er--I.” + +This statement was neither brilliant nor original; even as an +identification it lacked considerable. + +“I?” repeated the girl. “Who? Oh! Why--” + +The minister came forward. + +“Good afternoon, Miss Van Horne,” he stammered. “I'm afraid I frightened +you.” + +She was looking at him with a queer expression, almost as if she +scarcely believed him real. + +“I hope--” he began again. She interrupted him. + +“No,” she said confusedly, “you didn't frighten me. I was a little +startled when I saw you there behind me. It seemed so odd, because I was +just thinking--No, I wasn't frightened. What is there to be frightened +of--in Trumet?” + +He had extended his hand, but partially withdrew it, not sure how even +such a perfunctory act of friendliness might be received. She saved him +embarrassment by frankly offering her own. + +“Not much, that's a fact,” he said, in answer to her question. He +would have liked to ask what she had been thinking that made his sudden +appearance seem so odd. + +“You came to see the sunset, I suppose?” she said hurriedly, as if to +head off a question. “So did I. It is a beautiful evening for a walk, +isn't it?” + +She had said precisely the same thing on that other evening, when they +stood in the middle of “Hammond's Turn-off” in the driving rain. He +remembered it, and so, evidently, did she, for she colored slightly and +smiled. + +“I mean it this time,” she said. “I'm glad you didn't get cold from your +wetting the other day.” + +“Oh! I wasn't very wet. You wouldn't let me lend you the umbrella, so I +had that to protect me on the way home.” + +“Not then; I meant the other morning when Nat--Cap'n Hammond--met you +out on the flats. He said you were wading the main channel and it was +over your boots.” + +“Over my boots! Is that all he said? Over my head would be the plain +truth. To cross it I should have had to swim and, if what I've heard +since is true, I doubt if I could swim that channel. Captain Hammond +helped me out of a bad scrape.” + +“Oh, no! I guess not. He said you were cruising without a pilot and he +towed you into port; that's the way he expressed it.” + +“It was worse than that, a good deal worse. It might have been my last +cruise. I'm pretty certain that I owe the captain my life.” + +She looked at him uncomprehendingly. + +“Your life?” she repeated. + +“I believe it. That part of the channel I proposed swimming was exactly +where two men have been drowned, so people say. I'm not a very strong +swimmer, and they were. So, you see.” + +Grace cried out in astonishment. + +“Oh!” she exclaimed. Then pointing toward the bay, she asked: “Out +there, by the end of that leader, was it?” + +“Yes, that was it.” + +She drew a long breath. Then, after a moment: + +“And Nat spoke as if it was all a joke,” she said. + +“No doubt he did. From what I hear of your brother, he generally refers +to his own plucky, capable actions as jokes. Other people call them +something else.” + +She did not answer, but continued to gaze at the half-submerged +“leader,” with the pine bough tied at its landward end to mark the edge +of deep water, and the tide foaming through its lath gratings. + +“Your brother--” went on the minister. + +“He isn't my brother,” she interrupted absently. “I wish he was.” + +She sighed as she uttered the last sentence. + +“No, of course he isn't your real brother; I forgot. But he must seem +like one.” + +“Yes,” rather doubtfully. + +“You must be proud of him.” + +“I am.” There was nothing doubtful this time. + +“Well, he saved me from drowning. I'm almost certain of that.” + +“I'm so glad.” + +She seemed to mean it. He looked at her. + +“Thank you,” he said drily. “I'm rather glad myself.” + +“Oh! I didn't mean it exactly that way. Of course I'm glad you weren't +drowned, but I'm especially glad that--that one of our family saved you. +Now you won't believe that Come-Outers are all bad.” + +“I never believed it.” + +She shook her head. + +“Oh, yes, you did,” she affirmed stubbornly. “You've heard nothing good +of us since you came here. Don't tell fibs, Mr. Ellery.” + +“But I assure you--” + +“Nonsense! Does--well, does Cap'n Daniels, or his daughter, say anything +good of us? Be honest, do they?” + +“I hardly think--that is, I shouldn't call their opinions unprejudiced. +And, Miss Van Horne, perhaps the prejudice isn't all on one side. What +did your uncle say about Cap'n Nat's meeting me the other day?” + +“Uncle Eben doesn't know. Nat didn't tell anyone but me. He doesn't +boast. And uncle would be glad he helped you. As I told you before, Mr. +Ellery, I'm not ashamed of my uncle. He has been so good to me that I +never can repay him, never! When my own father was drowned he took me +in, a little orphan that would probably have been sent to a home, and +no father could be kinder or more indulgent than he has been. Anything +I asked for I got, and at last I learned not to ask for too much. No +self-denial on his part was too great, if he could please me. When he +needed money most he said nothing to me, but insisted that I should be +educated. I didn't know until afterwards of the self-sacrifice my four +years at the Middleboro Academy meant to him.” + +The minister had listened eagerly to this defense of the man whom he had +been led to consider his arch enemy. It was given with spirit and the +girl's head was uplifted and her eyes flashed as she spoke. Ellery's +next remark was uttered without premeditation. Really, he was thinking +aloud. + +“So you went away to school?” he mused. “That is why--” + +“That is why I don't say 'never done nothin'' and 'be you' and +'hain't neither.' Yes, thank you, that's why. I don't wonder you were +surprised.” + +The young man blushed. + +“You misunderstand me,” he protested. “I didn't mean--” + +“Oh! yes, you did. Not precisely that, perhaps, but pretty near it. I +suppose you expected me to speak like Josiah Badger or Kyan Pepper. I +try not to. And I try not to say 'immejitly,' too,” she added, with a +mischievous twinkle. + +Ellery recognized the “immejitly” quotation and laughed. + +“I never heard but one person say that,” he observed. “And he isn't a +Come-Outer.” + +“No, he isn't. Well, this lesson in English can't be very interesting +to you, Mr. Ellery, and I must go. But I'm very glad Nat helped you the +other day and that you realize the sort of man he is. And I'm glad I +have had the opportunity to tell you more about Uncle Eben. I owe him +so much that I ought to be glad--yes, glad and proud and happy, too, to +gratify his least wish. I must! I know I must, no matter how I--What +am I talking about? Yes, Mr. Ellery, I'm glad if I have helped you to +understand my uncle better and why I love and respect him. If you knew +him as I do, you would respect him, too. Good-by.” + +She was going, but the minister had something to say. He stepped forward +and walked beside her. + +“Just a minute, please,” he urged. “Miss Van Horne, I do understand. I +do respect your uncle. We have a mutual friend, you and I, and through +her I have come to understand many things.” + +Grace turned and looked at him. + +“A mutual friend?” she repeated. “Oh! I know. Mrs. Coffin?” + +“Yes; Mrs. Coffin. She's a good woman and a wise one.” + +“She's a dear! Do you like her, too?” + +“Indeed, I do.” + +“Has she told you about me--about uncle, I mean?” + +“Yes. Why, she told me--” + +He began to enumerate some of the things Keziah had told concerning the +Hammond family. They were all good things, and he couldn't help seeing +that the recital pleased her. So he went on to tell how his housekeeper +had helped him, of her advice, of her many acts of kindness, of what +he owed to her. The girl listened eagerly, asking questions, nodding +confirmation, and, in her delight at hearing Keziah praised, quite +forgetting her previous eagerness to end the interview. And, as he +talked, he looked at her, at the red light on her hair, the shine of +her eyes, like phosphorus in the curl of a wave at night, at her long +lashes, and-- + +--“Yes,” said Miss Van Horne, “you were saying--” + +The minister awoke with a guilty start. He realized that his sentence +had broken off in the middle. + +“Why! why--er--yes,” he stammered. “I was saying that--that I don't know +what I should have done without Mrs. Coffin. She's a treasure. Frankly, +she is the only real friend I have found in Trumet.” + +“I know. I feel the same way about her. She means so much to me. I love +her more than anyone else in the world, except uncle, of course--and +Nat. I miss her very much since--since--” + +“Since I came, you mean. I'm sorry. I wish--I hate to think I am the +cause which separates you two. It isn't my fault, as you know.” + +“Oh! I know that.” + +“Yes, and I object to having others choose my friends for me, people +who, because of a fanatical prejudice, stand in the way of--If it wasn't +for that, you might call and see Mrs. Coffin, just as you used to do.” + +Grace shook her head. They had moved on to the bend of the bluff, beyond +the fringe of pines, and were now standing at the very edge of the high +bank. + +“If it wasn't for that, you would come,” asserted the minister. + +“Yes, I suppose so. I should like to come. I miss my talks with Aunt +Keziah more than you can imagine--now especially. But, somehow, what we +want to do most seems to be what we mustn't, and what we don't like is +our duty.” + +She said this without looking at him, and the expression on her face was +the same sad, grave one he had noticed when he first saw her standing +alone by the pine. + +“Why don't you come?” he persisted. + +“I can't, of course. You know I can't.” + +“Why not? If my company is objectionable I can go away when you come. If +you dislike me I--” + +“You know I don't dislike you personally.” + +“I'm awfully glad of that.” + +“But it's impossible. Uncle respects and is fond of Aunt Keziah, but he +wouldn't hear of my visiting the parsonage.” + +“But don't you think your uncle might be persuaded? I'm sure he +misunderstands me, just as I should him if it weren't for Mrs. +Coffin--and what you've said. Don't you think if I called on him and he +knew me better it might help matters? I'll do it gladly. I will!” + +“No, no. He wouldn't listen. And think of your own congregation.” + +“Confound my congregation!” + +“Why, Mr. Ellery!” + +She looked at him in amazement; then her lips began to curl. + +“Why, Mr. Ellery!” she repeated. + +The minister turned very red and drew his hand across his forehead. + +“I--I don't mean that exactly,” he stammered. “But I'm not a child. I +have the right to exercise a man's discretion. My parish committee must +understand that. They shall! If I choose to see you--Look out!” + +She was close to the overhanging edge of the bluff and the sod upon +which she stood was bending beneath her feet. He sprang forward, caught +her about the waist, and pulled her back. The sod broke and rattled down +the sandy slope. She would have had a slight tumble, nothing worse, had +she gone with it. There was no danger; and yet the minister was very +white as he released her. + +She, too, was pale for a moment, and then crimson. + +“Thank you,” she gasped. “I--I must go. It is late. I didn't realize how +late it was. I--I must go.” + +He did not answer, though he tried to. + +“I must go,” she said hurriedly, speaking at random. “Good afternoon. +Good-by. I hope you will enjoy your walk.” + +“I have enjoyed it.” His answer was unstudied but emphatic. She +recognized the emphasis. + +“Will you come to see Mrs. Coffin?” he asked. + +“No, no. You know I can't. Good-by. The sunset is beautiful, isn't it?” + +“Beautiful, indeed.” + +“Yes. I--I think the sunsets from this point are the finest I have ever +seen. I come here every Sunday afternoon to see them.” + +This remark was given merely to cover embarrassment, but it had an +unexpected effect. + +“You DO?” cried the minister. The next moment he was alone. Grace Van +Horne had vanished in the gloom of the pine thickets. + +It was a strange John Ellery who walked slowly back along the path, one +that Keziah herself would not have recognized, to say nothing of +Captain Elkanah and the parish committee. The dignified parson, with +the dignified walk and calm, untroubled brow, was gone, and here was +an absent-minded young fellow who stumbled blindly along, tripping over +roots and dead limbs, and caring nothing, apparently, for the damage to +his Sunday boots and trousers which might result from the stumbles. He +saw nothing real, and heard nothing, not even the excited person who, +hidden behind the bayberry bush, hailed him as he passed. It was not +until this person rushed forth and seized him by the arm that he came +back to the unimportant affairs of this material earth. + +“Why! Why, Mr. Pepper!” he gasped. “Are you here? What do you want?” + +“Am I here?” panted Kyan. “Ain't I been here for the last twenty minutes +waitin' to get a chance at you? Ain't I been chasin' you from Dan +to Beersheby all this dummed--excuse me--afternoon? Oh, my godfreys +mighty!” + +“Why, what's the matter?” + +“Matter? Matter enough! It's all your fault. You got me into the mess, +now you git me out of it.” + +Usually, when Abishai addressed his clergyman, it was in a tone of +humble respect far different from his present frantic assault. The +Reverend John was astounded. + +“What IS the trouble, Mr. Pepper?” he demanded. “Behave yourself, man. +What IS it?” + +“You--you made me do it,” gurgled Kyan. “Yes, sir, 'twas you put me up +to it. When you was at our house t'other day, after Laviny locked me up, +you told me the way to get square was to lock her up, too. And I done +it! Yes, sir, I done it when she got back from meetin' this noon. I +run off and left her locked in. And--and”--he wailed, wringing his +hands--“I--I ain't dast to go home sence. WHAT'll I do?” + + +CHAPTER IX + +IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT + + +The hysterical Mr. Pepper doubtless expected his clergyman to be almost +as much upset as he was by the news of his action. But John Ellery was +provokingly calm. As a matter of fact he scarcely grasped the purport of +the little man's disjointed story. He had been wandering in dreamland, +his head among the clouds, and the explosion of Keziah's bomb disturbed, +but did not clear the air. + +“What will you do?” he repeated. “Why--er--I don't know, I'm sure.” + +Kyan was staggered. + +“You don't know?” he shouted. “YOU don't? Then who does, for the land +sakes? Didn't you tell me to lock her up? Didn't I do it 'CAUSE you told +me? Didn't--didn't--” + +He seemed to be on the verge of apoplexy. Also he had raised his +voice to a yell. The minister seized him by the arm and shook him into +silence. + +“Hush! hush!” he commanded. “Wait a minute. Let me understand this +thing. Some one is locked up, you say. Who is it? Where--” + +“WHO is it? Ain't I tellin' you. It's Laviny. She went into that spare +room where I was t'other day and I slammed the spring lock to on her. +Then I grabbed the key and run. That was afore three this afternoon; now +it's 'most night and I ain't dast to go home. What'll she say when I +let her out? I got to let her out, ain't I? She can't starve to death in +there, can she? And YOU told me to do it! YOU did! Oh--” + +The apoplectic attack was once more imminent. + +“Stop it, Mr. Pepper,” ordered Ellery. “I don't remember telling you +to lock your sister up, though--Why, yes, I may have said something or +other, as a joke, but I didn't expect you would seriously consider doing +such a thing. Ha, ha! This is the most idiotic piece of business that I +ever--” + +“Be you laughin'?” demanded the shocked Abishai. “LAUGHIN'? Why, my +godfreys mighty! Idiotic? Well, who's the idiot? 'Tain't me! I'D never +have thought of such a fool trick. But you said--” + +“Hush! Let me think. Have you told anybody?” + +“TOLD anybody! I guess NOT. And nobody'll never know if they wait for me +to tell 'em.” + +“Well, then, I don't see why you can't go home and--hum--I don't like +to advise your telling a lie, but you might let her infer that it was an +accident. OR, if you really mean to be your own master, you can tell her +you did it purposely and will do it again if she ever tries the trick on +you.” + +“I tell her that! I tell her! O Mr. Ellery, DON'T talk so. You don't +know Laviny; she ain't like most women. If I should tell her that +she'd--I don't know's she wouldn't take and horsewhip me. Or commit +suicide. She's said she would afore now if--if--” + +“Nonsense! She won't do that, you needn't worry.” He burst into another +laugh, but checked himself, as he saw the look of absolute distress on +poor Kyan's face. + +“Never mind, Mr. Pepper,” he said. “We'll think of some plan to smooth +matters over. I'll go home with you now and we'll let her out together.” + +“Will you, Mr. Ellery? Will you, honest? Say, by godfreys mighty, I'd +get down on my knees and thank you this minute if--if I wa'n't in such a +hurry. Come right on; come quick!” + +It was a silent procession of two that wended its way out of the pines +and across the fields, by the brook and the pond, where the evening +mists were rising and the frogs chanting their good-night song, +through the gathering twilight shades, across the main road and up the +lighthouse lane. Kyan, his mind filled with fearful forebodings, was +busily trying to think of a reasonable excuse for the “accidental” + imprisonment of his sister. John Ellery was thinking, also, but his +thoughts were not of the Peppers. + +The little house was dark and still as they approached it. No welcoming +light in the dining-room windows, no open door, no shrill voice +demanding to know where the wandering brother had been “all this +everlastin' time.” Even the hens had gone to roost. Abishai groaned. + +“Oh, dear!” he wailed. “I'm scart to death. Where is she? You don't +cal'late she's done it, do ye?” + +“Done it? Done what?” + +“Done the suicidin'. She said she would if--O Laviny!” + +“Hush! Be quiet. She's all right. She's in the room where you left her, +of course. She couldn't get out, could she? You've got the key. Come +in.” + +They entered the house. The dining room was dark and quiet. So was the +sitting room. The clock ticked, solemn and slow. Kyan clutched at his +companion's arm. + +“I don't hear her,” he whispered. “You don't s'pose she HAS done it? +Godfreys mighty!” + +The gloom and mystery were having their effect, even on Mr. Ellery's +nerves. His answer also was given in a tense whisper, but with some +irritation. + +“Hush!” he murmured. “Let go of my wrist. You've pinched it black and +blue. Which room did you leave her in? Show me at once.” + +Kyan's trembling knees managed to carry him to the little hall leading +from the sitting room toward the ell at the side of the house. This hall +was almost pitch black. The minister felt his guide's chin whisker brush +his ear as the following sentence was literally breathed into it: + +“Here--here 'tis,” panted Kyan. “Here's the door. I don't hear nothin', +do you? Listen!” + +They listened. Not a sound, save the dismal tick of the clock in the +room they had left. Ellery knocked on the door. + +“Miss Pepper,” he said; “Miss Pepper, are you there?” + +Kyan caught his breath. No answer. + +“Miss Pepper,” repeated the minister. “Miss Pepper!” + +Silence, absolute. Abishai could stand it no longer. He groaned and +collapsed on his knees. + +“She has!” he moaned. “She's done it and there ain't nothin' in there +but her remains. Oh, my soul!” + +Ellery, now rather frightened himself, shook him violently. + +“Be quiet, you idiot!” he commanded. “We must go in. Give me the key.” + +After repeated orders and accompanying shakings, Kyan produced a key. +The minister snatched it from his trembling fingers, felt for the +keyhole and threw the door open. The little room was almost as dark as +the hall and quite as still. There was a distinct smell of old clothes +and camphor. + +“A match,” demanded Ellery. “Quick!” + +“I ain't got none,” quavered Mr. Pepper. “They're all in the box in the +settin' room. Oh, my godfreys mighty! What'll I do? What undertaker'll I +have? Solon Tripp's the reg'lar one, but Laviny and he had a row and +she said she'd come back and ha'nt me if I ever let him touch her +rema--Where you goin'? DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!” + +The minister was going after a match, and said so. In a moment he +returned with several. One of these he lit. The brimstone sputtered, +burned blue and fragrant, then burst into a yellow flame. + +The little room was empty. + +John Ellery drew a breath of relief. Then he laughed. + +“Humph!” he exclaimed. “She's gone.” + +“GONE? Why, she ain't nuther! Where could she go?” + +“I don't know, but she has gone--somewhere. At any rate, she's not +here.” + +Kyan rose to his feet. His alarm had changed to paralyzed astonishment. + +“How could she go?” he repeated. “That window won't open more'n six +inches. Laviny ain't what you'd call fleshy, but she never could squeeze +through that in this world. And I locked the door, 'cause I heard the +click. I--I--I--do you b'lieve in spirits, Mr. Ellery?” + +“Nonsense! Come into the sitting room, light a lamp, and let's talk it +over.” + +The lamp was found and lighted at last. Its radiance brightened the +dingy sitting room. + +“Do you b'lieve in spirits?” repeated Kyan. “I've heard yarns about +folks bein' spirited away, but I never took much stock in 'em. And,” + he added with conviction, “'twould take a pretty husky spirit to handle +Laviny if she had her mad up. She--Hush! hear that!” + +The sound of wheels was heard in the lane by the front gate. A vehicle +stopped. Then some one called a hurried good night. Mr. Pepper's fear +returned. + +“It's her!” he cried. “She's been ahuntin' for me. NOW I'll get it! +You stand by me, Mr. Ellery. You got to. You said you would. But how on +earth did she get--” + +The minister motioned him to silence. + +“I'll stand by you,” he whispered. “Don't speak. Leave it to me.” + +A step sounded on the back step. The dining-room door was hurriedly +thrown open. + +“'Bishy,” called Miss Pepper eagerly. “'Bish, where are you?” + +“Here--here I be, Laviny,” faltered Kyan. + +His sister appeared on the threshold. She was dressed in her Sunday +best, flowered poke bonnet, mitts, imitation India shawl, rustling black +bombazine gown. She looked at Mr. Pepper then at the minister. + +“O Mr. Ellery!” she exclaimed, “be you here?” + +The Reverend John admitted his presence. Miss Pepper's demeanor +surprised him. She did not seem angry; indeed, she acted embarrassed and +confused, as if she, and not her brother, were the guilty party. + +“I'm afraid I'm awful late, 'Bishy,” she said. “Have you had your +supper?” + +Kyan was too perturbed to venture a reply. The sword above his head was +quivering on its single hair and he was preparing to dodge the fall. But +it did not fall. + +“You haven't had any supper, have you?” purred Miss Pepper pityingly. +“It's too bad. You poor thing! you must be awful hungry.” + +She moved across the room and kissed him. Abishai, who had prepared +himself for a different sort of greeting, clutched his chair with both +hands. He looked as if he might faint. The minister gazed open-mouthed. + +“I'm awful sorry, Mr. Ellery,” gushed Lavinia, removing the bonnet. “You +see, I was invited out to ride this afternoon and--and--I went.” + +She glanced at her brother, reddened--yes, almost blushed--and +continued. + +“You know, 'Bishy,” she said “Thankful Payne's cousin's home avisitin' +her. He come about that cousin's will--the other cousin that's just +died. He's a reel nice man--her live cousin is--keeps a shoe store up +to Sandwich, and I used to know him years ago. When I was over to +Thankful's t'other day, him and me had quite a talk. We got speakin' of +what nice drives there was around Trumet and--and--er--well, he asked me +if I wouldn't like to go to ride next Sunday afternoon--that's to-day. +And a ride bein' a good deal of a treat to me, I said I would. Thankful +was goin', too, but--er--er--she couldn't very well. So Caleb--that's +his name, you remember, 'Bishy--he come round with his horse and team +about ha'f past three and we started. But I'd no IDEE 'twas so late. +I--I--meant to tell you I was goin', 'Bish, but I forgot.” + +Kyan had listened to this recital, or explanation, or apology, with a +curious succession of expressions passing over his face. He swallowed +two or three times, but did not interrupt. + +“I'm so sorry I kept you waitin' supper,” gushed Lavinia. “I'll get you +a good one now. Oh, well, deary me! I must be gettin' absent-minded. I +ain't asked you where you've been all the afternoon.” + +Abishai's eyes turned beseechingly toward his promised backer. Ellery +could not resist that mute appeal. + +“Your brother has been with me for some time, Miss Pepper,” he +volunteered. + +“Oh, has he? Ain't that nice! He couldn't have been in better comp'ny, +I'm sure. But oh, say, 'Bishy! I ain't told you how nigh I come to not +gettin' out at all. Just afore Mr. Payne come, I was in that spare room +and--you remember I put a spring lock on that door?” + +It was here at last. The long-dreaded explosion was imminent. Kyan's +chin shook. He braced himself for the blow. The minister prepared to +come to the rescue. + +“Yes,” went on Lavinia. “I--I put a lock on that door so's I--I could +shut the room up when I wanted to. Well, when I was in there this +afternoon the wind blew the door shut and--Hey?” + +“I--I never said nothin',” panted Kyan. + +“Yes, it blew to, the lock clicked, and there I was. If I hadn't had the +other key in my pocket I don't know's I wouldn't have been in there yet. +That would have been a pretty mess, wouldn't it! He! he! he!” + +She laughed shrilly. The minister looked at her, then at her brother, +and he, too, burst into a shout of laughter. Kyan did not laugh; yet his +grip upon the chair relaxed, and over his countenance was spreading a +look of relief, of hope and peace, like a clear sunrise after a stormy +night. + +“Well, I must go and get supper,” declared Lavinia. “You'll forgive me +for leavin' you so, won't you, 'Bishy?” + +Mr. Pepper sighed. + +“Yes,” he said slowly. “I'll forgive you, Laviny.” + +“I knew you would. I hope you ain't been too lonesome. Did you miss me? +Was you worried?” + +“Hey? Yes, I--I missed you consider'ble. I WAS gettin' sort of worried. +I didn't s'pose you'd go off to ride with--with a feller and leave me +all alone. But I forgive you.” He stopped, drew his hand across his +forehead, and then added, “I s'pose I hadn't ought to complain. Maybe +I'd better get used to it; I guess likely this is only the beginnin'.” + +Lavinia blushed furiously. + +“Why, 'Bish!” she exclaimed. “How you do talk! Ain't he awful, Mr. +Ellery?” + +The Reverend John did not answer. He could not trust himself to speak +just then. When he did it was to announce that he must be getting toward +home. No, he couldn't stay for supper. + +Miss Pepper went into the kitchen, and Abishai saw the visitor to the +door. Ellery extended his hand and Kyan shook it with enthusiasm. + +“Wa'n't it fine?” he whispered. “Talk about your miracles! Godfreys +mighty! Say, Mr. Ellery, don't you ever tell a soul how it really was, +will you?” + +“No, of course not.” + +“No, I know you won't. You won't tell on me and I won't tell on you. +That's a trade, hey?” + +The minister stopped in the middle of his step. + +“What?” he said, turning. + +Mr. Pepper merely smiled, winked, and shut the door. John Ellery +reflected much during his homeward walk. + + +The summer in Trumet drowsed on, as Trumet summers did in those days, +when there were no boarders from the city, no automobiles or telephones +or “antique” collectors. In June the Sunday school had its annual +picnic. On the morning of the Fourth of July some desperate spirits +among the younger set climbed in at the church window and rang the bell, +in spite of the warning threats of the selectmen, who had gone on record +as prepared to prosecute all disturbers of the peace to the “full extent +of the law.” One of the leading citizens, his name was Daniels, awoke to +find the sleigh, which had been stored in his carriage house, hoisted to +the roof of his barn, and a section of his front fence tastefully draped +about it like a garland. The widow Rogers noticed groups of people +looking up at her house and laughing. Coming out to see what they were +laughing at, she was provoked beyond measure to find a sign over the +front door, announcing “Man Wanted Imediate. Inquire Within.” The door +of the Come-Outer chapel was nailed fast and Captain Zeb Mayo's old +white horse wandered loose along the main road ringed with painted black +stripes like a zebra. Captain Zeb was an angry man, for he venerated +that horse. + +The storm caused by these outbreaks subsided and Trumet settled into +its jog trot. The stages rattled through daily, the packet came and went +every little while, occasionally a captain returned home from a long +voyage, and another left for one equally long. Old Mrs. Prince, up at +the west end of the town, was very anxious concerning her son, whose +ship was overdue at Calcutta and had not been heard from. The minister +went often to see her and tried to console, but what consolation is +there when one's only child and sole support is nobody knows where, +drowned and dead perhaps, perhaps a castaway on a desert island, or +adrift with a desperate crew in an open boat? And Mrs. Prince would say, +over and over again: + +“Yes, yes, Mr. Ellery. Thank you. I'm sure you mean to encourage me, but +oh, you don't know the things that happen to seafarin' men. I do. I went +to sea with my husband for fourteen year. He died on a voyage and they +buried him over the vessel's side. I can't even go to his grave. The sea +got him, and now if it's taken my Eddie--” + +The young clergyman came away from these calls feeling very young, +indeed, and woefully inadequate. What DID he know of the great sorrows +of life? + +The Sunday dinners with the Daniels family were almost regular weekly +functions now. He dodged them when he could, but he could not do so +often without telling an absolute lie, and this he would not do. And, +regularly, when the solemn meal was eaten, Captain Elkanah went upstairs +for his nap and the Reverend John was left alone with Annabel. Miss +Daniels did her best to be entertaining, was, in fact, embarrassingly +confidential and cordial. It was hard work to get away, and yet, somehow +or other, at the stroke of four, the minister always said good-by and +took his departure. + +“What is your hurry, Mr. Ellery?” begged Annabel on one occasion when +the reading of Moore's poems had been interrupted in the middle by the +guest's sudden rising and reaching for his hat. “I don't see why you +always go so early. It's so every time you're here. Do you call at any +other house on Sunday afternoons?” + +“No,” was the prompt reply. “Oh, no.” + +“Then why can't you stay? You know I--that is, pa and I--would LOVE to +have you.” + +“Thank you. Thank you. You're very kind. But I really must go. Good +afternoon, Miss Daniels.” + +“Mrs. Rogers said she saw you going across the fields after you left +here last Sunday. Did you go for a walk?” + +“Er--er--yes, I did.” + +“I wish you had mentioned it. I love to walk, and there are SO few +people that I find congenial company. Are you going for a walk now?” + +“Why, no--er--not exactly.” + +“I'm sorry. GOOD-by. Will you come again next Sunday? Of COURSE you +will. You know how dreadfully disappointed I--we--shall be if you +don't.” + +“Thank you, Miss Daniels. I enjoyed the dinner very much. Good +afternoon.” + +He hurried down the path. Annabel watched him go. Then she did an odd +thing. She passed through the sitting room, entered the front hall, went +up the stairs, tiptoed by the door of her father's room, and then up +another flight to the attic. From here a steep set of steps led to the +cupola on the roof. In that cupola was a spyglass. + +Annabel opened a window a few inches, took the spyglass from its rack, +adjusted it, laid it on the sill of the open window and knelt, the glass +at her eye. The floor of the cupola was very dusty and she was wearing +her newest and best gown, but she did not seem to mind. + +Through the glass she saw the long slope of Cannon Hill, with the beacon +at the top and Captain Mayo's house near it. The main road was deserted +save for one figure, that of her late caller. He was mounting the hill +in long strides. + +She watched him gain the crest and pass over it out of sight. Then she +shifted the glass so that it pointed toward the spot beyond the curve +of the hill, where the top of a thick group of silver-leafs hid the +parsonage. Above the tree tops glistened the white steeple of the +Regular church. If the minister went straight home she could not see +him. But under those silver-leafs was the beginning of the short cut +across the fields where Didama had seen Mr. Ellery walking on the +previous Sunday. + +So Annabel watched and waited. Five minutes, then ten. He must have +reached the clump of trees before this, yet she could not see him. +Evidently, he had gone straight home. She drew a breath of relief. + +Then, being in a happier frame of mind, and the afternoon clear and +beautiful, she moved the glass along the horizon, watching the distant +white specks across the bay on the Wellmouth bluffs--houses and +buildings they were--the water, the shore, the fish weirs, the pine +groves. She became interested in a sloop, beating into Wellmouth harbor, +and watched that. After a time she heard, in the house below, her father +shouting her name. + +She gave the glass one more comprehensive sweep preparatory to closing +it and going downstairs. As she did this a moving speck came into view +and vanished. + +Slowly she moved the big end of the spyglass back along the arc it had +traveled. She found the speck and watched it. It was a man, striding +across the meadow land, a half mile beyond the parsonage, and hurrying +in the direction of the beach. She saw him climb a high dune, jump a +fence, cross another field and finally vanish in the grove of pines on +the edge of the bluff by the shore. + +The man was John Ellery, the minister. Evidently, he had not gone home, +nor had he taken the short cut. Instead he had walked downtown a long +way and THEN turned in to cross the fields and work his way back. + +Annabel put down the glass and, heedless of her father's calls, sat +thinking. The minister had deliberately deceived her. More than that, he +had gone to considerable trouble to avoid observation. Why had he done +it? Had he done the same thing on other Sunday afternoons? Was there +any real reason why he insisted on leaving the house regularly at four +o'clock? + +Annabel did not know. Her eyes snapped and her sharp features looked +sharper yet as she descended the steps to the attic. She did not know; +but she intended to find out. + + +CHAPTER X + +IN WHICH KEZIAH'S TROUBLES MULTIPLY + + +Keziah was getting worried about her parson. Not concerning his +popularity with his congregation. She had long since ceased to worry +about that. The young minister's place in his people's regard was now +assured, the attendance was increasing, and the Regular church was +now on a firmer footing, financially and socially, than it had been +in years. Even Mrs. Rogers and Lavinia Pepper had ceased to criticise, +except as pertained to unimportant incidentals, and were now among the +loudest of the praise chanters. And as Captain Zeb Mayo said: “When +Didama and Laviny stops fault-findin', the millennium's so nigh port a +feller ought to be overhaulin' his saint uniform.” + +But what worried Mrs. Coffin was John Ellery's personal appearance and +behavior. He had grown perceptibly thinner during the past month, his +manner was distrait, and, worst of all in the housekeeper's eyes, his +appetite had fallen off. She tried all sorts of tempting dishes, but the +result was discouraging. + +“What!” she exclaimed. “Don't want but one piece of huckleberry pie? +Why, a week ago you ate three and looked kind of disappointed 'cause the +dish was empty. What is the matter? Are you sick?” + +“No, Mrs. Coffin,” replied the Reverend John. “No, I'm not sick. I just +don't feel hungry, that's all.” + +“Hum! Well, I've usually noticed that when a healthy man don't feel +hungry at dinner time, 'specially in the huckleberry season, his +healthiness is pretty shaky. What does ail you, Mr. Ellery? Got +somethin' on your mind? If you have, I'd heave it overboard. Or you +might unload it onto me and let me prescribe. I've had consider'ble +experience in that kind of doctorin'.” + +But the answer was unsatisfactory. Mr. Ellery laughed, changed the +subject, and wandered out into the garden, where Keziah saw him, shortly +afterwards, intently regarding nothing in particular with a rapt stare. +She watched him for a few moments and then, with a puzzled shake of +the head, returned to her work. She believed that he was troubled about +something and was herself troubled in consequence. + +His absent-mindedness was most acute on Sunday evenings, before prayer +meeting, and after he had returned from the afternoon at Captain +Elkanah's. + +“Say, Mr. Ellery,” she said, on one of these Sunday evenings, “do you +know, it seems to me that Elkanah's meals must go to your head. Don't +have any of his granddad's New England rum, do you? They tell me he's +got some of that down cellar that he doles out occasional to his +very particular friends. That's the common yarn around town, though I +couldn't swear 'twas gospel.” + +The minister smiled and denied acquaintanceship with the New England +beverage. + +“Humph! Then it must be the other thing. You ain't in love, are you?” + +The young man started, colored, and was plainly embarrassed. + +“In love?” he repeated. “In love, Mrs. Coffin?” + +“Yes, in love. Annabel hasn't landed a male at last, has she? She's a +line over the side for a long time.” + +The hearty laugh with which this was received settled the question of +Annabel's success. Keziah was relieved. + +“Well, I'm glad of that,” she said. “I ain't got any grudge against +Annabel, but neither have I got one against you. Another man in that +family would have an easy time in one way, he wouldn't have to do any +thinkin' for himself--Elkanah and his daughter would do all that was +necessary. So you're not in love. Then I don't know what does ail you. +I'll say this, though, for a body that ain't in love you certainly stay +with the Danielses a long time. You went there right after meetin' this +noon and now it's seven o'clock and you've just got home. And 'twas the +same last Sunday and the one before. Been there all the time, have you?” + +She knew he had not, because she had seen him pass the parsonage, on +the opposite side of the road, two hours before. But she was curious to +learn what his reply would be. It was noncommittal. + +“No,” he said slowly. “Not all the time. I--er--went for a short walk.” + +Before she could inquire concerning that walk he had entered the study +and closed the door after him. + +During the week which followed this particular conversation he was more +absent-minded than ever. There were evenings when he spoke scarcely a +word, but sat silent in his chair, while Keziah, looking up from her +mending, watched him and guessed and wondered. After he had gone to his +room for the night, she would hear him pacing the floor, back and forth, +back and forth. She asked no more questions, however; minding her own +business was a specialty of Keziah's, and it was a rare quality in +Trumet. + +Sunday was a cloudy, warm day, “muggy,” so Captain Zeb described it. +After the morning service Mr. Ellery, as usual, went home with Captain +Daniels and Annabel. Keziah returned to the parsonage, ate a lonely +dinner, washed the dishes, and sat down to read a library book. She +read for an hour and then, finding it difficult to keep her mind on the +story, gave it up, closed the book and, rising, walked to the window. +But the misty, hot loneliness of the afternoon, was neither interesting +nor cheerful, so she turned away and went upstairs to her own room. Her +trunk was in one corner of this room and she unlocked it, taking from +a compartment of the tray a rosewood writing case, inlaid with +mother-of-pearl, a present from her father, who had brought it home from +sea when she was a girl. + +From the case she took a packet of letters and a daguerreotype. The +latter was the portrait of a young man, in high-collared coat, stock, +and fancy waistcoat. His hair, worn long over the ears, was smooth with +a shine that suggested oil, and in his shirt front was a large pin, +which might possibly have been mistaken by a credulous observer for a +diamond. Mrs. Coffin looked at the daguerreotype, sighed, shuddered, and +laid it aside. Then she opened the packet of letters. Selecting one from +the top of the pile, she read it slowly. And, as she read, she sighed +again. + +She did not hear the back door of the parsonage open and close softly. +Nor did she hear the cautious footsteps in the rooms below. What aroused +her from her reading was her own name, spoken at the foot of the stairs. + +“Keziah! Keziah, are you there?” + +She started, sprang up, and ran out into the hall, the letter still in +her hand. + +“Who is it?” she asked sharply. “Mr. Ellery, is that you?” + +“No,” was the answer. “It's me--Nat. Are you busy, Keziah? I want to see +you for a minute.” + +The housekeeper hurriedly thrust the letter into her waist. + +“I'll be right down, Nat,” she answered. “I'm comin'.” + +He was in the sitting room when she entered. He was wearing his Sunday +suit of blue and his soft felt hat was on the center table. She held out +her hand and he shook it heartily. + +“Well!” she observed, smiling, “I declare if I don't believe you've got +the tiptoe habit. This is the second time you've sneaked into the house +and scared me 'most to death. I asked you before if you wa'n't ashamed +of yourself and now I ask it again.” + +Before he could reply she caught a glimpse of his face. + +“What is it?” she asked. “What is the matter? Is anybody sick? Is your +father--” + +“No, he's all right. That is, he's as well as he has been lately, though +that isn't sayin' much.” + +“Is Grace--” + +“No, she's all right, too, I guess. Been sort of quiet and sorrowful +for the last few weeks--or I've seemed to notice that she has--but +I cal'late it's nothin' serious. I wouldn't wonder if the same thing +that's troublin' her is what ails me.” + +“But what is it? Why don't you tell me?” + +“I'm goin' to tell you, Keziah. That's what I come here for. I--” + +“Sit down, can't you? Don't stand up there like a lighthouse, shuttin' +out the whole broadside of the room. You are the BIGGEST thing!” + +Captain Hammond selected the most substantial chair in the apartment and +sat down upon it. He looked at his friend and shook his head. + +“No use, Keziah,” he said. “If I was as deep down in the blues as the +bottom of the Whale Deep, a look at that face of yours would pull me to +the top again. You're a good woman!” + +“Thanks! When I have spare time on my hands I'll practice tryin' to +believe that. But what is the trouble, Nat? Out with it.” + +“Well, Keziah, it's trouble enough. Dad and I have had a fallin' out.” + +Mrs. Coffin's mouth and eyes opened. + +“What?” she cried, in utter astonishment. + +“Yes. It's true. We had what was next door to a real quarrel after +dinner to-day. It would have been a real one if I hadn't walked off and +left him. He's as set as the rock of Gibraltar, and--” + +“And your foundations ain't given to slippin' much. Nat Hammond, I'm +surprised at you! What was it all about? Religion?” + +“No, not a sliver of religion in it. If 'twas that, I could dodge, or +haul down my colors, if I had to. But it's somethin' worse, enough sight +worse. Somethin' I can't do--even for dad--and won't either. Keziah, +he's dead set on my marryin' Grace. Says if I don't he'll know that +I don't really care a tin nickel for him, or for his wishes, or what +becomes of the girl after he's gone.” + +“Nat!” + +“It's a fact. You see, dad realizes, better'n I thought he did, that his +health is pretty shaky and that he is likely to founder 'most any time. +He says that don't worry him; if he knew Grace and I were provided for +he'd slip his cable with a clean manifest. But the dream of his life, he +says, has been that we should marry. And he wants to see it done.” + +Keziah was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly: + +“And Grace herself? How does she feel about it? Has he spoken to her?” + +“I don't know. I guess likely he has. Perhaps that's why she's been so +sort of mournful lately. But never mind whether he has or not; I won't +do it and I told him so. He got red hot in a jiffy. I was ungrateful and +stubborn and all sorts of things. And I, bein' a Hammond, with some of +the Hammond balkiness in me, I set my foot down as hard as his. And we +had it until--until--well, until I saw him stagger and tremble so that I +actually got scared and feared he was goin' to keel over where he stood. + +“'Why can't you?' he kept sayin'. 'But WHY can't you? Ain't she a girl +anyone would be proud to have for a wife?' 'Course there was no answer +to that but yes. Then back he comes again with 'Then why can't you?' At +last, bein' frightened, as I said, that he might have another shock or +somethin', I said I'd think it over and come away and left him. And I +come straight to you. Keziah, what shall I do? What can you say to help +me?” + +Keziah was silent. She was looking, not at her companion, but at the +carpet center of one of the braided rugs on the floor. Her face was very +grave and the lines about her mouth seemed to deepen. Her hands, clasped +in her lap, tightened one upon the other. But her voice was calm when, +at last, she spoke. + +“Nat,” she said, “there's only one thing I can say. And that's what your +father said: Why can't you?” + +The captain sprang from his chair. + +“What?” he cried incredulously. “What are you sayin'?” + +“Just what your father said, Nat. Why can't you marry Grace? She's a +dear, good girl and--” + +“That be--keelhauled! Keziah Coffin, you sit there and ask me why I +can't marry her! YOU do?” + +“Yes, Nat.” + +“Keziah, you're crazy! Don't talk to me like that. We're not jokin' now. +You know why I can't marry her, nor anyone else in this round world but +you.” + +“Nat, I can't marry you.” + +“I know, I know. You're always sayin' that. But you don't mean it. You +can't mean it. Why, you and me have been picked out for each other by +the Almighty, Keziah. I swear I believe just that. We went together when +we were boy and girl, to parties and such. We was promised when I first +went to sea. If it hadn't been for that fool row we had--and 'twas all +my fault and I know it--you never would have let that da--that miserable +Anse Coffin come near you. And when 'twas too late and you'd married +him, the mean, drunken, cruel--” + +“Hush, Nat! hush! Stop it!” + +“He was, and you know he was. Yes, and worse besides. Runnin' off and +leavin' a wife like you to--Oh, my God! when I think I might have been +your husband to look out for you and take care of you! That you +might have been with me on board my ships. That, when I come down the +companion on stormy nights I might have found you there to comfort me +and--O Keziah! we aren't young any more. What's the use of foolin'? I +want you. I'm goin' to have you. Coffin is dead these ten years. When I +heard he was drowned off there in Singapore, all I could say was: 'Serve +him right!' And I say it now. I come home then more determined to get +you. Say yes, and let's be happy. Do!” + +“I can't, Nat.” + +“Why not? For Heaven sakes! why not? Don't you care for me? You've let +me think--well, at any rate, I have thought you did. You used to. Don't +you?” + +“Nat, I--I care for you more than anybody else on earth. But I can't +marry you. Oh, don't keep askin' it! Please don't. I can't marry you, +Nat. No!” + +“Well, not now, maybe. Not this month, or even this year, perhaps, but +some day--” + +“No, Nat. You must listen. There's no use of this goin' on any longer. I +mean it. I can't marry you.” + +“You won't, you mean.” + +“Well, if you wish to think so. Then I won't.” + +“But by and by--” + +“No, not by and by. Never, Nat. Never.” + +He drew his hand across his forehead. + +“Never!” he repeated, more to himself than to her. + +“Never. Yes, Nat.” + +“Then, by the everlastin'! I'll do somethin'--” + +“No, no, you won't. Nat Hammond, I know you. You're a great big, +brave-hearted, sensible man. You won't be foolish. You'll do--yes, I +think you'd better do just what your father asks you to do. Marry Grace, +if she wants you and will have you. She'll make you a good wife; you'll +learn to care for her, and I know she'll have the best husband that a +girl could hope for. And you and I will be friends, just as we've always +been, and--” + +“Keziah, stop that! Stop it, do you hear! I don't want to listen to such +stuff. I tell you I'm past soft soap, and I didn't think you'd give it +to me.” + +“Nat!” + +“Oh, yes, 'Nat'! A lot you care for 'Nat'! Not a reason on God's +footstool why you won't have me--except one, and that one that you don't +want me.” + +“Please, Nat! I can hardly believe this is you. This trouble with your +father has upset you. You don't mean what you say. You're not talkin' +like yourself and--” + +“Stop it, I tell you. I don't feel like myself. I banked on you, Keziah. +I've lived for you. And now--O Keziah, take it back! Give me a little +hope, just enough to keep my head above water.” + +“I'd like to, Nat. I only wish I could. But 'twouldn't be any use. I +can't do it.” + +He snatched his hat from the table and strode to the door. Turning, he +looked at her. + +“All right,” he said chokingly. “All right. Good-by.” + +His steps sounded on the oilcloth of the kitchen. Then the back door +slammed. He was gone. + +Keziah started, as if the slam of the door had been an electric shock. +During the interview she had been pale and grave but outwardly calm. Now +she sank wearily down in the chair from which she had risen and her +head dropped forward upon her arms on the table. The letter she had been +reading before Captain Nat's arrival fell from her waist to the floor +and lay there, its badly spelled and blotted lines showing black +and fateful against the white paper. And she cried, tears of utter +loneliness and despair. + +The clouds thickened as the afternoon passed. The setting sun was +hidden behind them; over the horizon of ocean and bay the fog banks were +rolling in tumbled, crumpled masses. The shadows in the lonely sitting +room deepened. There came a knock at the dining-room door. + +Keziah sprang from her chair, smoothed her hair, hastily wiped her eyes, +picked up the dropped letter and went to admit the visitor, whoever he +or she might be. She was glad of the shadows, they prevented her face +from being seen too plainly. + +“Good afternoon,” she said, opening the door. “Oh! it's you, is it?” + +“Yes,” admitted Abishai Pepper, standing on the stone step, and shifting +uneasily from one foot to the other. “Yes, Keziah, it's--it's me, thank +you.” + +“Don't mention it. Well, is Laviny with you?” + +“No--o, she ain't. She--she didn't come.” + +“Hum! Did she know you was comin'?” + +“No--o, I don't cal'late she did.” + +“I see. Well, what do you want?” + +Mrs. Coffin's welcome was not too cordial. She had laughed many times +over Abishai's proposal of marriage, but she had never quite forgiven +him for making her ridiculous on that occasion. Incidentally, she did +not feel like laughing. + +“What do you want?” she repeated. + +Kyan was plainly nervous. + +“I only wanted to see Mr. Ellery,” he announced. “It's all right, +Keziah. You needn't be afraid.” + +“Afraid! What on earth should I be afraid of?” + +“Why--why, I didn't know but you might be afraid I was goin' to--to talk +about what we talked about when I--I talked to you that day up at--” + +“There! that'll do. It ain't me that would have reason to be afraid if +THAT was what you come for. What do you want? Don't stand there dancin' +a jig.” + +“I only wanted to see Mr. Ellery.” + +“He's out. Good day.” + +“But I won't keep him but a minute.” + +“He's out, I tell you. Do you want to leave a message?” + +“No--o. No, I guess not.” + +“Was it important?” + +“Oh! I don't know. Kind of, maybe. I wanted to ask his advice about +somethin'. It's a secret. Only him and me know about it. Good-by.” + +“Shall I tell him you'll call again? Or ask him to come up to your +house?” + +Mr. Pepper, who had started to go, now hurried back to the steps. + +“No, no,” he protested, in alarm. “Don't you tell him that. I wouldn't +have him come there for no money. Why, Laviny, she--” + +“Oh, Laviny isn't in the secret, then?” Keziah smiled in spite of +herself. + +“Not exactly. That is, not much. Don't you tell her I come here, will +you? I'll find Mr. Ellery. I know where he is.” + +“I wouldn't go to the Danielses', if I was you. Elkanah might not like +to have you chasin' after his visitors.” + +“Oh, the minister ain't at the Danielses', not as late's this, he ain't. +I know where he is.” + +“You do?” The housekeeper looked at him keenly. + +“Yes, sir, I do. I know where he goes Sunday afternoons--and why he +goes, too. Mr. Ellery and me's good friends. We understand each other.” + +“Look here, Kyan Pepper! What are you talkin' about?” + +“Nothin', nothin'. Good day.” + +“Stop! Stand still! Come in the house here. I want you to.” + +“No, no, Keziah. Really, I'd love to, but I can't stop.” + +“Come in, I tell you.” + +Reluctantly, but lacking the strength of mind to refuse, Mr. Pepper +entered the dining room. Then Mrs. Coffin turned upon him. + +“What do you mean,” she demanded, “by throwin' out hints that the +minister and you are in some sort of secret? How dare you go round +tellin' people such yarns as that?” + +“They ain't yarns. And I never told nobody afore, anyhow. I got to move +along. I'll--” + +“Stay where you are. I guess I'll run right up and ask your sister about +this. Perhaps she might--” + +“Ss-sh! ss-sh! don't talk that way, Keziah. Don't! Laviny don't know +what I mean. Don't go askin' HER things.” + +“But you said--” + +“I just said I knew where Mr. Ellery goes every Sunday afternoon. He +don't know anybody knows, but I do. That's all there is to it. I shan't +tell. So--” + +“Tell? Do you mean there's somethin' Mr. Ellery wouldn't want told? +Don't you dare--I WILL see Laviny!” + +“No, no, no, no! 'Tain't nothin' much. I just know where he goes after +he leaves Elkanah's and who he goes to meet. I--Lordy! I hadn't ought to +said that! I--Keziah Coffin, don't you ever tell I told you. I've said +more'n I meant to. If it comes out there'd be the biggest row in the +church that ever was. And I'd be responsible! I would! I'd have to go +on the witness stand and then Laviny'd find out how I--Oh, oh, oh! what +SHALL I do?” + +The poor frightened creature's “jig” had, by this time, become a +distracted fandango. But the housekeeper had no mercy on him. She was +beginning to fear for her parson and, for the time, everything else, her +own trouble and the recent interview with Nat, was pushed aside. + +“What is it?” she persisted. “WHAT would bring on the row in the church? +WHO does Mr. Ellery meet? Out with it! What do you mean?” + +“I mean that the minister meets that Van Horne girl every Sunday +afternoon after he leaves Elkanah's. There, now! It's out, and I don't +give a darn if they hang me for it.” + +Keziah turned white. She seized Mr. Pepper by the lapel of his Sunday +coat and shook him. + +“Grace Van Horne!” she cried. “Mr. Ellery meets Grace Van Horne on +Sunday afternoons? Where?” + +“Down in them pines back of Peters's pastur', on the aidge of the +bank over the beach. He's met her there every Sunday for the last six +weeks--longer, for what I know. I've watched 'em.” + +“You HAVE? YOU have! You've dared to spy on--I think you're lyin' to me. +I don't believe it.” + +“I ain't lyin'! It's so. I'll bet you anything they're there now, +walkin' up and down and talkin'. What would I want to lie for? You come +with me this minute and I'll show 'em to you.” + +In the desire to prove his veracity he was on his way to the door. But +Keziah stepped in front of him. + +“'Bish Pepper,” she said slowly and fiercely, shaking a forefinger in +his face, “you go straight home and stay there. Don't you breathe a word +to a livin' soul of what you say you've seen. Don't you even think it, +or--or dream it. If you do I'll--I'll march straight to Laviny and tell +her that you asked me to marry you. I will, as sure as you're shakin' in +front of me this minute. Now you swear to me to keep still. Swear!” + +“How--HOW'll I swear?” begged Kyan. “What do you say when you swear? +I'll say it, Keziah! I'll say anything! I'll--” + +“All right. Then mind you remember. Now clear out quick. I want to +think. I MUST think. GO! Get out of my sight!” + +Kyan went, glad to escape, but frightened to the soul of him. Keziah +watched him until he turned from the main road into the lighthouse lane. +Then, certain that he really was going straight home, she re-entered +the parsonage and sat down in the nearest chair. For ten minutes she sat +there, striving to grasp the situation. Then she rose and, putting on +her bonnet and shawl, locked the dining-room door, and went out through +the kitchen. On the step she looked cautiously back to see if any of the +neighbors were at their windows. But this was Sunday, the one day when +Trumet people sat in their front parlors. The coast was clear. She +hurried through the back yard, and down the path leading across the +fields. She was going to the pine grove by the shore, going to find out +for herself if Kyan's astonishing story was true. + +For if it was true, if the Rev. John Ellery was meeting clandestinely +the adopted daughter of Eben Hammond, it meant--what might it not mean, +in Trumet? If he had fallen in love with a Come-Outer, with Grace Van +Horne of all people, if he should dare think of marrying her, it would +mean the utter wreck of his career as a Regular clergyman. His own +society would turn him out instantly. All sorts of things would be said, +lies and scandal would be invented and believed. His character would be +riddled by the Trumet gossips and the papers would publish the result +broadcast. + +And Grace! If she loved a Regular minister, what would happen to her? +Captain Eben would turn her from his door, that was certain. Although +he idolized the girl, Keziah knew that he would never countenance such +a marriage. And if Nat stood by Grace, as he would be almost sure to do, +the breach between father and son would widen beyond healing. If it were +merely a matter of personal selection, Mrs. Coffin would rather have +seen her parson marry Grace than anyone else on earth. As it was, such +a match must not be. It meant ruin for both. She must prevent the affair +going further. She must break off the intimacy. She must save those two +young people from making a mistake which would--She wrung her hands as +she thought of it. Of her own sorrow and trouble she characteristically +thought nothing now. Sacrifice of self was a part of Keziah's nature. + +The pines were a deep-green blotch against the cloudy sky and the gloomy +waters of the bay. She skirted the outlying clumps of bayberry and beach +plum bushes and entered the grove. The pine needles made a soft carpet +which deadened her footfalls, and the shadows beneath the boughs were +thick and black. She tiptoed on until she reached the clearing by the +brink of the bluff. No one was in sight. She drew a breath of relief. +Kyan might be mistaken, after all. + +Then she heard low voices. As she crouched at the edge of the grove, two +figures passed slowly across the clearing, along the bush-bordered path +and into the shrubbery beyond. John Ellery was walking with Grace +Van Horne. He was holding her hand in his and they were talking very +earnestly. + +Keziah did not follow. What would have been the use? This was not the +time to speak. She KNEW now and she knew, also, that the responsibility +was hers. She must go home at once, go home to be alone and to think. +She tiptoed back through the grove and across the fields. + +Yet, if she had waited, she might have seen something else which would +have been, at least, interesting. She had scarcely reached the outer +edge of the grove when another figure passed stealthily along that +narrow path by the bluff edge. A female figure treading very carefully, +rising to peer over the bushes at the minister and Grace. The figure of +Miss Annabel Daniels, the “belle” of Trumet. And Annabel's face was not +pleasant to look upon. + + +CHAPTER XI + +IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN RECEIVES A CALLER + + +At the edge of the bluff, just where the pines and the bayberry bushes +were thickest, where the narrow, crooked little footpath dipped over the +rise and down to the pasture land and the salt meadow, John Ellery +and Grace had halted in their walk. It was full tide and the miniature +breakers plashed amid the seaweed on the beach. The mist was drifting in +over the bay and the gulls were calling sleepily from their perch along +the breakwater. A night hawk swooped and circled above the tall “feather +grass” by the margin of the creek. The minister's face was pale, but set +and determined, and he was speaking rapidly. + +“I can't help it,” he said. “I can't help it. I have made up my mind and +nothing can change it, nothing but you. It rests with you. If you say +yes, then nothing else matters. Will you say it?” + +He was holding both her hands now, and though she tried to withdraw +them, he would not let her. + +“Will you?” he pleaded. + +“I can't,” she answered brokenly. “I can't. Think of your church and of +your people. What would they say if--” + +“I don't care what they say.” + +“Oh! yes, you do. Not now, perhaps, but later you will. You don't know +Trumet as I know it. No, it's impossible.” + +“I tell you there is only one impossible thing. That is that I give you +up. I won't do it. I CAN'T do it! Grace, this is life and death for me. +My church--” + +He paused in spite of himself. His church, his first church! He had +accepted the call with pride and a determination to do his best, the +very best that was in him, for the society and for the people whom he +was to lead. Some of those people he had learned to love; many of them, +he felt sure, loved him. His success, his popularity, the growth of the +organization and the praise which had come to him because of it, all +these had meant, and still meant, very much to him. No wonder he paused, +but the pause was momentary. + +“My church,” he went on, “is my work and I like it. I believe I've done +some good here and I hope to do more. But no church shall say whom I +shall marry. If you care for me, Grace, as I think and hope you do, +we'll face the church and the town together, and they will respect us +for it.” + +She shook her head. + +“Some of them might respect you,” she said. “They would say you had been +led into this by me and were not so much to blame. But I--” + +“They shall respect my wife,” he interrupted, snapping his teeth +together, “or I'll know the reason why.” + +She smiled mournfully. + +“I think they'll tell you the reason,” she answered. “No, John, no! +we mustn't think of it. You can see we mustn't. This has all been a +mistake, a dreadful mistake, and I am to blame for it.” + +“The only mistake has been our meeting in this way. We should have met +openly; I realize it, and have felt it for sometime. It was my fault, +not yours. I was afraid, I guess. But I'll not be a coward any longer. +Come, dear, let's not be afraid another day. Only say you'll marry me +and I'll proclaim it openly, to-night--Yes, from the pulpit, if you say +so.” + +She hesitated and he took courage from her hesitation. + +“Say it,” he pleaded. “You WILL say it?” + +“I can't! I can't! My uncle--” + +“Your uncle shall hear it from me. We'll go to him together. I'll tell +him myself. He worships you.” + +“Yes, I know. He does worship me. That's why I am sure he had rather see +me dead than married to you, a Regular, and a Regular minister.” + +“I don't believe it. He can't be so unreasonable. If he is, then you +shouldn't humor such bigotry.” + +“He has been my father for years, and a dear, kind father.” + +“I know. That's why I'm so certain we can make him understand. Come, +dear! come! Why should you consider everyone else? Consider your own +happiness. Consider mine.” + +She looked at him. + +“I am considering yours,” she said. “That is what I consider most of +all. And, as for uncle, I know--I KNOW he would never consent. His heart +is set on something else. Nat--” + +“Nat? Are you considering him, too? Is HE to stand between us? What +right has he to say--” + +“Hush! hush! He hasn't said anything. But--but he and uncle have +quarreled, just a little. I didn't tell you, but they have. And I think +I know the reason. Nat is Uncle Eben's idol. If the quarrel should grow +more serious, I believe it would break his heart. I couldn't bear to be +the cause of that; I should never forgive myself.” + +“You the cause? How could you be the cause of a quarrel between those +two? Grace, think of me.” + +Here was the selfishness of man and the unselfishness of woman answered. + +“John,” she said, “it is of you I am thinking. Everything else +could--might be overcome, perhaps. But I must think of your future and +your life. I MUST. That is why--” + +He did not wait to hear more. He seized her in his arms and kissed her. + +“Then you DO care!” he cried joyfully. “You will marry me?” + +For an instant she lay quiet in his embrace, receiving, if not +responding to his caresses. Then she gently but firmly freed herself. He +saw that there were tears in her eyes. + +“Grace,” he urged, “don't--don't hesitate any longer. You were meant to +be my wife. We were brought together for just that. I know it. Come.” + +She was crying softly. + +“Won't you?” he begged. + +“I don't know,” she sobbed. “Oh, I don't know! I must think--I MUST! +Wait, please wait, John. Perhaps by to-morrow I can answer. I'll +try--I'll try. Don't ask me again, now. Let me think. Oh, do!” + +Doubtless he would have asked her again. He looked as if he meant to. +But just then, drifting through the twilight and the mist, came the +sound of a bell, the bell of the Regular church, ringing for the Sunday +evening meeting. They both heard it. + +“Oh!” exclaimed Grace, “that is your bell. You will be late. You must +go, and so must I. Good night.” + +She started down the path. He hesitated, then ran after her. + +“To-morrow?” he questioned eagerly. “Tomorrow, then, you'll say that you +will?” + +“Oh, perhaps, perhaps! I mustn't promise. Good night.” + +It was after seven when Grace reached the old tavern. The housekeeper, +Mrs. Poundberry, was anxiously awaiting her. She wore her bonnet and +Sunday gown and was evidently ready to go out. + +“Land sakes alive!” she sputtered. “Where in the name of goodness have +you been to? I was gettin' scairt. Didn't know but you'd run off and got +married, or sunthin' dreadful.” + +Grace was thankful that the cloudy twilight made it impossible to see +her face distinctly. The housekeeper rattled on without waiting for an +answer. + +“Supper's on the table and the kittle's abilin'. You better eat in a +hurry, 'cause it's meetin' time now. Your uncle, he started ten minutes +ago. I'm agoin' right along, too, but I ain't goin' to meetin'; I'm +agoin' up to Betsy E.'s to stay all night. She's got a spine in her +back, as the feller said, and ain't feelin' good, so I told her I'd come +and stay a little spell. S'pose you can get along to-morrow without me?” + +“Betsy E.” was Mrs. Poundberry's second cousin, an elderly spinster +living alone in a little house near the salt works. Grace assured her +questioner that she could attend to the house and the meals during the +following day, longer if the troublesome “spine” needed company. Mrs. +Poundberry sighed, groaned, and shook her head. + +“I shan't stay no longer,” she affirmed; “not if Betsy's all over +spines, like one of them Mexican cactus plants. No, marm, my place is +right here and I know it. Your Uncle Eben's mighty feeble and peaked +lately. He ain't long for this world, I'm afraid. You'd ought to be +awful good to him, Gracie.” + +“I know it,” was the hurried reply. “Where's Nat?” + +“I don't know. Can't keep track of HIM. Might's well try to put your +finger on a flea. He's here to-day and gone yesterday, as the Scriptur' +says. He ate a little mite of supper, but not much, and then off he +puts. Says he's goin' to walk the fog out'n his head. I told him, s' I, +'You'll walk a plaguey sight more in than you do out, THIS night,' +but he went just the same. He was dreadful kind of dumpy and blue this +evenin'. Seemed to be sort of soggy in his mind. And why he never went +to meetin' with his dad and why his dad never asked him TO go is more'n +I can tell. Land of livin', how I do gabble! My grandmarm used to say +my tongue was loose at both ends and hung in the middle, and I guess she +wa'n't fur off the course. Good-by. Take care of yourself. You can put +what's left of that mock mince pie on the top shelf in the butt'ry and +you'd better heave a dish towel or sunthin' over it to keep the ants +out. There's more ants in this house than there is dollars, a good +sight. Betsy B., she's got a plan for keepin' of 'em out by puttin' +sassers of brimstone round the shelves, but I told her, s' I, 'THEM ants +don't care for no brimstone. They're used to it. Sometimes I b'lieve +they're sent by the everlastin' father of brimstone,' and she--” + +She had reached the gate by this time, and Grace shut off the flow of +conversation by closing the door. Then she took a candle from the row +on the dining-room mantel, lighted it, and went up to her own room. +Standing before the old-fashioned bureau with its little oval mirror, +she hastily arranged her hair. She did not wish to go to the prayer +meeting at the chapel, but she felt that she must. The Come-Outer +gatherings, with their noisy singing and shouting, had grown more and +more repugnant to her. + +And to-night, of all nights! How could she meet those people who had +known her since she was a child, who boasted of her as one of their +staunchest adherents, who believed in her and trusted her? How could she +meet them and talk with them, knowing what she knew and realizing that +they, too, would know it on the morrow? But her uncle would miss her and +be worried about her if she did not come. She could not bear to trouble +him now; she never loved him so dearly, was never so anxious to humor +his every wish as on this, perhaps the last evening they would spend +together. For, though she would not yet admit it, even to herself, her +decision was made, had really been made the first time John Ellery asked +her weeks before. Only the thought of what might happen to him if she +consented had caused her to hesitate so long. + +She blew out the candle and came out into the hall at the head of the +stairs. She was about to descend when she heard voices. The door of the +dining room opened and closed. She felt certain that Nat had returned +and wondered who was with him. Then she heard her uncle's voice, +speaking sharply and with unwonted sternness. + +“I don't know what 'tis you want to see me about,” said Captain Eben. +“You say it's important; well, it's got to be to keep me from my +meetin'. I ought to be on the Lord's business this minute and nothin' +worldly's goin' to keep me from servin' Him. So speak quick. What is +it?” + +The voice that answered was one that Grace recognized, though she +had never before heard in it the note of agitation and undignified +excitement. There were no ponderous pauses and “Hum--ha's” now. + +“Don't be a fool, Hammond!” it said. “And don't stand there preaching. +Lock that door! Get a lamp! Are you sure there's nobody but us in the +house?” + +Captain Elkanah Daniels! Captain Elkanah visiting a Come-Outer! and +the leader of the Come-Outers!! Grace caught her breath. What in the +world--She started to descend and then a thought flashed to her mind. +She stopped short. + +“I ain't the fool, Elkanah,” she heard her uncle retort sternly. “The +fools are them who are deef to the call from on high. My foot was on the +threshold of His house when you led me astray. It's never halted there +afore. I warn you--” + +“Hush! Shut up! Can't you forget that--that Come-Outer circus of yours +for a minute?” + +“Elkanah Daniels, I'll have no blasphemy here. Another word like that +and--” + +“WILL you be still and hear me? The Lord's business! I guess you'll +think it's the Lord's business when you understand what I'm going to +tell you! The Lord's business! The devil's business, you better say! +Will you lock that door?” + +“My church is waitin' for me and--” + +“Let it wait. What's a parcel of yelling Come-Outers compared to the +decency of this town? Stop! Shut up! Eben Hammond, I tell you that your +precious church--yes and mine, the Regular church of Trumet--will go to +rack and ruin if you and me don't pull together this night.” + +“And I tell you, Elkanah Daniels, I'll have no blasphemy here. That +little sanctuary up the road is founded on a rock and neither you +nor any of your Phariseein' priest-worshipin' crew can shake it. The +Almighty'll protect His own. As for the Reg'lar church, that's no +concern of mine.” + +“But I tell you 'tis your concern. Or if the church isn't, your own +family is.” + +“My--my family?” + +“Yes, your own family. Huh! that makes you listen, don't it?” + +There was an instant of silence. Grace, crouching on the stairs, noticed +the change in her uncle's voice as he answered. + +“My own family?” he repeated slowly. “My own--And the Reg'lar +church--What do you mean? Has Nat--” + +“No, he ain't. But that cussed girl of yours--” + +“Stop!” Eben's shout rang through the house. The listener heard it, +rose, and then sank slowly to her knees. + +“Stop!” shouted Captain Hammond. “Elkanah Daniels, for your own sake +now, be careful. If you dast to say a word, another word like that, +I'll--” + +“If I dast! The hussy! But there's no use talkin' to you. You're as +crazy as a Bedlamite. Either that, or you're in the game with her. If +you are, I warn you--” + +“Stop! What game? What do you mean? Gracie! My Grace! What is it? For +mercy sakes, Elkanah--” + +“Humph! I wondered if I couldn't get some sense into you, finally. Lock +that door!” + +“I will! I will! But Elkanah--” + +“Lock it! Give me the key!” + +The click of the lock sounded sharply. + +“Where's the lamp?” demanded Daniels. “And the matches? Don't stand +there shaking.” + +A smell of sulphur floated out into the hall. Then the sickly glow of +the “fluid” lamp shone through the doorway. + +“What ails you?” asked Elkanah. “Are you struck dumb? Now go and see if +there's anybody else in the house.” + +“But--but there ain't. I know there ain't. Hannah's gone and Gracie's at +meetin' by this time.” + +“She? Humph! Well, maybe she's at meeting and maybe she isn't. Maybe +she's over in Peters's pines, hugging and kissing that man she's met +there every Sunday for I don't know how long--Here! let go, you old +fool! Let go, I tell you!” + +A chair fell to the floor with a bang. There was the sound of hard +breathing and rapid footsteps. + +“Let go!” panted Daniels. “Are you crazy? Take your hands off me!” + +“You liar!” snarled Captain Eben. “You low-lived liar! By the Almighty, +Elkanah Daniels! I'll--You take that back or I'll choke the everlastin' +soul out of you. I will--” + +“Let go, you lunatic! You'll kill yourself. Listen! I'm not lying. It's +the truth. She's met a man, I tell you. Been meeting him for months, I +guess. There! now will you listen?” + +The footsteps had ceased, but the heavy breathing continued. + +“A man!” gasped Eben. “A man! Gracie! It's a--Who is he? What's his +name?” + +“His name's John Ellery, and he's minister of the Regular church in this +town; that's who he is! Here! hold up! Good Lord! are you dying? Hold +up!” + +The girl on the stairs sprang to her feet. Her head was reeling and she +could scarcely stand, but she blindly began the descent. She must go to +her uncle. She must. But Captain Daniels's voice caused her to halt once +more. + +“There! there!” it said in a tone of relief. “That's better. Set still +now. Be quiet, that's it. Shall I get some water?” + +“No, no! let me be. Just let me be. I ain't what I used to be and +this--I'm all right, I tell you. Grace! And--and--What was it you just +said? I--I don't b'lieve I heard it right.” + +“I said that daughter of yours, or niece, or whatever she is, this Grace +Van Horne, has been meeting young Ellery, our minister, in Peters's +grove. Been meeting him and walking with him, and kissing him, and--” + +“It's a lie! It ain't so, Elkanah! Prove it or--It--it CAN'T be so, can +it? Please--” + +“It is so. She's met him in those pines every Sunday afternoon for a +long time. She was seen there with him this afternoon.” + +“Who--who saw her?” + +“Never mind. The one that did'll never tell--unless it's necessary. +They're fixing to be married, and--” + +“MARRIED! She marry a Reg'lar minister! Oh--” + +“Hush! Listen! They ain't married yet. We can stop 'em, you and I, if we +get right to work. It isn't too late. Will you help?” + +“Will I--I--Go on! tell me more.” + +“We can stop 'em. I know it would be a good catch for her, the sneaking, +designing--Well, never mind. But it can't be. It shan't be. You've got +to tell her so, Hammond. We folks of the Regular church have pride in +our society; we won't have it disgraced. And we have been proud of our +minister, the young, rattle-headed fool! We'll save him if we can. If +we can't”--the speaker's teeth grated--“then we'll send him to eternal +smash or die trying.” + +“But I can't believe it's true. It's a mistake; some other girl and not +Gracie. Why, she don't even know him. She wouldn't--But she HAS been out +every Sunday afternoon for weeks. If it SHOULD be!” + +“It is. I tell you it is. Don't waste time rolling your eyes and talking +stuff. We've got to work and you've got to work first. I don't know +whether you're only making believe or not. I realize that 'twould be +a good thing for your girl to marry a promising young chap like him, +but--Hush! let me go on. I tell you, Hammond, it can't be. We won't let +her. I won't let her. I'm a man of influence in this town, and outside +of it, too. I'm head of the parish committee and a member of the +National Regular Society. I can't reach your precious ward, maybe, but I +can reach the fellow she's after, and if he marries her, I'll drive 'em +both to the poorhouse. + +“Here's where you come in, Hammond. It may be she does really care for +him. Or maybe she's after position and money. Well, you talk to her. You +tell her that if she keeps on going with him, if she doesn't break off +this damnable business now, tomorrow, I'll ruin John Ellery as sure as +I'm a living man. He'll be ruined in Trumet, anyhow. He'll be thrown out +by the parish committee. I'm not sure that his church people won't +tar and feather him. Marrying a low-down Come-Outer hussy! As if there +wa'n't decent girls of good families he might have had! But losing this +church won't be the only thing that'll happen to him. The committee'll +see that he doesn't get another one. I'll use my influence and have him +thrown out of the Regular ministry. Think I can't? What sort of yarns +do you suppose will be told about him and her, meeting the way they did? +Won't the county papers print some fine tales? Won't the Boston ones +enjoy such a scandal? I tell you, Eben Hammond, that young chap's name +will be dragged so deep in the mud it'll never get clean again.” + +He stopped for breath. His companion was silent. After a moment, he +continued: + +“You tell her that, Hammond,” he went on. “If she really cares for him, +it'll be enough. She won't let him ruin his life. And I'll keep quiet +till I hear from you. If she's sensible and really decent, then she can +give him his clearance papers without his knowing why she did it and +everything will be a secret and kept so. Nobody else'll ever know. If +she won't do that, then you tell me and I'll have a session with HIM. +If THAT'S no good, then out he goes and she with him; and it's ruination +for both of 'em, reputations and all. Why am I doing this? I'll tell +you. I like him. He isn't orthodox enough to suit me, but I have liked +him mighty well. And Annab--Humph! that's neither here nor there. What +I'm fighting for is the Trumet Regular church. That's MY church and +I'll have no dirty scandal with Come-Outers dragging it down. Now you +understand. Will you tell her what I've said?” + +The chair creaked. Evidently, Captain Eben was rising slowly to his +feet. + +“Well?” repeated Elkanah. + +“Elkanah Daniels,” said Eben slowly, his voice shaking from nervous +exhaustion and weakness, but with a fine ring of determination in every +word, “Elkanah Daniels, you listen to me. I've heard you through. If +your yarn is true, then my heart is broke, and I wish I might have died +afore I heard it. But I didn't die and I have heard it. Now listen to +me. I love that girl of mine better'n the whole wide world and yet +I'd ruther see her dead afore me than married to a Reg'lar minister. +Disgrace to HIM! Disgrace to your miser'ble church! What about the +disgrace to MINE? And the disgrace to HER? Ruin to your minister! Ruin +to my girl here and hereafter is what I'm thinkin' of; that and my +people who worship God with me. I'll talk to Grace. I'll talk to +her. But not of what'll happen to him or you--or any of your cantin', +lip-servin' crew. I'll tell her to choose between him and me. And if she +chooses him, I'll send her out of that door. I'll do my duty and read +her out of my congregation. And I'll know she's gone to everlastin' +hell, and that's worse'n the poorhouse. That's all to-night, Elkanah. +Now you better go.” + +“Humph! Well, I declare! you ARE a bigoted--” + +“Stop it! I've kept my hands off you so fur, because I'm the Lord's +servant. But I'm fightin' hard to keep down my old salt-water temper. +You go! There's the door.” + +“All right, all right! I don't care what you say, so long as it's said +so as to stop her from getting him--and said soon.” + +“It'll be said to-night. Now go! My people are waitin' at the chapel.” + +“You're not going to that prayer meeting after THIS?” + +“Where else should I go? 'Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy +laden.' And--and”--his voice broke--“He knows that I AM heavy laden. +Lord! Lord! do help me, for this is more'n I can bear alone.” + +The lock turned; the door opened and closed. Grace, clinging to the +balusters, heard Captain Hammond cross the room, slowly and feebly. +She heard him enter the sitting room. Then she heard nothing more, +not another sound, though the minutes dragged on and on, endlessly, +eternally, and each with a message, a sentence repeated over and over +again in her brain. “If she really cares for him, she won't let him ruin +his life.” + +By and by, pale, but more composed, and with her mind made up, she came +down into the hall. Drawing a long breath, she turned into the sitting +room to face her uncle. By the light shining through the dining-room +door she saw him on his knees by the haircloth sofa. She spoke his name. +He did not answer nor look up. Alarmed, she touched him on the shoulder. +At her touch his arm slid from the couch and he fell gently over upon +his side on the carpet. + + +CHAPTER XII + +IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN MAKES PORT + + +Half past eight. In the vestry of the Regular church John Ellery was +conducting his prayer meeting. The attendance was as large as usual. +Three seats, however, were vacant, and along the settees people were +wondering where Captain Elkanah Daniels and his daughter might be. They +had not missed a service for many a day. And where was Keziah Coffin? + +At the Come-Outer chapel the testifying and singing were in full blast. +But Ezekiel Bassett was leading, for Captain Eben Hammond had not +made his appearance. Neither had Grace Van Horne, for that matter, but +Captain Eben's absence was the most astonishing. + +“Somethin's the matter,” whispered Josiah Badger to his right-hand +neighbor. “Somethin's wrong d-d-d-down to the tavern, sartin' sure. +I'm goin' down there just soon's meetin's over and f-f-f-find out. +Eben wouldn't no more miss leadin' his meetin' from choice than I'd go +without a meal's v-v-vi-vittles. Somethin's happened and I'm goin' to +know what 'tis. You'll go along with me, won't ye, Lot?” + +The answer was an affirmative. In fact, almost every worshiper in that +chapel had determined to visit the Hammond tavern as soon as the service +was at an end. + + +In the Regular parsonage Keziah sat alone by the sitting-room table. +Prayer meeting and supper she had forgotten entirely. The minister +had not come home for his evening meal, and food was furthest from the +housekeeper's thoughts. What should she do? What ought she to do? How +could she avert the disaster so certain to overwhelm those two young +people the moment their secret became known? + +It was in vain that she tried to encourage herself with the hope that +Kyan had exaggerated--that the meetings in the grove had not been as +frequent as he said they were, or that they had been merely casual. +She knew better. She had seen the pair together and the look in John +Ellery's eyes. No, the mischief was done, they loved each other; or, at +least, he loved her. There was the great trouble. + +Keziah, in spite of her worldly common sense, was an idealist at heart. +Love matches she believed in thoroughly. If the man had not been a +Regular minister, or if he had been a minister in any other town than +narrow, gossiping, squabbling Trumet, where families were divided on +“religious” grounds, neighbors did not speak because their creeds were +different, and even after death were buried in cemeteries three miles +apart; if the girl had been other than the ward of bigoted old Eben +Hammond--then, though they were poor as poverty itself, Keziah would +have joined their hands and rejoiced. Even as it was, she was strongly +tempted to do it. Her sense of right and her every inclination urged her +toward that course. “Face the world together and fight it out,” that +was the advice she would like to give them. But no, the battle was too +uneven. The odds were too great. They must not think of marriage, for +the present, and they must cease to meet. Perhaps some day--she tried to +comfort herself with the thought--perhaps some day, years afterwards and +under different circumstances, they might. + +--With Ellery she felt certain she could accomplish nothing by argument +or persuasion. She knew him well enough by this time to realize that, if +his mind was made up, all Trumet and all creation could not change it. +He would keep on his course, and, if wrecked, would go down with colors +set and helm lashed. But Grace, perhaps she did not fully realize the +situation. She might be made to see, to listen to reason. And, perhaps, +it was possible--perhaps, on her part, matters were not as serious. The +minister had not acted like a triumphant lover, assured of success; +he had seemed, now that she thought of it, more like a pleader, a +supplicant. Perhaps, if she could see Grace and talk plainly with the +girl, it might not be too late. She determined to try that very night. + +She rose and again donned her bonnet and shawl. She was about to blow +out the lamp when she heard rapid footsteps, the sound of some one +running along the sidewalk in front of the house. As she listened, the +footsteps sounded on the path. Whoever the runner was he was coming to +the parsonage. She stepped to the door and opened it. + +The runner was a boy, Maria Higgins's boy Isaac, whose widowed mother +lived down by the shore. He did the chores at the Hammond tavern. His +freckled face was dripping with perspiration and he puffed and blew like +a stranded whale. + +“What's the matter, Ike?” demanded Keziah. “What is it?” + +“Have ye--have ye,” panted Ike, “have ye seen the doctor anywheres, Mis +Coffin?” + +“Who? Dr. Parker? Have I seen--what in the world are you comin' HERE +after the doctor for?” + +“'Cause--'cause I didn't know where else to come. I been to his house +and he ain't to home. Nobody ain't to home. His wife, Mis Parker, she's +gone up to Boston yes'day on the coach, and--and it's all dark and the +house door's open and the shay's gone, so--” + +“Who's sick? Who wants him?” + +“And--and--all the rest of the houses round here was shut up 'cause +everybody's to meetin'. I peeked in at the meetin' house and he ain't +there, and I see your light and--” + +“Who's sick? Tell me that, won't you?” + +“Cap'n Eben. He's awful sick. I cal'late he's goin' to die, and Gracie, +she--” + +“Cap'n Eben? Eben Hammond! Dyin'? What are you talkin' about?” + +“Huh! huh!” puffed the messenger impatiently. “Didn't I tell ye? Cap'n +Eben's adyin'. I seen him. All white and still and--and awful. And +Gracie, she's all alone and--” + +“Alone? Where's Nat?” + +“She don't know. He ain't to home. But I got to find Dr. Parker.” + +“Hold on! Stop! I'll tell you where the doctor is most likely. Up to +Mrs. Prince's. She's been poorly and he's prob'ly been called there. +Run! run fast as ever you can and get him and I'll go to Grace this +minute. The poor thing! Have you told anybody else?” + +“No, no! ain't seen nobody but you to tell. They was prayin' over to +meetin', and the fellers that waits outside to keep comp'ny with the +girls ain't got there yet. And I never met nobody. And 'twas so blasted +dark I fell down four times and tore my best pants and--” + +“S-sh-sh! Listen to me! Don't tell anybody. Not a soul but the doctor. +Half this town'll be runnin' to find out if you do, and that poor girl +must be distracted already. I'll go to her. You get Dr. Parker and tell +him to hurry.” + +“I'll tell him; don't you fret.” + +He was gone, running harder than ever. A moment later Keziah followed +him, running also. + +It was a misty, black night, and Trumet sidewalks were uneven and hard +to navigate. But she stumbled on, up the main road to the Corners, down +the “Turn-off,” past the chapel of the Come-Outers, from the open window +of which sounded the drone of a high, nasal voice. Josiah Badger was +“testifying,” and Keziah caught a fragment of the testimony as she +hurried by. + +“I says to 'em, says I, I says to 'em, 'I don't care about your smart +mum-mum-minister and what fine sermons he preaches. Let him BE smart,' I +says. Says I, 'Smartness won't g-g-g-git ye into heaven.' (“Amen!”) 'No, +sirree! it takes more'n that. I've seen smart folks afore and they got +c-c-cuk-catched up with sooner or later. Pride goes ahead of a tumble, +I've heard tell, and--” + +This was all that Keziah heard of Mr. Badger's testimony, for, as she +ran on, a rattle of wheels and the thud of hoofs came from behind her. +Then a rocking chaise, drawn by a galloping horse, shot by. Dr. Parker's +carriage, she was sure. The Higgins boy must have met the doctor and +delivered his message. + +The horse and chaise were standing by the front gate of the tavern as +she pantingly drew near it. The side door of the house was ajar and she +opened it softly and entered. The dining room was empty. There was a +light on the sitting-room table and low voices came from the little +bedroom adjoining. Then, from the bedroom, emerged Dr. Parker and Grace +Van Horne. The girl was white and there were dark circles under her +eyes. The doctor was very grave. + +Keziah stepped forward and held out both hands. Grace looked, recognized +her, and with a cry ran toward her. Keziah took her in her arms and +soothed her as if she were a child. + +“There! there! deary,” she said, stroking her hair. “There! there! +deary, don't take it so hard. Poor thing! you're worn out. If I'd only +known sooner.” + +“O Aunt Keziah!” sobbed the girl. “I'm so glad you've come. It was so +good of you.” + +“Good! Land of mercy! If I hadn't come, I'd have been worse than the +beasts that perish. Don't cry, don't. How is he now? Some better?” + +She looked at the doctor as she asked it. He shook his head +emphatically. + +“Well, well, dear,” went on Mrs. Coffin hurriedly. “He will be pretty +soon, we'll hope. You mustn't give up the ship, you know. Now you go and +lay down somewheres and I'll get my things off and see what there is to +do. Some good strong tea might be good for all hands, I guess likely. +Where's Hannah Poundberry?” + +“She's gone to her cousin's to stay all night. I suppose I ought to send +for her, but I--” + +“No, no, you hadn't. Might's well send for a poll parrot, the critter +would be just as much good and talk less. I'll look out for things, me +and the doctor. Where's--where's Nat?” + +“He came in just after I sent the boy for the doctor. He's in there +with--with him,” indicating the bedroom. “Poor Nat!” + +Keziah looked longingly toward the door. + +“Yes,” she said slowly. “Poor fellow, it's an awful shock to him. He and +his father are--But there! you lay down on that lounge.” + +“I can't lie down. I can't do anything but think. Oh, what a dreadful +day this has been! And I thought it was going to be such a happy one!” + +“Yes, yes, deary, I know.” + +Grace raised her head. + +“You know?” she repeated, looking up into the housekeeper's face. + +“I mean I know it's been a dreadful day,” explained Keziah quickly. +“Yes, indeed it has,” with a sigh. “But there! our moanin' over it don't +cheer it up any. Will you lay down? No? Well, then, SET down, there's a +good girl.” + +Grace, protesting that she couldn't sit down, she couldn't leave uncle, +and there were so many things to do, was at last persuaded by Keziah and +the doctor to rest for a few moments in the big rocker. Then Mrs. Coffin +went into the kitchen to prepare the tea. As she went, she beckoned to +Dr. Parker, who joined her a moment later. + +“Well, doctor?” she asked anxiously. + +The stout, gray-haired old physician--he had practiced in Trumet for +nearly thirty years--shook his head. + +“Not a single chance,” he whispered. “He may possibly live till morning, +but I doubt if he lasts an hour. It's his heart. I've expected it at +any time. Ever since he had that shock, I've been at him to take things +easy; but you might as well talk to a graven image. That Come-Outer +foolishness is what really killed him, though just what brought on this +attack I can't make out. Grace says she found him lying on the floor by +the sofa. He was unconscious then. I'm rather worried about her. She was +very near to fainting when I got here.” + +“No wonder. All alone in this ark of a house and nobody to help or to +send. Lucky she found that Ike Higgins. Say, I wonder if the young +one's around here now? If he is, he must stand at the gate and scare off +Come-Outers. The whole chapel, mates, crew, and cabin boy, 'll be down +here soon's meetin's over to see what kept Eben. And they mustn't get +in.” + +“I should say not. I'll hunt up Ike. If a Come-Outer gets into this +house to-night I'll eat him, that's all.” + +“Some of 'em would give you dyspepsy, I guess. Yes, Grace, I'll be there +in a jiffy.” + +The doctor left the house to find young Higgins and post him at the +gate. The boy, who had been listening under the window, was proud of his +new responsibility. + +“I'll fix 'em, doctor,” he declared. “I only hope old Zeke Bassett +comes. He lammed me with a horsewhip t'other day, 'cause I was ridin' +behind his ox cart. If he tried to git by me, I'll bounce a rock off'n +his Sunday hat.” + +“Doctor,” whispered Keziah from the kitchen window. “Doctor, come quick. +Nat wants you.” + +Captain Nat was standing at the door of the bedroom. His face was drawn +and he had seemingly grown years older since noon. + +“He's come to himself, doc,” he whispered. “He don't remember how it +happened or anything. And he wants us all. Why! why, Keziah! are you +here?” + +“Yes, Nat. I've been here a little while.” + +He looked at her steadily and his eyes brightened just a trifle. + +“Did you come to see me?” he asked. “Was it about what I said this--” + +“No, no, Nat; no. I heard the news and that Grace was alone; so I come +right down.” + +He nodded wearily. + +“You can come in, too,” he said. “I know dad likes you and I guess--Wait +a minute; I'll ask him.” He stepped back into the bedroom. “Yes,” he +nodded, returning, “you come, too. He wants you.” + +The little room, Captain Eben's own, was more like a skipper's cabin +than a chamber on land. A narrow, single bed, a plain washstand, a +battered, painted bureau and a single chair--these made up the list of +furniture. Two pictures, both of schooners under full sail, hung on the +walls. Beside them hung a ship's barometer, a sextant, and a clock that +struck the “bells,” instead of the hours as the landsman understands +them. In the corner stood the captain's big boots and his oilskins hung +above them. His Sunday cane was there also. And on the bureau was a +worn, heavy Bible. + +Dr. Parker brushed by the others and bent over the bed. + +“Well, cap'n,” he said cheerily, “how's she headed? How are you feeling +now?” + +The old face on the pillow smiled feebly. + +“She's headed for home, I guess, doc,” said Captain Eben. “Bound for +home, and the harbor light broad abeam, I cal'late.” + +“Oh, no! you'll make a good many voyages yet.” + +“Not in this hulk, I won't, doctor. I hope I'll have a new command +pretty soon. I'm trustin' in my owners and I guess they'll do the fair +thing by me. Halloo, Gracie, girl! Well, your old uncle's on his beam +ends, ain't he?” + +Grace glanced fearfully at his face. When he spoke her name she shrank +back, as if she feared what he might say. But he only smiled as, with +the tears streaming down her face, she bent over and kissed him. + +“There! there!” he protested. “You mustn't cry. What are you cryin' +about me for? We know, you and me, who's been lookin' out for us and +keepin' us on the course all these years. We ain't got anything to cry +for. You just keep on bein' a 'good girl, Gracie, and goin' to the right +church and--I s'pose Ezekiel'll lead in meetin' now,” he added. “I do +wish he was a stronger man.” + +The doctor, whose fingers had been upon the old man's wrist, looked up +at Nat significantly. + +“There, dad,” said the latter, “don't you worry about Zeke Bassett, nor +anything else. You just lay in dry dock and let Parker here overhaul +your runnin' riggin' and get you fit for sea. That's what you've got to +do.” + +“I'm fit and ready for the sea I'm goin' to sail,” was the answer. His +eyes wandered from his son to Mrs. Coffin. For an instant he seemed +puzzled. Then he said: + +“'Evenin', Keziah. I don't know why you're here, but--” + +“I heard that Grace was alone and that you was sick, Eben. So I come +right down, to help if I could.” + +“Thank ye. You're a good-hearted woman, Keziah, even though you +ain't seen the true light yet. And you're housekeeper for that hired +priest--a--a--” He paused, and a troubled look came over his face. + +“What is it, dad?” asked Nat. + +“I--I--Where's Gracie? She's here, ain't she?” + +“Yes, uncle, I'm here. Here I am,” said the girl. His fingers groped for +her hand and seized it. + +“Yes, yes, you're here,” murmured Captain Eben. “I--I--for a minute or +so, I--I had an awful dream about you, Gracie. I dreamed--Never mind. +Doc, answer me this now, true and honest, man to man: Can you keep me +here for just a little spell longer? Can you? Try! Ten minutes, say. Can +you?” + +“Of course I can. Cap'n Hammond, what are you--” + +“I know. That's all right. But I ain't a young one to be petted and lied +to. I'm a man. I've sailed ships. I've been on blue water. I'm goin' to +make port pretty soon, and I know it, but I want to get my decks clear +fust, if I can. Gracie, stand still. Nat, run alongside where I can see +you plainer. Keziah, you and the doctor stay where you be. I want you to +witness this.” + +“Cap'n,” protested Dr. Parker, “if I were you I wouldn't--” + +“Belay! Silence there, for'ard! Nat, you're my boy, ain't you? You set +some store by the old man, hey?” + +“I--I guess I do, dad.” + +“Yes, I guess you do, too. You've been a pretty good boy; stubborn +and pig-headed sometimes, but, take you by and large, pretty good. And +Gracie, you've been a mighty good girl. Never done nothin' I wouldn't +like, nothin' mean nor underhand nor--” + +“Hush, uncle! Hush! Please hush!” + +“Well, you ain't; so why should I hush? In this--this dream I had, seems +'sif you--seems as if a man come to me and said that you was--It WAS a +dream, wa'n't it?” + +He tried to rise. Nat and the doctor started forward. Grace shrank back. + +“Of course it was, cap'n,” said the doctor briskly. “Now you mustn't +fret yourself in this way. Just lie still and--” + +“Belay, I tell you. Yes, I guess 'twas a dream. It had to be, but 'twas +so sort of real that I--How long have I been this way?” + +“Oh, a little while! Now just--” + +“Hush! Don't pull your hand away, Gracie. Nat, give me yours. That's it. +Now I put them two hands together. See, doctor? See, Keziah?” + +“He's wandering. We must stop this,” muttered Parker. Mrs. Coffin, who +began to comprehend what was coming, looked fearfully at Nat and the +girl. + +“No, I ain't wanderin', neither,” declared the old Come-Outer fretfully. +“I'm sane as ever I was and if you try to stop me I'll--Gracie, your +Uncle Eben's v'yage is 'most over. He's almost to his moorin's and +they're waitin' for him on the pier. I--I won't be long now. Just a +little while, Lord! Give me just a little while to get my house in +order. Gracie, I don't want to go till I know you'll be looked out for. +I've spoke to Nat about this, but I ain't said much to you. Seems if I +hadn't, anyhow; I ain't real sartin; my head's all full of bells ringin' +and--and things.” + +“Don't, uncle, don't!” pleaded Grace. “Don't worry about me. Think of +yourself, please.” + +“S-sh-sh! Don't put me off. Just listen. I want you to marry my boy, +after I'm gone. I want you to say you will--say it now, so's I can hear +it. Will you, Gracie?” + +Grace would have withdrawn her hand, but he would not let her. He clung +to it and to that of his son with all his failing strength. + +“Will you, Gracie?” he begged. “It's the last thing I'm goin' to ask of +you. I've tried to be sort of good to you, in my way, and--” + +“Don't, don't!” she sobbed. “Let me think a minute, uncle, dear. Oh, do +let me think!” + +“I ain't got time, Gracie. You'll have to say it now, or else--All +right, then, think; but think quick.” + +Grace was thinking. “If she really cares for him, she won't let him ruin +his life.” That was what Captain Elkanah had said. And here was a way to +save him from ruin. + +“Won't you say it for me, Gracie?” pleaded Captain Eben. She hesitated +no longer. + +“Yes, uncle,” she answered through tears, “if Nat wants me he can have +me.” + +Keziah clasped her hands. Captain Eben's face lit up with a great joy. + +“Thank the Almighty!” he exclaimed. “Lord, I do thank you. Nat, boy, +you're consider'ble older than she is and you'll have to plan for her. +You be a good husband to her all her days, won't ye? Why, what are you +waitin' for? Why don't you answer me?” + +Nat groaned aloud. + +“A minute, dad,” he stammered. “Just give me a minute, for Heaven sakes! +Keziah--” + +“Keziah!” repeated Eben. “Keziah? What are you talkin' to HER for? She +knows there couldn't be no better match in the world. You do know it, +don't ye, Keziah?” + +“Yes,” said Keziah slowly. “I guess--I guess you're right, Eben.” + +“Keziah Coffin,” cried Nat Hammond, “do you tell me to marry Grace?” + +“Yes, Nat, I--I think your father's right.” + +“Then--then--what difference does--All right, dad. Just as Grace says.” + +“Thank God!” cried Captain Eben. “Doctor, you and Mrs. Coffin are +witnesses to this. There! now my decks are clear and I'd better get +ready to land. Gracie, girl, the Good Book's over there on the bureau. +Read me a chapter, won't you?” + +An hour later Keziah sat alone in the dining room. She had stolen away +when the reading began. Dr. Parker, walking very softly, came to her and +laid his hand on her shoulder. + +“He's gone,” he said simply. + + +CHAPTER XIII + +IN WHICH KEZIAH BREAKS THE NEWS + + +It was nearly five o'clock, gray dawn of what was to be a clear, +beautiful summer morning, when Keziah softly lifted the latch and +entered the parsonage. All night she had been busy at the Hammond +tavern. Busy with the doctor and the undertaker, who had been called +from his bed by young Higgins; busy with Grace, soothing her, comforting +her as best she could, and petting her as a mother might pet a +stricken child. The poor girl was on the verge of prostration, and from +hysterical spasms of sobs and weeping passed to stretches of silent, +dry-eyed agony which were harder to witness and much more to be feared. + +“It is all my fault,” she repeated over and over again. “All my fault! I +killed him! I killed him, Aunt Keziah! What shall I do? Oh, why couldn't +I have died instead? It would have been so much better, better for +everybody.” + +“Ss-sh! ss-sh! deary,” murmured the older woman. “Don't talk so; you +mustn't talk so. Your uncle was ready to go. He's been ready for ever so +long, and those of us who knew how feeble he was expected it any time. +'Twa'n't your fault at all and he'd say so if he was here now.” + +“No, he wouldn't. He'd say just as I do, that I was to blame. You don't +know, Aunt Keziah. Nobody knows but me.” + +“Maybe I do, Gracie, dear; maybe I do. Maybe I understand better'n you +think I do. And it's all been for the best. You'll think so, too, one +of these days. It seems hard now; it is awful hard, you poor thing, but +it's all for the best, I'm sure. Best for everyone. It's a mercy he went +sudden and rational, same as he did. The doctor says that, if he hadn't, +he'd have been helpless and bedridden and, maybe, out of his head for +another year. He couldn't have lived longer'n that, at the most.” + +“But you DON'T know, Aunt Keziah! You don't know what I--I AM to blame. +I'll never forgive myself. And I'll never be happy again.” + +“Yes, you will. You'll come, some day, to think it was best and right, +for you and--and for others. I know you think you'll never get over it, +but you will. Somehow or other you will, same as the rest of us have +had to do. The Lord tries us mighty hard sometimes, but He gives us the +strength to bear it. There! there! don't, deary, don't.” + +Dr. Parker was very anxious. + +“She must rest,” he told Mrs. Coffin. “She must, or her brain will give +way. I'm going to give her something to make her sleep and you must get +her to take it.” + +So Keziah tried and, at last, Grace did take the drug. In a little while +she was sleeping, uneasily and with moans and sobbings, but sleeping, +nevertheless. + +“Now it's your turn, Keziah,” said the doctor. “You go home now and +rest, yourself. We don't need you any more just now.” + +“Where's--where's Cap'n Nat?” asked Keziah. + +“He's in there with his father. He bears it well, although he is mighty +cut up. Poor chap, he seems to feel that he is to blame, somehow. Says +Cap'n Eben and he had disagreed about something or other and he fears +that hastened the old man's death. Nonsense, of course. It was bound to +come and I told him so. 'Twas those blasted Come-Outers who really did +it, although I shan't say so to anyone but you. I'm glad Nat and the +girl have agreed to cruise together. It's a mighty good arrangement. She +couldn't have a better man to look out for her and he couldn't have a +better wife. I suppose I'm at liberty to tell people of the engagement, +hey?” + +“Yes. Yes, I don't see any reason why not. Yes--I guess likely you'd +better tell 'em.” + +“All right. Now you go home. You've had a hard night, like the rest of +us.” + +How hard he had no idea. And Keziah, as she wearily entered the +parsonage, realized that the morning would be perhaps the hardest +of all. For upon her rested the responsibility of seeing that the +minister's secret was kept. And she, and no other, must break the news +to him. + +The dining room was dark and gloomy. She lighted the lamp. Then she +heard a door open and Ellery's voice, as he called down the stairs. + +“Who is it?” he demanded. “Mrs. Coffin?” + +She was startled. “Yes,” she said softly, after a moment. “Yes, Mr. +Ellery, it's me. What are you doin' awake at such an hour's this?” + +“Yes, I'm awake. I couldn't sleep well to-night, somehow. Too much +to think of, I imagine. But where have you been? Why weren't you at +meeting? And where--Why, it's almost morning!” + +She did not answer at once. The temptation was to say nothing now, to +put off the trying scene as long as possible. + +“It's morning,” repeated the minister. “Are you sick? Has anything +happened?” + +“Yes,” she answered slowly, “somethin' has happened. Are you dressed? +Could you come down?” + +He replied that he would be down in a moment. When he came he found +her standing by the table waiting for him. The look of her face in the +lamplight shocked him. + +“Why, Mrs. Coffin!” he exclaimed. “What IS it? You look as if you had +been through some dreadful experience.” + +“Maybe I have,” she replied. “Maybe I have. Experiences like that come +to us all in this life, to old folks and young, and we have to bear 'em +like men and women. That's the test we're put to, Mr. Ellery, and the +way we come through the fire proves the stuff we're made of. Sorrows and +disappointments and heartbreaks and sicknesses and death--” + +She paused on the word. He interrupted her. + +“Death?” he repeated. “Death? Is some one dead, some one I know? Mrs. +Coffin, what is it you are trying to tell me?” + +Her heart went out to him. She held out both her hands. + +“You poor boy,” she cried, “I'm trying to tell you one of the hardest +things a body can tell. Yes, some one is dead, but that ain't all. Eben +Hammond, poor soul, is out of his troubles and gone.” + +“Eben Hammond! Captain Eben? Dead! Why, why--” + +“Yes, Eben's gone. He was took down sudden and died about ten o'clock +last night. I was there and--” + +“Captain Eben dead! Why, he was as well as--as--She said--Oh, I must go! +I must go at once!” + +He was on his way to the door, but she held it shut. + +“No,” she said gravely, “you mustn't go. You mustn't go, Mr. Ellery. +That's the one thing you mustn't do.” + +“You don't understand. By and by I can tell you why I must be there, but +now--” + +“I do understand. I understand it all. Lord help us! if I'd only +understood sooner, how much of this might have been spared. Why DIDN'T +you tell me?” + +“Mrs. Coffin--” + +“John--you won't mind my callin' you John. I'm old enough, pretty nigh, +to be your mother, and I've come to feel almost as if I was. John, +you've got to stay here with me. You can't go to that house. You can't +go to her.” + +“Mrs. Coffin, what are you saying? Do you know--Have you--” + +“Yes, I know all about it. I know about the meetin's in the pines and +all. Oh, why didn't you trust me and tell me? If you had, all would have +been SO much better!” + +He looked at her in utter amazement. The blood rushed to his face. + +“You know THAT?” he whispered. + +“Yes, I know.” + +“Did she tell--” + +“No, nobody told. That is, only a little. I got a hint and I suspicioned +somethin' afore. The rest I saw with my own eyes.” + +He was now white, but his jaw shot forward and his teeth closed. + +“If you do know,” he said, “you must realize that my place is with her. +Now, when she is in trouble--” + +“Would you want to make that trouble greater? More than she could bear?” + +“I think I might help her to bear it. Mrs. Coffin, you have been my +truest friend, but one, in Trumet. You HAVE been like a mother to me. +But I have thought this out to the end and I shall go through with it. +It is my affair--and hers. If my own mother were alive and spoke as you +do, I should still go through with it. It is right, it is my life. I'm +not ashamed of anything I've done. I'm proud. I'm proud of her. And +humble only when I think how unworthy I am to be her husband. I suppose +you are fearful of what my congregation will say. Well, I've thought of +that, too, and thought it through. Whatever they say and whatever they +do will make no difference. Do you suppose I will let THEM keep me from +her? Please open that door.” + +He was very tragic and handsome--and young, as he stood there. The tears +overflowed the housekeeper's eyes as she looked at him. If her own love +story had not been broken off at its beginning, if she had not thrown +her life away, she might have had a son like that. She would have given +all that the years had in store for her, given it gladly, to have been +able to open the door and bid him go. But she was firm. + +“It ain't the congregation, John,” she said. “Nor Trumet, nor your +ministry. That means more'n you think it does, now; but it ain't that. +You mustn't go to her because--well, because she don't want you to.” + +“Doesn't want me? I know better.” He laughed in supreme scorn. + +“She doesn't want you, John. She wouldn't see you if you went. She would +send you away again, sure, sartin sure. She would. And if you didn't +go when she sent you, you wouldn't be the man I hope you are. John, you +mustn't see Grace again. She ain't yours. She belongs to some one else.” + +“Some one else!” He repeated the words in a whisper. “Some one ELSE? +Why, Mrs. Coffin, you must be crazy! If you expect me to--” + +“Hush! hush! I ain't crazy, though there's times when I wonder I ain't. +John, you and Grace have known each other for a few months, that's +all. You've been attracted to her because she was pretty and educated +and--and sweet; and she's liked you because you were about the only +young person who could understand her and--and all that. And so you've +been meetin' and have come to believe--you have, anyway--that 'twas +somethin' more than likin'. But you neither of you have stopped to think +that a marriage between you two was as impossible as anything could be. +And, besides, there's another man. A man she's known all her life and +loved and respected--” + +“Stop, Mrs. Coffin! stop this wicked nonsense. I won't hear it.” + +“John, Grace Van Horne is goin' to marry Cap'n Nat Hammond. There! +that's the livin' truth.” + +In his absolute confidence and faith he had again started for the door. +Now he wheeled and stared at her. She nodded solemnly. + +“It's the truth,” she repeated. “She and Nat are promised to each other. +Cap'n Eben, on his deathbed, asked Dr. Parker and me to be witnesses to +the engagement. Now you see why you mustn't go nigh her again.” + +He did not answer. Instead, he stood silently staring. She stepped +forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. + +“Set down, John,” she said. “Set down and let me tell you about it. Yes, +yes, you must. If I tell you, you'll understand better. There! there! +don't you interrupt me yet and don't you look that way. Do set down.” + +She led him over to the rocking-chair and gently forced him into it. +He obeyed, although with no apparent realization of what he was doing. +Still with her hand on his shoulder she went on speaking. She told him +of her visit to the Hammond tavern, saying nothing of Mr. Pepper's +call nor of her own experience in the grove. She told of Captain Eben's +seizure, of what the doctor said, and of the old Come-Outer's return to +consciousness. Then she described the scene in the sick room and how Nat +and Grace had plighted troth. He listened, at first stunned and stolid, +then with growing impatience. + +“So you see,” she said. “It's settled; they're engaged, and Dr. Parker +will tell everybody of the engagement this very mornin'. It wa'n't any +great surprise to me. Those two have been brought up together; 'twas the +natural thing that was almost bound to happen. Eben's heart was set on +it for years. And she'll have a good husband, John, that I know. And +she'll do her best to make him happy. He's a good man and--” + +The minister sprang to his feet. + +“A good man!” he cried furiously. “A good man! One who will make use of +a dying father to drive a girl into--Stand aside, Mrs. Coffin!” + +“John, you mustn't speak that way of Nat Hammond. He ain't the kind to +drive a girl against her will. And Grace is not one to be driven.” + +“Are you blind? Can't you see? Why, only yesterday, she--Do you think I +shall permit such a wicked crime as that to--” + +“Ss-sh! No, it ain't wicked, it's right. Right and best for everybody, +for her especial. Yesterday she might have forgot for a minute. But +think, just think what would have happened if she cared for you.” + +“But she does! I know she does. Mrs. Coffin, stand away from that door.” + +“No, John; if you go out of that door now, to go to her, you'll have to +go by main strength. You shan't wreck yourself and that girl if I can +help it. Be a man.” + +The pair looked at each other. Keziah was determined, but so, evidently, +was he. She realized, with a sinking heart, that her words had made +absolutely no impression. He did not attempt to pass, but he slowly +shook his head. + +“Mrs. Coffin,” he said, “perhaps you believe you're doing right. I +hope--yes, I'll give you credit for that belief. But I KNOW I am right +and I shall go to her. Such a--a BARGAIN as that you have just told me +of is no more to be regarded than--” + +“John, I beg you--” + +“NO.” + +“Then go. Go this minute and break her heart and ruin her life and spoil +her good name in this village where she's lived since she was eight +years old. Go! be selfish. I suppose that's part of a man's make-up. Go! +Never mind her. Go!” + +“I do 'mind' her, as you call it. I AM thinking of her.” + +“No, you're not. It's yourself.” + +“If it was myself--and God knows it is the only happiness on earth for +me--if it was only myself, and I really thought she wished me to stay +away, I'd stay, I'd stay, though I'd pray to die before this hour was +over.” + +“I know, I know. I've prayed to die myself afore now, but I'm here yet; +and so will you be. We can't die so easy.” + +“But I know--” + +“Do you suppose SHE would come to YOU if she knew it would be your +ruin?” + +He hesitated. The last time they met, ages before--no, only the previous +afternoon--she had told him it was his happiness and his future only +that she thought of. He choked and drew his hand across his eyes. + +“Mrs. Coffin,” he said, “you tell me it will be her ruin. YOU tell me +so. You SAY she doesn't want me. I tell you that the only thing that +will keep me from her is hearing that from her own lips. When she tells +me to leave her I will, and not before.” + +“She'll tell you, John; she'll tell you. I know you must despise me, +pretty nigh. I cal'late you think I'm a worldly old woman, carin' +nothin' for your feelin's. Maybe I've talked pretty hard in the last few +minutes, but I haven't meant to be hard. To be honest, I didn't think +you'd listen to me. I expected you'd insist on seein' her yourself. +Well, then, go and see her, if you must, though what will come of it +can only be more trouble, for you run the risk of folks knowin' it and +beginnin' to wonder. And I know Grace. She's made up her mind and won't +change it. But I do ask you this: I ask you not to go now. Wait a little +while, do. I left her asleep, worn out by what she's been through and +under the effects of the doctor's sleepin' medicine. He said she must +rest or he was afraid her brain would give out. For her sake, then, +wait a little. Then, if you don't hear from her, maybe I can arrange a +meetin' place where you can see her without anyone's knowin' it. I'll +try. But do wait a little while, for her sake, won't you?” + +At last he was listening and hesitating. + +“Won't you?” begged Keziah. + +“Yes,” he answered slowly. “I'll wait. I'll wait until noon, somehow, +if I can. I'll try. But not a minute later. Not one. You don't know what +you're asking, Mrs. Coffin.” + +“Yes, I do. I know well. And I thank you for her sake.” + +But he did not have to wait until noon. At six o'clock, through the +dew-soaked grass of the yard, came the Higgins boy. For the first time +in his short life he had been awake all night and he moved slowly. + +The housekeeper opened the door. Ike held up an envelope, clutched in a +grimy hand. + +“It's for you, Mrs. Keziah,” he said. “Gracie, she sent it. There ain't +no answer.” + +Keziah took the letter. “How is she? And how's Nat?” she asked. + +“They're doin' pretty well, so ma says. Ma's there now and they've sent +for Hannah Poundberry. Gee!” he added, yawning, “I ain't slept a wink. +Been on the jump, now I tell ye. Didn't none of them Come-Outers git in, +not one. I sent 'em on the home tack abilin'. You ought to hear me give +old Zeke Bassett Hail Columby! Gosh! I was just ahopin' HE'D come.” + +Mrs. Coffin closed the door and tore open the envelope. Within +was another addressed, in Grace's handwriting, to Mr. Ellery. The +housekeeper entered the study, handed it to him and turned away. + +The minister, who had been pacing the floor, seized the note eagerly. +It was written in pencil and by a hand that had trembled much. Yet there +was no indecision in the written words. + + +“Dear John,” wrote Grace. “I presume Aunt Keziah has told you of uncle's +death and of my promise to Nat. It is true. I am going to marry him. I +am sure this is right and for the best. Our friendship was a mistake and +you must not see me again. Please don't try. + +“GRACE VAN HORNE.” + + +Beneath was another paragraph. + + +“Don't worry about me. I shall be happy, I am sure. And I shall hope +that you may be. I shall pray for that.” + + +The note fell to the floor with a rustle that sounded loud in the +stillness. Then Keziah heard the minister's step. She turned. He was +moving slowly across the room. + +“John,” she cried anxiously, “you poor boy!” + +He answered without looking back. + +“I'm--going--up--to--my--room,” he said, a pause between each word. “I +want to be alone awhile, Mrs. Coffin.” + +Wearily Keziah set about preparing breakfast. Not that she expected the +meal would be eaten, but it gave her something to do and occupied her +mind. The sun had risen and the light streamed in at the parsonage +windows. The breeze blew fresh and cool from the ocean. It was a +magnificent morning. + +She called to him that breakfast was ready, but he did not answer. She +could eat nothing herself, and, when the table was cleared, prepared +to do the week's washing, for Monday is always washday in Trumet. Noon +came, dinner time, but still he did not come down. At last Keziah could +stand it no longer. She determined to go to him. She climbed the steep +stairs and rapped on the door of his room. + +“Yes?” she heard him say. + +“It's me,” was the reply. “Mr. Ellery, can I come in? I know you want +to be alone, but I don't think you'd ought to be, too much. I'd like to +talk with you a few minutes; may I?” + +A moment passed before he told her to enter. He was sitting in a chair +by the window, dressed just as he had been when she returned from the +tavern. She looked sharply at his face as it was turned toward her. His +eyes were dry and in them was an expression so hopeless and dreary that +the tears started to her own. + +“John,” she said, “I couldn't bear to think of your facin' it alone up +here. I just had to come.” + +He smiled, and the smile was as hopeless as the look in his eyes. + +“Face it?” he repeated. “Well, Mrs. Coffin, I must face it, I suppose. +I've been facing it ever since--since I knew. And I find it no easier.” + +“John, what are you goin' to do?” + +He shook his head. “I don't know,” he said. “Go away somewhere, first +of all, I guess. Go somewhere and--and try to live it down. I can't, of +course, but I must try.” + +“Go away? Leave Trumet and your church and your congregation?” + +“Did you suppose I could stay here?” + +“I hoped you would.” + +“And see the same people and the same places? And do the same things? +See--see HER! Did you”--he moved impatiently--“did you expect me to +attend the wedding?” + +She put out her hand. “I know it'll be hard,” she said, “stayin' here, I +mean. But your duty to others--” + +“Don't you think we've heard enough about duty to others? How about my +duty to myself?” + +“I guess that's the last thing we ought to think about in the world, if +we do try to be fair and square. Your church thinks a heap of you, John. +They build on you. You've done more in the little while you've been here +than Mr. Langley did in his last fifteen years. We've grown and we're +doin' good--doin' it, not talkin' it in prayer meetin'. The parish +committee likes you and the poor folks in the society love you. Old Mrs. +Prince was tellin' me, only a little spell ago, that she didn't know how +she'd have pulled through this dreadful time if 'twa'n't for you. And +there's lots of others. Are you goin' to leave them? And what reason +will you give for leavin'?” + +He shook his head. “I don't know,” he answered. “I may not give any. But +I shall go.” + +“I don't believe you will. I don't believe you're that kind. I've +watched you pretty sharp since you and I have been livin' together and I +have more faith in you than that comes to. You haven't acted to me like +a coward and I don't think you'll run away.” + +“Mrs. Coffin, it is so easy for you to talk. Perhaps if I were in your +place I should be giving good advice about duty and not running away and +so on. But suppose you were in mine.” + +“Well, suppose I was.” + +“Suppose--Oh, but there! it's past supposing.” + +“I don't know's 'tis. My life hasn't been all sunshine and fair winds, +by no means.” + +“That's true. I beg your pardon. You have had troubles and, from what +I hear, you've borne them bravely. But you haven't had to face anything +like this.” + +“Haven't I? Well, what is it you're asked to face? Disappointment? I've +faced that. Sorrow and heartbreak? I've faced them.” + +“You've never been asked to sit quietly by and see the one you love more +than all the world marry some one else.” + +“How do you know I ain't? How do you know I ain't doin' just that now?” + +“Mrs. Coffin!” + +“John Ellery, you listen to me. You think I'm a homely old woman, +probably, set in my ways as an eight-day clock. I guess I look like it +and act like it. But I ain't so awful old--on the edge of forty, that's +all. And when I was your age I wa'n't so awful homely, either. I had +fellers aplenty hangin' round and I could have married any one of a +dozen. This ain't boastin'; land knows I'm fur from that. I was brought +up in this town and even when I was a girl at school there was only one +boy I cared two straws about. He and I went to picnics together and +to parties and everywhere. Folks used to laugh and say we was keepin' +comp'ny, even then. + +“Well, when I was eighteen, after father died, I went up to New Bedford +to work in a store there. Wanted to earn my own way. And this young +feller I'm tellin' you about went away to sea, but every time he come +home from a voyage he come to see me and things went on that way till we +was promised to each other. The engagement wa'n't announced, but 'twas +so, just the same. We'd have been married in another year. And then we +quarreled. + +“'Twas a fool quarrel, same as that kind gen'rally are. As much my fault +as his and as much his as mine, I cal'late. Anyhow, we was both proud, +or thought we was, and neither would give in. And he says to me, 'You'll +be sorry after I'm gone. You'll wish me back then.' And says I, BEIN' a +fool, 'I guess not. There's other fish in the sea.' He sailed and I did +wish him back, but I wouldn't write fust and neither would he. And then +come another man.” + +She paused, hesitated, and then continued. + +“Never mind about the other man. He was handsome then, in a way, and he +had money to spend, and he liked me. He wanted me to marry him. If--if +the other, the one that went away, had written I never would have +thought of such a thing, but he didn't write. And, my pride bein' hurt, +and all, I finally said yes to the second chap. My folks did all they +could to stop it; they told me he was dissipated, they said he had a bad +name, they told me twa'n't a fit match. And his people, havin' money, +was just as set against his takin' a poor girl. Both sides said ruin +would come of it. But I married him. + +“Well, for the first year 'twa'n't so bad. Not happiness exactly, but +not misery either. That come later. His people was well off and he'd +never worked much of any. He did for a little while after we was +married, but not for long. Then he begun to drink and carry on and lost +his place. Pretty soon he begun to neglect me and at last went off to +sea afore the mast. We was poor as poverty, but I could have stood that; +I did stand it. I took in sewin' and kept up an appearance, somehow. +Never told a soul. His folks come patronizin' around and offered me +money, so's I needn't disgrace them. I sent 'em rightabout in a hurry. +Once in a while he'd come home, get tipsy and abuse me. Still I said +nothin'. Thank God, there was no children; that's the one thing I've +been thankful for. + +“You can't keep such things quiet always. People are bound to find out. +They come to me and said, 'Why don't you leave him?' but I wouldn't. +I could have divorced him easy enough, there was reasons plenty, but I +wouldn't do that. Then word came that he was dead, drowned off in the +East Indies somewheres. I come back here to keep house for Sol, my +brother, and I kept house for him till he died and they offered me this +place here at the parsonage. There! that's my story, part of it, more'n +I ever told a livin' soul afore, except Sol.” + +She ceased speaking. The minister, who had sat silent by the window, +apathetically listening or trying to listen, turned his head. + +“I apologize, Mrs. Coffin,” he said dully, “you have had trials, hard +ones. But--” + +“But they ain't as hard as yours, you think? Well, I haven't quite +finished yet. After word come of my husband's death, the other man come +and wanted me to marry him. And I wanted to--oh, how I wanted to! I +cared as much for him as I ever did; more, I guess. But I wouldn't--I +wouldn't, though it wrung my heart out to say no. I give him up--why? +'cause I thought I had a duty laid on me.” + +Ellery sighed. “I can see but one duty,” he said. “That is the duty +given us by God, to marry the one we love.” + +Keziah's agitation, which had grown as she told her story, suddenly +flashed into flame. + +“Is that as fur as you can see?” she asked fiercely. “It's an easy duty, +then--or looks easy now. I've got a harder one; it's to stand by the +promise I gave and the man I married.” + +He looked at her as if he thought she had lost her wits. + +“The man you married?” he replied. “Why, the man you married is dead.” + +“No, he ain't. You remember the letter you saw me readin' that night +when you come back from Come-Outers' meetin'? Well, that letter was from +him. He's alive.” + +For the first time during the interview the minister rose to his feet, +shocked out of his despair and apathy by this astounding revelation. + +“Alive?” he repeated. “Your husband ALIVE? Why, Mrs. Coffin, this is--” + +She waved him to silence. “Don't stop me now,” she said. “I've told so +much; let me tell the rest. Yes, he's alive. Alive and knockin' round +the world somewheres. Every little while he writes me for money and, if +I have any, I send it to him. Why? Why 'cause I'm a coward, after all, +I guess, and I'm scared he'll do what he says he will and come back. +Perhaps you think I'm a fool to put up with it; that's what most folks +would say if they knew it. They'd tell me I ought to divorce him. Well, +I can't, I CAN'T. I walked into the mess blindfold; I married him in +spite of warnin's and everything. I took him for better or for worse, +and now that he's turned out worse, I must take my medicine. I can't +live with him--that I can't do--but while HE lives I'll stay his wife +and give him what money I can spare. That's the duty I told you was laid +on me, and it's a hard one, but I don't run away from it.” + +John Ellery was silent. What could he say? Keziah went on. + +“I don't run away from it,” she exclaimed, “and you mustn't run away +from yours. Your church depends on you, they trust you. Are you goin' +to show 'em their trust was misplaced? The girl you wanted is to marry +another man, that's true, and it's mighty hard. But she'll marry a good +man, and, by and by, she'll be happy.” + +“Happy!” he said scornfully. + +“Yes, happy. I know she'll be happy because I know she's doin' what'll +be best for her and because I know him that's to be her husband. I've +known him all my life; he's that other one that--that--and I give him up +to her; yes, I give him up to her, and try to do it cheerful, because I +know it's best for him. Hard for YOU? Great Lord A'mighty! do you think +it ain't hard for ME? I--I--” + +She stopped short; then covering her face with her apron, she ran from +the room. John Ellery heard her descending the stairs, sobbing as she +went. + +All that afternoon he remained in his chair by the window. It was six +o'clock, supper time, when he entered the kitchen. Keziah, looking up +from the ironing board, saw him. He was white and worn and grim, but he +held out his hand to her. + +“Mrs. Coffin,” he said, “I'm not going away. You've shown me what +devotion to duty really means. I shall stay here and go on with my +work.” + +Her face lit up. “Will you?” she said. “I thought you would. I was sure +you was that kind.” + + +CHAPTER XIV + +IN WHICH THE SEA MIST SAILS + + +They buried Captain Eben in the little Come-Outer cemetery at the rear +of the chapel. A bleak, wind-swept spot was that cemetery, bare of trees +and with only a few graves and fewer headstones, for the Come-Outers +were a comparatively new sect and their graveyard was new in +consequence. The grave was dug in the yellow sand beside that of Mrs. +Hammond, Nat's mother, and around it gathered the fifty or sixty friends +who had come to pay their last tribute to the old sailor and tavern +keeper. + +The Come-Outers were there, all of them, and some members of the Regular +society, Captain Zeb Mayo, Dr. Parker, Keziah Coffin, Mrs. Higgins, and +Ike. Mrs. Didama Rogers was there also, not as a mourner, but because, +in her capacity as gatherer of gossip, she made it a point never to +miss a funeral. The Rev. Absalom Gott, Come-Outer exhorter at Wellmouth, +preached the short sermon, and Ezekiel Bassett added a few remarks. Then +a hymn was sung and it was over. The little company filed out of the +cemetery, and Captain Eben Hammond was but a memory in Trumet. + +Keziah lingered to speak a word with Grace. The girl, looking very white +and worn, leaned on the arm of Captain Nat, whose big body acted as +a buffer between her and over-sympathetic Come-Outers. Mrs. Coffin +silently held out both hands and Grace took them eagerly. + +“Thank you for coming, Aunt Keziah,” she said. “I was sure you would.” + +“Least I could do, deary,” was the older woman's answer. “Your uncle +and I was good friends once; we haven't seen each other so often of +late years, but that ain't changed my feelin's. Now you must go home and +rest. Don't let any of these”--with a rather scornful glance at Josiah +Badger and Ezekiel and the Reverend Absalom--“these Job's comforters +bother you. Nat, you see that they let her alone, won't you?” + +Captain Nat nodded. He, too, looked very grave and worn. “I'll tend to +them,” he said shortly. “Come, Grace,” he added; “let's go.” + +But the girl hung back. “Just a minute, Nat,” she said. “I--I--would you +mind if I spoke to Aunt Keziah--alone? I only want to say a word.” + +Nat strode off to the cemetery gate, where Josiah Badger stood, +brandishing a red cotton handkerchief as a not too-clean emblem of +mourning. Mr. Badger eagerly sprang forward, but ran into an impossible +barrier in the form of the captain's outstretched arm. Josiah protested +and the captain replied. Grace leaned forward. + +“Auntie,” she whispered, “tell me: Did a letter--Did he--” + +“Yes, it came. I gave it to him.” + +“Did--did he tell you? Do you know?” + +“Yes, I know, deary.” + +“Did he--is he--” + +“He's well, deary. He'll be all right. I'll look out for him.” + +“You will, won't you? You won't let him do anything--” + +“Not a thing. Don't worry. We've had a long talk and he's going to +stay right here and go on with his work. And nobody else'll ever know, +Gracie.” + +“How--O Aunt Keziah! how he must despise me.” + +“Despise you! For doin' what was your duty? Nonsense! He'll respect you +for it and come to understand 'twas best for both of you, by and by. +Don't worry about him, Gracie. I tell you I'll look out for him.” + +“I guess it will be better if he does despise me. And hate me, too. He +can't despise and hate me more than I do myself. But it IS right--what +I'm doing; and the other was wrong and wicked. Auntie, you'll come and +see me, won't you? I shall be so lonesome.” + +“Yes, yes; I'll come. Perhaps not right away. There's reasons why I'd +better not come right away. But, by and by, after it's all settled and +you and Nat”--she hesitated for an instant in spite of herself--“after +you and Nat are married I'll come.” + +“Don't talk about that NOW. Please don't.” + +“All right, I won't. You be a good, brave girl and look out for Nat; +that's your duty and I'm sure you'll do it. And I'll do my best for +John.” + +“Do you call him John?” + +“Yup. We had a sort of--of adoptin' ceremony the other mornin' and +I--Well, you see, I've got to have somebody to call by their front name +and he's about all I've got left.” + +“O Aunt Keziah! if I could be one half as patient and brave and sweet as +you are--” + +“Sssh! here comes Nat. Be kind to him. He's sufferin', too; maybe more'n +you imagine. Here she is, Nat. Take her back home and be good to her.” + +The broad-shouldered skipper led his charge out of the gate and down +the “Turn-off.” Josiah Badger looked after them disgustedly. As Keziah +approached, he turned to her. + +“I swan to man!” he exclaimed, in offended indignation, “if I ain't +losin' my respect for that Nat Hammond. He's the f-f-fuf-for'ardest +critter ever I see. I was just agoin' to hail Gracie and ask her what +she thought about my leadin' some of the meetin's now her uncle has been +called aloft. I wanted to ask her about it fust, afore Zeke Bassett +got ahead of me, but that Nat wouldn't let me. Told me she mustn't be +b-b-b-bothered about little things now. LITTLE things! Now, what do you +think of that, Mrs. Coffin? And I spoke to Lot Taylor, one of our own +s-s-sas-sassiety, and asked what he thought of it, and he said for me to +go home set d-d-down and let my h-h-h-hah-hair grow. Of all--” + +“I tell you what you do, Josiah,” broke in the voice of Captain Zeb +Mayo, “you go home or somewhere else and set down and have it cut. +That'll take pretty nigh as long, and'll keep it from wearin' out your +coat collar. Keziah, I've been waitin' for you. Get in my shay and I'll +drive you back to the parsonage.” + +Mrs. Coffin accepted the invitation and a seat in the chaise beside +Captain Zeb. The captain spoke of the dead Come-Outer and of his respect +for him in spite of the difference in creed. He also spoke of the Rev. +John Ellery and of the affection he had come to feel for the young man. + +“I like that young feller, Keziah,” he said. “Like him for a lot of +reasons, same as the boy liked the hash. For one thing, his religion +ain't all starch and no sugar. He's good-hearted and kind and--and +human. He seems to get just as much satisfaction out of the promise of +heaven as he does out of the sartainty of t'other port. He ain't all the +time bangin' the bulkhead and sniffin' brimstone, like parsons I have +seen. Sulphur's all right for a spring medicine, maybe, but when June +comes I like to remember that God made roses. Elkanah, he comes to me a +while ago and he says, 'Zebedee,' he says, 'don't you think Mr. Ellery's +sermons might be more orthodox?' 'Yes,' says I, 'they might be, but what +a mercy 'tis they ain't.' He, he, he! I kind of like to poke Elkanah in +the shirt front once in a while, just to hear it crackle. Say, Keziah, +you don't think the minister and Annabel are--” + +“No,” was the emphatic interruption; “I know they ain't; he ain't, +anyway.” + +“Good! Them Danielses cal'late they own the most of this town already; +if they owned the minister they'd swell up so the rest of us would have +to go aloft or overboard; we'd be crowded off the decks, sure.” + +“No one owns him. Haven't you found that out?” + +“Yup, I cal'late I have and I glory in his spunk.” + +“I'm glad to hear you say so. Of course Cap'n Elkanah is boss of the +parish committee and--” + +“What? No, he ain't nuther. He's head of it, but his vote counts just +one and no more. What makes you say that?” + +“Oh, nuthin'. Only I thought maybe, long as Elkanah was feelin' that Mr. +Ellery wa'n't orthodox enough, he might be goin' to make a change.” + +“He might? HE might! Say, Keziah Coffin, there was Mayos in this town +and in this church afore the fust Daniels ever washed ashore; and +they'll be here when the last one blows up with his own importance. I'm +on that parish committee--you understand?--and I've sailed ships and +handled crews. I ain't so old nor feeble but what I can swing a belayin' +pin. Boss! I'll have you to know that no livin' man bosses me.” + +“All right! I didn't mean to stir you up, Zebedee. But from things Cap'n +Daniels has said I gathered that he was runnin' the committee. And, as +I'm a friend of Mr. Ellery, it--” + +“Friend! Well, so'm I, ain't I? If you ever hear of Daniels tryin' any +tricks against the minister, you send for me, that's all. I'LL show him. +Boss! Humph!” + +The wily Keziah alighted at the parsonage gate with the feeling that she +had sown seed in fertile ground. She was quite aware of Captain Zeb's +jealousy of the great Daniels. And the time might come when her parson +needed an influential friend on the committee and in the Regular +society. + +The news of the engagement between Captain Nat Hammond and Grace Van +Horne, told by Dr. Parker to one or two of his patients, spread through +Trumet like measles through a family of small children. Didama Rogers +learned it, so did Lavinia Pepper, and after that it might as well +have been printed on the walls for all to read. It was talked over and +gossiped about in every household from the lighthouse keeper's family to +that of George Washington Cash, who lived in the one-room hovel in the +woods near the Wellmouth line, and was a person of distinction, in his +way, being the sole negro in the county. And whenever it was discussed +it was considered a fine thing for both parties concerned. Almost +everyone said it was precisely what they expected. + +Annabel Daniels and her father had not expected it. They were, however, +greatly pleased. In their discussion, which lasted far into the night, +Captain Elkanah expressed the opinion that the unexpected denouement was +the result of his interview with Eben. He had told the old Come-Outer +what would happen to his ward if she persisted in her impudent and +audacious plot to entrap a Regular clergyman. She, being discovered, had +yielded, perforce, and had accepted Nat as the next best catch. + +Annabel was not satisfied with this explanation. Of course, she said, +she did not pretend to believe Grace's statement that she had found her +uncle unconscious. No doubt the pair had had an interview and all that. +But she believed the minister himself had come to his senses and had +dismissed the brazen creature. She did not blame Mr. Ellery so much. He +was a young man, with a kind heart, and no doubt the “Van Horne +person” had worked upon his sympathies and had taken advantage of his +inexperience of feminine wiles. + +“I think, pa,” she said, “that it's our duty, yours and mine, to treat +him just as we always have. He doesn't know that we know, and we will +keep the secret. And, as Christians, we should forget and forgive. We'll +invite him here as we always have, keep him under our good influence, +and be very kind to him, poor innocent. As for Captain Hammond, I'm +sorry for him, knowing the kind of wife he is going to have, but no +doubt Come-Outers are not particular.” + +Kyan Pepper was another whom the news of the engagement surprised +greatly. When Lavinia told him of it, at the dinner table, he dropped +the knife he was holding and the greasy section of fish-ball balanced +upon it. + +“'Bishy,” said Miss Pepper, “what do you s'pose has happened down to the +Hammond tavern?” + +“Oh, I know that,” was the reply. “I heard that long ago; Cap'n Eben's +dead.” + +“'Course he's dead; and I knew you knew it. Land sakes! don't be such a +ninny. Why, I told you myself.” + +“Well, I didn't know but you'd forgot. Anybody's li'ble to forget who +they've told things to. Why, I've forgot more things--” + +“Yes, there ain't no doubt about that. I've told you a million times, +if I have once, to tuck your napkin round your neck when you've got +your Sunday clothes on. And there you be this minute without a sign of a +napkin.” + +“Why, Laviny! I MUST have it round my neck. I know I--” + +“Don't be so foolish! Think I'm blind? Can't I see you ain't got it? Now +where is it?” + +Kyan began a futile hunt for the missing napkin, in his lap, on the +table, and finally under it. + +“I don't understand,” he stammered, “where that napkin can be. I'm just +as sure I had it and now I'm just as sure I ain't got it. What do you +s'pose I done with it?” + +“Goodness knows! 'Twouldn't surprise me if you'd et it, you're that +absent-minded. Here! what's that stickin' out of your breast pocket?” + +Her brother put his hand to the pocket indicated and produced the +missing napkin, much crumpled. + +“There!” he exclaimed, in a tone of relief. “Now I remember. It must +have dropped on the floor and I thought 'twas my handkerchief and picked +it up and--” + +“What did you think you'd be carryin' a white handkerchief for, on a +week day?” + +“Well, I had on my Sunday suit and--” + +“Yes, and for the dear mercy sakes WHY have you got it on?” + +Kyan saw an opportunity for self-justification. + +“You TOLD me to put it on,” he declared triumphantly. “You said yourself +I'd better rig out in my Sunday clothes 'cause we might go to Eben's +funeral. You know you did.” + +“Hear the man! And then, after you've dressed up to go to his funeral, +you pretend to believe I'm goin' to tell you he's dead. I never--” + +“Well, what IS it, then? He ain't come to life, has he?” + +“Grace Van Horne's engaged to be married, that's what it is. Look out! +Oh, you--” + +Just here occurred the accident already described. Knife and fish ball +descended upon the waistcoat belonging to the “Sunday suit.” Lavinia +flew for warm water, ammonia, and a cloth, and the soiled waistcoat +was industriously scrubbed. The cleansing process was accompanied by a +lively tongue lashing, to which Kyan paid little attention. + +“Engaged?” he kept repeating. “Gracie Van Horne engaged? Engaged? En--” + +“Be still, you poll parrot! Dear! dear! dear! look at them spots. Yes, +yes; don't say it again; she's engaged.” + +“Who--who--who--” + +“Now you've turned to an owl, I do believe. 'Hoo! hoo!' She's engaged to +Nat Hammond, that's who. Nothin' very surprisin' about that, is there?” + +Kyan made no answer. He rubbed his forehead, while his sister rubbed the +grease spots. In jerky sentences she told of the engagement and how the +news had reached her. + +“I can't believe it,” faltered Abishai. “She goin' to marry Nat! Why, I +can't understand. I thought--” + +“What did you think? See here! you ain't keepin' anything from me, be +you?” + +The answer was enthusiastically emphatic. + +“No, no, no, no!” declared Kyan. “Only I didn't know they was--was--” + +“Neither did anybody else, but what of it? Folks don't usually advertise +when they're keepin' comp'ny, do they?” + +“No--o. But it's gen'rally found out. I know if I was keepin' +comp'ny--or you was, La-viny--” + +His sister started. + +“What makes you say that?” she demanded, looking quickly up from her +rubbing. + +“Why, nothin'. Only if I was--or you was, somebody'd see somethin' +suspicious and kind of drop a hint, and--” + +“Better for them if they 'tended to their own affairs,” was the sharp +answer. “I ain't got any patience with folks that's always talkin' about +their neighbor's doin's. There! now you go out and stand alongside the +cook stove till that wet place dries. Don't you move till 'TIS dry, +neither.” + +So to the kitchen went Kyan, to stand, a sort of living clotheshorse, +beside the hot range. But during the drying process he rubbed his +forehead many times. Remembering what he had seen in the grove he could +not understand; but he also remembered, even more vividly, what Keziah +Coffin had promised to do if he ever breathed a word. And he vowed again +that that word should not be breathed. + +The death and funeral of Captain Eben furnished Trumet with a subject of +conversation for a week or more. Then, at the sewing circle and at the +store and after prayer meeting, both at the Regular meeting house and +the Come-Outer chapel, speculation centered on the marriage of Nat and +Grace. When was it to take place? Would the couple live at the old house +and “keep packet tavern” or would the captain go to sea again, taking +his bride with him? Various opinions, pro and con, were expressed by the +speculators, but no one could answer authoritatively, because none knew +except those most interested, and the latter would not tell. + +John Ellery heard the discussions at the sewing circle when, in company +with some of the men of his congregation, he dropped in at these +gatherings for tea after the sewing was over. He heard them at church, +before and after the morning service, and when he made pastoral calls. +People even asked his opinion, and when he changed the subject inferred, +some of them, that he did not care about the doings of Come-Outers. Then +they switched to inquiries concerning his health. + +“You look awful peaked lately, Mr. Ellery,” said Didama Rogers. “Ain't +you feelin' well?” + +The minister answered that he was as well as usual, or thought he was. + +“No, no, you ain't nuther,” declared Didama. “You look's if you was +comin' down with a spell of somethin'. I ain't the only one that's +noticed it. Why, Thankful Payne says to me only yesterday, 'Didama,' +says she, 'the minister's got somethin' on his mind and it's wearin' of +him out.' You ain't got nothin' on your mind, have you, Mr. Ellery?” + +“I guess not, Mrs. Rogers. It's a beautiful afternoon, isn't it? + +“There! I knew you wa'n't well. A beautiful afternoon, and it hotter'n +furyation and gettin' ready to rain at that! Don't tell me! 'Tain't your +mind, Mr. Ellery, it's your blood that's gettin' thin. My husband had a +spell just like it a year or two afore he died, and the doctor said +he needed rest and a change. Said he'd ought to go away somewheres by +himself. I put my foot down on THAT in a hurry. 'The idea!' I +says. 'You, a sick man, goin' off all alone by yourself to die of +lonesomeness. If you go, I go with you.' So him and me went up to Boston +and it rained the whole week we was there, and we set in a little box of +a hotel room with a window that looked out at a brick wall, and set and +set and set, and that's all. I kept talkin' to him to cheer him up, but +he never cheered. I'd talk to him for an hour steady and when I'd +stop and ask a question he'd only groan and say yes, when he meant no. +Finally, I got disgusted, after I'd asked him somethin' four or five +times and he'd never answered, and I told him, I believed he was gettin' +deef. 'Lordy!' he says, 'I wish I was!' Well, that was enough for ME. +Says I, 'If your mind's goin' to give out we'd better be home.' So home +we come. And that's all the good change and rest done HIM. Hey? What did +you say, Mr. Ellery?” + +“Er--oh, nothing, nothing, Mrs. Rogers.” + +“Yes. So home we come and I'd had enough of doctors to last. I figgered +out that his blood was thinnin' and I knew what was good for that. My +great Aunt Hepsy, that lived over to East Wellmouth, she was a great +hand for herbs and such and she'd give me a receipt for thickenin' the +blood that was somethin' wonderful. It had more kind of healin' herbs in +it than you could shake a stick at. I cooked a kittleful and got him to +take a dose four times a day. He made more fuss than a young one about +takin' it. Said it tasted like the Evil One, and such profane talk, and +that it stuck to his mouth so's he couldn't relish his vittles; but I +never let up a mite. He had to take it and it done him a world of good. +Now I've got that receipt yet, Mr. Ellery, and I'll make some of that +medicine for you. I'll fetch it down to-morrow. Yes, yes, I will. I'm +agoin' to, so you needn't say no. And perhaps I'll have heard somethin' +about Cap'n Nat and Grace by that time.” + +She brought the medicine, and the minister promptly, on her departure, +handed it over to Keziah, who disposed of it just as promptly. + +“What did I do with it?” repeated the housekeeper. “Well, I'll tell you. +I was kind of curious to see what 'twas like, so I took a teaspoonful. +I did intend to pour the rest of it out in the henyard, but after that +taste I had too much regard for the hens. So I carried it way down +to the pond and threw it in, jug and all. B-r-r-r! Of all the messes +that--I used to wonder what made Josh Rogers go moonin' round makin' his +lips go as if he was crazy. I thought he was talkin' to himself, but now +I know better, he was TASTIN'. B-r-r-r!” + +Keziah was the life of the gloomy parsonage. Without her the minister +would have broken down. Time and time again he was tempted to give up, +in spite of his promise, and leave Trumet, but her pluck and courage +made him ashamed of himself and he stayed to fight it out. She watched +him and tended him and “babied” him as if he was a spoiled child, +pretending to laugh at herself for doing it and at him for permitting +it. She cooked the dishes he liked best, she mended his clothes, she +acted as a buffer between him and callers who came at inopportune +times. She was cheerful always when he was about, and no one would have +surmised that she had a sorrow in the world. But Ellery knew and +she knew he knew, so the affection and mutual esteem between the two +deepened. He called her “Aunt Keziah” at her request and she continued +to call him “John.” This was in private, of course; in public he was +“Mr. Ellery” and she “Mrs. Coffin.” + +In his walks about town he saw nothing of Grace. She and Mrs. Poundberry +and Captain Nat were still at the old home and no one save themselves +knew what their plans might be. Yet, oddly enough, Ellery was the first +outsider to learn these plans and that from Nat himself. + +He met the captain at the corner of the “Turnoff” one day late in +August. He tried to make his bow seem cordial, but was painfully aware +that it was not. Nat, however, seemed not to notice, but crossed the +road and held out his hand. + +“How are you, Mr. Ellery?” he said. “I haven't run across you for +sometime. What's the matter? Seems to me you look rather under the +weather.” + +Ellery answered that he was all right and, remembering that he had +not met the captain since old Hammond's death, briefly expressed his +sympathy. His words were perfunctory and his manner cold. His reason +told him that this man was not to blame--was rather to be pitied, if +Keziah's tale was true. Yet it is hard to pity the one who is to marry +the girl you love. Reason has little to do with such matters. + +“Well, Mr. Ellery,” said Captain Nat, “I won't keep you. I see you're in +a hurry. Just thought I'd run alongside a minute and say good-by. Don't +know's I'll see you again afore I sail.” + +“Before you sail? You--you are going away?” + +“Yup. My owners have been after me for a good while, but I wouldn't +leave home on account of dad's health. Now he's gone, I've got to +be gettin' back on salt water again. My ship's been drydocked and +overhauled and she's in New York now loadin' for Manila. It's a long +vy'age, even if I come back direct, which ain't likely. So I may not see +the old town again for a couple of years. Take care of yourself, won't +you? Good men, especially ministers, are scurse, and from what I hear +about you I cal'late Trumet needs you.” + +“When are you going?” + +“Last of next week, most likely.” + +“Will you--shall you go alone? Are you to be--to be--” + +“Married? No. Grace and I have talked it over and we've agreed it's best +to wait till I come back. You see, dad's been dead such a little while, +and all, that--well, we're goin' to wait, anyhow. She'll stay in the old +house with Hannah, and I've fixed things so she'll be provided for while +I'm gone. I left it pretty much to her. If she'd thought it best for +us to marry now, I cal'late I should have--have--well, done what she +wanted. But she didn't. Ah, hum!” he added with a sigh; “she's a good +girl, a mighty good girl. Well, so long and good luck.” + +“Good-by, captain.” + +“Good-by. Er--I say, Mr. Ellery, how things at the parsonage? All well +there, are you?” + +“Yes.” + +“Er--Keziah--Mrs. Coffin, your housekeeper, is she smart?” + +“Yes. She's well.” + +“That's good. Say, you might tell her good-by for me, if you want to. +Tell her I wished her all the luck there was. And--and--just say that +there ain't any--well, that her friend--say just that, will you?--her +FRIEND said 'twas all right. She'll understand; it's a--a sort of joke +between us.” + +“Very good, captain; I'll tell her.” + +“Much obliged. And just ask her to keep an eye on Grace while I'm gone. +Tell her I leave Gracie under her wing. Keziah and me are old chums, in +a way, you see.” + +“Yes. I'll tell her that, too.” + +“And don't forget the 'friend' part. Well, so long.” + +They shook hands and parted. + +Didama and her fellow news-venders distributed the tale of Captain Nat's +sailing broadcast during the next few days. There was much wonderment +at the delayed marriage, but the general verdict was that Captain Eben's +recent death and the proper respect due to it furnished sufficient +excuse. Hannah Poundberry, delighted at being so close to the center of +interest, talked and talked, and thus Grace was spared the interviews +which would have been a trouble to her. Nat left town, via the packet, +on the following Wednesday. Within another week came the news that his +ship, the Sea Mist, had sailed from New York, bound for Manila. Her +topsails sank beneath the horizon, and she vanished upon the wild waste +of tumbling waves and out of Trumet's knowledge, as many another vessel, +manned and officered by Cape Cod men, had done. The village talked of +her and her commander for a few days and then forgot them both. Only at +the old home by the landing and at the parsonage were they remembered. + + +CHAPTER XV + +IN WHICH TRUMET TALKS OF CAPTAIN NAT + + +Summer was over, autumn came, passed, and it was winter--John Ellery's +first winter in Trumet. Fish weirs were taken up, the bay filled with +ice, the packet ceased to run, and the village settled down to hibernate +until spring. The stage came through on its regular trips, except when +snow or slush rendered the roads impassable, but passengers were very +few. Occasionally there were northeast gales, with shrieking winds, +driving gusts of sleet and hail and a surf along the ocean side that +bellowed and roared and tore the sandy beach into new shapes, washing +away shoals and building others, blocking the mouth of the little inlet +where the fish boats anchored and opening a new channel a hundred yards +farther down. Twice there were wrecks, one of a fishing schooner, the +crew of which were fortunate enough to escape by taking to the dories, +and another, a British bark, which struck on the farthest bar and +was beaten to pieces by the great waves, while the townspeople stood +helplessly watching from the shore, for launching a boat in that surf +was impossible. + +The minister was one of those who watched. News of the disaster had been +brought to the village by the lightkeeper's assistant, and Ellery and +most of the able-bodied men in town had tramped the three miles to the +beach, facing the screaming wind and the cutting blasts of flying sand. +As they came over the dunes there were times when they had to dig their +heels into the ground and bend forward to stand against the freezing +gale. And, as they drew nearer, the thunder of the mighty surf grew ever +louder, until they saw the white clouds of spray leap high above the +crazily tossing, flapping bunches of beach grass that topped the last +knoll. + +Three masts and a broken bowsprit sticking slantwise up from a whirl of +creamy white, that was all they could see of the bark, at first glance. +But occasionally, as the breakers drew back for another cruel blow, they +caught glimpses of the tilted deck, smashed bare of houses and rail. + +“Those black things on the masts?” asked Ellery, bending to scream the +question into the ear of Gaius Winslow, his companion. “Are they--it +can't be possible that they're--” + +“Yup,” shrieked Gaius in reply, “they're men. Crew lashed in the +riggin'. Poor fellers! it'll soon be over for 'em. And they're most +likely frozen stiff a'ready and won't sense drownin', that's a comfort.” + +“Men!” repeated the minister in horror. “Men! Great God! and are we +to stand by here and see them die without lifting a hand? Why, it's +barbarous! It's--” + +Winslow seized his arm and pointed. + +“Look!” he shouted. “Look at them! How much good would our liftin' hands +do against them?” + +Ellery looked. The undertow, that second, was sucking the beach dry, +sucking with such force that gravel and small stones pattered down the +slope in showers. And behind it a wave, its ragged top raveled by the +wind into white streamers, was piling up, up, up, sheer and green and +mighty, curling over now and descending with a hammer blow that shook +the land beneath their feet. And back of it reared another, and +another, and another, an eighth of a mile of whirling, surging, terrific +breakers, with a yelling hurricane whipping them on. + +It was soon over, as Gaius had said it would be. A mighty leap of spray, +a section of hull broken off and tossed into view for an instant, then +two of the masts went down. The other followed almost at once. Then +the watchers, most of them, went back to the village, saying little or +nothing and dispersing silently to their homes. + +During the next fortnight John Ellery conducted six funeral services, +brief prayers beside the graves of unknown men from that wreck. The +bodies, as they were washed ashore, were put into plain coffins paid +for by the board of selectmen, and buried in the corner of the Regular +cemetery beside other waifs thrown up by the sea in other years. It was +a sad experience for him, but it was an experience and tended to make +him forget his own sorrow just a little. Or, if not to forget, at least +to think of and sympathize more keenly with the sorrows of others. +Somewhere, in England or Ireland or scattered over the wide world, there +were women and children waiting for these men, waiting anxiously for +news of their safe arrival in port, praying for them. When he mentioned +this thought to the townspeople they nodded philosophically and said +yes, they “presumed likely.” As Captain Zeb put it, “Most sailors are +fools enough to get married, prob'ly this lot wa'n't any exception.” It +was no new thought to him or to any other dweller in that region. It was +almost a fixed certainty that, if you went to sea long enough, you +were bound to be wrecked sometime or other. The chances were that, with +ordinary luck and good management, you would escape with your life. +Luck, good or bad, was the risk of the trade; good management was +expected, as a matter of course. + +Mr. Pepper made no more calls at the parsonage, and when the minister +met him, at church or elsewhere, seemed anxious to avoid an interview. + +“Well, Abishai,” asked Ellery, on one of these occasions, “how are you +getting on at home? Has your sister locked you up again?” + +“No, sir, she ain't,” replied Kyan. “Laviny, she's sort of diff'rent +lately. She ain't nigh so--so down on a feller as she used to be. I can +get out once in a while by myself nowadays, when she wants to write a +letter or somethin'.” + +“Oh, she's writing letters, is she?” + +“Um--hm. Writes one about every once in a week. I don't know who they're +to, nuther, but I have my suspicions. You see, we've got a cousin out +West--out Pennsylvany way--and he ain't very well and has got a turrible +lot of money. I'm sort of surmisin' that Laviny's writin' to him. We're +about his only relations that's left alive and--and so--” + +“I see.” The minister smiled. + +“Yup. Laviny's a pretty good navigator, fur's keepin' an eye to wind'ard +is concerned. She was awful down on Phineas--that's his name--'cause he +married a Philadelphy woman, but he's a widower man now, so I s'pose she +feels better toward him. She's talkin' of goin' up to Sandwich pretty +soon.” + +“She IS? Alone?” + +“So she says.” + +“To leave you here? Why! well, I'm surprised.” + +“Godfreys mighty! so be I. But she says she b'lieves she needs a change +and there's church conference up there, you know, and she figgers that +she ain't been to conference she don't know when. I s'pose you'll go, +won't you, Mr. Ellery?” + +“Probably.” + +“Um--hm. I kind of wisht I was goin' myself. 'Twill be kind of lonesome +round home without her.” + +Considering that that variety of lonesomeness had been Abishai's dream +of paradise for years, Ellery thought his change of heart a good joke +and told Keziah of it when he returned to the parsonage. The housekeeper +was greatly surprised. + +“Well! well! well!” she exclaimed. “Miracles'll never cease. I don't +wonder so much at Laviny wantin' to go to conference, but her darin' to +go and leave Kyan at home is past belief. Why, every time she's had +a cold her one fear was that she'd die and leave 'Bish behind to be +kidnaped by some woman. Kyan himself was sick once, and the story was +that his sister set side of the bed night and day and read him over and +over again that chapter in the Bible that says there's no marryin' or +givin' in marriage in heaven. Dr. Parker told me that he didn't believe +'Bish got ha'f the comfort out of that passage that she did. And now +she's goin' to Sandwich and leave him. I can't think it's true.” + +But it was true, and Lavinia got herself elected a delegate and went, in +company with Captain Elkanah, Mrs. Mayo, and others, to the conference. +She was a faithful attendant at the meetings and seemed to be having +a very good time. She introduced the minister to one Caleb Pratt, a +resident of Sandwich, whom she said she had known ever since she was a +girl. + +“Mr. Pratt's a cousin to Thankful Payne over to home,” volunteered +Lavinia. “You know Thankful, Mr. Ellery.” + +Ellery did know Mrs. Payne and said so. Mr. Pratt, who was dressed in a +new suit of black which appeared to hurt him, imparted the information +that he'd heard tell consider'ble of Mr. Ellery. + +“I enjoyed your sermon to-night fust--rate,” he added solemnly. +“Fust--rate, sir--yes.” + +“Did you, indeed? I'm glad.” + +“Yes, sir. You used words in that sermon that I never heard afore in my +life. 'Twas grand.” + +Lavinia confided to her pastor that Mr. Pratt made the best shoes in +Ostable County. He could fit ANY kind of feet, she declared, and the +minister ought to try him sometime. She added that he had money in the +bank. + +The Reverend John rode home in the stage beside Miss Annabel, not from +choice, but because the young lady's father insisted upon it. Miss +Daniels gushed and enthused as she always did. As they drove by the +Corners the minister, who had been replying absently to Annabel's +questions, suddenly stopped short in the middle of a sentence. His +companion, leaning forward to look out of the window, saw Grace Van +Horne entering the store. For an instant Annabel's face wore a very +unpleasant expression. Then she smiled and said, in her sweetest manner: + +“Why, there's the tavern girl! I haven't seen her for sometime. How old +she looks! I suppose her uncle's death has aged her. Well, she'll +be married soon, just as soon as Cap'n Nat gets back. They perfectly +worship each other, those two. They say she writes him the longest +letters. Hannah Poundberry told me. Hannah's a queer creature and +common, but devoted to the Hammonds, Mr. Ellery. However, you're not +interested in Come-Outers, are you? Ha, ha!” + +Ellery made some sort of an answer, but he could not have told what it +was. The sight of Grace had brought back all that he was trying so +hard to forget. Why couldn't one forget, when it was so painful--and so +useless--to remember? + +Spring once more; then summer. And now people were again speaking of +Captain Nat Hammond. His ship was overdue, long overdue. Even in those +days, when there were no cables and the telegraph was still something of +a novelty, word of his arrival should have reached Trumet months before +this. But it had not come, and did not. Before the summer was over, the +wise heads of the retired skippers were shaking dubiously. Something had +happened to the Sea Mist, something serious. + +As the weeks and months went by without news of the missing vessel, +this belief became almost a certainty. At the Come-Outer chapel, where +Ezekiel Bassett now presided, prayers were offered for the son of their +former leader. These prayers were not as fervent as they might have +been, for Grace's nonattendance at meetings was causing much comment +and a good deal of resentment. She came occasionally, but not often. “I +always said she was stuck-up and thought she was too good for the rest +of us,” remarked “Sukey B.” spitefully. “'And, between you and me, pa +says he thinks Nat Hammond would be one to uphold her in it. He wa'n't a +bit spirituous and never experienced religion. If anything HAS happened +to him, it's a punishment sent, that's what pa thinks.” + +Those were gloomy days at the parsonage. Keziah said little concerning +the topic of which all the village was talking, and John Ellery +forebore to mention it. The housekeeper was as faithful as ever in the +performance of her household duties, but her smile had gone and she +was worn and anxious. The minister longed to express his sympathy, but +Keziah had not mentioned Nat's name for months, not since he, Ellery, +gave her the message intrusted to him by the captain before sailing. He +would have liked to ask about Grace, for he knew Mrs. Coffin visited the +Hammond home occasionally, but this, too, he hesitated to do. He heard +from others that the girl was bearing the suspense bravely, that she +refused to give up hope, and was winning the respect of all the thinking +class in Trumet by her courage and patience. Even the most bigoted of +the Regulars, Captain Daniels and his daughter excepted of course, had +come to speak highly of her. “She's a spunky girl,” declared Captain +Zeb, with emphasis. “There's nothing of the milk-sop and cry-baby about +her. She's fit to be a sailor's wife, and I only hope Nat's alive to +come back and marry her. He was a durn good feller, too--savin' your +presence, Mr. Ellery--and if he was forty times a Come-Outer I'd say the +same thing. I'm 'fraid he's gone, though, poor chap. As good a seaman +as he was would have fetched port afore this if he was atop of water. +As for Gracie, she's a brick, and a lady, every inch of her. My old +girl went down t'other day to call on her and that's the fust Come-Outer +she's been to see sence there was any. Why don't you go see her, too, +Mr. Ellery? 'Twould be a welcome change from Zeke Bassett and his tribe. +Go ahead! it would be the Almighty's own work and the society'd stand +back of you, all them that's wuth considerin', anyhow.” + +This was surprising advice from a member of the Regular and was +indicative of the changed feeling in the community, but the minister, of +course, could not take it. He had plunged headlong into his church work, +hoping that it and time would dull the pain of his terrible shock and +disappointment. It had been dulled somewhat, but it was still there, and +every mention of her name revived it. + +One afternoon Keziah came into his study, where he was laboring with his +next Sunday sermon, and sat down in the rocking-chair. She had been out +and still wore her bonnet and shawl. + +“John,” she said, “I ask your pardon for disturbin' you. I know you're +busy.” + +Ellery laid down his pen. “Never too busy to talk with you, Aunt +Keziah,” he observed. “What is it?” + +“I wanted to ask if you knew Mrs. Prince was sick?” + +“No. Is she? I'm awfully sorry. Nothing serious, I hope?” + +“No, I guess not. Only she's got a cold and is kind of under the +weather. I thought p'r'aps you'd like to run up and see her. She thinks +the world and all of you, 'cause you was so good when she was distressed +about her son. Poor old thing! she's had a hard time of it.” + +“I will go. I ought to go, of course. I'm glad you reminded me of it.” + +“Yes. I told her you hadn't meant to neglect her, but you'd been busy +fussin' with the fair and the like of that.” + +“That was all. I'll go right away. Have you been there to-day?” + +“No. I just heard that she was ailin' from Didama Rogers. Didama said +she was all but dyin', so I knew she prob'ly had a little cold, or +somethin'. If she was really very bad, Di would have had her buried by +this time, so's to be sure her news was ahead of anybody else's. I ain't +been up there, but I met her t'other mornin'.” + +“Didama?” + +“No; Mrs. Prince. She'd come down to see Grace.” + +“Oh.” + +“Yes. The old lady's been awful kind and sympathizin' since--since +this new trouble. It reminds her of the loss of her own boy, I presume +likely, and so she feels for Grace. John, what do they say around town +about--about HIM?” + +“Captain Hammond?” + +“Yes.” + +The minister hesitated. Keziah did not wait for him to answer. + +“I see,” she said slowly. “Do they all feel that way?” + +“Why, if you mean that they've all given up hope, I should hardly say +that. Captain Mayo and Captain Daniels were speaking of it in my hearing +the other day and they agreed that there was still a chance.” + +“A pretty slim one, though, they cal'lated, didn't they?” + +“Well, they were--were doubtful, of course. There was the possibility +that he had been wrecked somewhere and hadn't been picked up. They cited +several such cases. The South Pacific is full of islands where vessels +seldom touch, and he and his crew may be on one of these.” + +“Yes. They might, but I'm afraid not. Ah, hum!” + +She rose and was turning away. Ellery rose also and laid his hand on her +arm. + +“Aunt Keziah,” he said, “I'm very sorry. I respected Captain Hammond, in +spite of--of--in spite of everything. I've tried to realize that he was +not to blame. He was a good man and I haven't forgotten that he saved my +life that morning on the flats. And I'm so sorry for YOU.” + +She did not look at him. + +“John,” she answered, with a sigh, “sometimes I think you'd better get +another housekeeper.” + +“What? Are you going to leave me? YOU?” + +“Oh, 'twouldn't be because I wanted to. But it seems almost as if there +was a kind of fate hangin' over me and that,” she smiled faintly, “as if +'twas sort of catchin', as you might say. Everybody I ever cared for has +had somethin' happen to 'em. My brother died; my--the man I married went +to the dogs; then you and Grace had to be miserable and I had to help +make you so; I sent Nat away and he blamed me and--” + +“No, no. He didn't blame you. He sent you word that he didn't.” + +“Yes, but he did, all the same. He must have. I should if I'd been in +his place. And now he's dead, and won't ever understand--on this earth, +anyhow. I guess I'd better clear out and leave you afore I spoil your +life.” + +“Aunt Keziah, you're my anchor to windward, as they say down here. If +I lost you, goodness knows where I should drift. Don't you ever talk of +leaving me again.” + +“Thank you, John. I'm glad you want me to stay. I won't leave yet +awhile; never--unless I have to.” + +“Why should you ever have to?” + +“Well, I don't know. Yes, I do know, too. John, I had another letter +t'other day.” + +“You did? From--from that man?” + +“Yup, from--” For a moment it seemed as if she were about to pronounce +her husband's name, something she had never done in his presence; but if +she thought of it, she changed her mind. + +“From him,” she said. “He wanted money, of course; he always does. But +that wa'n't the worst. The letter was from England, and in it he wrote +that he was gettin' sick of knockin' around and guessed he'd be for +comin' to the States pretty soon and huntin' me up. Said what was the +use of havin' an able-bodied wife if she couldn't give her husband a +home.” + +“The scoundrel!” + +“Yes, I know what he is, maybe full as well as you do. That's why I +spoke of leavin' you. If that man comes to Trumet, I'll go, sure as +death.” + +“No, no. Aunt Keziah, you must free yourself from him. No power on earth +can compel you to longer support such a--” + +“None on earth, no. But it's my punishment and I've got to put up with +it. I married him with my eyes wide open, done it to spite the--the +other, as much as anything, and I must bear the burden. But I tell you +this, John: if he comes here, to this town, where I've been respected +and considered a decent woman, if he comes here, I go--somewhere, +anywhere that'll be out of the sight of them that know me. And wherever +I go he shan't be with me. THAT I won't stand! I'd rather die, and I +hope I do. Don't talk to me any more now--don't! I can't stand it.” + +She hurried out of the room. Later, as the minister passed through the +dining room on his way to the door, she spoke to him again. + +“John,” she said, “I didn't say what I meant to when I broke in on you +just now. I meant to tell you about Grace. I knew you'd like to know and +wouldn't ask. She's bearin' up well, poor girl. She thought the world of +Nat, even though she might not have loved him in the way that--” + +“What's that? What are you saying, Aunt Keziah?” + +“I mean--well, I mean that he'd always been like an own brother to her +and she cared a lot for him.” + +“But you said she didn't love him.” + +“Did I? That was a slip of the tongue, maybe. But she bears it well and +I don't think she gives up hope. I try not to, for her sake, and I try +not to show her how I feel.” + +She sewed vigorously for a few moments. Then she said: + +“She's goin' away, Gracie is.” + +“Going away?” + +“Yup. She's goin' to stay with a relation of the Hammonds over in +Connecticut for a spell. I coaxed her into it. Stayin' here at home +with all this suspense and with Hannah Poundberry's tongue droppin' +lamentations like kernels out of a corn sheller, is enough to kill a +healthy batch of kittens with nine lives apiece. She didn't want to go; +felt that she must stay here and wait for news; but I told her we'd get +news to her as soon as it come, and she's goin'.” + +Ellery took his hat from the peg and opened the door. His foot was on +the step when Keziah spoke again. + +“She--it don't mean nothin', John, except that she ain't so hard-hearted +as maybe you might think--she's asked me about you 'most every time I've +been there. She told me to take good care of you.” + +The door closed. Keziah put down her sewing and listened as the +minister's step sounded on the walk. She rose, went to the window +and looked after him. She was wondering if she had made a mistake in +mentioning Grace's name. She had meant to cheer him with the thought +that he was not entirely forgotten, that he was, at least, pitied; but +perhaps it would have been better to have remained silent. Her gaze +shifted and she looked out over the bay, blue and white in the sun and +wind. When she was a girl the sea had been kind to her, it had brought +her father home safe, and those homecomings were her pleasantest +memories. But she now hated it. It was cruel and cold and wicked. It had +taken the man she loved and would have loved till she died, even though +he could never have been hers, and she had given him to another; it had +taken him, killed him cruelly, perhaps. And now it might be bringing to +her the one who was responsible for all her sorrow, the one she could +not think of without a shudder. She clung to the window sash and prayed +aloud. + +“Lord! Lord!” she pleaded, “don't put any more on me now. I couldn't +stand it! I couldn't!” + +Ellery, too, was thinking deeply as he walked up the main road on his +way to Mrs. Prince's. Keziah's words were repeating themselves over and +over in his brain. She had asked about him. She had not forgotten him +altogether. And what did the housekeeper mean by saying that she had +not loved Captain Hammond in the way that--Not that it could make any +difference. Nothing could give him back his happiness. But what did it +mean? + +Mrs. Prince was very glad to see him. He found her in the big armchair +with the quilted back and the projecting “wings” at each side of her +head. She was wrapped in a “Rising Sun” quilt which was a patchwork +glory of red and crimson. A young girl, a neighbor, who was apparently +acting in the dual capacity of nurse and housekeeper, admitted him to +the old lady's presence. + +“Well, well!” she exclaimed delightedly. “Then you ain't forgot me +altogether. I'm awful glad to see you. You'll excuse me for not gettin' +up; my back's got more pains in it than there is bones, a good sight. +Dr. Parker says it's nothin' serious, and all I had to do was set still +and take his medicine. I told him that either the aches or the medicine +made settin' still serious enough, and when your only amusement is +listenin' to Emeline Berry--she's the girl that's takin' care of +me--when your only fun is listenin' to Emeline drop your best dishes in +the kitchen sink, it's pretty nigh tragic. There! there! don't mind an +old woman, Mr. Ellery. Set down and let's talk. It's a comfort to be +able to say somethin' besides 'Don't, Emeline!' and 'Be sure you pick up +all the pieces!'” + +Mrs. Prince's good spirits were of short duration. Her conversation soon +shifted to the loss of her son and she wept, using the corner of the +quilt to wipe away her tears. “Eddie” had been her idol and, as she +said, it was hard to believe what folks kept tellin' her, that it was +God's will, and therefore all for the best. + +“That's so easy to say,” she sobbed. “Maybe it is best for the Lord, +but how about me? I needed him more than they did up there, or I think I +did. O Mr. Ellery, I don't mean to be irreverent, but WHY was it all for +the best?” + +Questions like this are hard to answer. The young minister tried, but +the answers were unsatisfactory, even to him. + +“And there's Nat Hammond,” continued Mrs. Prince. “A fine man--no better +anywhere, even though his father was a Come-Outer--just goin' to +be married and all, now they say he's drowned--why? Why was that +necessary?” + +Ellery could not reply. The old lady did not wait for him to do so. The +mention of Captain Nat's name reminded her of other things. + +“Poor Gracie!” she said. “It's turrible hard on her. I went down to see +her two or three times afore I was took with this backache. She's an +awful nice girl. And pretty as a pink, too. Don't you think so? Hey? +don't you?” + +“Yes.” + +“Yes. I've been kind of expectin' she might get up to see me. Hannah +Poundberry told the Berrys that she said she was comin'. I don't care +about her bein' a Come-Outer. I ain't proud, Mr. Ellery. And there's +Come-Outers and COME-Outers. Proud! Lord 'a' mercy! what has an old +woman, next door to the poorhouse, got to be proud over? Yes, she told +Hannah she was comin', and the Berry folks thought it might be to-day. +So I've been watchin' for her. What! you ain't agoin', Mr. Ellery?” + +“I think I must, Mrs. Prince.” + +“Oh, don't! Do stay a spell longer. Gracie might come and I'd like +for you to meet her. She needs sympathy and comfort an awful lot, and +there's no tellin', you might convert her to bein' a Reg'lar. Oh, yes, +you might. You've got the most persuadin' way, everybody says so. And +you don't know her very well, do you? Land sakes alive! talk about +angels! I snum if she ain't comin' up the road this blessed minute.” + +John Ellery had risen. Now he seized his hat and moved hastily toward +the door. Mrs. Prince called to him to remain, but he would not. +However, her good-bys delayed him for a minute, and before he reached +the yard gate Grace was opening it. They were face to face for the first +time since they had parted in the grove, so many months before. + +She was thinner and paler, he saw that. And dressed very quietly in +black. She looked at him, as he stood before her in the path, and her +cheeks flushed and her eyes fell. He stepped aside and raised his hat. + +She bowed gravely and murmured a “Good afternoon.” Then she passed on up +the path toward the door. He watched her for an instant and then stepped +quickly after her. The black gown and the tired look in her eyes touched +him to the heart. He could not let her go without a word. + +She turned at the sound of his step behind her. + +“Er--Miss Van Horne,” he stammered, “I merely wanted to tell you how +deeply I--we all feel for you in your trouble. I--I--I am so sorry.” + +“Thank you,” she said simply, and after a moment's hesitation. + +“I mean it sincerely. I--I did not know Captain Hammond very well, but +I respected and liked him the first time we met. I shall hope +that--that--it is not so serious as they fear.” + +“Thank you,” she said again. “We are all hoping.” + +“Yes. I--I--” It was dreadfully hard to get words together. “I have +heard so much of the captain from--” + +“From Aunt Keziah? Yes, she was Nat's warmest friend.” + +“I know. Er--Mrs. Coffin tells me you are going away. I hope you may +hear good news and soon. I shall think of you--of him--I want you to +understand that I shall.” + +The door opened and Emeline Berry appeared on the threshold. + +“Come right in, Grace,” she called. “Mrs. Prince wants you to. She's +ahollerin' for you to hurry up.” + +“Good-by,” said the minister. + +“Good-by. Thank you again. It was very kind of you to say this.” + +“No, no. I mean it.” + +“I know; that was why it was so kind. Good-by.” + +She held out her hand and he took it. He knew that his was trembling, +but so, too, was hers. The hands fell apart. Grace entered the house and +John Ellery went out at the gate. + +That night Keziah, in the sitting room, trying to read, but finding +it hard to keep her mind on the book, heard her parson pacing back and +forth over the straw-matted floor of his chamber. She looked at +the clock; it was nearly twelve. She shut the book and sighed. Her +well-meant words of consolation had been a mistake, after all. She +should not have spoken Grace Van Horne's name. + + +CHAPTER XVI + +IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE + + +“Hey, Mr. Ellery!” + +It was Captain Zeb Mayo who was calling. The captain sat in his antique +chaise, drawn by the antique white horse, and was hailing the parsonage +through a speaking trumpet formed by holding both his big hands before +his mouth. The reins he had tucked between the edge of the dashboard and +the whip socket. If he had thrown them on the ground he would still have +been perfectly safe, with that horse. + +“Mr. Ellery, ahoy!” roared Captain Zeb through his hands. + +The window of Zoeth Peters's house, next door to the Regular church, +was thrown up and Mrs. Peters's head, bound with a blue-and-white +handkerchief in lieu of a sweeping cap, was thrust forth into the crisp +March air. + +“What is it, Cap'n Mayo?” screamed Mrs. Peters. “Hey?” + +“Hey?” repeated Captain Zeb, peering round the chaise curtain. “Who's +that?” + +“It's me. Is somebody dead?” + +“Who's me? Oh! No, Hettie, nobody's dead, though I'm likely to bust a +blood vessel if I keep on yellin' much longer. Is the parson to home?” + +“Hey?” + +“Oh, heavens alive! I say is--Ha, there you be, Mr. Ellery. Mornin', +Keziah.” + +The minister and Mrs. Coffin, the former with a napkin in his hand, had +emerged from the side door of the parsonage and now came hurrying down +to the gate. + +“Land of Goshen!” exclaimed the captain, “you don't mean to tell me +you ain't done breakfast yet, and it after seven o'clock. Why, we're +thinkin' about dinner up to our house.” + +Keziah answered. “Yes,” she said, “I shouldn't wonder. Your wife tells +me, Zeb, that the only time you ain't thinkin' about dinner is when you +think of breakfast or supper. We ain't so hungry here that we get up +to eat in the middle of the night. What's the matter? Hettie Peters is +hollerin' at you; did you know it?” + +“Did I know it? Tut! tut! tut! I'd known it if I was a mile away, 'less +I was paralyzed in my ears. Let her holler; 'twill do her good and keep +her in practice for Come-Outer meetin'. Why, Mr. Ellery, I tell you: +Em'lous Sparrow, the fish peddler, stepped up to our house a few minutes +ago. He's just come down from the shanties over on the shore by the +light--where the wreck was, you know--and he says there's a 'morphrodite +brig anchored three or four mile off and she's flyin' colors ha'f mast +and union down. They're gettin' a boat's crew together to go off to +her and see what's the row. I'm goin' to drive over and I thought maybe +you'd like to go along. I told the old lady--my wife, I mean--that I +thought of pickin' you up and she said 'twas a good idee. Said my likin' +to cruise with a parson in my old age was either a sign that I was +hopeful or fearful, she didn't know which; and either way it ought to be +encouraged. He, he, he! What do you say, Mr. Ellery? Want to go?” + +The minister hesitated. “I'd like to,” he said. “I'd like to very much. +But I ought to work on my sermon this morning.” + +Keziah cut in here. “Cat's foot!” she sniffed. “Let your sermon go for +this once, do. If it ain't long enough as it is, you can begin again +when you've got to the end and preach it over again. Didama Rogers said, +last circle day, that she could set still and hear you preach right over +n' over. I'd give her a chance, 'specially if it did keep her still. +Keepin' Didama still is good Christian work, ain't it, Zeb?” + +Captain Mayo slapped his knee. “He, he, he!” he chuckled. “Cal'late +you're right, Keziah.” + +“Indeed, I am. I believe it would be Christianity and I KNOW 'twould be +work. There! there! run in and get your coat and hat, Mr. Ellery. I'll +step across and ease Hettie's mind and--and lungs.” + +She went across the road to impart the news of the vessel in distress to +the curious Mrs. Peters. A moment later the minister, having donned +his hat and coat, ran down the walk and climbed into the chaise beside +Captain Zeb. The white horse, stimulated into a creaky jog trot by +repeated slappings of the reins and roars to “Get under way!” and “Cast +off!” moved along the sandy lane. + +During the drive the captain and his passenger discussed various topics +of local interest, among them Captain Nat Hammond and the manner in +which he might have lost his ship and his life. It was now taken for +granted, in Trumet and elsewhere, that Nat was dead and would never be +heard from again. The owners had given up, so Captain Zeb said, and +went on to enumerate the various accidents which might have +happened--typhoons, waterspouts, fires, and even attacks by Malay +pirates--though, added the captain, “Gen'rally speakin', I'd ruther not +bet on any pirate gettin' away with Nat Hammond's ship, if the skipper +was alive and healthy. Then there's mutiny and fevers and collisions, +and land knows what all. And, speakin' of trouble, what do you cal'late +ails that craft we're goin' to look at now?” + +They found a group on the beach discussing that very question. A few +fishermen, one or two lobstermen and wreckers, and the lightkeeper were +gathered on the knoll by the lighthouse. They had a spyglass, and a +good-sized dory was ready for launching. + +“Where is she, Noah?” asked Captain Zeb of the lightkeeper. “That her +off back of the spar buoy? Let me have a squint through that glass; +my eyes ain't what they used to be, when I could see a whale spout two +miles t'other side of the sky line and tell how many barrels of ile he'd +try out, fust look. Takes practice to keep your eyesight so's you can +see round a curve like that,” he added, winking at Ellery. + +“She's a brigantine, Zeb,” observed the keeper, handing up the spyglass. +“And flyin' the British colors. Look's if she might be one of them salt +boats from Turk's Islands. But what she's doin' out there, anchored, +with canvas lowered and showin' distress signals in fair weather like +this, is more'n any of us can make out. She wa'n't there last evenin', +though, and she is there now.” + +“She ain't the only funny thing along shore this mornin', nuther,” + announced Theophilus Black, one of the fishermen. “Charlie Burgess just +come down along and he says there's a ship's longboat hauled up on the +beach, 'bout a mile 'n a half t'other side the mouth of the herrin' +crick yonder. Oars in her and all. And she ain't no boat that b'longs +round here, is she, Charlie?” + +“No, Thoph, she ain't,” was the reply. “Make anything out of her, +cap'n?” + +Captain Zeb, who had been inspecting the anchored vessel through +the spyglass, lowered the latter and seemed puzzled. “Not much,” he +answered. “Blessed if she don't look abandoned to me. Can't see a sign +of life aboard her.” + +“We couldn't neither,” said Thoph. “We was just cal'latin' to go off to +her when Charlie come and told us about the longboat. I guess likely we +can go now; it's pretty nigh smooth as a pond. You'll take an oar, won't +you, Noah?” + +“I can't leave the light very well. My wife went over to the village +last night. You and Charlie and Bill go. Want to go, too, Zeb?” + +“No, I'll stay here, I guess. The old lady made me promise to keep my +feet dry afore I left the house.” + +“You want to go, Mr. Ellery? Lots of room.” + +The minister was tempted. The sea always had a fascination for him and +the mystery of the strange ship was appealing. + +“Sure I won't be in the way?” + +“No, no! 'course you won't,” said Burgess. “Come right along. You set in +the bow, if you don't mind gettin' sprinkled once in a while. I'll steer +and Thoph and Bill'll row. That'll be enough for one dory. If we need +more, we'll signal. Heave ahead.” + +The surf, though low for that season of the year, looked dangerous to +Ellery, but his companions launched the dory with the ease which comes +of experience. Burgess took the steering oar and Thoph and “Bill,” the +latter a lobsterman from Wellmouth Neck, bent their broad backs for the +long pull. The statement concerning the pondlike smoothness of the sea +was something of an exaggeration. The dory climbed wave after wave, long +and green and oily, at the top of each she poised, tipped and slid down +the slope. The minister, curled up in the bow on a rather uncomfortable +cushion of anchor and roding, caught glimpses of the receding shore over +the crests behind. One minute he looked down into the face of Burgess, +holding the steering oar in place, the next the stern was high above him +and he felt that he was reclining on the back of his neck. But always +the shoulders of the rowers moved steadily in the short, deep strokes +of the rough water oarsman, and the beach, with the white light and +red-roofed house of the keeper, the group beside it, and Captain Zeb's +horse and chaise, grew smaller and less distinct. + +“Humph!” grunted Charlie. + +“What's the matter?” asked Thoph. + +The steersman, who was staring hard in the direction they were going, +scowled. + +“Humph!” he grunted again. “I swan to man, fellers, I believe she IS +abandoned!” + +“Rubbish!” panted Bill, twisting his neck to look over his shoulder. +“'Course she ain't! Who'd abandon a craft such weather's this, and +Province-town harbor only three hours' run or so?” + +“When it comes to that,” commented Burgess, “why should they anchor off +here, 'stead of takin' her in by the inlet? If there's anybody aboard +they ain't showed themselves yet. She might have been leakin', but she +don't look it. Sets up out of water pretty well. Well, we'll know in a +few minutes. Hit her up, boys!” + +The rowers “hit her up” and the dory moved faster. Then Burgess, putting +his hand to his mouth, hailed. + +“Ship ahoy!” he roared. “Ahoy!” + +No reply. + +“Ahoy the brig!” bellowed Burgess. “What's the matter aboard there? All +hands asleep?” + +Still no answer. Thoph and Bill pulled more slowly now. Burgess nodded +to them. + +“Stand by!” he ordered. “Easy! Way enough! Let her run.” + +The dory slackened speed, turned in obedience to the steering oar, and +slid under the forequarter of the anchored vessel. Ellery, looking up, +saw her name in battered gilt letters above his head--the San Jose. + +“Stand by, Thoph!” shouted Charlie. “S'pose you can jump and grab her +forechains? Hold her steady, Bill. Now, Thoph! That's the time!” + +Thoph had jumped, seized the chains, and was scrambling aboard. A moment +later he appeared at the rail amidships, a rope in his hand. The dory +was brought alongside and made fast; then one after the other the men in +the boat climbed to the brig's deck. + +“Ahoy!” yelled Burgess. “All hands on deck! tumble up, you lubbers! +Humph! She is abandoned, sure and sartin.” + +“Yup,” assented Bill. “Her boats are gone. See? Guess that explains the +longboat on the beach, Charlie.” + +“Cal'late it does; but it don't explain why they left her. She ain't +leakin' none to speak of, that's sure. Rides's light's a feather. +Christmas! look at them decks; dirty hogs, whoever they was.” + +The decks were dirty, and the sails, sloppily furled, were dirty +likewise. The brig, as she rolled and jerked at her anchor rope, was +dirty--and unkempt from stem to stern. To Ellery's mind she made a +lonesome picture, even under the clear, winter sky and bright sunshine. + +Thoph led the way aft. The cabin companion door was open and they peered +down. + +“Phew!” sniffed Burgess. “She ain't no cologne bottle, is she? Well, +come on below and let's see what'll we see.” + +The cabin was a “mess,” as Bill expressed it. The floor was covered +with scattered heaps of riff-raff, oilskins, coats, empty bottles, and +papers. On the table a box stood, its hinged lid thrown back. + +“Medicine chest,” said Burgess, examining it. “And rum bottles aplenty. +Somebody's been sick, I shouldn't wonder.” + +The minister opened the door of one of the little staterooms. The light +which shone through the dirty and tightly closed “bull's-eye” window +showed a tumbled bunk, the blankets soiled and streaked. The smell was +stifling. + +“Say, fellers,” whispered Thoph, “I don't like this much myself. I'm for +gettin' on deck where the air's better. Somethin's happened aboard this +craft, somethin' serious.” + +Charlie and Bill nodded an emphatic affirmative. + +“Hadn't we better look about a little more?” asked Ellery. “There's +another stateroom there.” + +He opened the door of it as he spoke. It was, if possible, in a worse +condition than the first. And the odor was even more overpowering. + +“Skipper's room,” observed Burgess, peeping in. “And that bunk ain't +been slept in for weeks. See the mildew on them clothes. Phew! I'm fair +sick to my stomach. Come out of this.” + +On deck, in the sunlight, they held another consultation. + +“Queerest business ever I see,” observed Charlie. “I never--” + +“I see somethin' like it once,” interrupted Bill. “Down in the Gulf +'twas. I was on the old Fishhawk. Eben Salters's dad from over to +Bayport skippered her. We picked up a West Injy schooner, derelict, +abandoned same as this one, but not anchored, of course. Yeller jack was +the trouble aboard her and--Where you bound, Thoph?” + +“Goin' to take a squint at the fo'castle,” replied Theophilus, moving +forward. The minister followed him. + +The fo'castle hatchway was black and grim. Ellery knelt and peered down. +Here there was practically no light at all and the air was fouler than +that in the cabin. + +“See anything, Mr. Ellery?” asked Thoph, looking over his shoulder. + +“No, I don't see anything. But I thought--” + +He seemed to be listening. + +“What did you think?” + +“Nothing. I--” + +“Hold on! you ain't goin' down there, be you? I wouldn't. No tellin' +what you might find. Well, all right. I ain't curious. I'll stay up here +and you can report.” + +He stepped over and leaned against the rail. Bill came across the deck +and joined him. + +“Where's Charlie?” asked Thoph. + +“Gone back to the cabin,” was the answer. “Thought likely he might find +some of her papers or somethin' to put us on the track. I told him to +heave ahead; I didn't want no part of it. Too much like that yeller-jack +schooner to suit me. What's become of the parson?” + +Thoph pointed to the open hatch. + +“Down yonder, explorin' the fo'castle,” he replied. “He can have the +job, for all me. Phew! Say, Bill, what IS this we've struck, anyhow?” + +Ellery descended the almost perpendicular ladder gingerly, holding on +with both hands. At its foot he stopped and tried to accustom his eyes +to the darkness. + +A room perhaps ten feet long, so much he could make out. The floor +strewn, like that of the cabin, with heaps of clothing and odds and +ends. More shapes of clothes hanging up and swaying with the roll of the +brig. A little window high up at the end, black with dirt. And cavities, +bunks in rows, along the walls. A horrible hole. + +He took a step toward the center of the room, bending his head to +avoid hitting the fo'castle lantern. Then in one of the bunks something +stirred, something alive. He started violently, controlled himself with +an effort, and stumbled toward the sound. + +“What is it?” he whispered. “Who is it? Is anyone there?” + +A groan answered him. Then a voice, weak and quavering, said: + +“Gimme a drink! Gimme a drink! Can't none of you God-forsaken devils +give me a drink?” + +He stooped over the bunk. A man was lying in it, crumpled into a +dreadful heap. He stooped lower, looked, and saw the man's face. + +There was a shout from the deck, or, rather, a yell. Then more yells and +the sound of running feet. + +“Mr. Ellery!” screamed Burgess, at the hatchway. “Mr. Ellery, for the +Almighty's sake, come up here! Come out of that this minute. Quick!” + +The minister knew what was coming, was sure of it as he stepped to the +foot of the ladder, had known it the instant he saw that face. + +“Mr. Ellery!” shrieked Burgess. “Mr. Ellery, are you there?” + +“Yes, I'm here,” answered the minister, slowly. He was fighting with all +his might to keep his nerves under control. His impulse was to leap +up those steps, rush across that deck, spring into the dory and row, +anywhere to get away from the horror of that forecastle. + +“Come up!” called Burgess. “Hurry! It's the smallpox! The darned +hooker's rotten with it. For God sakes, come quick!” + +He ran to the rail, yelling order to Bill and Thoph, who were +frantically busy with the dory. Ellery began to climb the ladder. His +head emerged into the clean, sweet air blowing across the deck. He drew +a breath to the very bottom of his lungs. + +Then from behind and below him came the voice again. + +“Gimme a drink!” it wailed. “Gimme a drink of water. Ain't one of you +cussed swabs got decency enough to fetch me a drink? I'm dyin' for a +drink, I tell you. I'm dyin'!” + +The minister stood still, his feet on the ladder. The three men by the +rail were working like mad, their faces livid under the sunburn and +their hands trembling. They pushed each other about and swore. They were +not cowards, either. Ellery knew them well enough to know that. Burgess +had, that very winter, pulled a skiff through broken ice in the face +of a wicked no'theaster to rescue an old neighbor whose dory had been +capsized in the bay while he was hauling lobster pots. But now Burgess +was as scared as the rest. + +Thoph and Bill sprang over the rail into the boat. Burgess turned and +beckoned to Ellery. + +“Come on!” he called. “What are you waitin' for?” + +The minister remained where he was. + +“Are you sure--” he faltered. + +“Sure! Blast it all! I found the log. It ain't been kept for a fortni't, +but there's enough. It's smallpox, I tell you. Two men died of it three +weeks ago. The skipper died right afterwards. The mate--No wonder them +that was left run away as soon as they sighted land. Come on! Do you +want to die, too?” + +From the poison pit at the foot of the ladder the man in the bunk called +once more. + +“Water!” he screeched. “Water! Are you goin' to leave me, you d--n +cowards?” + +“For Heaven sakes!” cried Burgess, clutching the rail, “what's that?” + +Ellery answered him. “It's one of them,” he said, and his voice sounded +odd in his own ears. “It's one of the crew.” + +“One of the--Down THERE? Has he--” + +“Yes, he has.” + +“Help! help!” screamed the voice shrilly. “Are you goin' to leave me to +die all alone? He-elp!” + +The minister turned. “Hush!” he called, in answer to the voice, “hush! +I'll bring you water in a minute. Burgess,” he added, “you and the rest +go ashore. I shall stay.” + +“You'll stay? You'll STAY? With THAT? You're crazy as a loon. Don't be +a fool, man! Come on! We'll send the doctor and somebody else--some one +that's had it, maybe, or ain't afraid. I am and I'm goin'. Don't be a +fool.” + +Thoph, from the dory, shouted to know what was the matter. Ellery +climbed the ladder to the deck and walked over to the rail. As he +approached, Burgess fell back a few feet. + +“Thoph,” said the minister, addressing the pair in the dory, “there is +a sick man down in the forecastle. He has been alone there for hours, +I suppose, certainly since his shipmates ran away. If he is left longer +without help, he will surely die. Some one must stay with him. You and +the rest row ashore and get the doctor and whoever else you can. I'll +stay here till they come.” + +Thoph and his companions set up a storm of protest. It was foolish, it +was crazy, the man would die anyhow, and so on. They begged the minister +to come with them. But he was firm. + +“Don't stop to argue,” he urged. “Hurry and get the doctor.” + +“Come on, Charlie,” ordered Bill. “No use talkin' to him, he's set. Come +on! I won't stay alongside this craft another minute for nobody. If you +be comin', come.” + +Burgess, still protesting, clambered over the rail. The dory swung clear +of the brig. The rowers settled themselves for the stroke. + +“Better change your mind, Mr. Ellery,” pleaded Charlie. “I hate to leave +you this way. It seems mean, but I'm a married man with children, like +the rest of us here, and I can't take no risks. Better come, too. No? +Well, we'll send help quick as the Lord'll let us. By the Almighty!” he +added, in a sudden burst, “you've got more spunk than I have--yes, or +anybody I ever come across. I'll say that for you, if you are a parson. +Give way, fellers.” + +The oars dipped, bent, and the dory moved off. The sound of the creaking +thole pins shot a chill through Ellery's veins. His knees shook, and +involuntarily a cry for them to come back rose to his lips. But he +choked it down and waved his hand in farewell. Then, not trusting +himself to look longer at the receding boat, he turned on his heel and +walked toward the forecastle. + +The water butts stood amidships, not far from the open door of the +galley. Entering the latter he found an empty saucepan. This he filled +from the cask, and then, with it in his hand, turned toward the black +hatchway. Here was the greatest test of his courage. To descend that +ladder, approach that bunk, and touch the terrible creature in it, these +were the tasks he had set himself to do, but could he? + +Vaccination in those days was by no means the universal custom that it +now is. And smallpox, even now, is a disease the name of which strikes +panic to a community. The minister had been vaccinated when he was a +child, but that was--so it seemed to him--a very long time ago. And +that forecastle was so saturated with the plague that to enter it meant +almost certain infection. He had stayed aboard the brig because the +pitiful call for help had made leaving a cowardly impossibility. Now, +face to face, and in cold blood, with the alternative, it seemed neither +so cowardly or impossible. The man would die anyhow, so Thoph had said; +was there any good reason why he should risk dying, too, and dying in +that way? + +He thought of a great many things and of many people as he stood by the +hatchway, waiting; among others, he thought of his housekeeper, +Keziah Coffin. And, somehow, the thought of her, of her pluck, and her +self-sacrifice, were the very inspirations he needed. “It's the duty +that's been laid on me,” Keziah had said, “and it's a hard one, but I +don't run away from it.” He began to descend the ladder. + +The sick man was raving in delirium when he reached him, but the sound +of the water lapping the sides of the saucepan brought him to himself. +He seized Ellery by the arm and drank and drank. When at last he +desisted, the pan was half empty. + +The minister laid him gently back in the bunk and stepped to the foot of +the ladder for breath. This made him think of the necessity for air in +the place and he remembered the little window. It was tightly closed +and rusted fast. He went up to the deck, found a marlin spike, and, +returning, broke the glass. A sharp, cold draught swept through the +forecastle, stirring the garments hanging on the nails. + +An hour later, two dories bumped against the side of the San Jose. Men, +talking in low tones, climbed over the rail. Burgess was one of them; +ashamed of his panic, he had returned to assist the others in bringing +the brigantine into a safer anchorage by the inlet. + +Dr. Parker, very grave but businesslike, reached the deck among the +first. + +“Mr. Ellery,” he shouted, “where are you?” + +The minister's head and shoulders appeared at the forecastle companion. +“Here I am, doctor,” he said. “Will you come down?” + +The doctor made no answer in words, but he hurried briskly across the +deck. One man, Ebenezer Capen, an old fisherman and ex-whaler from +East Trumet, started to follow him, but he was the only one. The others +waited, with scared faces, by the rail. + +“Get her under way and inshore as soon as you can,” ordered Dr. Parker. +“Ebenezer, you can help. If I need you below, I'll call.” + +The minister backed down the ladder and the doctor followed him. Parker +bent over the bunk for a few moments in silence. + +“He's pretty bad,” he muttered. “Mighty little chance. Heavens, what a +den! Who broke that window?” + +“I did,” replied Ellery. “The air down here was dreadful.” + +The doctor nodded approvingly. “I guess so,” he said. “It's bad enough +now. We've got to get this poor fellow out of here as soon as we can or +he'll die before to-morrow. Mr. Ellery,” he added sharply, “what made +you do this? Don't you realize the risk you've run?” + +“Some one had to do it. You are running the same risk.” + +“Not just the same, and, besides, it's my business. Why didn't you let +some one else, some one we could spare--Humph! Confound it, man! didn't +you know any better? Weren't you afraid?” + +His tone rasped Ellery's shaken nerves. + +“Of course I was,” he snapped irritably. “I'm not an idiot.” + +“Humph! Well, all right; I beg your pardon. But you oughtn't to have +done it. Now you'll have to be quarantined. And who in thunder I can get +to stay with me in this case is more than I know. Just say smallpox to +this town and it goes to pieces like a smashed egg. Old Eb Capen will +help, for he's had it, but it needs more than one.” + +“Where are you going to take--him?” pointing to the moaning occupant of +the bunk. + +“To one of the empty fish shanties on the beach. There are beds there, +such as they are, and the place is secluded. We can burn it down when +the fuss is over.” + +“Then why can't I stay? I shall have to be quarantined, I know that. Let +me be the other nurse. Why should anyone else run the risk? I HAVE run +it. I'll stay.” + +Dr. Parker looked at him. “Well!” he exclaimed. “Well! I must say, young +man, that you've got--Humph! All right, Mr. Ellery; I'm much obliged.” + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED + + +Before sunset that afternoon the San Jose was anchored behind the point +by the inlet. The fishing boats changed moorings and moved farther +up, for not a single one of their owners would trust himself within a +hundred yards of the stricken brigantine. As soon as the anchors were +dropped, the volunteer crew was over side and away, each of its members +to receive a scolding from his family for taking such a risk and to have +his garments sulphur-smoked or buried. Charlie Burgess, whose wife was +something of a Tartar, observed ruefully that he “didn't take no comfort +'round home nowadays; between the smell of brimstone and the jawin's +'twas the hereafter ahead of time.” + +The largest of the beach shanties, one which stood by itself a quarter +of a mile from the light, was hurriedly prepared for use as a pesthouse +and the sick sailor was carried there on an improvised stretcher. +Dr. Parker and Ellery lifted him from his berth and, assisted by old +Ebenezer Capen, got him up to the deck and lowered him into the dory. +Ebenezer rowed the trio to the beach and the rest of the journey was +comparatively easy. + +The shanty had three rooms, one of which was given up to the patient, +one used as a living room, and, in the third, Capen and the minister +were to sleep. Mattresses were procured, kind-hearted and sympathizing +townspeople donated cast-off tables and chairs, and the building was +made as comfortable as it could be, under the circumstances. Sign +boards, warning strangers to keep away, were erected, and in addition +to them, the Trumet selectmen ordered ropes stretched across the lane on +both sides of the shanty. But ropes and signs were superfluous. Trumet +in general was in a blue funk and had no desire to approach within a +mile of the locality. Even the driver of the grocery cart, when he left +the day's supply of provisions, pushed the packages under the ropes, +yelled a hurried “Here you be!” and, whipping up his horse, departed at +a rattling gallop. + +The village sat up nights to discuss the affair and every day brought +a new sensation. The survivors of the San Jose's crew, a wretched, +panic-stricken quartette of mulattos and Portuguese, were apprehended +on the outskirts of Denboro, the town below Trumet on the bay side, +and were promptly sequestered and fumigated, pending shipment to the +hospital at Boston. Their story was short but grewsome. The brigantine +was not a Turks Islands boat, but a coaster from Jamaica. She had sailed +with a small cargo for Savannah. Two days out and the smallpox made its +appearance on board. The sufferer, a negro foremast hand, died. Then +another sailor was seized and also died. The skipper, who was the owner, +was the next victim, and the vessel was in a state of demoralization +which the mate, an Englishman named Bradford, could not overcome. Then +followed days and nights of calm and terrible heat, of pestilence +and all but mutiny. The mate himself died. There was no one left who +understood navigation. At last came a southeast gale and the San Jose +drove before it. Fair weather found her abreast the Cape. The survivors +ran her in after dark, anchored, and reached shore in the longboat. The +sick man whom they had left in the forecastle was a new hand who had +shipped at Kingston. His name was Murphy, they believed. They had left +him because he was sure to die, like the others, and, besides, they knew +some one would see the distress signals and investigate. That was all, +yes. Santa Maria! was it not enough? + +This tale was a delicious tidbit for Didama and the “daily advertisers,” + but, after all, it was a mere side dish compared to Mr. Ellery's +astonishing behavior. That he, the minister of the Regular church, +should risk his life, risk dying of the smallpox, to help a stranger +and a common sailor, was incomprehensible. Didama, at least, could not +understand it, and said so. “My soul and body!” she exclaimed, with +uplifted hands. “I wouldn't go nigh my own grandfather if he had the +smallpox, let alone settin' up with a strange critter that I didn't +know from Adam's cat. And a minister doin' it! He ought to consider the +congregation, if he done nothin' else. Ain't we more important than a +common water rat that, even when he's dyin', swears, so I hear tell, +like a ship's poll parrot? I never heard of such foolishness. It beats +ME!” + +It “beat” a good many who, like the Widow Rogers, could not understand +self-sacrifice. But there were more, and they the majority of Trumet's +intelligent people, who understood and appreciated. Dr. Parker, a man +with a reputation for dangerously liberal views concerning religious +matters and an infrequent attendant at church, was enthusiastic and +prodigal of praise. + +“By George!” vowed the doctor. “That's MY kind of Christianity. That's +the kind of parson I can tie to. I'm for John Ellery after this, first, +last, and all the time. And if he don't get the smallpox and die, and +if he does live to preach in the Regular church, you'll see me in one of +the front pews every Sunday. That's what I think of him. Everybody else +ran away and I don't blame 'em much. But he stayed. Yes, sir, by George! +he stayed. 'Somebody had to do it,' says he. I take off my hat to that +young fellow.” + +Captain Zeb Mayo went about cheering for his parson. Mrs. Mayo cooked +delicacies to be pushed under the ropes for the minister's consumption. +The parish committee, at a special session, voted an increase of salary +and ordered a weekly service of prayer for the safe delivery of their +young leader from danger. Even Captain Elkanah did not try to oppose +the general opinion; “although I cannot but feel,” he said, “that Mr. +Ellery's course was rash and that he should have considered us and our +interest in his welfare before--” + +“Dum it all!” roared Captain Zeb, jumping to his feet and interrupting, +“he didn't consider himself, did he? and ain't he as important TO +himself as you, Elkanah Daniels, or anybody else in this meetin' house? +Bah! don't let's have no more talk like that or I'll say somethin' that +won't be fit to put in the minutes.” + +Even at Come-Outers' meeting, when Ezekiel Bassett hinted at a “just +punishment fallin' on the head of the leader of the Pharisees,” Thoph +Black rose and defended Ellery. + +Keziah Coffin was, perhaps, the one person most disturbed by her +parson's heroism. She would have gone to the shanty immediately had not +Dr. Parker prevented. Even as it was, she did go as far as the ropes, +but there she was warded off by Ebenezer until Ellery came running out +and bade her come no nearer. + +“But you shan't stay here, Mr. Ellery,” vowed Keziah. “Or, if you do, +I'll stay, too. I ain't afraid of smallpox.” + +“I am,” confessed the minister, “and I'm not going to let anyone I care +for expose themselves to it unnecessarily. If you try to come in here I +shall”--he smiled--“well, Capen and I will put you off the premises by +force. There!” + +Keziah smiled, too, in spite of herself. “Maybe you'd have your hands +full,” she said. “O John, what in the world made you do this thing? It's +dreadful. I shan't sleep a wink, thinkin' of you. I just must come here +and help.” + +“No, you mustn't. You can come as far as the--the dead line once in +a while, if Captain Mayo will drive you over, but that's all. I'm all +right. Don't worry about me. I'm feeling tiptop and I'm not going to be +sick. Now go home and make me some of that--some of those puddings of +yours. We can use them to advantage, can't we, Capen?” + +“Bet yer!” replied Ebenezer with enthusiasm. Keziah, after more +expostulation, went back to the parsonage, where the puddings were made +and seasoned with tears and fervent prayers. She wrote to Grace and told +her the news of the San Jose, but she said nothing of the minister's +part in it. “Poor thing!” sighed Keziah, “she's bearin' enough already. +Her back ain't as strong as mine, maybe, and mine's most crackin'. Well, +let it crack for good and all; I don't know but that's the easiest way +out.” + +The sick sailor grew no better. Days and nights passed and he raved +and moaned or lay in a stupor. Ebenezer acted as day nurse while Ellery +slept, and, at night, the minister, being younger, went on watch. The +doctor came frequently, but said there was no hope. A question of time +only, and a short time, he said. + +Capen occupied his mind with speculations concerning the patient. + +“Do you know, parson,” he said, “seem's if I'd seen the feller +somewheres afore. 'Course I never have, but when I used to go whalin' +v'yages I cruised from one end of creation to t'other, pretty nigh, +and I MIGHT have met him. However, his own folks wouldn't know him now, +would they? so I cal'late I'm just gettin' foolish in my old age. Said +his name's Murphy, them ha'f-breeds did, didn't they? I know better'n +that.” + +“How do you know?” asked Ellery, idly listening. + +“'Cause when he's floppin' round on the bed, out of his head, he sings +out all kinds of stuff. A good deal of it's plain cussin', but there's +times when he talks respectable and once I heard him say 'darn' and +another time 'I cal'late.' Now no Irishman says THAT. That's Yankee, +that is.” + +“Well, he ought to know his own name.” + +“Prob'ly he does--or used to--but 'most likely he don't want nobody else +to know it. That's why he said 'twas Murphy and, bein' as he DID say it, +I know 'tain't it. See my argument, don't you, Mr. Ellery?” + +“Yes, I guess so.” + +“Um--hm! Why, land sakes, names don't mean nothin' with seafarin' men. +I've seen the time when I had more names--Humph! Looks kind of squally +off to the east'ard, don't it?” + +That night the sick man was much worse. His ravings were incessant. The +minister, sitting in his chair in the living room, by the cook stove, +could hear the steady stream of shouts, oaths, and muttered fragments of +dialogue with imaginary persons. Sympathy for the sufferer he felt, +of course, and yet he, as well as Dr. Parker and old Capen, had heard +enough to realize that the world would be none the worse for losing this +particular specimen of humanity. The fellow had undoubtedly lived a hard +life, among the roughest of companions afloat and ashore. Even Ebenezer, +who by his own confession, was far from being a saint, exclaimed +disgustedly at the close of a day's watching by the sick bed: “Phew! I +feel's if I'd been visiting state's prison. Let me set out doors a spell +and listen to the surf. It's clean, anyhow, and that critter's talk +makes me want to give my brains a bath.” + +The wooden clock, loaned by Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife, ticked +steadily, although a half hour slow. Ellery, glancing at it to see if +the time had come for giving medicine, suddenly noticed how loud its +ticking sounded. Wondering at this, he was aware there was no other +sound in the house. He rose and looked in at the door of the adjoining +room. The patient had ceased to rave and was lying quiet on the bed. + +The minister tiptoed over to look at him. And, as he did so, the man +opened his eyes. + +“Halloo!” he said faintly. “Who are you?” + +Ellery, startled, made no answer. + +“Who are you?” demanded the man again. Then, with an oath, he repeated +the question, adding: “What place is this? This ain't the fo'castle. +Where am I?” + +“You're ashore. You've been sick. Don't try to move.” + +“Sick? Humph! Sick? 'Course I been sick. Don't I know it? The d--n +cowards run off and left me; blast their eyes! I'll fix 'em for it one +of these days, you hear--” + +“Sshh!” + +“Hush up yourself. Where am I?” + +“You're ashore. On Cape Cod. At Trumet.” + +“Trumet! TRUMET!” + +He was struggling to raise himself on his elbow. Ellery was obliged to +use force to hold him down. + +“Hush! hush!” pleaded the minister, “you mustn't try to--” + +“Trumet! I ain't. You're lyin'. Trumet! Good God! Who brought me here? +Did she--Is she--” + +He struggled again. Then his strength and his reason left him +simultaneously and the delirium returned. He began to shout a name, a +name that caused Ellery to stand upright and step back from the bed, +scarcely believing his ears. + +All the rest of that night the man on the bed raved and muttered, but of +people and places and happenings which he had not mentioned before. And +the minister, listening intently to every word, caught himself wondering +if he also was not losing his mind. + +When the morning came, Ebenezer Capen was awakened by a shake to find +John Ellery standing over him. + +“Capen,” whispered the minister, “Capen, get up. I must talk with you.” + +Ebenezer was indignant. + +“Judas priest!” he exclaimed; “why don't you scare a feller to death, +comin' and yankin' him out of bed by the back hair?” Then, being more +wide awake, he added: “What's the row? Worse, is he? He ain't--” + +“No. But I've got to talk with you. You used to be a whaler, I know. +Were you acquainted in New Bedford?” + +“Sartin. Was a time when I could have located every stick in it, pretty +nigh, by the smell, if you'd set me down side of 'em blindfold.” + +“Did you ever know anyone named--” He finished the sentence. + +“Sure and sartin, I did. Why?” + +“Did you know him well?” + +“Well's I wanted to. Pretty decent feller one time, but a fast goer, and +went downhill like a young one's sled, when he got started. His folks +had money, that was the trouble with him. Why, 'course I knew him! He +married--” + +“I know. Now, listen.” + +Ellery went on talking rapidly and with great earnestness. Ebenezer +listened, at first silently, then breaking in with ejaculations and +grunts of astonishment. He sat up on the edge of the bed. + +“Rubbish!” he cried at last, “why, 'tain't possible! The feller's dead +as Methusalem's grandmarm. I remember how it happened and--” + +“It wasn't true. That much I know. I KNOW, I tell you.” + +He went on to explain why he knew. Capen's astonishment grew. + +“Judas priest!” he exclaimed again. “That would explain why I thought +I'd seen--There! heave ahead. I've got to see. But it's a mistake. I +don't believe it.” + +The pair entered the sick room. The sailor lay in a stupor. His +breathing was rapid, but faint. Capen bent over him and gently moved the +bandage on his face. For a full minute he gazed steadily. Then he stood +erect, drew a big red hand across his forehead, and moved slowly back to +the living room. + +“Well?” asked Ellery eagerly. + +Ebenezer sat down in the rocker. “Judas priest!” he said for the third +time. “Don't talk to ME! When it comes my time they'll have to prove I'm +dead. I won't believe it till they do. Ju-das PRIEST!” + +“Then you recognize him?” + +The old man nodded solemnly. + +“Yup,” he said, “it's him. Mr. Ellery, what are you goin' to do about +it?” + +“I don't know. I don't know. I must go somewhere by myself and think. I +don't know WHAT to do.” + +The minister declined to wait for breakfast. He said he was not hungry. +Leaving Ebenezer to put on the coffeepot and take up his duties as day +nurse, Ellery walked off along the beach. The “dead line” prevented his +going very far, but he sat down in the lee of a high dune and thought +until his head ached. What should he do? What was best for him to do? + +He heard the rattle of the doctor's chaise and the voices of Ebenezer +and Parker in conversation. He did not move, but remained where he was, +thinking, thinking. By and by he heard Capen calling his name. + +“Mr. Ellery!” shouted Ebenezer. “Mr. Ellery, where be you?” + +“Here!” replied the minister. + +The old man came scrambling over the sand. He was panting and much +excited. + +“Mr. Ellery!” he cried, “Mr. Ellery! it's settled for us--one part of +it, anyhow. He's slipped his cable.” + +“What?” The minister sprang up. + +“Yup. He must have died just a little while after you left and after I +gave him his medicine. I thought he looked kind of queer then. And when +the doctor came we went in together and he was dead. Yes, sir, dead.” + +“Dead!” + +“Um--hm. No doubt of it; it's for good this time. Mr. Ellery, what shall +we do? Shall I tell Dr. Parker?” + +Ellery considered for a moment. “No,” he said slowly. “No, Capen, don't +tell anyone. I can't see why they need ever know that he hasn't been +dead for years, as they supposed. Promise me to keep it a secret. I'll +tell--her--myself, later on. Now promise me; I trust you.” + +“Land sakes, yes! I'll promise, if you want me to. I'm a widower man, so +there'll be nobody to coax it out of me. I guess you're right, cal'late +you be. What folks don't know they can't lie about, can they? and that's +good for your business--meanin' nothin' disreverent. I'll promise, Mr. +Ellery; I'll swear to it. Now come on back to the shanty. The doctor +wants you.” + +The next day the body of “Murphy,” foremast hand on the San Jose, was +buried in the corner of the Regular graveyard, near those who were +drowned in the wreck of that winter. There was no funeral, of course. +The minister said a prayer at the shanty, and that was all. Ebenezer +drove the wagon which was used as hearse for the occasion, and filled in +the grave himself. So great was the fear of the terrible smallpox that +the sexton would not perform even that service for its victim. + +Capen remained at the shanty another week. Then, as the minister showed +no symptoms of having contracted the disease and insisted that he needed +no companion, Ebenezer departed to take up his fishing once more. The +old man was provided with a new suit of clothes, those he had worn being +burned, and having been, to his huge disgust, fumigated until, as he +said, he couldn't smell himself without thinking of a match box, went +away. The room which the dead sailor had occupied was emptied and sealed +tight. The San Jose was to stay at her anchorage a while longer. Then, +when all danger was past, she was to be towed to Boston and sold at +auction for the benefit of the heirs of her dead skipper and owner. + +Ellery himself was most urgent in the decision that he should not go +back to the parsonage and his church just yet. Better to wait until he +was sure, he said, and Dr. Parker agreed. “I'd be willing to bet that +you are all right,” declared the latter, “but I know Trumet, and if I +SHOULD let you go and you did develop even the tail end of a case of +varioloid--well, 'twould be the everlasting climax for you and me in +this county.” + +Staying alone was not unpleasant, in a way. The “dead line” still +remained, of course, and callers did not attempt to pass it, but they +came more frequently and held lengthy conversations at a respectful +distance. Ellery did his own cooking, what little there was to do, but +so many good things were pushed under the ropes that he was in a fair +way to develop weight and indigestion. Captain Zeb Mayo drove down at +least twice a week and usually brought Mrs. Coffin with him. From them +and from the doctor the prisoner learned the village news. Once Captain +Elkanah and Annabel came, and the young lady's gushing praise of the +minister's “heroism” made its recipient almost sorry he had ever heard +of the San Jose. + +Dr. Parker told him of Grace Van Horne's return to the village. She had +come back, so the doctor said, the day before, and was to live at the +tavern for a while, at least. Yes, he guessed even she had given up hope +of Captain Nat now. + +“And say,” went on Parker, “how are you feeling?” + +“Pretty well, thank you,” replied the minister. “I seem to be rather +tired and good for nothing. More so than I was during the worst of it.” + +“No wonder. A chap can't go through what you did and not feel some +reaction. I expected that. Don't get cold, that's all. But what I want +to know is whether you think I could leave you for a couple of days? +The Ostable County Medical Society meets at Hyannis to-morrow and I had +promised myself to take it in this year. But I don't want to leave you, +if you need me.” + +Ellery insisted that he did not need anyone, was getting along finely, +and would not hear of his friend's missing the medical society's +meeting. So the physician went. + +“Good-by,” he called as he drove off. “I guess your term is pretty +nearly over. I shall let you out of jail inside of four or five days, if +you behave yourself.” + +This should have been cheering news, but, somehow, John Ellery did not +feel cheerful that afternoon. The tired feeling he had spoken of so +lightly was worse than he had described it, and he was despondent, for +no particular reason. That night he slept miserably and awoke with a +chill to find a cold, pouring rain beating against the windows of the +shanty. + +He could not eat and he could not keep warm, even with the cook-stove +top red hot and a blanket over his shoulders. By noon the chill had +gone and he was blazing with fever. Still the rain and the wind, and no +visitors at the ropes, not even the light-keeper. + +He lay down on his bed and tried to sleep, but though he dozed a bit, +woke always with a start and either a chill or fever fit. His head began +to ache violently. And then, in the lonesomeness and misery, fear began +to take hold of him. + +He remembered the symptoms the doctor had warned him against, headache, +fever, and all the rest. He felt his wrists and arms and began to +imagine that beneath the skin were the little bunches, like small shot, +that were the certain indications. Then he remembered how that other man +had looked, how he had died. Was he to look that way and die like that? +And he was all alone, they had left him alone. + +Night came. The rain had ceased and stars were shining clear. Inside the +shanty the minister tossed on the bed, or staggered back and forth about +the two rooms. He wondered what the time might be; then he did not care. +He was alone. The smallpox had him in its grip. He was alone and he +was going to die. Why didn't some one come? Where was Mrs. Coffin? And +Grace? She was somewhere near him--Parker had said so--and he must see +her before he died. He called her name over and over again. + +The wind felt cold on his forehead. He stumbled amidst the beach grass. +What was this thing across his path? A rope, apparently, but why should +there be ropes in that house? There had never been any before. He +climbed over it and it was a climb of hundreds of feet and the height +made him giddy. That was a house, another house, not the one he had been +living in. And there were lights all about. Perhaps one of them was the +light at the parsonage. And a big bell was booming. That was his church +bell and he would be late for the meeting. + +Some one was speaking to him. He knew the voice. He had known it always +and would know it forever. It was the voice he wanted to hear. “Grace!” + he called. “Grace! I want you. Don't go! Don't go! Grace! oh, my dear! +don't go!” + +Then the voice had gone. No, it had not gone. It was still there and he +heard it speaking to him, begging him to listen, pleading with him to +go somewhere, go back, back to something or other. And there was an arm +about his waist and some one was leading him, helping him. He broke down +and cried childishly and some one cried with him. + + +Early the next morning, just as day was breaking, a buggy, the horse +which drew it galloping, rocked and bumped down the lighthouse lane. +Dr. Parker, his brows drawn together and his lips set with anxiety, was +driving. He had been roused from sleep in the hotel at Hyannis by a boy +with a telegram. “Come quick,” it read. “Mr. Ellery sick.” The sender +was Noah Ellis, the lightkeeper. The doctor had hired a fast horse, +ridden at top speed to Bayport, gotten a fresh horse there and hurried +on. He stopped at his own house but a moment, merely to rouse his wife +and ask her if there was any fresh news. But she had not even heard of +the minister's seizure. + +“My soul, Will!” she cried, “you don't think it's the smallpox, do you?” + +“Lord knows! I'm afraid so,” groaned her husband. “WHAT made me leave +him? I ought to have known better. If that boy dies, I'll never draw +another easy breath.” + +He rushed out, sprang into the buggy, and drove on. At the ropes, early +as it was, he found a small group waiting and gazing at the shanty. +The lightkeeper was there and two or three other men. They were talking +earnestly. + +“How is he, Noah?” demanded the doctor, jumping to the ground. + +“I don't know, doc,” replied Ellis. “I ain't heard sence last night when +I telegraphed you.” + +“Haven't heard? What do you mean by that? Haven't you been with him?” + +“No-o,” was the rather sheepish reply. “You see, I--I wanted to, but my +wife's awful scart I'll catch it and--” + +“The devil!” Dr. Parker swore impatiently. “Who is with him then? You +haven't left him alone, have you?” + +“No-o,” Noah hesitated once more. “No-o, he ain't alone. She's there.” + +“She? Who? Keziah Coffin?” + +“I don't cal'late Keziah's heard it yet. We was waitin' for you 'fore we +said much to anybody. But she's there--the--the one that found him. You +see, he was out of his head and wanderin' up the lane 'most to the main +road and she'd been callin' on Keziah and when she come away from the +parsonage she heard him hollerin' and goin' on and--” + +“Who did?” + +“Why”--the lightkeeper glanced at his companions--“why, doc, 'twas Grace +Van Horne. And she fetched him back to the shanty and then come and got +me to telegraph you.” + +“Grace Van Horne! Grace Van--Do you mean to say she is there with him +NOW?” + +“Yes. She wouldn't leave him. She seemed 'most as crazy's he was. My +wife and me, we--” + +But Parker did not wait to hear the rest. He ran at full speed to the +door of the shanty. Grace herself opened it. + +“How is he?” demanded the doctor. + +“I think he seems a little easier; at any rate, he's not delirious. He's +in there. Oh, I'm so thankful you've come.” + +“Is that the doctor?” called Ellery weakly from the next room. “Is it?” + +“Yes,” replied Parker, throwing off his coat and hat. “Coming, Mr. +Ellery.” + +“For God's sake, doctor, send her away. Don't let her stay. Make her go. +Make her GO! I've got the smallpox and if she stays she will die. Don't +you understand? she MUST go.” + +“Hush, John,” said Grace soothingly. “Hush, dear.” + +Dr. Parker stopped short and looked at her. She returned the look, but +without the slightest semblance of self-consciousness or embarrassment. +She did not realize that she had said anything unusual, which must +sound inexplicably strange to him. Her thoughts were centered in that +adjoining room and she wondered why he delayed. + +“Well?” she asked impatiently. “What is it? Why do you wait?” + +The doctor did not answer. However, he waited no longer, but hurried in +to his new patient. + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT + + +The news was flying from house to house along the main road. Breakfasts +were interrupted as some neighbor rushed in to tell the story which +another neighbor had brought to him or her. Mr. Ellery was very sick +and it was feared he had the smallpox, that was what Mrs. Parker, the +doctor's wife, told those who lived near her. By the time the Corners +heard of it the tale had grown until the minister was said to be dying. +And when it reached Gaius Winslow's home at the upper end of the town he +was reported dead. This was denied, upon investigation, but soon another +rumor grew and spread; Grace Van Horne was with him, had taken him back +to the shanty, and insisted upon staying there until the doctor came. +Facing that dreadful disease and--It was wonderful--and queer. + +At the Danielses' house the servant girl rushed into the dining room to +serve the toast and the story at one swoop. Captain Elkanah's dignity +deserted him for an instant and his egg spoon jingled to the floor. +Annabel's face turned a dull red. Her eyes flashed sparks. + +“Pa!” she cried, “I--I--if you don't do something now I'll never--” + +Her father shook his head warningly. “Debby,” he said to the maid, “you +needn't wait.” + +Debby departed reluctantly. After the kitchen door had closed, Captain +Elkanah said: “My dear, we mustn't be too hasty in this matter. +Remember, Mr. Ellery is very sick. As for--for the Van Horne girl, we +haven't heard the whole truth yet. She may not be there at all, or it +may be just an accident--” + +“Accident! Pa, you make me boil. Accident! Accidents like that don't +happen. If you let her stay there, or if--Oh, to think of it! And we +were calling him a hero and--and everything! Hero! he stayed there just +so she might--” + +“Hush! hush, child!” + +“I shan't hush. Pa, are you going to let him disgrace himself with HER?” + +“No, no. Probably there ain't any idea of his marrying her. If there +is--” + +“If there is you put him out of the church and out of this town. And +as for HER--O-oh! And we've been having him here at dinner and--and I +have--Oh, I shall die! I wish I WAS dead!” + +Then followed hysterics and agony, greedily listened to by Debby, whose +ear was at the crack of the door. Captain Elkanah soothed and pleaded +and tried to pacify. It ended by his promising to investigate and, if +necessary, take steps 'immejitly.' + +Lavinia Pepper sprung the mine on her brother. Kyan was horrified. He +had grown to be one of Ellery's most devoted worshipers. + +“Smallpox!” he groaned. “The minister got the smallpox. Oh! that's +turrible.” + +“Ain't it?” observed his sister, also horrified, but rather relishing +the horror. “And if it hadn't been for Gracie Van Horne--” + +“WHAT?” + +“What's the matter with you? I say, if Gracie Van Horne hadn't happened +to meet him, wanderin' around, crazy as a coot, and toted him back--” + +“Gracie--Van--Horne! Godfreys mighty! She--she met him? Where? Down to +Peters's grove, was it?” + +“Peters's grove! No. What on earth made you think 'twas there? She'd +been visitin' Keziah Coffin at the parsonage, and when she come out +on the main road she heard him aravin' down the lane. Must have passed +right by this house and we never heard him. I never see such a dead man +as you be when you're asleep. You don't SOUND dead, I'll say that for +you, but nothin' wakes you up.” + +“Why, Laviny! you never woke up yourself.” + +“That's right, lay it onto me. I expected you would; it's just like +you. But why in time did you think Grace met the minister way down to +Peters's grove? That's the most loony notion ever I heard, even from +you. What made you think of it?” + +“Nothin', nothin'. I guess I WAS loony, maybe. Dear! dear! dear! have +you heard how's he's gettin' on? Is he took bad?” + +“I ain't heard nothin' yet, nobody has. But see here, 'Bish Pepper, you +act funny to me. I want to know more about that Peters's grove notion. +WHY did you say it?” + +Kyan wriggled upon the rack and dodged and squirmed for the next twenty +minutes. He tried his best to keep the fateful secret, but he admitted +too much, or not enough, and his sister kept up the cross-examination. +At the end of the session she was still unsatisfied, but she was on +the scent and her brother knew it. He fled to the woodshed and there +punctuated his morning task of kindling chopping with groans and awful +forebodings. + +One of the very first to hear of the minister's illness was Keziah +Coffin. Mrs. Parker told her and Keziah started for the beach before the +tale of Grace's part in the night's happenings reached the village. She +did not wait for a conveyance, hardly waited to throw a shawl over her +shoulders, but began to cover the three miles on foot. She had walked +nearly two thirds of the distance when Captain Zeb Mayo overtook her and +gave her a seat in his chaise. + +They said little during the drive, the shock and anxiety forbidding +conversation. At the ropes was the same group, larger now, and Dr. +Parker's horse was hitched to one of the posts. + +“You can't go in, Mrs. Coffin,” said Thoph Black. “The doctor give us +his orders not to let nobody get by. I guess nobody wants to, but all +the same--” + +Keziah paid not the slightest attention to Mr. Black. She stooped +beneath his arm, under the rope and was on her way to the shanty before +they realized her intention. Captain Zeb roared a command for her to +return, but she kept on. No one followed, not even the captain. Mrs. +Mayo had strictly forbidden his passing the dead line. + +Keziah opened the door and entered the little building. The living room +was empty, but at the sound of her step some one came from the room +adjoining. That some one was Grace. + +“Aunt Keziah!” she cried. “What did you come here for? Why did you?” + +“Gracie!” exclaimed the housekeeper. “You?--YOU?” + +Dr. Parker appeared, holding up a hand for silence. + +“Hush!” he cried. “He's quiet now and I think he will sleep. Don't talk +here. Go outside, if you must talk--and I suppose you must.” + +Grace led the way. Fortunately, the door was on the side not visible +from the spot where Captain Zeb and the rest were standing. Keziah, +bewildered and amazed at the girl's presence, followed dumbly. + +“Now, auntie,” whispered Grace, turning to her, “you want to know how +he is, of course. Well, I think he is better. The doctor thinks so, too. +But why did you come here?” + +“Why did I come? I? Why, because my place was here. I belonged here. +For the love of mercy's sakes what are YOU doin' here? With HIM? And the +smallpox!” + +“Hush. I can't help it. I don't care. I don't care for anything any +more. I'm glad I came. I'm glad I was the one to find him and help him. +No matter what happens--to me--I'm glad. I never was so glad before. I +love him, Aunt Keziah. I can say it to you, for you know it--you must +know it. I LOVE him and he needed me and I came. He was calling my name +when I found him. He might have died there, alone in the wet and cold, +and I saved him. Think what that means to me.” + +The girl was in a sort of frenzy of excitement and hysterical +exaltation. All the night she had been calm and quiet, repressing her +feelings, and tending the man she loved. Now, with some one to whom she +could confide, she was calm no longer. Keziah answered her soothingly, +questioning her from time to time, until, at last, she learned the whole +story. + +The door opened softly and Dr. Parker came out. + +“He's asleep,” he said. “And he's better, much better. And I'll tell you +something else, if you won't make too much noise about it--he hasn't got +the smallpox.” + +The two women looked at him. + +“Fact,” he said, with an emphatic nod. “Not a symptom of it. I'd have +bet my best hat that he wasn't going to have it and I won't have to go +bareheaded yet awhile. He is pretty close to brain fever, though, but I +guess he'll dodge that this time, with care. On the whole, Keziah, I'm +glad you came. This young lady,” with a movement of the head toward +Grace, “has done her part. She really saved his life, if I'm not +mistaken. Now, I think she can go away and leave him to you and me. I'll +pretty nearly guarantee to have him up and out of this--this pesthole in +a fortnight.” + +Here was joyful tidings, the better for being so unexpected. Keziah +leaned against the boards and drew a long breath. Grace said nothing, +but, after a moment, she went into the house. + +“That's a good thing, too,” commented Parker, watching her as she went. +“I wanted to talk with you, Keziah Coffin, and right away. Now, then, +there's something up, something that I don't know about, and I rather +guess you do. Young women--even when they're her kind and that's as good +a kind as there is--don't risk smallpox for any young man they pick up +casually. They don't carry--I guess it was pretty nearly carrying--him +home and put him to bed and care for him and cry over him and call him +'dear.' And he doesn't beg them to run away and let him die rather than +to stay there and risk dying, too. No, not to any great extent. Now, +Keziah, you and I are fairly good friends and we ought to know each +other by this time. I see a light--a little one. Now, then, if you turn +up the lamp, so that I can see the whole blaze, maybe I can help those +two in yonder.” + +Keziah considered. “All right, doctor,” she said, when she reached a +decision, “all right; I'll tell you the whole thing, and you can see one +of the reasons why my hair is gettin' grayer. This thing has reached the +point now where there's no keepin' it quiet. Folk'll know--I s'pose they +know already--that she's been here with him. They'll suspect a lot more +and the truth is better than suspicion--that is, it can't be worse than +the suspicions that come natural to a good many minds in this town. I +am glad I can tell you, for I guess the time's come to step out in +broad daylight and h'ist our colors. Now, you listen. Here 'tis, from +beginnin' to end.” + +She went on to tell all she knew of her parson's love story. + +Dr. Parker listened. + +“Hum!” he said thoughtfully, “I see. What made her change her mind so +suddenly? You say, or you gather from what Mr. Ellery told you, that she +had all but agreed to marry him. She cares for him, that's sure. Then, +all at once, she throws him over and accepts Nat. Of course her uncle's +sudden seizure was a shock and he wanted Nat to have her, but she isn't +the kind of girl to be easily swayed. Why did she do it?” + +“Well, doctor, that's kind of a puzzle to me. All I can think is that +she come to realize what it might mean to him, the minister, if he +married a Come-Outer. I think she done it for his sake, to save him, +though what made her realize it all at once I don't know. There's the +part we ain't heard.” + +“I guess you're right. Something happened between the time she left +Ellery and when you and I reached the tavern. But never mind that, that +doesn't count now. Let's look at things as they are this minute. She's +here and folks know it. As they do know it they'll begin to talk, and +the more they talk the farther from the truth they'll get--most of 'em. +Nat, poor chap, is dead, so her promise to him is canceled. Ellery will +get well if he isn't troubled, and her being with him will help more +than anything else. I can understand now why he broke down.” + +“Yes, he ain't been himself since it happened.” + +“Of course, and the last few weeks of worry and night work have helped +to wreck his nerves. Well, as I see it, there's only one thing to do. If +she leaves him he'll go to pieces again, so she mustn't leave. And she +can't stay without an explanation. I say let's give the explanation; +let's come right out with the announcement that they're engaged.” + +“Whew! that'll stir things up.” + +“You bet! But let it stir. I like that parson of yours; he's a trump. +And I always liked her, although, generally speaking, I don't love +Come-Outers. And I like her more than ever now, when she risked what she +thought was smallpox to care for him. As I said, she saved his life, and +she ought to have him. She SHALL have him.” + +“But she's a Come-Outer and--there's the church.” + +“Well, I know it. But he never was so popular as he is now. And she +isn't by any means a steady-going Come-Outer. Why, Zeke Bassett and +the rest have been finding fault with her and calling her a backslider. +That'll help. Then you trust me to whoop up her heroism and the fact +that without her he would have died. We can do it, Keziah. Come on! I've +tackled a good many jobs, but matchmaking isn't one of 'em. Here goes to +tackle that.” + +Keziah was delighted; here was work after her own heart. But she still +hesitated. + +“Doctor,” she said, “you've forgot one thing, that's Gracie herself. +Would she marry him now, knowing it may mean the loss of his ministry +and all, any more than she would at first? I don't believe it.” + +“That's your part, Keziah. You've got to show her she MUST marry him or +he'll die; see? Call on me to back you up in any fairy yarn you spin. +You prove to her it's her duty to marry him. You'll have to stay, here +and help nurse, of course, and that's easy because his disease isn't +contagious. You convince her and I'll take care of the congregation. +He'll live to be minister here for the rest of his life, if he wants to, +and she'll be a minister's wife and sit in the front pew. I'll guarantee +the church if you'll guarantee the girl. Why, it's your duty! Come, now, +what do you say?” + +Keziah's hesitation was at an end. Her face lit up. + +“I say good!” she cried. “And I'll be thankful to you all the rest of +my life. But for the dear mercy sakes, don't say 'duty' to me again. Oh, +doctor, if you only knew what it means to me to be fightin' at last for +somethin' that ain't just duty, but what I really want! I do honestly +believe we can win. Glory, hallelujah! And now I want to give you a +piece of advice, your course for the first leg, as you might say: you +see Cap'n Zebedee Mayo.” + +“Humph! Cap'n Zeb is the first man I mean to see.” + +Captain Zeb listened with his mouth and eyes and ears open. Mrs. Mayo +was with him when the doctor called, and she, too, listened. + +“Well!” exclaimed the captain, when the plea for support was ended. +“Well, by the flukes of Jonah's whale! Talk about surprises! Old lady, +what do you say?” + +“I say go ahead, Zebedee. Go ahead! If Mr. Ellery wanted to marry +Jezebel's sister, and I knew he really wanted to, I'd--I do believe I'd +help him get her. And Grace Van Horne is a good girl. Go ahead.” + +“Of course,” put in Parker, profiting by a hint of Mrs. Coffin's, +“of course Daniels will fight tooth and nail against us. He'll be for +discharging Ellery at once. And he really runs the parish committee.” + +“He does, hey? Well, I cal'late he don't. Not if I'm on deck, he don't. +All right, doctor, I'm with you. He, he, he!” he chuckled. “Say, doc, do +you know I sort of love a good lively row. That's been the only trouble +with our society sence Mr. Ellery took command of it--there ain't been +any rows. He, he, he! Well, there'll be one now.” + +There was, and it was lively enough to suit even Captain Zeb. Dr. +Parker, on his calls that day, was assailed with a multitude of +questions concerning Grace's presence at the shanty. He answered them +cheerfully, dilating upon the girl's bravery, her good sense, and the +fact that she had saved Mr. Ellery's life. Then he confided, as a strict +secret, the fact that the two were engaged. Before his hearers had +recovered from the shock of this explosion, he was justifying the +engagement. Why shouldn't they marry if they wanted to? It was a free +country. The girl wasn't a Come-Outer any longer, and, besides--and this +carried weight in a good many households--what a black eye the marriage +would be for that no-account crowd at the chapel. + +Captain Zebedee, having shipped with the insurgents, worked for them +from sunrise to sunset and after. Zeb was something of a politician and +knew whom to “get at.” He sought his fellows on the parish committee and +labored with them. Mrs. Mayo and the doctor's wife championed the cause +at sewing circle. They were lively, those sewing meetings, and the fur +flew. Didama Rogers and Lavinia Pepper were everywhere and ready to +agree with whichever side seemed likely to win. Lavinia was so deeply +interested that she forgot to catechise Abishai further about his +untimely reference to Peters's grove. And Kyan, puzzled but thankful, +kept silence. + +It was by no means a one-sided struggle. Captain Elkanah, spurred on by +the furious Annabel, marshaled his forces and proclaimed that Ellery, +having disgraced the Regular Society, should no longer occupy its +pulpit. + +“If he does,” thundered Elkanah, “I shall never cross the threshold of +that church. And I've worshiped there for fifty years. Hum--ha! I should +like to know whose money has gone more liberal for that meeting house +than mine! But not another cent--no, sir! not one--if that licentious +young scamp continues to blaspheme there.” + +He hinted concerning a good-sized contribution toward a parish house, +something the society needed. If Ellery was discharged, the contribution +would probably be made, not otherwise. And this was a point worth +considering. + +Daniels also wrote to his influential friends of the National Regular +Society. But Captain Zebedee had forestalled him there and both letters +were laid on the table to await further developments. As for the +Come-Outers, they were wild with rage and Grace was formally read out of +their communion. + +“I wonder,” shrieked Ezekiel Bassett, in prayer meeting, “what the +sperrit of the good and great man who used to lead us from this 'ere +platform would say if he was here now? Hey? what would he say?” + +Josiah Badger upreared his lanky person. “I dreamed about Cap'n +Eben t'other n-nin-nun-night,” he stammered. “I see him just +as--p-pup-pup-plain as you hear me n-n-now. And he says to me, he says, +Josiah,' he says, 'I-I-I-I--'” + +“Ki yi!” broke in Thoph Baker, from the shadow of the rear seat. Josiah +turned to berate Thoph, who, being in disgrace because of his defense of +Ellery, was reckless, and the communication from the dead leader of the +Come-Outers was lost in the squabble which followed. + +Meantime Keziah, installed as head nurse at the shanty, was having her +troubles. The minister was getting better, slowly but surely getting +better. The danger of brain fever was at an end, but he was very weak +and must not be excited, so the doctor said. He knew nothing of the +struggle for and against him which was splitting Trumet in twain, and +care was taken that he should not know it. He was not allowed to talk, +and, for the most part, was quite contented to be silent, watching Grace +as she moved about the room. If he wondered why she was still with him, +he said nothing, and the thought of what his congregation might say did +not vex him in the least. She was there, he saw her every day, that was +enough. + +He had expressed a wish to talk with his housekeeper. “I've got +something to tell you, Aunt Keziah,” he said weakly. “Some news for you +and--and--” + +“Cat's foot!” snapped Keziah briskly, “don't start in tellin' me news +now. I've got my hands full as 'tis. News'll keep and you won't, if you +talk another minute.” + +“But this is important.” + +“So are you, though you may not think so. If you don't believe it ask +Grace.” + +“Well,” the minister sighed. “Well, perhaps I won't tell it now. I'd +rather wait until I feel stronger. You won t care, will you? It will be +hard to tell and I--” + +“No, no! Care? No. If it's bad news I don't want to hear it, and if it's +good I can wait, I cal'late. You turn over and take a nap.” + +She could manage him; it was with Grace that she had her struggle. John +was safe now; he would be himself again before very long, and the girl +had begun to think of his future and his reputation. She knew that +gossip must be busy in the village, and, much as she wished to remain by +his side, she decided that she should not do so. And then Keziah began +to fulfill her agreement with Dr. Parker. + +First, and bluntly, she told the girl that her leaving now was useless. +The secret was out; it had been made public. Everyone knew she was +in love with John and he with her. Their engagement was considered an +established certainty. Grace was greatly agitated and very indignant. + +“Who dared say so?” she demanded. “Who dared say we were engaged? It's +not true. It's a wicked lie and--Who is responsible, Aunt Keziah?” + +“Well, I suppose likely I am, much as anybody, deary.” + +“You? You, Aunt Keziah?” + +“Yup; me. You are in love with him; at any rate, you said so. And you're +here with him, ain't you? If you two ain't engaged you ought to be.” + +“Aunt Keziah, how can you speak so? Don't you realize--” + +“Look here. Don't you want to marry him?” + +“WANT to? Oh, please--How can you? I--” + +“S-s-sh! There! there! I am a bull-headed old thing, for sure. But I'm +like the dog that chased the rat across the shelf where they kept the +best china, my intentions are good. Don't cry, deary. Let's get to the +bottom of this thing, as the man said when he tumbled into the well. +When I first knew that you and John were in love with each other, I felt +dreadful. I knew your uncle and I knew Trumet. If you had married then, +or let people know that you thought of it, 'twould have been the end, +and ruin for John and you. But things are diff'rent now, a good deal +diff'rent. John is worshiped pretty nigh, since his pluck with that +smallpox man. He could go into church and dance a jig in the pulpit and +nobody--or precious few, at least--would find fault. And you've stood +by him. If it wa'n't for you he wouldn't be here to-day, and people know +that. Dr. Parker and Captain Zebedee and Gaius Winslow and dozens more +are fighting for him and for you. And the doctor says they are going to +win. Do you want to spoil it all?” + +“Aunt Keziah, that night before uncle died I was upstairs in my room and +I heard uncle and Captain Elkanah Daniels talking.” + +“Elkanah? Was he there at your house?” + +“Yes. Somehow or other--I don't know how--he had learned about--about +John and me. And he was furious. Aunt Keziah, I heard him say that +unless I broke off with John he would drive him from the ministry and +from Trumet and disgrace him forever. He said that if I really cared for +him I would not ruin his life. That brought me to myself. I realized how +wicked I had been and what I was doing. That was why I--I--” + +“There! there! Tut! tut! tut! hum! Now I see. But, Gracie, you ain't +goin' to ruin his life. No, nor Elkanah ain't goin' to do it, either. +He can't, no matter how hard he tries. I've lived to see the day when +there's a bigger man in the Reg'lar church than Elkanah Daniels, and I +thank the good Lord for it.” + +“I never should have come here. I know it. But he needed me. Aunt +Keziah, he was sick and dying almost, and I couldn't leave him. I came, +and now he will be ruined and disgraced.” + +“He won't, I tell you; he won't. Listen to me. I ain't talkin' for my +health. Listen!” + +She argued and pleaded and coaxed, and, at last, when she began to think +she had prevailed, Grace brought forward another objection. She had +given her word to her uncle. How could she break that promise made to a +dying man? She would feel like a traitor. + +“Traitor to who?” demanded the housekeeper, losing patience. “Not +to poor Nat, for he's gone. And don't you suppose that he and Eben +understand things better now, where they are? Do you suppose that Nat +wouldn't want you to be happy? I know he would, for I knew him.” + +It was still unsettled when the long talk was over, but Grace agreed not +to leave the minister at present. She would stay where she was until he +was himself again, at least. Keziah was satisfied with the preliminary +skirmish. She felt confident of winning the victory, and in the prospect +of happiness for others, she was almost happy herself. Yet each time the +mail was brought to the shanty she dreaded to look at it, and the sight +of a stranger made her shake with fear. Ansel Coffin had threatened to +come to Trumet. If he came, she had made up her mind what to do. + +The parish committee was to meet. Captain Elkanah had announced his +intention of moving that John Ellery be expelled from the Regular +church. There was to be no compromise, no asking for a resignation; he +must be discharged, thrown out in disgrace. The county papers were full +of the squabble, but they merely reported the news and did not take +sides. The fight was too even for that. + +Captain Zeb chuckled. “It's all right, Keziah,” he said. “We know what's +what and who's who. The Rev. Mr. Ellery can preach here for the next +hundred year, if he lives that long and wants to, and he can marry +whoever he darn pleases, besides. Elkanah's licked and he knows it. He +ain't got enough backers to man a lobster dory. Let him holler; noise +don't scare grown folks.” + +One afternoon a few days before the date set for the meeting Elkanah +and two or three of his henchmen were on the piazza of the Daniels home, +discussing the situation. They were blue and downcast. Annabel was in +the sitting room, shedding tears of humiliation and jealous rage on the +haircloth sofa. + +“Well,” observed her father, “there's one thing we can do. If the +vote in committee goes against us, I shall insist on the calling of a +congregational meeting. Hum--ha! Yes, I shall insist on that.” + +“Won't be no good, cap'n,” sniffed Beriah Salters dolefully. “The +biggest part of the congregation's for Ellery, and you know it. They're +as sot on him as if he was the angel Gabriel. If you'd only told what +you knew afore this smallpox business, we'd have been able to give him +and his Come-Outer woman what b'longs to 'em. But not now.” + +Captain Daniels shifted uneasily in his chair. + +“Hum--ha!” he barked, to cover confusion. “Hum--ha! It seemed to me +more--er--charitable to give the misguided young man another chance, and +I did it. But--What's that?” + +Some one was talking excitedly on the sidewalk beyond the lilac bushes +at the border of the Daniels property. Voices answered. Didama Rogers +darted out of her yard and past the house in the direction of the +sounds. Salters rose and walked down to the gate. + +“Hey!” he shouted. “Halloo! Ahoy there! You, Em'lous, what is it?” + +Emulous Sparrow, the fish peddler, was seated in his cart, which was +surrounded by men and women, neighbors of the Danielses. There was a +perfect storm of questionings and ejaculations. Salters opened the gate +and joined the group. A moment later he came running back, up the walk +toward the piazza. + +“Cap'n,” he shouted. “Cap'n Elkanah, here's news! What do you think? A +telegram's just come from Nat Hammond. He's safe and sound in New York, +and he'll be here day after to-morrow.” + +They could not believe it and rushed out to hear more. Emulous, glowing +with importance, affirmed that it was so. He had seen the telegram at +the store. It was for Grace Van Horne and they were just going to send a +boy over to the shanty with it. + +“No details nor nothin',” he declared. “Just said 'Am all right. +Arrived to-day. Will be in Trumet Thursday.' And 'twas signed 'Nathaniel +Hammond.' There!” + +“Well, by thunder!” exclaimed Salters. “If that don't beat all. I +wonder what's happened to him? Two year gone and give up for dead, and +now--What do you cal'late it means?” + +Captain Elkanah seized him by the arm and led him out of the group. +The old man's face was alight with savage joy and his voice shook with +exultation. + +“I'll tell you one thing it means,” he whispered. “It means the end of +Ellery, so far as his marrying her is concerned. She gave her word to +Hammond and she'll keep it. She's no liar, whatever else she is. He may +be minister of the Regular church, though I'LL never set under him, but +he'll never marry her, now.” + + +CHAPTER XIX + +IN WHICH A RECEPTION IS CALLED OFF + + +Far out on the Pacific coast there are two small islands, perhaps +a hundred miles distant from one another. The first of these is +uninhabited. On the other is a little colony of English-speaking people, +half-breed descendants of native women and the survivors of a crew from +a British vessel cast away there in the latter part of the eighteenth +century. + +On the first of these islands, the smaller one, the Sea Mist had been +wrecked. Driven out of her course by a typhoon, she staggered through +day after day and night after night of terrific wind and storm until, +at last, there was promise of fair weather. Captain Nat, nearly worn out +from anxiety, care, and the loss of sleep, had gone to his stateroom +and the first mate was in charge. It was three o'clock, the wind still +blowing and the darkness pitchy, when the forward lookout shrieked a +warning, “Breakers under the lee!” Almost the next instant the ship was +on a coral reef, full of water, and the seas breaking over her from stem +to stern. + +Morning came and showed a little patch of land, with palm trees and +tropical vegetation waving in the gusts and green in the sunshine. +Captain Nat ordered the boats to be lowered. Much as he hated the +thought, he saw that the Sea Mist had made her last voyage and must +be abandoned. He went to the cabin, collected papers and charts and +prepared to leave. The ship's money, over ten thousand dollars in gold +belonging to the owner and to be used in trade and speculation among the +East Indies, he took with him. Then the difficult and dangerous passage +through the opening in the reef was begun. + +Only the captain's boat reached the shore. The mate's was caught by a +huge breaker, dashed against the reef and sunk. Captain Nat, his second +mate and five of his men were all that was left of the Sea Mist's +company. And on that island they remained for nearly two weeks. +Provisions they had brought ashore with them. Water they found by +digging. Nat hid the gold at night, burying it on the beach below +high-water mark. + +Then, having made sure of his location by consulting the chart, he +determined to attempt a voyage to the second island, where he knew +the English colony to be. Provisions were getting short, and to remain +longer where they were was to risk starvation and all its horrors. So, +in the longboat, which was provided with a sail, they started. Charts +and papers and the gold the skipper took with them. None of the crew +knew of the existence of the money; it was a secret which the captain +kept to himself. + +A hundred miles they sailed in the longboat and, at last, the second +island was sighted. They landed and found, to their consternation and +surprise, that it, too, was uninhabited. The former residents had grown +tired of their isolation and, a trading vessel having touched there, had +seized the opportunity to depart for Tahiti. Their houses were empty, +their cattle, sheep, goats, and fowl roamed wild in the woods, and the +fruit was rotting on the trees. In its way the little island was +an Eyeless Eden, flowing with milk and honey; but to Captain Nat, a +conscientious skipper with responsibilities to his owners, it was a +prison from which he determined to escape. Then, as if to make escape +impossible, a sudden gale came up and the longboat was smashed by the +surf. + +“I guess that settles it,” ruefully observed the second mate, “another +Cape Codder, from Hyannis. Cal'late we'll stay here for a spell now, +hey, Cap'n.” + +“For a spell, yes,” replied Nat. “We'll stay here until we get another +craft to set sail in, and no longer.” + +“Another craft? ANOTHER one? Where in time you goin' to get her?” + +“Build her,” said Captain Nat cheerfully. Then, pointing to the row of +empty houses and the little deserted church, he added, “There's timber +and nails--yes, and cloth, such as 'tis. If I can't build a boat out of +them I'll agree to eat the whole settlement.” + +He did not have to eat it, for the boat was built. It took them six +months to build her, and she was a curious-looking vessel when done, +but, as the skipper said, “She may not be a clipper, but she'll sail +anywhere, if you give her time enough.” He had been the guiding +spirit of the whole enterprise, planning it, laying the keel, burning +buildings, to obtain nails and iron, hewing trees for the largest beams, +showing them how to spin ropes from cocoa-nut fiber, improvising sails +from the longboat's canvas pieced out with blankets and odd bits of +cloth from the abandoned houses. Even a strip of carpet from the church +floor went into the making of those sails. + +At last she was done, but Nat was not satisfied. + +“I never commanded a ship where I couldn't h'ist Yankee colors,” he +said, “and, by the everlastin'! I won't now. We've got to have a flag.” + +So, from an old pair of blue overalls, a white cotton shirt, and the +red hangings of the church pulpit, he made a flag and hoisted it to the +truck of his queer command. They provisioned her, gave her a liberal +supply of fresh water, and, one morning, she passed through the opening +of the lagoon out to the deep blue of the Pacific. And, hidden in her +captain's stateroom under the head of his bunk, was the ten thousand +dollars in gold. For Nat had sworn to himself, by “the everlasting” + and other oaths, to deliver that money to his New York owners safe and, +necessary expenses deducted of course, untouched. + +For seven weeks the crazy nondescript slopped across the ocean. Fair +winds helped her and, at last, she entered the harbor of Nukahiva, over +twelve hundred miles away. And there--“Hammond's luck,” the sailors +called it--was a United States man-of-war lying at anchor, the first +American vessel to touch at that little French settlement for five +years. The boat they built was abandoned and the survivors of the Sea +Mist were taken on board the man-of-war and carried to Tahiti. + +From Tahiti Captain Nat took passage on a French bark for Honolulu. +Here, after a month's wait, he found opportunity to leave for New York +on an American ship, the Stars and Stripes. And finally, after being +away from home for two years, he walked into the office of his New York +owners, deposited their gold on a table, and cheerfully observed, “Well, +here I am.” + +That was the yarn which Trumet was to hear later on. It filled columns +of the city papers at the time, and those interested may read it, in all +its details, in a book written by an eminent author. The tale of a Cape +Cod sea captain, plucky and resourceful and adequate, as Yankee sea +captains were expected to be, and were, in those days. + +But Trumet did not hear the yarn immediately. All that it heard and all +that it knew was contained in Captain Nat's brief telegram. “Arrived +to-day. Will be home Thursday.” That was all, but it was enough, for +in that dispatch was explosive sufficient to blow to atoms the doctor's +plans and Keziah's, the great scheme which was to bring happiness to +John Ellery and Grace Van Horne. + +Dr. Parker heard it, while on his way to Mrs. Prince's, and, neglecting +that old lady for the once, he turned his horse and drove as fast as +possible to the shanty on the beach. Fast as he drove, Captain Zebedee +Mayo got there ahead of him. Captain Zeb was hitching his white and +ancient steed to the post as the doctor hove in sight. + +“By mighty!” the captain exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, “I'm glad +enough you've come, doctor. I hated to go in there alone. You've heard, +of course.” + +“Yes, I've heard.” + +“Say, ain't it wonderful! I'm tickled all up one side and sorry all down +t'other. Nat's a true-blue feller, and I'm glad enough that he ain't +shark bait; but what about the minister and her? She's promised to Nat, +you know, and--” + +“I know. Don't I know! I've been going over the affair and trying to see +a way out ever since I heard of the telegram. Tut! tut! I'm like you, +mighty glad Hammond is safe, but it would have spared complications if +he had stayed wherever he's been for a few months longer. We would have +married those two in there by that time.” + +“Sartin we would. But he didn't stay. Are you goin' to tell Mr. Ellery?” + +“Certainly not. And I hope he hasn't been told. He's getting well fast +now, but he mustn't be worried, or back he'll go again. We must see Mrs. +Coffin. Keziah is our main hold. That woman has got more sense than all +the rest of us put together.” + +But it was Grace, not Keziah, who opened the shanty door in answer to +their knock. She was pale and greeted them calmly, but it was evident +that her calmness was the result of sheer will power. + +“Won't you come in, doctor?” she asked. “Good afternoon, Captain Mayo.” + +Dr. Parker entered the building, but Captain Zeb remained outside, +stammering that he cal'lated he'd better stay where he could keep an eye +on his horse. This was such a transparent excuse that it would have been +funny at any other time. No one smiled now, however. + +“Is--is Mrs. Coffin--er--Keziah aboard?” the captain asked. + +“No, she isn't. She went to the parsonage a few hours ago. Mr. Ellis +brought the mail and there was a letter in it for her. She said it was +important and that she must go home to see about some things. She'll be +back pretty soon, I suppose.” + +The doctor whispered her name then and she went inside, closing the door +after her. Captain Zebedee sat down on the step to ponder over the new +and apparently insurmountable difficulty which had arisen. As he said +afterwards, “The more I tried to get an observation, the thicker it got. +Blamed if I could see anything but fog, but I could hear--I could hear +Elkanah and his gang gigglin', ahead, astern and off both bows.” + +Parker found his patient sleeping soundly and had not disturbed him. +Returning to the living room he spoke to Grace. + +“Humph!” he grunted, watching her from under his brows, “everything +seems to be all right in there. He hasn't been excited or anything like +that?” + +“No.” + +“That's good. He mustn't be. You understand that? He mustn't be told +anything that will upset him. He's getting well fast and I want it to +continue.” + +“Yes, I understand.” + +“Hum! Er--have you heard--Has anyone been here?” + +“Yes. I have heard. The telegram came and I answered it.” + +“You did? Well, it's a miracle and we're all thankful, of course. Did +you--er--er--” + +“Doctor, I must go home. I mustn't stay here any longer.” + +“Why not?” + +“You know why not. I must be at home when he comes. You must get some +one to take my place. Aunt Keziah will stay, of course, and perhaps Mrs. +Higgins would come, or Hannah Poundberry. She--” + +“Not if I know it. I'd as soon have a hay-cutter running in here as +Hannah's tongue. I could stop a hay-cutter when it got too noisy. Well, +if you must go, you must, I suppose. But stay through tomorrow, at +any rate. Nat won't get here until Thursday, and I may be able to find +another nurse by that time. And what I shall say to him,” motioning +toward the other room, “I don't know.” + +“Must you say anything? Just say that I have been called away for a few +days on--on some business. Don't tell him. Don't tell him the truth, +doctor, now. He is too weak and I am afraid--” + +She stopped and turned away. The doctor watched her pityingly. + +“Cheer up,” he said. “At any rate, this is only for a little while. When +the captain knows, if he's the man I take him for, he'll--” + +She whirled like a flash. “You're not going to tell him?” she cried. +“No, no! You mustn't. You must promise me you won't. Promise.” + +“Somebody'll tell him. Telling things is Trumet's specialty.” + +“Then you must stop it. No one must tell him--no one except me. I shall +tell him, of course. He must hear it from me and not from anyone else. +He would think I was disloyal and ungrateful--and I am! I have been! But +I was--I COULDN'T help it. You know, doctor, you know--” + +“Yes, yes, I know. Well, I'll promise, but it will all come out right, +you see. You mustn't think I--we--have been interfering in your affairs, +Grace. But we've all come to think a whole lot of that parson of ours +and what he wanted we wanted him to have, that's all.” + +“I know. Thank you very much for all your kindness, and for your +promise.” + +He would have liked to say much more, but he could not, under the +circumstances. He stammered a good-by and, with a question concerning +Mrs. Coffin's whereabouts, went out to join Captain Zeb. + +“Well?” queried the latter anxiously. “How is it? What's up? What's the +next tack?” + +“We'll go to the parsonage,” was the gloomy answer. “If anybody can see +a glimmer in this cussed muddle Keziah Coffin can.” + +Keziah was on her knees in her room, beside a trunk, the same trunk she +had been packing the day of the minister's arrival in Trumet. She was +working frantically, sorting garments from a pile, rejecting some and +keeping others. She heard voices on the walk below and went down to +admit the callers. + +“What's the matter, Keziah?” asked Dr. Parker sharply, after a look at +her face. “You look as if you'd been through the war. Humph! I suppose +you've heard the news?” + +Keziah brushed back the hair from her forehead. “Yes,” she answered +slowly. “I've heard it.” + +“Well, it's great news, and if it wasn't for--if things weren't as they +are, I'd be crowing hallelujahs this minute. Trumet has got a good man +safe and sound again, and the Lord knows it needs all of that kind it +can get.” + +“Yes.” + +“Yes. But there's the other matter. I've been to see Grace. She didn't +say so, but it was easy enough to see; the man she promised to marry and +thought was dead, is alive. She's a girl of her word--she promised him +and she promised her dying uncle--and she'll marry him. And then what +will become of John Ellery? He'll go downhill so fast that a ship's +anchor wouldn't hold him. If he doesn't die I'll have to send him away +somewhere, and the Regular church will lose the minister we've fought so +hard for.” + +“Yes,” concurred Zebedee, “and them blasted Danielses'll run the shebang +and the rest of us'll have to sing small, I tell you.” + +“So we've come to you, Keziah,” went on the doctor. “Do you see any +salvation?” + +“Yes, I do.” + +“You do? Where?” + +“In Nat Hammond. If he knows Grace doesn't want to marry him, do you +suppose he'll hold her to her promise?” + +“I don't know. I'm not so sure. Men don't give up girls like that so +easy. I wouldn't--by George, I wouldn't! And she won't tell him the +whole truth, I'm afraid. She'll pretend to be glad--hang it! she IS +glad--to have him home again and--” + +“Of course she's glad. Ain't we all glad and happy and thankful? We +ought to be. But”--she hesitated--“doctor, you leave this to me. So +far as John and Grace are concerned you needn't worry. I'll take it on +myself to see that they have each other, as the Almighty meant 'em to. +Leave it to me. Just leave it to me. I KNOW I can do it.” + +She would not say more, nor tell on what grounds she based her optimism. +She would go back to the shanty that evening, she said, and stay until +the following afternoon. Grace would undoubtedly go to the old tavern to +prepare for the homecoming. Let Mrs. Higgins take her place as nurse. + +“I shall have to leave, myself,” she added, “for a little while; so +perhaps you'd better try to get somebody else to help the Higgins woman. +Don't ask me any questions, please don't, and be sure not to say a word +to anybody--most of all to Grace. Just do as I tell you and leave it to +me. And don't come and see me again until after--after he comes home. +Good-by, doctor. Good-by, Cap'n Zeb.” + +She shook hands with each of them, a rather unusual proceeding as they +thought of it afterwards. Then they went away and left her. + +“Humph!” mused Parker, as they came out at the gate. “Humph! She seems +sure, doesn't she. And yet she doesn't act like herself. Did you notice +that?” + +“Yup. I noticed it. But I expect Nat's droppin' out of the clouds shook +her up, same as it done the rest of us. Well, never mind. She's a bully +good, capable woman and what she says she'll do she gen'rally does. I'm +bettin' on her. By time! I feel better.” + +Captain Elkanah Daniels and his friends were feeling better also, and +they were busy. Trumet had a new hero now. On Wednesday the Boston +papers printed excerpts from Captain Hammond's story, and these brief +preliminary accounts aroused the admiration of every citizen. It was +proposed to give him a reception. Elkanah was the moving spirit in the +preparations. Captain Nat, so they learned by telegraphing, would arrive +on the noon train Thursday. His was not to be a prosaic progress by +stage all the way from Sandwich. A special carriage, drawn by the +Daniels span and escorted by other vehicles, was to meet the coach at +Bayport and bring him to Trumet in triumphant procession. All this was +to be a surprise, of course. + +Wednesday afternoon the Daniels following was cheered by the tidings +that Grace Van Horne had left the beach and was at her old home, the +Hammond tavern. And Mrs. Poundberry reported her busy as a bee “gettin' +things ready.” This was encouraging and indicated that the minister +had been thrown over, as he deserved to be, and that Nat would find his +fiancee waiting and ready to fulfill her contract. “Reg'lar whirligig, +that girl,” sniffed Didama Rogers. “If she can't have one man she'll +take the next, and then switch back soon's the wind changes. However, +most likely she never was engaged to Mr. Ellery, anyhow. He's been out +of his head and might have said some fool things that let Dr. Parker and +the rest b'lieve he was in love with her. As for pickin' of him up and +totin' him back to the shanty that night, that wa'n't nothin' but common +humanity. She couldn't let him die in the middle of the lighthouse lane, +could she?” + +Thursday was a perfect day, and the reception committee was on hand and +waiting in front of the Bayport post office. The special carriage, the +span brushed and curried until their coats glistened in the sunshine, +was drawn up beside the platform. The horses had little flags fastened +to their bridles, and there were other and larger flags on each side +of the dashboard. Captain Daniels, imposing in his Sunday raiment, +high-collared coat, stock, silk hat and gold-headed cane, sat stiffly +erect on the seat in the rear. The other carriages were alongside, among +them Captain Zebedee Mayo's ancient chaise, the white horse sound asleep +between the shafts. Captain Zeb had not been invited to join the escort, +but had joined it without an invitation. + +“I guess likely I'd better be on hand,” the captain confided to Dr. +Parker. “Maybe I can stop Elkanah from talkin' too much about--well, +about what we don't want him to talk about, and besides, I'm just as +anxious to give Nat a welcome home as the next feller. He's a brick and +we're all proud of him. By mighty! I'd like to have seen that craft he +built out of cocoanuts and churches--I would so.” + +Kyan Pepper was there also, not yet fully recovered from the surprise +which Lavinia's gracious permission had given him. Abishai had been +leaning disconsolately over his front gate early that morning when Noah +Ellis, the lightkeeper, jogged down the lane. + +“'Mornin', 'Bish,” hailed Noah, pulling up his horse. “What's the +matter? You look bluer'n a spiled mack'rel. What's the row? Breakfast +disagree with you?” + +“Naw,” replied Kyan shortly. “Where you bound, all rigged up in your +shore duds?” + +“Bound to Bayport, to see Nat Hammond land,” was the cheerful answer. +“I ain't had a day off I don't know when, and I thought I'd take one. Be +great doin's over there, they tell me. Elkanah's goin' to make a speech +and there's eighteen teams of folks goin'.” + +“I know it. I wisht I was goin', too, but I never have no fun. Have +to stay to home and work and slave over them consarned tax papers. +Sometimes I wish there wa'n't no taxes.” + +“Humph! I've wished that, myself, more'n once. Why don't you go, if you +want to? Climb right aboard here with me. Plenty of room.” + +“Hey? You mean that? By godfreys mighty! I'd like to.” + +“Sartin, I mean it. Come ahead.” + +Mr. Pepper sadly shook his head. “I guess likely I'd better not,” he +sighed. “Laviny might not like to have me leave her.” + +“Oh, fiddlesticks! she won't mind. I'll take care of you. It's perfectly +safe. There ain't goin' to be no women around. Haw! haw! haw!” + +He was still laughing at his own joke when through the slats of the +closed blinds shading the Pepper house parlor a shrill voice was heard +speaking. + +“Go ahead, 'Bishy dear,” called Lavinia. “Go ahead and go. A change of +air'll do you good.” + +Kyan whirled and clutched at the gate. + +“HEY?” he shouted in amazement. + +“Are you deef? Or is Mr. Ellis laughin' so hard that you can't hear? +What is it that's so funny, Mr. Ellis?” + +The light-keeper shut off his laughter by a sudden and rather frightened +gulp. + +“Oh, nothin', nothin', Miss Pepper. Nice day, ain't it?” + +“I guess so. I ain't had time to look at it yet. I have to work. I can't +let my wife do it for me, like some folks, and take 'days off.' What was +it you was laughin' at, Mr. Ellis?” + +“Nothin', nothin' at all.” + +“Hum! They used to tell me there was only one kind of person who laughed +at nothin'. Well, 'Bish Pepper, what are you standin' there for? If +you're goin', come right into the house and change your clothes this +minute.” + +Kyan obeyed. Shortly he reappeared, clothed like a lily of the field, +one that had long since gone to seed. He clambered up beside Noah and +they drove off. + +“Jerushy!” exclaimed the lightkeeper. “This is kind of unexpected, ain't +it? What's got into her to make her so accommodatin'?” + +“Godfreys mighty!” was the dazed reply, “I don't know. This as fast as +you can drive? Hurry up, afore she changes her mind.” + +So it happened that Mr. Pepper was in Bayport with the rest, awaiting +the stage which was bringing Trumet's latest celebrity from Sandwich. + +“Here she comes!” shouted Ezra Simmons, the postmaster. “Right on time, +too.” + +Sure enough! A cloud of dust in the distance, rising on the spring +wind, and the rattle of rapidly turning wheels. The reception committee +prepared for action. Captain Elkanah descended from the carriage and +moved in stately dignity to the front of the post-office platform. + +“Hum--ha!” he barked, turning to his followers. “Be ready now. Give him +a good cheer, when I say the word. Let it be hearty--hearty, yes.” + +The stage, its four horses at a trot, swung up to the platform. + +“Whoa!” roared the driver. + +“Now!” ordered Elkanah. “One--two--Hurrah!” + +“Hurrah!” shouted the committee, its uninvited guests and the +accompanying crowd of Bayport men and boys which had gathered to assist +in the welcome. “Hurrah!” + +“Hooray!” yelled Kyan, a little behind, as usual. + +A passenger or two peered from the coach window. The stage driver +ironically touched his cap. + +“Thank ye,” he said. “Thank ye very much. I've been hopin' for this +for a long time, though I'd about given up expectin' it. I'm very much +obliged. Won't somebody please ask me to make a speech?” + +Captain Elkanah frowned his disapproval. + +“We are cheering Cap'n Nathaniel Hammond of Trumet,” he explained +haughtily. “We are here to meet him and escort him home.” + +The driver sighed. “You don't say,” he said. “And I thought my merits +had been recognized at last. And 'twas all for Cap'n Hammond? Dear! +dear!” + +He winked at Simmons, who wanted to laugh, but did not dare. + +“Come! come!” said Captain Elkanah. “Where is he? Where's Cap'n +Hammond?” + +“Well, now, I'll tell ye; I don't know where he is.” + +“You DON'T? Isn't he with you?” + +“No, he ain't. And he didn't come on the train, nuther. He WAS on it. +The conductor told me he see him and set along with him between stations +as fur as Cohasset Narrows. But after that he never see hide nor hair of +him. Oh, that's so! Here's the mail bag, Ezry.” + +Captain Elkanah looked at the reception committee and it looked at him. +Here was a most disconcerting setback for all the plans. The committee, +after asking more, and fruitless questions, went into executive session. + +Captain Zeb stepped beside the stage and put one foot on the wheel. + +“Say, Thad,” he whispered, “is that all you know? Where did he go to?” + +“Can't tell you, cap'n. The conductor says he see him afore they got to +Cohasset Narrows and not after. Naturally, we s'pose he got off there. +Pretty good joke on old Daniels, I call it. Serve him right, figgerin' +to take a passenger away from me. He, he!” + +“But you do know more, now don't you? Tell a feller--come! I don't like +Elkanah any better'n you do.” + +“Well,” the driver's voice dropped still lower. “Well,” he whispered, +“I did hear this much, though don't you tell none of them: A chap I know +was on the train and he said he see Cap'n Nat get off the cars at the +Cohasset Narrows depot and there was a woman with him.” + +“A woman? A WOMAN? What woman?” + +“Blessed if I know! And he didn't nuther. So long! Git dap!” + +The reception committee and its escort drove slowly back to Trumet. The +Daniels following was disgusted and disappointed. Captain Elkanah had +figured upon keeping Hammond under his own wing until he was safely +deposited at the old tavern. Grace was there and Elkanah meant that +these two should meet before any inkling of Ellery's story reached Nat's +ears. Incidentally, he could drop a few damaging hints concerning the +minister's character. To hurt Ellery all he could and prejudice Hammond +against him--that was the plan, and now it was frustrated. The captain +had not put in an appearance and no one knew where he was or when he +would come home. Obviously, there was nothing to do except give up the +reception and await further news from the missing man. + +Some of those present wished to remain in Bayport until night. Another +train was due in Sandwich and, possibly, Nat might come on that. They +could telegraph and find out whether or not he did come, and if he did, +could send a carriage for him. But this suggestion was overruled. The +reception was off. + +The homeward journey had some unpleasant incidents. Several Come-Outers +had driven over. Nat belonged to them, so they felt--he was the son of +their dead founder and leader--and they determined the Regulars should +not have him all to themselves. They had come to bid him welcome on +behalf of the worshipers at the chapel. Now they took advantage of the +general disappointment to make sarcastic and would-be-humorous remarks +loud enough for the majestic occupant of the decorated carriage to hear. + +“Seems to me,” said Thoph Black, “that them flags ought to be ha'f mast. +That craft's in distress.” + +“S-sh-h!” counciled his companion, another Come-Outer. “Don't be +irreverent. Look who's cruisin' under 'em. That's the King of Trumet. +Let's you and me go ahead and fire salutes, Thoph.” + +Captain Elkanah wrathfully ordered the flags to be removed from the +horses' heads and from the dashboard. + +As Noah Ellis and his passenger turned into the lighthouse lane another +vehicle turned out of it. + +“Who was that?” queried Kyan. “Looked like one of the livery stable +horses to me.” + +“'Twa'n't. 'Twas Thankful Payne's and that was her carriage, too. It's +gettin' so dark I couldn't see who was drivin' it, but 'twas a man, +anyhow.” + +Kyan seemed to be pondering. “I wonder,” he said slowly, “I wonder if +that cousin of hers from Sandwich is here visitin'. That Caleb Pratt, +seems to me his name is.” + +“Don't know. Why?” + +“Nothin', nothin'. I just wondered, that was all. That might explain why +she let me--” + +“Hey?” + +“Nothin'. Good night, Noah. I'm much obliged to you for takin' me over, +even if there wa'n't no reception.” + +Trumet spent that evening wondering what had become of Nat Hammond. +Captain Zeb Mayo wondered most of all. Yet his wonderment was +accompanied by vague suspicions of the truth. And, at eleven o'clock, +when the village was in bed, a horse and buggy moved down the Turn-off +and stopped before the Hammond gate. A man alighted from the buggy and +walked briskly up to the side door. There he knocked and then whistled +shrilly. + +A window overhead was opened. + +“Who is it?” asked a feminine voice. + +“Don't be frightened, Gracie,” replied the man at the door. “It's +me--Nat. I've come home again.” + + +CHAPTER XX + +IN WHICH THE MINISTER RECEIVES A LETTER + + +John Ellery was uneasy. Physically he was very much better, so much +better that he was permitted to sit up a while each day. But mentally he +was disturbed and excited, exactly the condition which the doctor said +he must not be in. Keziah and Grace had gone away and left him, and he +could not understand why. + +Mrs. Higgins, Ike's mother, was at the shanty and she did her best to +soothe and quiet him. She was a kind soul and capable, in her way, but +she could not answer his questions satisfactorily. + +“Where are they?” he demanded. “Why did they go? Has anything happened? +When are they coming back?” + +“I can't tell you just when, Mr. Ellery,” replied Mrs. Higgins. “Grace +had to go home for a--a day or so and Keziah had things to attend to at +the parsonage. Don't you fret yourself about them.” + +“I'm not fretting, but it does seem strange. I could understand why one +should go, perhaps, but not both. Didn't Gra--Miss Van Horne tell you +why she went?” + +“Well, now, Mr. Ellery, don't let's worry about Gracie. She's a good +girl with lots of common sense and--” + +“I know that. But that doesn't answer me. Why did she go?” + +“Keziah hadn't been to the parsonage sence that day when you was fust +took sick, and I expect likely she felt that she'd ought to--” + +“Please, Mrs. Higgins, tell me the truth. I'm not asking about Mrs. +Coffin. Didn't Miss Van Horne tell you her reason for leaving?” + +“No, she didn't.” + +“But you know the reason? You're keeping something from me. Did she say +when she would come back?” + +“No, not exactly, but, of course--” + +“I know you're keeping something from me. What has happened?” + +“Happened? Land sakes! does anything ever happen in Trumet?” + +“I think a good many things have happened lately. And the longer you +keep the truth from me the more I shall suspect.” + +“Mr. Ellery, you set still in that chair, or, when the doctor comes, +he'll put you to bed. I've got some cookin' to do and I can't set here +gossipin' no longer. You behave yourself and stop frettin'. I'm skipper +here now--er--for a while, anyhow--and you've got to take orders from +me. There! now I cal'late you're scared, ain't you?” + +He did not seem greatly frightened, nor in awe of his new skipper. +Instead, he was evidently preparing to ask more questions. Mrs. Higgins +hurriedly fled to the living room and closed the door behind her. + +The minister heard her rattling pans and dishes at a great rate. The +noise made him nervous and he wished she might be more quiet. He moved +to the chair nearest the window and looked out over the dunes and the +wide stretch of tumbling blue sea. The surf was rolling up the shore, +the mackerel gulls were swooping and dipping along the strand, the beach +grass was waving in the wind. A solitary fish boat was beating out past +the spar buoy. She was almost over the spot when the San Jose had first +anchored. + +The view was a familiar one. He had seen it in all weathers, during a +storm, at morning when the sun was rising, at evening when the moon +came up to tip the watery ridges with frosted silver. He had liked +it, tolerated it, hated it, and then, after she came, loved it. He had +thought it the most beautiful scene in all the world and one never to be +forgotten. The dingy old building, with its bare wooden walls, had been +first a horror, then a prison, and at last a palace of contentment. With +the two women, one a second mother to him, and the other dearest of +all on earth, he could have lived there forever. But now the old prison +feeling was coming back. He was tired of the view and of the mean little +room. He felt lonely and deserted and despairing. + +His nerves were still weak and it was easy, in his childish condition, +to become despondent. He went over the whole situation and felt more and +more sure that his hopes had been false ones and that he had builded a +fool's paradise. After all, he remembered, she had given him no promise; +she had found him ill and delirious and had brought him there. She had +been kind and thoughtful and gracious, but that she would be to anyone, +it was her nature. And he had been content, weak as he was, to have her +near him, where he would see her and hear her speak. Her mere presence +was so wonderful that he had been satisfied with that and had not asked +for more. And now she had gone. Mrs. Higgins had said “for a day or +two,” but that was indefinite, and she had not said she would return +when those two days had passed. He was better now, almost well. Would +she come back to him? After all, conditions in the village had not +changed. He was still pastor of the Regular church and she was a +Come-Outer. The man she had promised to marry was dead--yes. But the +other conditions were the same. And Mrs. Higgins had refused to tell +him the whole truth; he was certain of that. She had run away when he +questioned her. + +He rose from the chair and started toward the living room. He would not +be put off again. He would be answered. His hand was on the latch of the +door when that door was opened. Dr. Parker came in. + +The doctor was smiling broadly. His ruddy face was actually beaming. He +held out his hand, seized the minister's, and shook it. + +“Good morning, Mr. Ellery,” he said. “It's a glorious day. Yes, sir, a +bully day. Hey? isn't it?” + +Ellery's answer was a question. + +“Doctor,” he said, “why have Mrs. Coffin and--and Miss Van Horne gone? +Has anything happened? I know something has, and you must tell me what. +Don't try to put me off or give me evasive answers. I want to know why +they have gone.” + +Parker looked at him keenly. “Humph!” he grunted. “I'll have to get +into Mrs. Higgins's wig. I told her not to let you worry, and you have +worried. You're all of a shake.” + +“Never mind that. I asked you a question.” + +“I know you did. Now, Mr. Ellery, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you +were a sensible man who would take care of his health, now that he'd got +the most of it back again. I've got news for you--good news--but I'm not +sure that I shall tell it to you.” + +“Good news! Dr. Parker, if you've got news for me that is good, for +Heaven's sake tell it. I've been imagining everything bad that could +possibly happen. Tell me, quick. My health can stand that.” + +“Ye-es, yes, I guess it can. They say joy doesn't kill, and that's one +of the few medical proverbs made by unmedical men that are true. You +come with me and sit down in that chair. Yes, you will. Sit down.” + +He led his patient back to the chair by the window and forced him into +it. + +“There!” he said. “Now, Mr. Ellery, if you think you are a man, a +sensible man, who won't go to pieces like a ten-year-old youngster, +I'll--I'll let you sit here for a while.” + +“Doctor?” + +“You sit still. No, I'm not going to tell you anything. You sit where +you are and maybe the news'll come to you. If you move it won't. Going +to obey orders? Good! I'll see you by and by, Mr. Ellery.” + +He walked out of the room. It seemed to Ellery that he sat in that chair +for ten thousand years before the door again opened. And then-- + +--“Grace!” he cried. “O Grace! you--you've come back.” + +She was blushing red, her face was radiant with quiet happiness, but her +eyes were moist. She crossed the room, bent over and kissed him on the +forehead. + +“Yes, John,” she said; “I've come back. Yes, dear, I've come back to--to +you.” + + +Outside the shanty, on the side farthest from the light and its group +of buildings, the doctor and Captain Nat Hammond were talking with Mrs. +Higgins. The latter was wildly excited and bubbling with joy. + +“It's splendid!” she exclaimed. “It's almost too fine to believe. Now +we'll keep our minister, won't we?” + +“I don't see why not,” observed the doctor, with quiet satisfaction. +“Zeb and I had the Daniels crowd licked to a shoestring and now they'll +stay licked. The parish committee is three to one for Mr. Ellery and the +congregation more than that. Keep him? You bet we'll keep him! And +I'll dance at his wedding--that is, unless he's got religious scruples +against it.” + +Mrs. Higgins turned to Captain Nat. + +“It's kind of hard for you, Nat,” she said. “But it's awful noble and +self-sacrificin' and everybody'll say so. Of course there wouldn't be +much satisfaction in havin' a wife you knew cared more for another man. +But still it's awful noble of you to give her up.” + +The captain looked at the doctor and laughed quietly. + +“Don't let my nobility weigh on your mind, Mrs. Higgins,” he said. “I'd +made up my mind to do this very thing afore ever I got back to Trumet. +That is, if Gracie was willin'. And when I found she was not only +willin' but joyful, I--well, I decided to offer up the sacrifice right +off.” + +“You did? You DID? Why, how you talk! I never heard of such a thing in +my born days.” + +“Nor I neither, not exactly. But there!” with a wink at Parker, “you see +I've been off amongst all them Kanaka women and how do you know but I've +fell in love?” + +“Nat HAMMOND!” + +“Oh, well, I--What is it, Grace?” + +She was standing in the doorway and beckoning to him. Her cheeks were +crimson, the breeze was tossing her hair about her forehead, and she +made a picture that even the practical, unromantic doctor appreciated. + +“By George, Nat!” he muttered, “you've got more courage than I have. If +'twas my job to give her up to somebody else I'd think twice, I'll bet.” + +The captain went to meet her. + +“What is it?” he asked. + +“Nat,” she whispered, “will you come in? He wants to see you.” + +John Ellery was still seated in the chair by the window, but he no +longer looked like an invalid. There was no worry or care in his +countenance now, merely a wondrous joy and serene happiness. + +He held out his hands and the captain shook them heartily. + +“Mr. Ellery,” he said, “as they used to say at the circus, 'Here we are +again.' And you and I have been doing all kinds of circus acrobatics +since we shook last, hey? I'm glad you're pretty nigh out of the sick +bay--and the doctor says you are.” + +“Captain,” began Ellery. Hammond interrupted him. + +“Hold on!” he said. “Belay right there. If you and I are to cruise in +the same family--and that's what I hear is likely to happen--I +cal'late we'll heave overboard the cap'ns and Misters. My name's +'Nathaniel'--'Nat' for short.” + +“All right. And mine is 'John.' Captain--Nat, I mean--how can I ever +thank you?” + +“Thank me? What do you want to thank me for? I only handed over +somethin' that wasn't mine in the first place and belonged to you all +along. I didn't know it, that was the only trouble.” + +“But your promise to your father. I feel--” + +“You needn't. I told dad that it was just as Grace said. She says she's +got a better man, or words to that effect. And--I don't know how you +feel about such things, John--but I b'lieve there's a broader outlook up +aloft than there is down here and that dad would want me to do just what +I have done. Don't worry about me. I'm doin' the right thing and I +know it. And don't pity me, neither. I made up my mind not to marry +Grace--unless, of course, she was set on it--months ago. I'm tickled to +death to know she's goin' to have as good a man as you are. She'll tell +you so. Grace! Hello! she's gone.” + +“Yes. I told her I wanted to talk with you alone, for a few minutes. +Nat, Grace tells me that Aunt Keziah was the one who--” + +“She was. She met me at the Cohasset Narrows depot. I was settin' in the +car, lookin' out of the window at the sand and sniffin' the Cape air. By +the everlastin'! there ain't any air or sand like 'em anywheres else. +I feel as if I never wanted to see a palm tree again as long as I live. +I'd swap the whole of the South Pacific for one Trumet sandhill with a +huckleberry bush on it. Well, as I started to say, I was settin' there +lookin' out of the window when somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I +looked up and 'twas her. + +“You could have blown me over with a fan. By the jumpin' Moses, you +could! You see, I'd been thinkin' about her--that is, I was--” + +He hesitated, turned red, coughed, and went on. + +“I was surprised enough to see her, I tell you. Way up there at the +Narrows! I couldn't have said a word, anyway, and she never gave me a +chance. 'Nat,' she says, 'don't talk now. Come with me, quick, afore the +train starts.' + +“Still I didn't say anything, nothin' sane anyhow. 'Keziah!' I managed +to stutter. 'KEZIAH!' + +“'Come!' says she. 'Hurry! I want you to get off here. I've come here on +purpose to meet you. I must talk with you; it's important. You can go +to Trumet on the next train, to-night. But now I must talk with you. I +MUST. Won't you please come, Nat?' + +“Well, I went. The engine bell was beginnin' to ring and we had to move +lively, I tell you. I swung her off the step just as the car begun to +move. After the smoke had faded away around the next bend I realized +that my hat had faded away along with it. Yes, sir! I'd left it on the +seat. Ha! ha! ha!” + +He laughed uproariously. Ellery laughed in sympathy. + +“However, I wa'n't worryin' about hats, just then. All I wanted to do +was stand still, like a frozen image, and stare at her. You see, John, +I hadn't laid eyes on a friend, one of the real homemade kind, for more +days than I wanted to count; and here was one of 'em, one of the best, +passed out to me unexpected and ahead of time, like a surprise party +present. So I just pumped her hand up and down and stared. I didn't have +any exclusive mortgage on the starin' by no means, for the depot master +and a dozen or so loafers was lookin' at us with their mouths wide open. + +“I guess she noticed it, for she says, 'Don't stay here, Nat. Come in +the waitin' room or somewheres where we can talk.' + +“So into the waitin' room we went and come to anchor on the settee. Six +or eight of the loafers settled themselves handy to the door, so's they +could peek in occasionally. I remember I told one of them not to stretch +his neck that way 'cause he might never get it back into shape again and +in the gunnin' season that would be dangerous. 'Some nearsighted feller +might take you for a goose,' I says. Ho! ho! + +“And then, John, we had our talk. Seems she left Trumet Wednesday +afternoon. Got the livery stable man to drive her as fur as Bayport, +hired another team there and come on to Sandwich. Stayed overnight there +and took the mornin' train which got to Cohasset Narrows just ahead of +the one I was comin' on. She'd been so afraid of bein' late, she said. +She must see me afore I got to Trumet. + +“Well, she saw me and told me the whole yarn about you and Grace. She +tried to break it to me gently, so I wouldn't feel too bad. She knew it +would be a shock to me, she said. It was a shock, in a way, but as for +feelin' bad, I didn't. I think the world of Grace. I'd do anything she +wanted me to do; but most the way down on the train--yes, and long afore +that--I'd been dreadin' my comin' home on one account. I dreaded tellin' +her that, unless she was real set on it, she'd better not marry me. + +“You see, John, I've thought a lot sence I've been away. Had +consider'ble time to do it in. And the more I thought the less that +promise to dad seemed right. I'd have bet my sou-wester Gracie never +cared for me in the way a girl ought to care for a chap she's goin' to +ship as pilot for the rest of her days. And, as for me--well, I--I had +my reasons for not wantin' to marry her.” + +He paused again, sighed, started to speak, and then sat silent, looking +out of the window. Ellery laid a hand on his knee. + +“Nat,” said the minister, “you saved my life once, do you remember that? +I do, if you don't.” + +“Saved your life? What are you talkin' about? Oh! that time on the +flats? That wasn't savin' your life, 'twas savin' your clothes from +gettin' a wettin'.” + +“No, it was more than that. And now I guess you've saved it again, you +and Grace between you. Yes, and Aunt Keziah. Bless her! to think of her +going way up there to meet you and help us!” + +“Yes. 'Twas like her, wasn't it? She said she knew I'd hear the yarn +when I got to Trumet, but she wanted me to hear it just as it was, and +nobody but she and Grace and you knew the whole truth about it. So she +come. I'm glad she did; not that I shouldn't have done the same, whoever +told me, but--” + +“Nat, I want to tell you something. Something that only one other person +knows. Grace doesn't know it yet. Neither does Aunt Keziah--the whole of +it. And if she knew I told you even a part I'm afraid she would, as she +would say, 'skin me alive.' But I owe her--and you--more than I could +repay if I lived a thousand years. So I'm going to tell and take the +consequences.” + +The captain looked at him. “Well!” he exclaimed. “What's comin' now? +More secrets? Blessed if this ain't gettin' more excitin' than the South +Seas. I used to think excitement in Trumet was scurcer than cream in +poorhouse coffee, but I'll have to change my mind.” + +“Nat, when--that morning after your father died and after you and Grace +had agreed to--to--” + +“To do somethin' neither of us wanted to do? Yes, I know. Go ahead.” + +“That morning Aunt Keziah came home to the parsonage and broke the +news to me. She did it as only she could do such a thing, kindly and +pityingly and--” + +“Of course. That's Keziah.” + +“Yes. Well, as you can imagine, I was almost crazy. I made a fool of +myself, I expect; refused to believe her, behaved disgracefully, and at +last, when I had to believe it, threatened to run away and leave my work +and Trumet forever, like a coward. She made me stay.” + +“Did, hey?” + +“Yes. She showed me it was my duty to face the music. When I whimpered +about my troubles she told me her own story. Then I learned what trouble +was and what pluck was, too. She told me about her marriage and--excuse +me for speaking of what isn't my business; yet it is mine, in a way--she +told me about you.” + +Captain Hammond did not answer. His good natured face clouded and he +shifted in his chair. + +“She told me of you, Nat, all about you--and herself. And she told me +something else, which explains why she felt she must send you away, why +she thought your marriage to Grace would be a good thing.” + +“I know. She told you that that darn scamp Anse Coffin was alive.” + +The minister started violently. He gasped in surprise. + +“You knew it? You KNEW it?” he stammered. + +“I know it now. Have known it for over a year. My findin' it out was one +of the special Providences that's been helpin' along this last voyage of +mine. My second mate was a Hyannis man, name of Cahoon. One day, on +that pesky island, when we was eatin' dinner together, he says to me, +'Cap'n,' he says, 'you're from Trumet, ain't you?' I owned up. 'Know +anybody named Coffin there?' says he. I owned up to that, too. 'Well,' +he says, 'I met her husband last trip I was in the Glory of the Wave.' +I stared at him. 'Met his ghost, you mean,' I says. 'He's been dead +for years, and a good thing, too. Fell overboard and, not bein' used to +water, it killed him.' + +“But he wouldn't have it so. 'I used to know Anse Coffin in New +Bedford,' he says. 'Knew him well's I know you. And when we was in port +at Havre I dropped in at a gin mill down by the water front and he come +up and touched me on the arm. I thought same as you, that he was dead, +but he wa'n't. He was three sheets in the wind and a reg'lar dock rat to +look at, but 'twas him sure enough. We had a long talk. He said he was +comin' back to Trumet some day. Had a wife there, he said. I told him, +sarcastic, that she'd be glad to see him. He laughed and said maybe not, +but that she knew he was alive and sent him money when he was hard up. +Wanted me to promise not to tell any Cape folks that I'd seen him, and I +ain't till now.' + +“Well, you can imagine how I felt when Cahoon spun me that yarn. First +I wouldn't b'lieve it and then I did. It explained things, just as you +say, John. I could see now why Keziah gave me my walkin' papers. I could +see how she'd been sacrificin' her life for that scum.” + +“Yes. She wouldn't divorce him. She said she had taken him for better or +worse, and must stand by him. I tried to show her she was wrong, but it +was no use. She did say she would never live with him again.” + +“I should say not. LIVE with him! By the everlastin'! if he ever comes +within reach of my hands then--there's times when good honest murder is +justifiable and righteous, and it'll be done. It'll be done, you hear +me!” + +He looked as if he meant it. Ellery asked another question. + +“Did you tell her--Aunt Keziah--when you met her at the Narrows?” he +asked. + +“No. But I shall tell her when I see her again. She shan't spoil her +life--a woman like that! by the Lord! WHAT a woman!--for any such crazy +notion. I swore it when I heard the story and I've sworn it every day +since. That's what settled my mind about Grace. Keziah Coffin belongs +to me. She always has belonged to me, even though my own pig-headedness +lost her in the old days.” + +“She cares for you, Nat. I know that. She as much as told me so.” + +“Thank you, John. Thank you. Well, I can wait now. I can wait, for +I've got something sure to wait for. I tell you, Ellery, I ain't a +church-goin' man--not as dad was, anyway--but I truly believe that this +thing is goin' to come out right. God won't let that cussed rascal live +much longer. He won't! I know it. But if he does, if he lives a thousand +years, I'll take her from him.” + +He was pacing the floor now, his face set like granite. Ellery rose, his +own face beaming. Here was his chance. At last he could pay to this man +and Keziah a part of the debt he owed. + +Nat stopped in his stride. “Well!” he exclaimed. “I almost forgot, after +all. Keziah sent a note to you. I've got it in my pocket. She gave it to +me when she left me at Cohasset.” + +“Left you? Why! didn't she come back with you on the night train?” + +“No. That's funny, too, and I don't understand it yet. We was together +all the afternoon. 'I was feelin' so good at seein' her that I took her +under my wing and we cruised all over that town together. Got dinner at +the tavern and she went with me to buy myself a new hat, and all that. +At first she didn't seem to want to, but then, after I'd coaxed a while, +she did. She was lookin' pretty sad and worn out, when I first met her, +I thought; but she seemed to get over it and we had a fine time. It +reminded me of the days when I used to get home from a voyage and we +were together. Then, when 'twas time for the night train we went down to +the depot. She gave me this note and told me to hand it to you to-day. + +“'Good-by, Nat,' she says. 'We've had a nice day, haven't we?' + +“'We have, for a fact,' I says. 'But what are you sayin' good-by for?' + +“'Because I'm not goin' to Trumet with you,' says she. 'I'm goin' to the +city. I've got some business to see to there. Good-by.' + +“I was set back, with all my canvas flappin'. I told her I'd go to +Boston with her and we'd come home to Trumet together to-morrow, +that's to-day. But she said no. I must come here and ease your mind and +Grace's. I must do it. So at last I agreed to, sayin' I'd see her in a +little while. She went on the up train and I took the down one. Hired +a team in Sandwich and another in Bayport and got to the tavern about +eleven. That's the yarn. And here's your note. Maybe it tells where +she's gone and why.” + +The minister took the note and tore open the envelope. Within was a +single sheet of paper. He read a few lines, stopped, and uttered an +exclamation. + +“What's the matter?” asked the captain. + +Ellery did not answer. He read the note through and then, without a +word, handed it to his friend. + +The note was as follows: + + +“DEAR JOHN: + +“I am going away, as I told you I would if he came. He is coming. +Tuesday I got a letter from him. It was written at Kingston, Jamaica, +almost three months ago. I can't think why I haven't got it sooner, but +suppose it was given to some one to mail and forgotten. In it he said +he was tired of going to sea and was coming home to me. I had money, +he said, and we could get along. He had shipped aboard a brig bound +for Savannah, and from there he was going to try for a berth on a +Boston-bound vessel. So I am going away and not coming back. I could not +stand the disgrace and I could not see him. You and Grace won't need me +any more now. Don't worry about me. I can always earn a living while I +have my strength. Please don't worry. If he comes tell him I have gone +you do not know where. That will be true, for you don't. I hope you will +be very happy. I do hope so. Oh, John, you don't know how I hate to do +this, but I must. Don't tell Nat. He would do something terrible to him +if he came, and Nat knew. Just say I have been called away and may be +back some time. Perhaps I may. Love to you all. Good-by. + +“Yours truly, + +“KEZIAH COFFIN.” + + +The captain stared at the note. Then he threw it to the floor and +started for the door. The minister sprang from his chair and called to +him. + +“Nat,” he cried. “Nat! Stop! where are you going?” + +Hammond turned. + +“Goin'?” he growled. “Goin'? I'm goin' to find her, first of all. Then +I'm comin' back to wait for him.” + +“But you won't have to wait. He'll never come. He's dead.” + +“Dead? DEAD? By the everlastin'! this has been too much for you, I ought +to have known it. I'll send the doctor here right off. I can't stay +myself. I've got to go. But--” + +“Listen! listen to me! Ansel Coffin is dead, I tell you. I know it. I +know all about it. That was what I wanted to see you about. Did Keziah +tell you of the San Jose and the sailor who died of smallpox in this +very building? In that room there?” + +“Yes. John, you--” + +“I'm not raving. It's the truth. That sailor was Ansel Coffin. I watched +with him and one night, the night before he died, he spoke Keziah's +name. He spoke of New Bedford and of Trumet and of her, over and over +again. I was sure who he was then, but I called in Ebenezer Capen, who +used to know Coffin in New Bedford. And he recognized him. Nat, as sure +as you and I are here this minute, Ansel Coffin, Aunt Keziah's husband, +is buried in the Trumet cemetery.” + + +CHAPTER XXI + +IN WHICH MR. STONE WASHES HIS HANDS + + +Mr. Abner Stone, of Stone & Barker, marine outfitters and ship +chandlers, with a place of business on Commercial Street in Boston, and +a bank account which commanded respect throughout the city, was feeling +rather irritable and out of sorts. Poor relations are always a nuisance. +They are forever expecting something, either money--in Mr. Stone's case +this particular expectation was usually fruitless--or employment or +influence or something. Mr. Stone was rich, he had become so by his own +ability and unaided effort. He was sure of that--often mentioned it, +with more or less modesty, in the speeches which he delivered to his +Sunday-school class and at the dinners of various societies to which he +belonged. He was a self-made man and was conscious that he had done a +good job. + +Therefore, being self-made, he saw no particular reason why he should +aid in the making of others. If people were poor they ought to get over +it. Poverty was a disease and he was no doctor. He had been poor once +himself, and no one had helped him. “I helped myself,” he was wont to +say, with pride. Some of his rivals in business, repeating this remark, +smiled and added that he had been “helping himself” ever since. + +Mr. Stone had “washed his hands” of his cousin, Keziah Coffin, or +thought he had. After her brother Solomon died she had written to him, +asking him to find her a position of some kind in Boston. “I don't want +money, I don't want charity,” wrote Keziah. “What I want is work. Can +you get it for me, Abner? I write to you because father used to tell of +what you said to him about gratitude and how you would never rest until +you had done something in return for what he did for you.” + +Captain Ben Hall's kindness was the one thing Mr. Stone forgot when he +said no one had ever helped him. He disliked to be reminded of it. It +was a long while ago and the captain was dead. However, being reminded, +he had called upon a friend in the tailoring line and had obtained for +Keziah the place of sewing woman. She decided to become housekeeper at +the Trumet parsonage and so notified him. Then he washed his hands of +her. + +But now he was compelled to soil them again. Keziah had appeared at +his office, without warning, and demanded that he find her a position. +“Demanded” was the proper word. Certainly she had not begged. She seemed +to feel that her demand was right and proper, and his acceding to it the +least he could do. + +“What a fine place you've got here, Abner!” she said, inspecting the +office and the store. “I declare it's finer than the one you had when +you first went into business, afore you failed. I wish father could have +lived to see it. He'd have realized that his judgment was good, even +though his investment wasn't.” + +Captain Hall had invested largely in that first business, the one which +failed. Mr. Stone changed the subject. Later in the day he again sought +his friend, the tailor, and Keziah was installed in the loft of the +latter's Washington Street shop, beside the other women and girls who +sewed and sewed from seven in the morning until six at night. Mr. Stone +had left her there and come away, feeling that an unpleasant matter +was disposed of. He had made some inquiries as to where she intended +staying, even added a half-hearted invitation to dinner that evening at +his home. But she declined. + +“No, thank you, Abner,” she said, “I'm goin' to find a boardin' place +and I'd just as soon nobody knew where I was stayin', for the present. +And there's one thing I want to ask you: don't tell a soul I am here. +Not a soul. If anyone should come askin' for me, don't give 'em any +satisfaction. I'll tell you why some day, perhaps. I can't now.” + +This was what troubled Mr. Stone as he sat in his office. Why should +this woman wish to have her whereabouts kept a secret? There was a +reason for this, of course. Was it a respectable reason, or the other +kind? If the latter, his own name might be associated with the scandal. +He wished, for the fiftieth time, that there were no poor relations. + +A boy came into the office. “There is some one here to see you, Mr. +Stone,” he said. + +“Who is it?” + +“I don't know, sir. Looks like a seafaring man, a sea captain, I should +say--but he won't give his name. Says it's important and nobody but +you'll do.” + +“Humph! All right. Tell him to wait. I'll be out in a minute.” + +Sea captains and ship owners were Stone & Barker's best customers. The +senior partner emerged from the office with a smile on his face. + +“Ah!” he said, extending his hand. “Glad to see you, Captain--er--” + +“Hammond,” replied the visitor. “Same to you, Mr. Stone.” + +“Fine weather for this time of year.” + +“Fine enough, Mr. Stone.” + +“Well, Captain Hammond, what can we do for you? Going to sail soon?” + +“Not right away. Just made port, less'n a week ago. Home looks good to +me, for a spell, anyhow.” + +“So? Yes, I have no doubt. Let me see--where is your home, captain? I +should remember, of course, but--” + +“Don't know why you should. This is my first trip in your latitude, I +guess. My home's at Trumet.” + +“Trumet?” Mr. Stone's tone changed. + +“Yes. Trumet, down on the Cape. Ever been there? We think it's about as +good a place as there is.” + +“Hu-u-m! Trumet? Well, Captain Hammond, you wished to see me, I +understand.” + +“Yes. Fact is, Mr. Stone, I want to ask you where I can find Mrs. Keziah +Coffin. She's a relation of yours, I b'lieve, and she's come to Boston +lately. Only yesterday or the day afore. Can you tell me where she is?” + +“Why do you wish to see her?” + +“Oh, for reasons, personal ones. She's a friend of mine.” + +“I see. No, captain, I can't tell you where she is. Good morning.” + +Captain Nat was greatly disappointed. + +“Hold on there, just a minute,” he begged. “This is important, you +understand, Mr. Stone. I'm mighty anxious to find Kezi--Mrs. Coffin. We +thought, some of her friends and I, that most likely you'd know where +she was. Can't you give us any help at all? Hasn't she been here?” + +“Good morning, Captain Hammond. You must excuse me, I'm busy.” + +He went into the office and closed the door. Captain Nat rubbed his +forehead desperately. He had been almost sure that Abner Stone would put +him on Keziah's track. Grace had thought so, too. She remembered what +the housekeeper had told concerning her Boston cousin and how the latter +had found employment for her when she contemplated leaving Trumet, after +her brother's death. Grace believed that Keziah would go to him at once. + +Nat walked to the door and stood there, trying to think what to do next. +A smart young person, wearing a conspicuous suit of clothes, aided and +abetted by a vivid waistcoat and a pair of youthful but promising side +whiskers, came briskly along the sidewalk and stopped in front of him. + +“Well, sir?” observed this person, with cheerful condescension. +“Anything I can do for you?” + +Captain Nat turned his gaze upon the side whiskers and the waistcoat. + +“Hey?” he queried. + +“I say, is there anything I can do for you?” + +The captain shook his head. “No-o,” he drawled dryly, “I'm afraid not, +son. I admit that don't seem scarcely possible, but I am afraid it's +so.” + +“Looking for something in our line, was you?” + +“Well, I don't know. What might be on your line--clothes?” + +The bewhiskered one drew himself up. “I am connected with Stone & +Barker,” he said sharply. “And, seeing you standing in our doorway, I +thought possibly--” + +“Yes, yes. Beg your pardon, I'm sure. No, I don't want to buy anything. +I come to see Mr. Stone on a personal matter.” + +“He's busy, I suppose.” + +“So he says.” + +The young man smiled with serene satisfaction. “I'm not surprised,” he +observed complacently. “We ARE a busy house, Mr--er--” + +“Hammond's my name. Are you Mr. Barker?” + +“No-o, my name is Prince.” + +“So? Silent partner in the firm, hey?” + +“No-o, not exactly.” Mr. Prince was slightly embarrassed. “No, I am a--a +salesman--at present. Was the matter you wished to see Mr. Stone about a +very private one?” + +“Middlin'.'” + +“Well, I asked because Mr. Stone is a busy man and we like to save him +all the--the--” + +“Trouble you can, hey? That's nice of you, you must save him a lot, +Mr--er--King, was it?” + +“No, Prince.” + +“Sure and sartin', Prince, of course. I knew 'twas connected with the +royal family. Well, Mr. Prince, I'm afraid even you can't help me nor +him out this time. I'm lookin' up a friend of mine, a widow lady from +down the Cape. She's a relation of Mr. Stone's, and she's come to Boston +durin' the last day or so. I thought likely he might know where she was, +that's all. That would be a little out of your latitude, hey?” + +“I don't know. Her name wasn't Coffin, was it?” + +Captain Nat started. “It certainly was,” he answered eagerly. “How'd you +know that?” + +Mr. Prince's complacence was superb. “Oh,” he answered with +condescension, “Mr. Stone trusts me with a good many of his personal +affairs.” + +“I should think likely he would. But about Mrs. Coffin? You was goin' to +say?” + +“She is with James Hallett & Co., the tailors, on Washington Street. Mr. +Stone found a place for her there, I believe. I--er--er--superintended +the carrying of her valise and--What?” + +“Nothin', nothin'. Hum! Hallett & Co., tailors? What number Washin'ton +Street did you say?” + +Mr. Prince gave the number. + +“Thank you a lot,” said Captain Nat, with fervor. “Good-by, Mr. Prince. +Hope the next time I come you'll be in the firm. Good day, sir.” + +“Good day. Nothing else I can do? And you won't wait for Mr. Stone? Very +good. Is there any message for him that you would like to leave?” + +“Hey?” Nat had started to go, but now he paused and turned. There was +a grim twinkle in his eye. “Message?” he repeated. “Why, ye-es, I don't +know but there is. You just give Mr. Stone Cap'n Hammond's compliments +and tell him I'm lookin' forward to interviewin' him some time. Just +tell him that, will you?” + +“I'll tell him. Glad to have met you, Captain Hammond.” + +The captain nodded solemnly. “Say, Mr. King,” he said, “you ain't half +so glad as I am.” + +Mr. Prince strutted into the store. + +“Who was that chap you were talking with?” asked a fellow-clerk. + +“Oh, a hayseed who wanted to see the old man. Poor relation, I guess. +I headed him off. Stone is always telling us that time is money, so I +saved both of 'em for him. He ought to thank me. Wouldn't be surprised +if I got the raise I've been asking for.” + +Mr. Prince did not get the raise, nor the thanks. But he was surprised. + + +In the workshop of Hallett & Co., Keziah sat sewing busily. The window +near her was closed, stuck fast, and through the dingy panes she could +see only roofs and chimneys. The other women and girls near her +chatted and laughed, but she was silent. She did not feel like talking, +certainly not like laughing. The garment she was at work on was a coat, +a wedding coat, so the foreman had told her, with a smile; therefore she +must be very particular. + +She wondered idly whose coat it might be and who its future wearer was +to marry. This reminded her of the minister and Grace. They would be +happy now, her talk with Nat had assured her of that, and they, too, +would be married one of these days. But she would not attend the +wedding. She wondered what John had said when he read her note. He and +Grace would be sorry for her, of course; but there was nothing they +could do to help. No one could help her, no one. Perhaps by this time +the man she had run away from had reached Trumet and her secret was +known. How Didama and the rest would spread the tale! How Captain +Elkanah and Annabel would sneer and exult! They hated her because she +was the minister's friend. And Nat, poor fellow, what would he do? Well, +at least he would understand now. + +The narrow stairway leading up to the workshop ended in a little +boxed-in room where the finished garments were hung to await the final +pressing. From behind the closed door of this room came the sound of +voices, apparently in heated argument. One of these voices was that of +Larry, the errand boy. Larry was speaking shrilly and with emphasis. The +other voice was lower in key and the words were inaudible. + +“No, sir, you can't,” declared Larry. “You can't, I tell you. The boss +don't let nobody in there and--Hold on! Hold on!” + +The other voice made a short but evidently earnest answer. Larry again +expostulated. The workers looked up from their sewing. The door opened +and Larry appeared, flushed and excited. + +“Where's Mr. Upham?” he demanded. “Mr. Upham!” + +Upham was the foreman of the workroom. At the moment he was downstairs +in conversation with the head of the house. A half dozen gave this +information. + +“What's the matter? Who is it?” asked several. + +“I don't know who 'tis. It's a man and he's crazy, I think. I told him +he couldn't come in here, but he just keeps comin'. He wants to see +somebody named Coffin and there ain't no Coffins here.” + +Keziah bent lower over the wedding coat. Her hand shook and she dropped +the needle. + +“I told him we didn't keep coffins,” declared Larry. “This ain't no +undertaker's. Where's Mr. Upham?” + +Keziah's nearest neighbor leaned toward her. + +“I guess it's somebody to see you,” she said. “Your name is Coffin, +ain't it?” + +“No, no. That is, it can't be anybody to see me. I don't want to see +anybody. Tell him so, whoever it is. I can't see anybody. I--NAT!” + +He stood in the doorway, beckoning to her. + +“Keziah,” he said, “come here. I want you. I'll tell you why in a +minute. Come!” + +She hesitated. In a measure she was relieved, for she had feared the +man at the door might be her husband. But she was greatly agitated and +troubled. Everyone in the place was looking at her. + +“Nat,” she said, trying to speak firmly, “I can't see you now. I'm very +busy. Please go away.” + +“Come!” + +“I can't come. Go away. Please!” + +“Keziah, I'm waitin'. And I'm goin' to wait if I stay here all night. +Come!” + +She obeyed then. She could not have a scene there, before all those +strangers. She stepped past him into the little room. He followed and +closed the door. + +“Nat,” she said, turning to him, “why did you come? How could you be so +cruel? I--” + +He interrupted her, but not with words. The next moment his arms were +about her and she was pressed tight against the breast of his blue +jacket. + +“Keziah,” he whispered, “I've come to take you home. Home for good. No, +stay where you are and I'll tell you all about it. Praise be to God! +we're off the rocks at last. All that's left is to tow you into port, +and, by the everlastin', that's what I'm here for!” + + +When Upham came up the stairs after his long interview with “the boss,” + he found the door at the top closed. When he rattled the latch that door +was opened by a stranger. + +“Are you Mr. Hallett?” asked Captain Nat briskly. + +“No, I'm not. Mr. Hallett is in his office on the first floor. But +what--” + +“On the main deck, hey? Well, all right; we won't trouble him. You'll +do just as well; I judge you're one of the mates of this craft. You tell +Mr. Hallett that this lady here has decided not to cruise with him any +longer. No fault to find, you understand, but she's got a better berth. +She's goin' to ship along with me. Ain't that so, Keziah?” + +Keziah, pale, trembling, scarcely realizing the situation even yet, +did not speak. But Captain Nat Hammond seemed to find his answer in her +silence. A few minutes later, her arm in his, they descended the gloomy, +dusty stairs, and emerged into the sunshine together. + +That afternoon Mr. Abner Stone again “washed his hands” of his poor +relation--this time, as he indignantly declared, “for good and all.” + + +CHAPTER XXII + +IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON PREACHES ONCE MORE + + +Time has wrought many changes in Trumet. The packet long since ceased to +ply between the village and Boston, the stage has been superseded by +the locomotive, the old “square-riggers,” commanded by Cape Cod men, no +longer sail the seas. Along the main road the houses have changed hands. +Didama Rogers peers no more from her parlor window; that parlor is now +profaned by the frivolous and irreverent summer boarder. But the old +residents love to talk of the days that are gone and if you happen to +catch Mr. Isaac Higgins, now postmaster and a dignified member of the +board of selectmen, in a reminiscent mood he will very likely tell you +of the meeting of the parish committee called by its chairman, Elkanah +Daniels, to oust the Rev. John Ellery from the pulpit of the Regular +church. + +“I'll never forget,” says Mr. Higgins, “that parish committee meetin' if +I live a thousand year. I, and two or three other young shavers, was hid +in the little room off the vestry--the room where they kept the dishes +they used for church suppers--and we heard the whole business. Of course +nobody knew that Nat was goin' to marry Keziah then, but they did know +that he wa'n't goin' to marry Grace Van Horne, and had given her up +to the minister of his own accord. So Daniels's guns was spiked and he +didn't stand no chance at all. However, you'd never have guessed it +to look at him. He marched into that meetin' and up to the platform as +stiff and dignified as if he'd swallered a peck of starch. He called +the meetin' to order--'twas a full one, for all hands and the cook was +there--and then got up to speak. + +“He opened fire right off. He raked John Ellery fore and aft. The +parson, he said, had disgraced the society and his sacred profession +and should be hove overboard immediate. 'Twas an open secret, he said. +Everybody knew how he, minister of a Reg'lar church, had been carryin' +on with a Come-Outer girl, meetin' her unbeknownst to anyone, and so on. +As he got warmed up on this subject he got more bitter and, though he +didn't come out open and say slanderous things, his hints was as nigh +that as a pig's snout is to his squeal. Even through the crack of the +dish-closet door I could see the bristles risin' on the back of Cap'n +Zeb Mayo's neck. + +“At last Cap'n Zeb couldn't stand it no longer. + +“'Belay there!' he sings out, jumpin' to his feet. 'I want to ask you +one question, Elkanah Daniels: Are you tryin' to say somethin' against +Grace Van Horne's character?' + +“Well, that was a sort of sticker, in a way, and I cal'late Daniels +realized it. He 'hum-ha'd' and barked a little and then give in that he +couldn't swear the Van Horne person's character wa'n't all right, but--” + +“'Couldn't swear!' snorts Zeb. 'You better not try to, not when the +minister or Nat's around. Aw, belay! you want us to fire John Ellery +out of this society--the best minister it ever had or ever will +have--because he had the sense to get sweet on a good clean girl and the +spunk to ask her to marry him. And you're down on her because she's been +brought up in a Come-Outer family--at least, that's the reason you give +out, though some of us have suspicions 'tain't the real one. Why! she +risked what she thought was smallpox to keep him from dyin' that night +she picked him up, ravin' distracted, in the middle of the lighthouse +lane, and if he hadn't married her after that I, for one, would have +been willin' to vote to give him his walkin' papers, Come-Outer she may +have been, but, by time, she's got religion that's good enough for me +and I'll be proud to see her the wife of my minister. Don't let's have +no more chin music. We know what you want and what you called this +meetin' for; now let's vote on it.' + +“Three or four sung out 'Question' and 'Vote.' But Elkanah held up his +hand. + +“'Gentlemen,' says he, 'before I ask for the vote I want to say just one +word. I've worshiped in this meetin' house ever sence I was a child. I +was christened in it; my father worshiped here afore me; I've presided +over the meetin's of this body for years. But I tell you now that if you +vote to keep that rascally hypocrite in your pulpit I shall resign from +the committee and from the society. It'll be like cuttin' off my right +hand, but I shall do it. Are you ready for the vote? Those in favor of +retaining the present minister of this parish will rise. Those opposed +will remain seated.' + +“Every man on the floor stood up. Daniels himself was the only one that +stayed settin' down. + +“'It is a vote,' says he, white as a sheet, and his voice trembling. +'Gentlemen, I bid you good day.' + +“He took up his hat and cane, give one look around the vestry, as if +he was sayin' good-by to it, and marched down the aisle as straight and +starchy as he'd come into it. Only, when he reached the door, he put up +one hand as if he was steadyin' himself. There was precious few in that +vestry that liked Elkanah Daniels, but I'm bettin' high there wa'n't a +one who didn't feel sorry for him then. + +“'Twas quiet as could be for a minute or so after he'd gone. Then Cap'n +Zeb draws a big breath and flings up his hand. + +“'Shipmates,' says he, 'this is the Almighty's house and we've got to do +it quiet, but I propose three whisperin' cheers for the Rev. John Ellery +and the lady that's goin' to be his wife.' + +“So they give 'em--hearty, too, if they was whispered--and that's all +there is to that meetin' worth tellin' about.” + +Captain Daniels and his daughter moved to Boston that summer. They never +came back to Trumet to live. Annabel remained single until after her +father's death; then she married a man very much younger and poorer +than she was. It was remarked by acquaintances of the couple that the +difference in age became less and less apparent as their married life +continued. + +“Humph!” observed Captain Zeb, summing up the situation, “he started +about ten year astern, but he'll beat her on the run into the cemetery, +now you mark my words. Annabel's temper's cal'lated to keep any average +chap drivin' on that course, bows under. There's a three-reef breeze +blowin' off her tongue, day and night.” + +On a Sunday morning, a few weeks after the committee meeting, the +Regular church was crowded. John Ellery was to preach his first sermon +since the San Jose came ashore. Every member of the congregation was +present. Even Mrs. Prince, feeble but garrulous, was there. Gaius +Winslow, having delivered his brood of children at the church door, made +a special trip in his carryall to fetch the old lady. Captain Zebedee +and Mrs. Mayo beamed from their pew. Dr Parker and his wife smiled at +them across the aisle. Didama Rogers's new bonnet was a work of art and +her neck threatened to twist itself off as she turned to see each one +who came in. + +Lavinia Pepper sailed to the front. She was dressed in a new black +alpaca which rustled so very much like silk that nearsighted people +might have been deceived by it. With her was a man, apparently suffering +from strangulation because of the height and tightness of his collar. +“It's Caleb Pratt, from Sandwich,” whispered Didama. “Thankful Payne's +relation, you know. Have you heard what folks are sayin'? I guess +it's true, because--Look at Kyan! you'd think he was goin' to his own +funeral.” + +Abishai's expression was not cheerful, certainly. He followed Mr. Pratt +and his sister to the Pepper pew and subsided sadly in the corner next +the wall. Occasionally he was observed to wipe his forehead and once--it +was during the prayer--he groaned audibly. Lavinia's dig in the ribs +prevented his repeating the sound, but, judging by his looks, he +continued to groan in spirit. + +There was a stir at the door. All heads swung in that direction--all but +Mr. Pepper's, that is. The minister and Grace were coming up the aisle +and behind them came Captain Nat Hammond and Keziah Coffin. Nat was +smiling and self-possessed. Never before in his life had he entered the +Regular meeting house as a worshiper, but he seemed to be bearing the +ordeal bravely. It was Grace's first visit to the church, also, and she +was plainly embarrassed. To be stared at by eighty-odd pairs of eyes, +and to catch whispered comments from the starers' tongues, is likely to +embarrass one. + +Yet the comments were all friendly. + +“I declare!” whispered Mrs. Prince, “I never see her look so pretty +afore. I knew she was the best lookin' girl in this town, but I never +realized she was SUCH a beauty. Well, there's one thing sartin'--we've +got the handsomest parson and parson's wife in THIS county, by about ten +mile and four rows of apple trees. And there's the other bride that's +goin' to be. I never see Keziah look so well, neither.” + +Keziah did look well. Her parson had emerged triumphant from his battle +with disease and adverse fate and was more than ever the idol of his +congregation. He was to marry the girl of his choice--and hers. The +housekeeper's ears were still ringing with the thanks of John and Grace. +Both seemed to feel that to her, Keziah Coffin, more than anyone else, +they owed their great joy. Some of the things they said she would never +forget. And her own life, too, was freed forever of its burden, the +secret which had hung over her for so many years. Only a very few knew +that secret, and they would not disclose it. Toward the memory of the +man buried in the stranger's lot at the cemetery she felt almost +kindly now. While he lived she had feared and dreaded him, now she was +beginning to forgive. For he had paid his debt with his life, and with +her, beside her, was the other, the one whom she had loved, had given +up, had mourned for, and who was now to be hers always. No wonder Keziah +looked well. She was happy, and happiness is a wondrous beautifier. + +The minister went up the stairs to the pulpit. He was still white and +thin, but his eyes were bright and his voice clear. He gave out the +opening hymn and the service began. + +They said it was the finest sermon ever preached in that church, and +perhaps it was. When it was over, before the benediction was pronounced, +Ellery stepped out from behind the pulpit to the edge of the platform. +He looked over the friendly faces upturned to his and, for an instant, +it seemed that he could not trust himself to speak. + +“My friends,” he said, “I cannot let you go without a personal word. I +owe you so much, all of you, that nothing I can say will convey to you +my feeling of gratitude and love for this congregation and this church. +You have stood by me all through. You trusted me and believed in me. I +came to Trumet a stranger. I have found here the truest friends a man +could hope to find--yes, and more than friends. If I live, and while +I live, I shall hope to prove by the best effort that is in me my +realization of the great debt I owe you and my desire to repay it, even +though the payment must, of necessity, be so inadequate. God bless you +all--and thank you.” + +“Wa'n't it lovely!” gushed Didama. “And when he said that about true +friends he was lookin' straight at Gracie all the time.” + +“Didn't seem to me so,” declared Gaius Winslow. “I thought he was +lookin' at Cap'n Hammond.” + +“Well, now, that's queer,” put in Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife. “I +would have sworn he was looking at Keziah Coffin.” + +Captain Zebedee grinned. “I cal'late you're all right,” he observed. “I +wouldn't wonder if he was lookin' at all of 'em.” + +There was much hand shaking and congratulation and the church emptied +slowly. Among the last to leave were the Peppers and Mr. Pratt. Lavinia +took the minister aside. + +“Mr. Ellery,” she simpered, “I've--that is, Caleb and me--will prob'ly +want you to--That is, we want you to be the one--” + +“Yes, Miss Pepper?” + +“Oh, my sakes! you see--'Bishy dear, come here a minute, won't you?” + +Kyan approached, the picture of desolation. + +“What do you want?” he asked gruffly. + +“Heavens to Betsy! Don't look so sour. A body'd think you was goin' +to be hung, to look at you. 'Bishy, you tell Mr. Ellery all about it, +there's a dear. He'll tell you, Mr. Ellery; and remember we count on +you. Neither me nor Caleb wont have nobody else.” + +She seized Mr. Pratt by the arm and led him hastily away. Kyan looked +after them. + +“Hung?” he muttered. “I wish, by godfreys mighty, I had the hangin' of +SOME folks! I'd put a tighter collar on 'em than they've got now, I bet +you!” + +The minister's lips twitched. He knew what was coming. Hints of a +surprising nature had been circulating about Trumet. + +“What's the matter, Mr. Pepper?” he asked. + +“Matter? Matter enough! You know what she's goin' to do? She's goin' to +marry THAT!” + +The last word was emphasized by a furious gesticulation toward the back +of the gentleman from Sandwich. + +“Who? Mr. Pratt? Is your sister to marry him? Indeed! I congratulate +them both--and you.” + +“Me? What in tunket--I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery, for talkin' so in +the meetin' house--but what are you congratulatin' me for?” + +“Why, because your sister is to have a good husband; at least people +speak highly of him.” + +“Ugh!” + +“And because--well, Mr. Pepper, you have been quite confidential with +me; we have shared secrets, you know; and I thought possibly the new +arrangement might make it a bit more pleasant for you.” + +“Pleasant? How?” + +“I suppose Mr. Pratt will take his bride home to Sandwich, and you, +being here alone, will be more free.” + +“Free?” Kyan repeated the word wrathfully. “Free! I'll be about as free +as a settin' hen under a barrel, I will. Is a feller free when he's +got two pickin' at him instead of one? I thought I was goin' to have a +little peace and comfort; I thought that same as you, Mr. Ellery. I've +had my suspicions as to her and him for some time. That day when I +cal'lated I'd locked her up and come back to find she'd gone buggy +ridin', I thought 'twas queer. When she went to conference and left +me alone I smelt a rat. When she took to letter writin' the smell got +stronger; until the last few weeks I've been sartin of the game she was +up to. And I never complained, no sir! Some brothers would have ripped +up the eternal foundations afore they'd have let their sister break +up their home and desert 'em for a stiff-necked, bald-headed old shoe +peddler like--” + +“Hush! hush! Mr. Pepper. You forget--” + +“No, I don't forget, nuther. Mr. Ellery, you don't know it all. When +Laviny come to me and told me what she was goin' to do, was I obstinate? +Did I stand on my rights as head of the family and tell her she couldn't +do it? No, sir-ee, I didn't! I was resigned. I says to her, 'Laviny,' +I says, 'I won't say that I shan't be turrible lonesome without you. I +won't say that I ain't sort of shocked and grieved at our partin' after +all these years. But what's my personal feelin's when I compare 'em with +your happiness? Nothin', nothin' at all!' I says. 'Bless you, Laviny,' +says I. 'When you goin' to go away?' And what do you s'pose she says to +me? Why, that she wa'n't goin' away at all. That--that Pratt thing +has sold out his shoe store up to Sandwich and is comin' here to live. +Comin' to live at our HOUSE, mind you, with her and with ME! ''Twill be +so nice for you, 'Bishy dear,' she says, 'to have a man in the house +to keep you comp'ny and look out for you when I ain't round.' Godfreys +mighty!” + +This portion of Kyan's disclosure was surprising, if the announcement of +his sister's engagement was not. + +“Mr. Pratt is coming to Trumet?” the minister repeated. “What for? What +is he going to do here?” + +“Keep shoe store, I s'pose likely. Laviny says there's a good openin' +for one in this town. I told her the best openin' I could think of for +him was the well and I hoped to the nation he'd fall into it. Then she +went for me like a dogfish after a herrin' and I never had a taste of +vittles till I'd took it all back and said I was glad he was goin' to +live with us. Free! Don't talk to me about freedom! Godfreys mighty!” + +Ellery smothered his desire to laugh and expressed sympathy. Abishai +listened in sullen silence. + +“Well,” he said, turning to go, “I ain't goin' to stand it, if I can +help it. I've been doin' some thinkin' on my own account and there's +two ways of gettin' even. That Caleb critter is marryin' into our family +'cause he knows I'm well off. I'll cheat him, by godfreys! I'll will +every cent of my fifteen hundred dollars to the poor or the heathen or +somethin'. I will, sure's taxes.” + +The minister was obliged to laugh, then. + +“I wouldn't do that,” he said. “From what I hear, Mr. Pratt is worth +several times fifteen hundred.” + +“I know it; but he's so dum mean that 'twould break his heart to see +even ten cents gettin' away from him. However, that ain't my only plan. +He and Laviny ain't got any mortgage on the marryin' business. +Other folks can do it as well as them. What do you think of Hannah +Poundberry?” + +“What do I think of her? What do you mean?” + +“Never mind what I mean. Just you keep that in your head, Mr. Ellery. +You remember that I asked you, as man to man, 'What do you think of +Hannah Poundberry?'--Yes, yes, Laviny, I'm a-comin'. They want me to +ask you to marry 'em,” he added. “I s'pose you'll have to. But say, Mr. +Ellery, when you do, just tell Pratt that your usual price for the +job is ten dollars. That'll spile his honeymoon for him, or I miss my +guess.” + +He turned away and moved sulkily toward his beckoning sister and her +escort; but wheeled once more to add, in a mysterious whisper, “Don't +you forget now, Mr. Ellery. Remember that question I put to you: 'What +do you think of'--Yes, yes, La-viny, I hear you!--of you know who?'” + + +That evening, at the parsonage, Keziah was clearing the table and +Captain Nat was helping her. A happy party of four had enjoyed the meal, +John and Mrs. Coffin acting as hosts and Grace and the captain being the +invited guests. Now the younger couple had gone over to the church, the +bell of which was ringing for evening service. + +“Hurry up, Keziah,” urged Nat. “If you and me don't get decks cleared +pretty soon we'll be late for meetin', and I'd hate to do that, +considerin' I'm such a brand-new disciple, as you might say. What do we +do next, shorten sail? Like this, hey?” + +He pulled the cloth from the table, sending the crumbs flying in all +directions, and proceeded to fold it, after a fashion. + +“There!” he exclaimed with satisfaction; “there she is, canvas furled +and under bare poles. Now we can clear out, can't we? What's the +matter?” + +Keziah took the cloth from his hands and refolded it. + +“Nat Hammond,” she said, laughing, “you may be a good sailor, but you're +an awful poor housekeeper. Look at the mess you've made of that floor.” + +Nat looked at the scattered crumbs and shook his head. + +“By the everlastin'!” he observed, “I did make dirty weather on that +tack, didn't I? Cal'late I ain't much of a housekeeper, same as you say. +Maybe that's why I was so dreadful anxious to get a good one to cruise +along with me. Well, I've got her. I'm satisfied.” + +He walked to the back door of the kitchen, threw it open, and stood +looking out. + +“Keziah,” he said, “come here a minute.” + +She came from the dining room and stood at his side. He put an arm about +her. + +“Look off there,” he said, pointing with his free hand. “See that?” + +The sun was just setting and all the west was gorgeous with crimson and +purple and yellow. The bay was spangled with fire, the high sand bluffs +along the shore looked like broken golden ingots. The fields and swamps +and salt meadows, rich in their spring glory of bud and new leaf, were +tinged with the ruddy glow. The Trumet roofs were bathed in it, the +old packet, asleep at her moorings by the breakwater, was silhouetted +against the radiance. The church bell had ceased to ring and there was +not a sound, except the low music of the distant surf. + +“Look at it, Keziah,” urged Captain Nat. + +“I'm lookin', Nat,” she answered. “It's beautiful.” + +“Ain't it? I love it, you know that, and I never thought I should be +anxious for the time to come when I must leave it. But I am. I want to +go.” + +They were to be married in another month. It would be a double wedding, +for Grace and the minister were to be married at the same time. Then Nat +and his wife were to go to New York, where a new ship, just out of +the builders' hands, was to be ready for him. She was a fine one, this +successor to the Sea Mist. She had been building for more than a year +and when Captain Hammond returned, safe and sound, and with their money +in his possession, the owners decided at once that he should command the +addition to their fleet. She was to sail for Liverpool and Keziah was to +be a passenger. + +“I can't hardly wait to get to sea,” went on Nat. “Think of it! No more +lonesome meals in the cabin, thinkin' about you and about home. No, sir! +you and home'll be right aboard with me. Think of the fun we'll have in +the foreign ports. London, and you and me goin' sightseein' through it! +And Havre and Gibraltar and Marseilles and Genoa and--and--by and by, +Calcutta and Hong Kong and Singapore. I've seen 'em all, of course, but +you haven't. I tell you, Keziah, that time when I first saw a real hope +of gettin' you, that time after I'd learned from John that that big +trouble of yours was out of the way forever, on my way up to Boston in +the cars I made myself a promise--I swore that if you did say yes to me +I'd do my best to make the rest of your life as smooth and pleasant as +the past so far had been rough. I ain't rich enough to give you what you +deserve, nowhere near; but I'll work hard and do my best, my girl--you +see.” + +Keziah was looking out over the bay, her eyes brighter than the sunset. +Now she turned to look up into his face. + +“Rich!” she repeated, with a little catch in her voice. “Rich! there +never was a woman in this world so rich as I am this minute. Or so +happy, either.” + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEZIAH COFFIN *** + +***** This file should be named 2068-0.txt or 2068-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/2068/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/2068-0.zip b/2068-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c9d6cbe --- /dev/null +++ b/2068-0.zip diff --git a/2068-h.zip b/2068-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..acbe9e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/2068-h.zip diff --git a/2068-h/2068-h.htm b/2068-h/2068-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e55ac90 --- /dev/null +++ b/2068-h/2068-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15395 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Keziah Coffin + +Author: Joseph C. Lincoln + +Release Date: May 13, 2006 [EBook #2068] +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEZIAH COFFIN *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + KEZIAH COFFIN + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Joseph C. Lincoln + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>KEZIAH COFFIN</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> -- IN WHICH KEZIAH HEARS TWO PROPOSALS AND THE BEGINNING OF A THIRD<br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> -- IN WHICH KEZIAH UNEARTHS A PROWLER<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> + CHAPTER III </a> -- IN WHICH KEZIAH ASSUMES A GUARDIANSHIP<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV -- IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON DECIDES TO RUN IT BLINDFOLD</a><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> -- IN WHICH THE PARSON CRUISES IN STRANGE WATERS<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> + CHAPTER VI </a> -- IN WHICH OLD FRIENDS MEET<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> -- IN WHICH CAPTAIN NAT PICKS UP A DERELICT<br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> -- IN WHICH THE PARSON AND MR. PEPPER DECLARE THEIR INDEPENDENCE<br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> -- IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> + CHAPTER X </a> -- IN WHICH KEZIAH'S TROUBLES MULTIPLY<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> -- IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN RECEIVES A CALLER<br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> -- IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN MAKES PORT<br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> -- IN WHICH KEZIAH BREAKS THE NEWS<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> + CHAPTER XIV </a> -- IN WHICH THE SEA MIST SAILS<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> -- IN WHICH TRUMET TALKS OF CAPTAIN NAT<br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> -- IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE<br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> -- IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> + CHAPTER XVIII </a> -- IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> -- IN WHICH A RECEPTION IS CALLED OFF<br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> -- IN WHICH THE MINISTER RECEIVES A LETTER<br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> -- IN WHICH MR. STONE WASHES HIS HANDS<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> + CHAPTER XXII </a> -- IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON PREACHES ONCE MORE + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + KEZIAH COFFIN + </h1> + <h3> + by Joseph C. Lincoln + </h3> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH KEZIAH HEARS TWO PROPOSALS AND THE BEGINNING OF A THIRD + </h3> + <p> + Trumet in a fog; a fog blown in during the night by the wind from the wide + Atlantic. So wet and heavy that one might taste the salt in it. So thick + that houses along the main road were but dim shapes behind its gray + drapery, and only the gates and fences of the front yards were plainly in + evidence to the passers-by. The beach plum and bayberry bushes on the + dunes were spangled with beady drops. The pole on Cannon Hill, where the + beacon was hoisted when the packet from Boston dropped anchor in the bay, + was shiny and slippery. The new weathervane, a gilded whale, presented to + the “Regular” church by Captain Zebedee Mayo, retired whaler, swam in a + sea of cloud. The lichened eaves of the little “Come-Outer” chapel dripped + at sedate intervals. The brick walk leading to the door of Captain Elkanah + Daniels's fine residence held undignified puddles in its hollows. And, + through the damp stillness, the muttered growl of the surf, three miles + away at the foot of the sandy bluffs by the lighthouse, sounded ominously. + </p> + <p> + Directly opposite Captain Elkanah's front gate, on the other side of the + main road, stood the little story-and-a-half house, also the captain's + property, which for fourteen years had been tenanted by Mrs. Keziah Coffin + and her brother, Solomon Hall, the shoemaker. But Solomon had, the month + before, given up his fight with debt and illness and was sleeping quietly + in Trumet's most populous center, the graveyard. And Keziah, left alone, + had decided that the rent and living expenses were more than her + precarious earnings as a seamstress would warrant, and, having bargained + with the furniture dealer in Wellmouth for the sale of her household + effects, was now busy getting them ready for the morrow, when the dealer's + wagon was to call. She was going to Boston, where a distant and + condescending rich relative had interested himself to the extent of + finding her a place as sewing woman in a large tailoring establishment. + </p> + <p> + The fog hung like a wet blanket over the house and its small yard, where a + few venerable pear trees, too conservative in their old age to venture a + bud even though it was almost May, stood bare and forlorn. The day was + dismal. The dismantled dining room, its tables and chairs pushed into a + corner, and its faded ingrain carpet partially stripped from the floor, + was dismal, likewise. Considering all things, one might have expected + Keziah herself to be even more dismal. But, to all outward appearances, + she was not. A large portion of her thirty-nine years of life had been + passed under a wet blanket, so to speak, and she had not permitted the + depressing covering to shut out more sunshine than was absolutely + necessary. “If you can't get cream, you might as well learn to love your + sasser of skim milk,” said practical Keziah. + </p> + <p> + She was on her knees, her calico dress sleeves, patched and darned, but + absolutely clean, rolled back, uncovering a pair of plump, strong arms, a + saucer of tacks before her, and a tack hammer with a claw head in her + hand. She was taking up the carpet. Grace Van Horne, Captain Eben + Hammond's ward, who had called to see if there was anything she might do + to help, was removing towels, tablecloths, and the like from the drawers + in a tall “high-boy,” folding them and placing them in an old and battered + trunk. The pair had been discussing the subject which all Trumet had + discussed for three weeks, namely, the “calling” to the pastorate of the + “Regular” church of the Rev. John Ellery, the young divinity student, who + was to take the place of old Parson Langley, minister in the parish for + over thirty years. Discussion in the village had now reached a critical + point, for the Reverend John was expected by almost any coach. In those + days, the days of the late fifties, the railroad down the Cape extended + only as far as Sandwich; passengers made the rest of their journey by + stage. Many came direct from the city by the packet, the little schooner, + but Mr. Ellery had written that he should probably come on the coach. + </p> + <p> + “They say he's very nice-looking,” remarked Miss Van Horne soberly, but + with a MISCHIEVOUS glance under her dark lashes at Keziah. The lady + addressed paused long enough to transfer several tacks from the floor to + the saucer, and then made answer. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” she observed. “A good many years ago I saw a theater show up to + Boston. Don't be shocked; those circumstances we hear so much tell of—the + kind you can't control—have kept me from goin' to theaters much, + even if I wanted to. But I did see this entertainment, and a fool one + 'twas, too, all singin' instead of talkin'—op'ra, I believe they + called it. Well, as I started to say, one of the leadin' folks in it was + the Old Harry himself, and HE was pretty good-lookin'.” + </p> + <p> + Grace laughed, even though she had been somewhat shocked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Keziah!” she exclaimed—those who knew Keziah Coffin best + usually called her aunt, though real nephews and nieces she had none—“why, + Aunt Keziah! What do you mean by comparing the—the person you just + mentioned with a MINISTER!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wasn't comparin' 'em; I'll leave that for you Come-Outers to do. + Drat this carpet! Seems's if I never saw such long tacks; I do believe + whoever put 'em down drove 'em clean through the center of the earth and + let the Chinymen clinch 'em on t'other side. I haul up a chunk of the + cellar floor with every one. Ah, hum!” with a sigh, “I cal'late they ain't + any more anxious to leave home than I am. But, far's the minister's + concerned, didn't I hear of your Uncle Eben sayin' in prayer meetin' only + a fortni't or so ago that all hands who wa'n't Come-Outers were own + children to Satan? Mr. Ellery must take after his father some. Surprisin', + ain't it, what a family the old critter's got.” + </p> + <p> + The girl laughed again. For one brought up, since her seventh year, in the + strictest of Come-Outer families, she laughed a good deal. Many + Come-Outers considered it wicked to laugh. Yet Grace did it, and hers was + a laugh pleasant to hear and distinctly pleasant to see. It made her + prettier than ever, a fact which, if she was aware of it, should have been + an additional preventive, for to be pretty smacks of vanity. Perhaps she + wasn't aware of it. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think Uncle Eben would say if he heard that?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Say I took after my father, too, I presume likely. Does your uncle know + you come here to see me so often? And call me 'aunt' and all that?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he does. Aunt Keziah, you mustn't think Uncle Eben doesn't see + the good in people simply because they don't believe as he does. He's as + sweet and kind as—” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Eben Hammond? Land sakes, child, don't I know it? Cap'n Eben's the + salt of the earth. I'm a Regular and always have been, but I'd be glad if + my own society was seasoned with a few like him. 'Twould taste better to + me of a Sunday.” She paused, and then added quizzically: “What d'you + s'pose Cap'n Elkanah and the rest of our parish committee would say if + they heard THAT?” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness knows! Still, I'm glad to hear you say it. And uncle says you + are as good a woman as ever lived. He thinks you're misled, of course, but + that some day you'll see the error of your ways.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I'll have to hurry up if I want to see 'em without spectacles. See + my errors! Land sakes! much as I can do to see the heads of these tacks. + Takin' up carpets is as hard a test of a body's eyesight as 'tis of their + religion.” + </p> + <p> + Her companion put down the tablecloth she was folding and looked earnestly + at the other woman. To an undiscerning eye the latter would have looked + much as she always did—plump and matronly, with brown hair drawn + back from the forehead and parted in the middle; keen brown eyes with a + humorous twinkle in them—this was the Keziah Coffin the later + generation of Trumet knew so well. + </p> + <p> + But Grace Van Horne, who called her aunt and came to see her so + frequently, while her brother was alive and during the month following his + death, could see the changes which the month had wrought. She saw the + little wrinkles about the eyes and the lines of care about the mouth, the + tired look of the whole plucky, workaday New England figure. She shook her + head. + </p> + <p> + “Religion!” she repeated. “I do believe, Aunt Keziah, that you've got the + very best religion of anybody I know. I don't care if you don't belong to + our church. When I see how patient you've been and how cheerful through + all your troubles, it—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin waved the hammer deprecatingly. “There! there!” she + interrupted. “I guess it's a good thing I'm goin' away. Here's you and I + praisin' up each other's beliefs, just as if that wasn't a crime here in + Trumet. Sometimes when I see how the two societies in this little + one-horse place row with each other, I declare if it doesn't look as if + they'd crossed out the first word of 'Love your neighbor' and wrote in + 'Fight,' instead. Yet I'm a pretty good Regular, too, and when it comes to + whoopin' and carryin' on like the Come-Outers, I—Well! well! never + mind; don't begin to bristle up. I won't say another word about religion. + Let's pick the new minister to pieces. ANY kind of a Christian can do + that.” + </p> + <p> + But the new minister was destined to remain undissected that morning, in + that house at least. Grace was serious now and she voiced the matter which + had been uppermost in her mind since she left home. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Keziah,” she said, “why do you go away? What makes you? Is it + absolutely necessary?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do I go? Why, for the same reason that the feller that was hove + overboard left the ship—cause I can't stay. You've got to have + vittles and clothes, even in Trumet, and a place to put your head in + nights. Long's Sol was alive and could do his cobblin' we managed to get + along somehow. What I could earn sewin' helped, and we lived simple. But + when he was taken down and died, the doctor's bills and the undertaker's + used up what little money I had put by, and the sewin' alone wouldn't keep + a healthy canary in bird seed. Dear land knows I hate to leave the old + house I've lived in for fourteen years and the town I was born in, but + I've got to, for all I see. Thank mercy, I can pay Cap'n Elkanah his last + month's rent and go with a clear conscience. I won't owe anybody, that's a + comfort, and nobody will owe me; though I could stand that, I guess,” she + added, prying at the carpet edge. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care!” The girl's dark eyes flashed indignantly. “I think it's + too bad of Cap'n Elkanah to turn you out when—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk that way. He ain't turnin' me out. He ain't lettin' houses for + his health and he'll need the money to buy his daughter's summer rigs. She + ain't had a new dress for a month, pretty near, and here's a young and + good-lookin' parson heavin' in sight. Maybe Cap'n Elkanah would think a + minister was high-toned enough even for Annabel to marry.” + </p> + <p> + “He's only twenty-three, they say,” remarked Grace, a trifle maliciously. + “Perhaps she'll adopt him.” + </p> + <p> + Annabel was the only child of Captain Elkanah Daniels, who owned the + finest house in town. She was the belle of Trumet, and had been for a good + many years. + </p> + <p> + Keziah laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, “anyhow I've got to go. Maybe I'll like Boston first + rate, you can't tell. Or maybe I won't. Ah, hum! 'twouldn't be the first + thing I've had to do that I didn't like.” + </p> + <p> + Her friend looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt,” she said, “I want to make a proposal to you, and you mustn't be + cross about it.” + </p> + <p> + “A proposal! Sakes alive! What'll I say? 'This is so sudden!' That's what + Becky Ryder, up to the west part of the town, said when Jim Baker, the tin + peddler, happened to ask her if she'd ever thought of gettin' married. 'O + James! this is so sudden!' says Becky. Jim said afterwards that the + suddenest thing about it was the way he cleared out of that house. And he + never called there afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + Grace smiled, but quickly grew grave. + </p> + <p> + “Now, auntie,” she said, “please listen. I'm in earnest. It seems to me + that you might do quite well at dressmaking here in town, if you had a + little—well, ready money to help you at the start. I've got a few + hundred dollars in the bank, presents from uncle, and my father's + insurance money. I should love to lend it to you, and I know uncle would—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “Cat's foot!” she exclaimed. “I hope I haven't got where I need to borrow + money yet a while. Thank you just as much, deary, but long's I've got two + hands and a mouth, I'll make the two keep t'other reasonably full, I + wouldn't wonder. No, I shan't think of it, so don't say another word. NO.” + </p> + <p> + The negative was so decided that Grace was silenced. Her disappointment + showed in her face, however, and Keziah hastened to change the subject. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know,” she observed, “but what my goin' to Boston may be the + best thing that ever happened to me? You can't tell. No use despairin', + Annabel ain't given up hope yet; why should I? Hey? Ain't that somebody + comin'?” + </p> + <p> + Her companion sprang to her feet and ran to the window. Then she broke + into a smothered laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's Kyan Pepper!” she exclaimed. “He must be coming to see you, + Aunt Keziah. And he's got on his very best Sunday clothes. Gracious! I + must be going. I didn't know you expected callers.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah dropped the tack hammer and stood up. + </p> + <p> + “Kyan!” she repeated. “What in the world is that old idiot comin' here + for? To talk about the minister, I s'pose. How on earth did Laviny ever + come to let him out alone?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pepper, Mr. Abishai Pepper, locally called “Kyan” (Cayenne) Pepper + because of his red hair and thin red side whiskers, was one of Trumet's + “characters,” and in his case the character was weak. He was born in the + village and, when a youngster, had, like every other boy of good family in + the community, cherished ambitions for a seafaring life. His sister, + Lavinia, ten years older than he, who, after the death of their parents, + had undertaken the job of “bringing up” her brother, did not sympathize + with these ambitions. Consequently, when Kyan ran away she followed him to + Boston, stalked aboard the vessel where he had shipped, and collared him, + literally and figuratively. One of the mates venturing to offer objection, + Lavinia turned upon him and gave him a piece of her mind, to the immense + delight of the crew and the loungers on the wharf. Then she returned with + the vagrant to Trumet. Old Captain Higgins, who skippered the packet in + those days, swore that Lavinia never stopped lecturing her brother from + the time they left Boston until they dropped anchor behind the breakwater. + </p> + <p> + “I give you my word that 'twas pretty nigh a stark calm, but there was + such a steady stream of language pourin' out of the Pepper stateroom that + the draught kept the sails filled all the way home,” asserted Captain + Higgins. + </p> + <p> + That was Kyan's sole venture, so far as sailoring was concerned, but he + ran away again when he was twenty-five. This time he returned of his own + accord, bringing a wife with him, one Evelyn Gott of Ostable. Evelyn could + talk a bit herself, and her first interview with Lavinia ended with the + latter's leaving the house in a rage, swearing never to set foot in it + again. This oath she broke the day of her sister-in-law's funeral. Then + she appeared, after the ceremony, her baggage on the wagon with her. The + bereaved one, who was sitting on the front stoop of his dwelling with, so + people say, a most resigned expression on his meek countenance, looked up + and saw her. + </p> + <p> + “My land! Laviny,” he exclaimed, turning pale. “Where'd you come from?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind WHERE I come from,” observed his sister promptly. “You just be + thankful I've come. If ever a body needed some one to take care of 'em, + it's you. You can tote my things right in,” she added, turning to her + grinning driver, “and you, 'Bishy, go right in with 'em. The idea of your + settin' outside takin' it easy when your poor wife ain't been buried + more'n an hour!” + </p> + <p> + “But—but—Laviny,” protested poor Kyan, speaking the truth + unwittingly, “I couldn't take it easy AFORE she was buried, could I?” + </p> + <p> + “Go right in,” was the answer. “March!” + </p> + <p> + Abishai marched, and had marched under his sister's orders ever since. She + kept house for him, and did it well, but her one fear was that some female + might again capture him, and she watched him with an eagle eye. He was the + town assessor and tax collector, but when he visited dwellings containing + single women or widows, Lavinia always accompanied him, “to help him in + his figgerin',” she said. + </p> + <p> + Consequently, when he appeared, unchaperoned, on the walk leading to the + side door of the Coffin homestead, Keziah and her friend were surprised. + </p> + <p> + “He's dressed to kill,” whispered Grace, at the window. “Even his tall + hat; and in this fog! I do believe he's coming courting, Aunt Keziah.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” was the ungracious answer. “He's come to say good-by, I s'pose, + and to find out where I'm goin' and how much pay I'm goin' to get and if + my rent's settled, and a few other little things that ain't any of his + business. Laviny put him up to it, you see. She'll be along pretty quick. + Well, I'll fix him so he won't talk much. He can help us take down that + stovepipe. I said 'twas a job for a man, and a half one's better than none—Why, + how d'ye do, 'Bishy? Come right in. Pretty thick outside, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pepper entered diffidently. + </p> + <p> + “Er—er—how d'ye do, Keziah?” he stammered. “I thought I'd just + run in a minute and—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. Glad to see you. Take off your hat. My sakes! it's pretty wet. + How did Laviny come to let you—I mean how'd you come to wear a + beaver such a mornin's this?” + </p> + <p> + Kyan removed the silk hat and inspected its limp grandeur ruefully. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—” he began. “Well, the fact is, I come out by myself. You + see, Laviny's gone up to Sarah B.'s to talk church doin's. I—I—well, + I kind of wanted to speak with you about somethin', Keziah, so—Oh! I + didn't see you, Gracie. Good mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + He didn't seem overjoyed to see Miss Van Horne, as it was. In fact, he + reddened perceptibly and backed toward the door. The girl, her eyes + twinkling, took up her jacket and hat. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I'm not going to stop, Mr. Pepper,” she said. “I was only helping + Aunt Keziah a little, that's all. I must run on now.” + </p> + <p> + “Run on—nonsense!” declared Keziah decisively. “You're goin' to stay + right here and help us get that stovepipe down. And 'Bishy'll help, too. + Won't you, 'Bish?” + </p> + <p> + The stovepipe was attached to the “air-tight” in the dining room. It—the + pipe—rose perpendicularly for a few feet and then extended + horizontally, over the high-boy, until it entered the wall. Kyan looked at + it and then at his “Sunday clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I'd be glad to, of course,” he declared with dubious enthusiasm. + “But I don't know's I'll have time. Perhaps I'd better come later and do + it. Laviny, she—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Laviny can spare you for a few minutes, I guess; 'specially as she + don't know you're out. Better take your coat off, hadn't you? Grace, fetch + one of those chairs for Ky—for 'Bishy to stand in.” + </p> + <p> + Grace obediently brought the chair. It happened to be the one with a + rickety leg, but its owner was helping the reluctant Abishai remove the + long-tailed blue coat which had been his wedding garment and had adorned + his person on occasions of ceremony ever since. She did not notice the + chair. + </p> + <p> + “It's real good of you to offer to help,” she said. “Grace and I didn't + hardly dast to try it alone. That pipe's been up so long that I wouldn't + wonder if 'twas chock-full of soot. If you're careful, though, I don't + believe you'll get any on you. Never mind the floor; I'm goin' to wash + that before I leave.” + </p> + <p> + Reluctantly, slowly, the unwilling Mr. Pepper suffered himself to be led + to the chair. He mounted it and gingerly took hold of the pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Better loosen it at the stove hole first,” advised Keziah. “What was it + you wanted to see me about, 'Bish?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothin', nothin',” was the hasty response. “Nothin' of any account—that + is to say—” + </p> + <p> + He turned redder than ever and wrenched at the pipe. It loosened at its + lower end and the wires holding it in suspension shook. + </p> + <p> + “I guess,” observed the lady of the house, “that you'd better move that + chest of drawers out so's you can get behind it. Grace, you help me. + There! that's better. Now move your chair.” + </p> + <p> + Kyan stepped from the chair and moved the latter to a position between the + high-boy and the wall. Then he remounted and gripped the pipe in the + middle of its horizontal section. + </p> + <p> + “Seems to stick in the chimney there, don't it?” queried Keziah. “Wiggle + it back and forth; that ought to loosen it. What was it you wanted to say, + 'Bish?” + </p> + <p> + Apparently, Mr. Pepper had nothing to say. The crimson tide had reached + his ears, which, always noticeable because of their size and spread, were + now lit up like a schooner's sails at sunset. His hands trembled on the + pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', nothin', I tell you,” he faltered. “I—I just run in to say + how d'ye do, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, I think I'd better be going,” said Grace, glancing from Kyan's + embarrassed face to that of the unsuspecting Mrs. Coffin. “I'm afraid I'm + in the way.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” shouted the occupant of the chair. “No, no, you ain't!” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm afraid I am. And they'll be expecting me at home. Aunt Keziah, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be in such a hurry,” interrupted Keziah. “Does stick in the + chimney, don't it? Tell you what you can do, Grace; you can go in the + woodshed and fetch the hammer that's in the table drawer. Hurry up, that's + a good girl.” + </p> + <p> + Kyan protested that he did not need the hammer, but his protest was + unheeded. With one more glance at the couple, Grace departed from the + kitchen, biting her lips. She shut the door carefully behind her. Mr. + Pepper labored frantically with the pipe. + </p> + <p> + “No use to shake it any more till you get the hammer,” advised Keziah. + “Might's well talk while you're waitin'. What was it you wanted to tell + me?” + </p> + <p> + Abishai drew one hand across his forehead, leaving a decorative smooch of + blacking on his perspiring countenance. He choked, swallowed, and then, + with a look at the closed door, seemed to reach a desperate resolve. + </p> + <p> + “Keziah,” he whispered hurriedly, “you've known me quite a spell, ain't + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Known you? Known you ever since you were born, pretty nigh. What of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. And I've known you, you know. Fact is, we've known each other.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear the man! Land sakes! don't everybody in Trumet know everybody else? + What ARE you drivin' at?” + </p> + <p> + “Keziah, you're a single woman.” + </p> + <p> + His companion let go of the chair, which she had been holding in place, + and stepped back. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a single woman?” she repeated sharply. “What do you mean by that? Did—did + anybody say I wasn't?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! 'Course not. But you're a widow, so you BE single, you know, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Well? Did you think I was twins? Get down off there this minute. You've + gone crazy. I thought so when I saw that beaver. Either that or you've + been drinkin'. Grace! What DOES make her so long gettin' that hammer?” + </p> + <p> + Finding the hammer did seem to take a long time. There was no sound from + the kitchen. Kyan, steadying himself with one hand on the pipe, waved the + other wildly. + </p> + <p> + “S-s-sh! s-sh-h!” he hissed. “Hush! be still! Don't get her in here. + Keziah, you're single and so am I. You ain't got nobody to take care of + you and I ain't, neither—that is, I don't want to be took care of—I + mean, I've been took care of too much.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin took another step in the direction of the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “He IS loony!” she exclaimed under her breath. “I—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! I ain't loony. I want to make a proposal to you. I want to see if + you won't marry me. I'm sick of Laviny. Let's you and me settle down + together. I could have some peace then. And I think a whole lot of you, + too,” he added, apparently as an afterthought. + </p> + <p> + Keziah's face was red now, and growing redder every instant. + </p> + <p> + “Kyan Pepper!” she cried in amazed incredulity. “Kyan Pepper, do you—” + </p> + <p> + “Hurry up!” pleaded Abishai, in agitated impatience. “Say yes quick. + She'll be back in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Say YES! Why, you—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't stop to argue, Keziah. I've got 'most fifteen hundred dollars in + the bank. Laviny keeps the pass book in her bureau, but you could get it + from her. I own my house. I'm a man of good character. You're poor, but I + don't let that stand in the way. Anyhow, you're a first-rate housekeeper. + And I really do think an awful lot of you.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin stepped no farther in the direction of the kitchen. Instead, + she strode toward the rickety chair and its occupant. Kyan grasped the + pipe with both hands. + </p> + <p> + “You poor—miserable—impudent—” began the lady. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Keziah, don't you WANT to?” He spoke as if the possibility of a + refusal had never entered his mind. “I cal'lated you'd be glad. You + wouldn't have to go away then, nor—My soul and body! some one's + knockin' at the door! AND THIS DUMMED PIPE'S FETCHED LOOSE!” + </p> + <p> + The last sentence was a smothered shriek. Keziah heeded not. Neither did + she heed the knock at the door. Her hands were opening and closing + convulsively. + </p> + <p> + “Be glad!” she repeated. “Glad to marry a good-for-nothin' sand-peep like + you! You sassy—GET down off that chair and out of this house! Get + down this minute!” + </p> + <p> + “I can't! This stovepipe's loose, I tell you! Be reason'ble, Keziah. Do—don't + you touch me! I'll fall if you do. Pl-e-ase, Keziah!—O Lordy! I knew + it. LAVINY!” + </p> + <p> + The door opened. On the threshold, arms akimbo and lips set tight, stood + Lavinia Pepper. Her brother's knees gave way; in their collapse they + struck the chair back; the rickety leg wabbled. Kyan grasped at the pipe + to save himself and, the next moment, chair, sections of stovepipe, and + Mr. Pepper disappeared with a mighty crash behind the high-boy. A cloud of + soot arose and obscured the view. + </p> + <p> + Keziah, too indignant even to laugh, glared at the wreck. In the doorway + of the kitchen Grace Van Horne, hammer in hand, leaned against the jamb, + her handkerchief at her mouth and tears in her eyes. Lavinia, majestic and + rigid, dominated the scene. From behind the high-boy came coughs, sneezes, + and emphatic ejaculations. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pepper was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Abishai Pepper,” she commanded, “come out of that this minute.” + </p> + <p> + Her answer was a tremendous sneeze. Then from the dusky cloud by the wall + sounded a voice feebly protesting. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Laviny,” began poor Kyan, “I never in my life—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear me? Come out of that!” + </p> + <p> + There was a sound of scrambling. More soot floated in the air. Then around + the corner of the high-boy appeared Mr. Pepper, crawling on his hands and + knees. His hair was streaked with black; his shirt front and collar and + shirt sleeves were spotted and smeared with black; and from his blackened + cheeks his red whiskers flamed like the last glowing embers in a + fire-scarred ruin. + </p> + <p> + “Laviny,” he panted, “I never was so surprised and upsot in all my life + afore.” + </p> + <p> + This was too much for Grace. She collapsed in a chair and laughed + hysterically. Even the wrathful Keziah smiled. But Lavinia did not smile. + For that matter, neither did her brother. + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” sneered Miss Pepper. “Upsot! Yes, I see you're upsot. Get up, and + try to look as much like a Christian as you can!” + </p> + <p> + Kyan rose from his knees to his feet and rubbed his back. He glanced + reproachfully at Grace, then fearfully at his sister. + </p> + <p> + “I was just tryin' to help Keziah take down her stovepipe,” he explained. + “You see, she didn't have no man to—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see. Well, I judge you got it down. Now you go out to the sink and + wash your face. Heavens and earth! Look at them clothes!” + </p> + <p> + “I do hope you didn't hurt yourself, Abishai,” said the sympathetic + Keziah. Then, as remembrance of what had led to the upset came to her, she + added: “Though I will say 'twas your own fault and nobody else's.” + </p> + <p> + Lavinia whirled on her. + </p> + <p> + “His own fault, was it?” she repeated, her voice shrill and trembling. + “Thank you very much, marm. I cal'late 'twas his own fault comin' here, + too, wa'n't it? Nobody led him on, I s'pose. Nobody put him up to riggin' + out in his best bib and tucker and sneakin' here the minute I was out of + the house. No, nobody did! Of COURSE not!” + </p> + <p> + “No, nobody did,” said Keziah briskly. “And you may know what you're + hintin' at, but I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! Ain't we innocent! We've got plenty of money, WE have. Widowers + with property ain't no attraction to US. Everybody knows that—oh, + yes! And they never talk of such a thing—oh, no! Folks don't say + that—that—Well,” with a snarl in the direction of the kitchen, + “are you anywheres nigh clean yet? Get your coat and hat on and come home + with me.” + </p> + <p> + She jerked her brother into the blue coat, jammed the tall hat down upon + his head, and, seizing him by the arm, stalked to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Good day, marm,” she said. “I do hope the next widower you get to take + down your stovepipe—yes, indeed! ha! ha!—I hope you'll have + better luck with him. Though I don't know who 'twould be; there ain't no + more idiots in town that I know of. Good day, and thank you kindly for + your attentions to our family.” + </p> + <p> + She pulled the door open and was on the step; but Mrs. Coffin did not + intend to let her go in just that way. + </p> + <p> + “Laviny Pepper,” she declared, her eyes snapping, “I don't know what + you're talkin' about, but if you dare to mean that I want any of your + money, or your brother's money, you're mistaken—'cause I don't. And + I don't want your brother either—Lord help him, poor thing! And I + tell you right now that there's nobody that does; though some kind-hearted + folks have said 'twould be a Christian act to poison him, so's to put him + out of his misery. There! Good mornin' to you.” + </p> + <p> + She slammed the door. Lavinia was speechless. As for her brother, but one + remark of his reached Grace, who was watching from the window. + </p> + <p> + “Laviny,” pleaded Kyan, “just let me explain.” + </p> + <p> + At nine o'clock that night he was still “explaining.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah turned from the door she had closed behind her visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” she ejaculated. “WELL!” + </p> + <p> + Her friend did not look at her. She was still gazing out of the window. + Occasionally she seemed to choke. + </p> + <p> + Keziah eyed her suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” she mused. “'Twas funny, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dreadfully!” was the hurried answer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Seems to me you took an awful long time findin' that hammer.” + </p> + <p> + “It was away back in the drawer. I didn't see it at first.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! Grace Van Horne, if I thought you heard what that—that THING + said to me, I'd—I'd—Good land of mercy! somebody ELSE is + comin'.” + </p> + <p> + Steps, measured, dignified steps, sounded on the walk. From without came a + “Hum—ha!” a portentous combination of cough and grunt. Grace dodged + back from the window and hastily began donning her hat and jacket. + </p> + <p> + “It's Cap'n Elkanah,” she whispered. “I must go. This seems to be your + busy morning, Aunt Keziah. I”—here she choked again—“really, I + didn't know you were so popular.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah opened the door. Captain Elkanah Daniels, prosperous, pompous, and + unbending, crossed the threshold. Richest man in the village, retired + shipowner, pillar of the Regular church and leading member of its parish + committee, Captain Elkanah looked the part. He removed his hat, cleared + his throat behind his black stock, and spoke with impressive deliberation. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Keziah. Ah—er—morning, Grace.” Even in the tone + given to a perfunctory salutation like this, the captain differentiated + between Regular and Come-Outer. “Keziah, I—hum, ha!—rather + expected to find you alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I was just going, Cap'n Daniels,” explained the girl. The captain bowed + and continued. + </p> + <p> + “Keziah,” he said, “Keziah, I came to see you on a somewhat important + matter. I have a proposal I wish to make you.” + </p> + <p> + He must have been surprised at the effect of his words. Keziah's face was + a picture, a crimson picture of paralyzed amazement. As for Miss Van + Horne, that young lady gave vent to what her friend described afterwards + as a “squeal,” and bolted out of the door and into the grateful seclusion + of the fog. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH KEZIAH UNEARTHS A PROWLER + </h3> + <p> + The fog was cruel to the gossips of Trumet that day. Mrs. Didama Rogers, + who lived all alone, except for the society of three cats, a canary, and a + white poodle named “Bunch,” in the little house next to Captain Elkanah's + establishment, never entirely recovered from the chagrin and + disappointment caused by that provoking mist. When one habitually hurries + through the morning's household duties in order to sit by the front window + and note each passer-by, with various fascinating surmises as to his or + her errand and the reasons for it, it is discouraging to be able to see + only one's own front fence and a scant ten feet of sidewalk. And then to + learn afterwards of a dozen most exciting events, each distinctly out of + the ordinary, which might have been used as excuses for two dozen calls + and as many sensations! As Captain Zeb Mayo, the irreverent ex-whaler, put + it, “That fog shook Didama's faith in the judgment of Providence. 'Tain't + the 'all wise,' but the 'all seein'' kind she talks about in meetin' now.” + </p> + <p> + The fog prevented Mrs. Rogers's noting the entrance of Mr. Pepper at the + Coffin front gate. Also his exit, under sisterly arrest. It shut from her + view the majestic approach of Captain Elkanah Daniels and Grace's flight, + her face dimpled with smiles and breaking into laughter at frequent + intervals. For a young lady, supposed to be a devout Come-Outer, to hurry + along the main road, a handkerchief at her mouth and her eyes sparkling + with fun, was a circumstance calculated to furnish material for enjoyable + scandal. And Didama missed it. + </p> + <p> + Other happenings she missed, also. Not knowing of Captain Daniels's call + upon Keziah, she was deprived of the pleasure of wonder at the length of + his stay. She did not see him, in company with Mrs. Coffin, go down the + road in the opposite direction from that taken by Grace. Nor their return + and parting at the gate, two hours later. She did not see—but there! + she saw nothing, absolutely nothing—except the scraggy spruce tree + in her tiny front yard and the lonely ten feet of walk bordering it. No + one traversed that section of walk except old Mrs. Tinker, who was + collecting subscriptions for new hymn books for the Come-Outer chapel. And + Didama was particularly anxious NOT to see her. + </p> + <p> + The dismal day dragged on. The silver-leaf trees dripped, the hedges were + shining with moisture. Through the stillness the distant surf along the + “ocean side” of the Cape growled and moaned and the fog bell at the + lighthouse clanged miserably. Along the walk opposite Didama's—the + more popular side of the road—shadowy figures passed at long + intervals, children going to and from school, people on errands to the + store, and the like. It was three o'clock in the afternoon before a + visitor came again to the Coffin front gate, entered the yard and rapped + at the side door. + </p> + <p> + Keziah opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Halloa!” she exclaimed. “Back, are you? I begun to think you'd been + scared away for good.” + </p> + <p> + Grace laughed as she entered. + </p> + <p> + “Well, auntie,” she said, “I don't wonder you thought I was scared. Truly, + I didn't think it was proper for me to stay. First Kyan and then Cap'n + Elkanah, and both of them expressing their wishes to see you alone so—er—pointedly. + I thought it was time for me to go. Surely, you give me credit for a + little delicacy.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah eyed her grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” she sniffed. “If you'd been a little less delicate about fetchin' + that hammer, we might have been spared at least one smash-up. I don't + s'pose Laviny'll ever speak to me again. Oh, dear! I guess likely I'll + never get the memory of that—that Kyan thing out of my mind. I never + was so set back in my born days. Yes, you can laugh!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed herself as she said it. As for Grace, it was sometime before + that young lady became coherent. + </p> + <p> + “He DID look so funny!” she gasped. “Hopping up and down on that shaky + chair and holding on to that pipe and—and—O Aunt Keziah, if + you could have seen your face when I opened that door!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; well, I will say you was sometime gettin' it open. And then, on top + of the whole fool business, in parades Elkanah Daniels and—” + </p> + <p> + She paused. Her companion looked delightedly expectant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she cried eagerly. “Then Cap'n Elkanah came and the very first + thing he said was—I almost laughed in his face.” + </p> + <p> + “Almost! Humph! that's no exaggeration. The way you put out of that door + was a caution.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but what did the cap'n mean? Is it a secret? Ahem! shall I + congratulate you, auntie?” + </p> + <p> + “Grace Van Horne! there's born fools enough in this town without your + tryin' to be one. You know 'twa'n't THAT. Though what 'twas was surprise + enough, I will say,” she added. “Grace, I ain't goin' away to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “You're not? Oh, splendid! Has the cap'n decided to let you stay here?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess his decidin' wouldn't influence me, if twas stayin' in his house + he meant. The only way I could live here would be on his charity, and that + would be as poor fodder as sawdust hasty puddin', even if I was fond of + charity, which I ain't. He said to me—Well, you take your things off + and I'll tell you about it. You can stay a little while, can't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I was going to stay all the afternoon and for supper, if you'd let + me. I knew you had so much to do and I wanted to help. I told uncle and he + said certainly I ought to come. He said he should try to see you and say + good-by before you left tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't say! And me a Regular! Well, I'm much obliged, though I guess + your Uncle Eben won't see me to-morrow—nor speak to me again, when + he knows what I AM going to do. Grace, I ain't goin' to leave Trumet, not + for the present, anyhow. I've got a way of earnin' my livin' right here. + I'm goin' to keep house for the new minister.” + </p> + <p> + The girl turned, her hat in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she cried in utter astonishment. + </p> + <p> + Keziah nodded. “Yes,” she affirmed. “That was what Elkanah's proposal + amounted to. Ha! ha! Deary me! When he said 'proposal,' I own up for a + minute I didn't know WHAT was comin'. After Kyan I was prepared for 'most + anything. But he told me that Lurany Phelps, who the parish committee had + counted on to keep house for Mr. Ellery, had sent word her sister was sick + and couldn't be left, and that somebody must be hired right off 'cause the + minister's expected by day after to-morrow's coach. And they'd gone over + every likely candidate in town till it simmered down to Mehitable Burgess. + And Cap'n Zeb Mayo spoke right up in the committee meetin' and gave out + that if Mehitable kept house for Mr. Ellery he, for one, wouldn't come to + church. Said he didn't want to hear sermons that was inspired by HER + cookin'. Seems she cooked for the Mayos one week when Mrs. Mayo had gone + to Boston, and Cap'n Zeb declares his dreams that week was somethin' + awful. 'And I'm a man with no nerves and mighty little imagination,' he + says. 'Land knows what effect a dose of Mehitable's biscuits might have on + a MINISTER.' + </p> + <p> + “And so,” continued Keziah, “they decided Mehitable wouldn't do, and + finally somebody thought of me. I have a notion 'twas Zeb, although Cap'n + Elkanah did his best to make me think 'twas himself. And the cap'n was + made a delegate to come and see me about it. Come he did, and we settled + it. I went down to the parsonage with him before dinner and looked the + place over. There's an awful lot of sweepin' and dustin' to be done afore + it's fit for a body to live in. I did think that when I'd finished with + this house I could swear off on that kind of dissipation for a while, but + I guess, judgin' by the looks of that parsonage, what I've done so far is + only practice.” She paused, glanced keenly at her friend and asked: “Why! + what's the matter? You don't act nigh so glad as I thought you'd be.” + </p> + <p> + Grace said of course she was glad; but she looked troubled, nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly make it seem possible,” she said. “Is it really settled—your + salary and everything? And what will you do about your position in + Boston?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll write Cousin Abner and tell him. Lord love you, HE won't care. + He'll feel that he did his duty in gettin' me the Boston chance and if I + don't take it 'tain't his fault. HIS conscience'll be clear. Land sakes! + if I could clean house as easy as some folks clear their consciences I + wouldn't have a backache this minute. Yes, the wages are agreed on, too. + And totin' them around won't make my back ache any worse, either,” she + added drily. + </p> + <p> + Grace extended her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Aunt Keziah,” she said, “I'm ever and ever so glad for you. I know + you didn't want to leave Trumet and I'm sure everyone will be delighted + when they learn that you're going to stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! that includes Laviny Pepper, of course. I cal'late Laviny's + delight won't keep her up nights. But I guess I can stand it if she can. + Now, Grace, what is it? You AIN'T real pleased? Why not?” + </p> + <p> + The girl hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie,” she said, “I'm selfish, I guess. I'm glad for your sake; you + mustn't think I'm not. But I almost wish you were going to do something + else. You are going to live in the Regular parsonage and keep house for, + of all persons, a Regular minister. Why, so far as my seeing you is + concerned, you might as well be in China. You know Uncle Eben.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah nodded understandingly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “I know him. Eben Hammond thinks that parsonage is the + presence chamber of the Evil One, I presume likely. But, Grace, you + mustn't blame me, and if you don't call I'll know why and I shan't blame + you. We'll see each other once in a while; I'll take care of that. And, + deary, I HAD to do it—I just had to. If you knew what a load had + been took off my mind by this, you'd sympathize with me and understand. + I've been happier in Trumet than I ever was anywhere else, though I've + seen some dark times here, too. I was born here; my folks used to live + here. My brother Sol lived and died here. His death was a heavy trouble to + me, but the heaviest came to me when I was somewheres else and—well, + somehow I've had a feelin' that, if there was any real joys ever planned + out for me while I'm on this earth, they'd come to me here. I don't know + when they'll come. There's times when I can't believe they ever will come, + but—There! there! everybody has to bear burdens in this life, I + cal'late. It's a vale of tears, 'cordin' to you Come-Outer folks, though + I've never seen much good in wearin' a long face and a crape bathin' suit + on that account. Hey? What are you listenin' to?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I heard a carriage stop, that was all.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin went to the window and peered into the fog. + </p> + <p> + “Can't see anything,” she said. “'Tain't anybody for here, that's sure. I + guess likely 'twas Cap'n Elkanah. He and Annabel were goin' to drive over + to Denboro this afternoon. She had some trimmin' to buy. Takes more than + fog to separate Annabel Daniels from dressmakin'. Well, there's a little + more packin' to do; then I thought I'd go down to that parsonage and take + a whack at the cobwebs. I never saw so many in my born days. You'd think + all the spiders from here to Ostable had been holdin' camp meetin' in that + shut-up house.” + </p> + <p> + The packing took about an hour. When it was finished, the carpet rolled + up, and the last piece of linen placed in the old trunk, Keziah turned to + her guest. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Gracie,” she said, “I feel as though I ought to go to the parsonage. + I can't do much more'n look at the cobwebs to-night, but to-morrow those + spiders had better put on their ascension robes. The end of the world's + comin' for them, even though it missed fire for the Millerites when they + had their doin's a few years ago. You can stay here and wait, if 'twon't + be too lonesome. We'll have supper when I get back.” + </p> + <p> + Grace looked tempted. + </p> + <p> + “I've a good mind to go with you,” she said. “I want to be with you as + much as I can, and HE isn't there yet. I'm afraid uncle might not like it, + but—” + </p> + <p> + “Sho! Come along. Eben Hammond may be a chronic sufferer from acute + Come-Outiveness, but he ain't a ninny. Nobody'll see you, anyway. This + fog's like charity, it'll cover a heap of sins. Do come right along. Wait + till I get on my things.” + </p> + <p> + She threw a shawl over her shoulders, draped a white knitted “cloud” over + her head, and took from a nail a key, attached by a strong cord to a block + of wood eight inches long. + </p> + <p> + “Elkanah left the key with me,” she observed. “No danger of losin' it, is + there. Might as well lose a lumber yard. Old Parson Langley tied it up + this way, so he wouldn't miss his moorin's, I presume likely. The poor old + thing was so nearsighted and absent-minded along toward the last that they + say he used to hire Noah Myrick's boy to come in and look him over every + Sunday mornin' before church, so's to be sure he hadn't got his wig on + stern foremost. That's the way Zeb Mayo tells the yarn, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + They left the house and came out into the wet mist. Then, turning to the + right, in the direction which Trumet, with unconscious irony, calls + “downtown,” they climbed the long slope where the main road mounts the + outlying ridge of Cannon Hill, passed Captain Mayo's big house—the + finest in Trumet, with the exception of the Daniels mansion—and + descended into the hollow beyond. Here, at the corner where the + “Lighthouse Lane” begins its winding way over the rolling knolls and dunes + to the light and the fish shanties on the “ocean side,” stood the plain, + straight-up-and-down meeting house of the Regular society. Directly + opposite was the little parsonage, also very straight up and down. Both + were painted white with green blinds. This statement is superfluous to + those who remember Cape architecture at this period; practically every + building from Sandwich to Provincetown was white and green. + </p> + <p> + They entered the yard, through the gap in the white fence, and went around + the house, past the dripping evergreens and the bare, wet lilac bushes, to + the side door, the lock of which Keziah's key fitted. There was a lock on + the front door, of course, but no one thought of meddling with that. That + door had been opened but once during the late pastor's thirty-year + tenantry. On the occasion of his funeral the mourners came and went, as + was proper, by that solemn portal. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin thrust the key into the keyhole of the side door and essayed + to turn it. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” she muttered, twisting to no purpose; “I don't see why—This + must be the right key, because—Well, I declare, if it ain't unlocked + already! That's some of Cap'n Elkanah's doin's. For a critter as fussy and + particular about some things, he's careless enough about others. Mercy we + ain't had any tramps around here lately. Come in.” + </p> + <p> + She led the way into the dining room of the parsonage. Two of the blinds + shading the windows of that apartment had been opened when she and Captain + Daniels made their visit, and the dim gray light made the room more + lonesome and forsaken in appearance than a deeper gloom could possibly + have done. The black walnut extension table in the center, closed to its + smallest dimensions because Parson Langley had eaten alone for so many + years; the black walnut chairs set back against the wall at regular + intervals; the rag carpet and braided mats—homemade donations from + the ladies of the parish—on the green painted floor; the dolorous + pictures on the walls; “Death of Washington,” “Stoning of Stephen,” and a + still more deadly “fruit piece” committed in oils years ago by a now + deceased boat painter; a black walnut sideboard with some blue-and-white + crockery upon it; a gilt-framed mirror with another outrage in oils + emphasizing its upper half; dust over everything and the cobwebs mentioned + by Keziah draping the corners of the ceiling; this was the dining room of + the Regular parsonage as Grace saw it upon this, her first visit. The dust + and cobwebs were, in her eyes, the only novelties, however. Otherwise, the + room was like many others in Trumet, and, if there had been one or two + paintings of ships, would have been typical of the better class. + </p> + <p> + “Phew!” exclaimed Keziah, sniffing disgustedly. “Musty and shut up enough, + ain't it? Down here in the dampness, and 'specially in the spring, it + don't take any time for a house to get musty if it ain't aired out + regular. Mr. Langley died only three months ago, but we've been + candidatin' ever since and the candidates have been boarded round. There's + been enough of 'em, too; we're awful hard to suit, I guess. That's it. Do + open some more blinds and a window. Fresh air don't hurt anybody—unless + it's spiders,” with a glare at the loathed cobwebs. + </p> + <p> + The blinds and a window being opened, more light entered the room. Grace + glanced about it curiously. + </p> + <p> + “So this is going to be your new home now, Aunt Keziah,” she observed. + “How queer that seems.” + </p> + <p> + “Um—h'm. Does seem queer, don't it? Must seem queer to you to be so + near the headquarters of everything your uncle thinks is wicked. Smell of + brimstone any, does it?” she asked with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven't noticed it. You've got a lot of cleaning to do. I wish I + could help. Look at the mud on the floor.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah looked. + </p> + <p> + “Mud?” she exclaimed. “Why, so 'tis! How in the world did that come here? + Wet feet, sure's you're born. Man's foot, too. Cap'n Elkanah's, I guess + likely; though the prints don't look hardly big enough for his. Elkanah's + convinced that he's a great man and his boots bear him out in it, don't + they? Those marks don't look broad enough for his understandin', but I + guess he made 'em; nobody else could. Here's the settin' room.” + </p> + <p> + She threw open another door. A room gloomy with black walnut and fragrant + with camphor was dimly visible. + </p> + <p> + “Cheerful's a tomb, ain't it?” was Mrs. Coffin's comment. “Well, we'll get + some light and air in here pretty soon. Here's the front hall and there's + the front stairs. The parlor's off to the left. We won't bother with that + yet a while. This little place in here is what Mr. Langley used to call + his 'study.' Halloa! how this door sticks!” + </p> + <p> + The door did stick, and no amount of tugging could get it open, though + Grace added her efforts to those of Keziah. + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't locked,” commented Mrs. Coffin, “cause there ain't any lock on + it. I guess it's just swelled and stuck from the damp. Though it's odd, I + don't remember—Oh, well! never mind. Let's sweeten up this settin' + room a little. Open a window or two in here. We'll have to hurry if we + want to do anything before it gets dark. I'm goin' into the kitchen to get + a broom.” + </p> + <p> + She hurried out, returning in a moment or two with a broom and a most + disgusted expression. + </p> + <p> + “How's a body goin' to sweep with that?” she demanded, exhibiting the + frayed utensil, the business end of which was worn to a stub. “More like a + shovel, enough sight. Well, there's pretty nigh dust enough for a shovel, + so maybe this'll take off the top layers. S'pose I'll ever get this house + fit for Mr. Ellery to live in before he comes? I wonder if he's a + particular man?” + </p> + <p> + Grace, who was struggling with a refractory window, paused for breath. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I don't know,” she replied. “I've never seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I either. Sol was so bad the Sunday he preached that I couldn't go to + meetin'. They say his sermon was fine; all about those who go down to the + sea in ships. That's what got the parish committee, I guess; they're all + old salts. I wonder if he's as fine-lookin' as they say?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Van Horne tossed her head. She was resting, prior to making another + assault on the window. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she said. “And I'm sure I don't care. I don't like + good-looking ministers.” + </p> + <p> + “Deary me! You're different from most females in this town, then. And you + spoke of his good looks yourself this very mornin'. Why don't you like the + good-lookin' ones?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, because they're always conceited and patronizing and superior—and + spoiled. I can just imagine this Mr. Ellery of yours strutting about in + sewing circle or sociables, with Annabel and Georgianna Lothrop and the + rest simpering and gushing and getting in his way: 'O Mr. Ellery, I did so + enjoy that sermon of yours Sunday!' and 'O Mr. Ellery, it was SO good of + you to come this afternoon!' Pooh! I'm glad I'm a Come-Outer. Not that I + would simper over him if I wasn't. He couldn't patronize me—not more + than once, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah was greatly amused. + </p> + <p> + “Sakes alive!” she chuckled. “You're awfully high and mighty, seems to me. + And changeable since mornin'. You was willin' enough to talk about him + then. Now, Gracie, you mustn't take a spite against poor Mr. Ellery just + because I've got to keep house for him. 'Tain't his fault; he don't even + know it yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care. I know he'll be a conceited little snippet and I shall hate + the sight of him. There! there! Auntie, you mustn't mind me. I told you I + was a selfish pig. But don't you ask me to LIKE this precious minister of + yours, because I shan't do it. He has no business to come and separate me + from the best friend I've got. I'd tell him so if he was here—What + was that?” + </p> + <p> + Both women looked at each other with startled faces. They listened + intently. + </p> + <p> + “Why, wa'n't that funny!” whispered Keziah. “I thought I heard—” + </p> + <p> + “You DID hear. So did I. What do you suppose—” + </p> + <p> + “S-s-s-h-h! It sounded from the front room somewhere. And yet there can't + be anybody in there, because—My soul! there 'tis again. I'm goin' to + find out.” + </p> + <p> + She grasped the stubby broom by the handle and moved determinedly toward + the front hall. Grace seized her by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you do it, auntie!” she whispered frantically. “Don't you DO it! It + may be a tramp.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care. Whoever or whatever it is, it has no business in this + house, and I'll make that plain in a hurry. Just like as not it's a cat + got in when Elkanah was here this forenoon. Don't be scared, Grace. Come + right along.” + </p> + <p> + The girl came along, but not with enthusiasm. They tiptoed through the + dark, narrow hall and peered into the parlor. This apartment was dim and + still and gloomy, as all proper parlors should be, but there was no sign + of life. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” sniffed Keziah. “It might have been upstairs, but it didn't sound + so. What did it sound like to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Like a footstep at first; and then like something falling—and + rustling. Oh, what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin was glancing back down the hall with a strange expression on + her face. Her grip upon the broom handle tightened. + </p> + <p> + “What IS it?” pleaded the girl in an agonized whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Grace,” was the low reply, “I've just remembered somethin'. That study + door isn't stuck from the damp, because—well, because I remember now + that it was open this mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + Before her companion could fully grasp the import of this paralyzing fact, + Keziah strode down the hall and seized the knob of the study door. + </p> + <p> + “Whoever you are in there,” she commanded sternly, “open this door and + come out this minute. Do you hear? I'm orderin' you to come out.” + </p> + <p> + There was an instant of silence; then a voice from within made answer, a + man's voice, and its tone indicated embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” it said, “I—I am—I will be out in another minute. If + you will just be patient—” + </p> + <p> + Grace interrupted with a smothered shriek. Keziah brandished the broom. + </p> + <p> + “Patient!” she repeated sharply. “Well, I like that! What do you mean by—Open + that door! Grace, run out and get the—the constable.” + </p> + <p> + This command was delivered entirely for effect. The office of constable in + Trumet is, generally speaking, a purely honorary one. Its occupant had + just departed for a week's cruise as mate of a mackerel schooner. However, + the effect was instantaneous. From behind the door came sounds of hurry + and commotion. + </p> + <p> + “Don't get the police on my account, please,” said the voice. “If you will + be patient until I get this—I'm just as anxious to come out as you + can be to have me. Of all the ridiculous—” + </p> + <p> + “Come out then!” snapped Keziah. “Come out! If you're so everlastin' + anxious, then come out. Patience! Of all the cheek! Why don't you come out + NOW?” + </p> + <p> + The answer was brisk and to the point. Evidently, the unknown's stock of + the virtue which he demanded of others was diminishing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, to be frank, since you insist,” snapped the voice, “I'm not fully + dressed.” + </p> + <p> + This was a staggerer. For once Keziah did not have a reply ready. She + looked at Grace and the latter at her. Then, without words, they retreated + to the sitting room. + </p> + <p> + “Shall—shall I go for help?” whispered the girl. “Hadn't we better + leave him here and—He doesn't sound like a tramp, does he. What DO + you suppose—” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you won't be alarmed,” continued the voice, broken by panting + pauses, as if the speaker was struggling into a garment. “I know this must + seem strange. You see, I came on the coach as far as Bayport and then we + lost a wheel in a rut. There was a—oh, dear! where IS that—this + is supremely idiotic!—I was saying there happened to be a man coming + this way with a buggy and he offered to help me along. He was on his way + to Wellmouth. So I left my trunk to come later and took my valise. It + rained on the way and I was wet through. I stopped at Captain Daniels's + house and the girl said he had gone with his daughter to the next town, + but that they were to stop here at the parsonage on their way. So—there! + that's right, at last!—so I came, hoping to find them. The door was + open and I came in. The captain and his daughter were not here, but, as I + was pretty wet, I thought I would seize the opportunity to change my + clothes. I had some dry—er—things in my valise and I—well, + then you came, you see, and—I assure you I—well, it was the + most embarrassing—I'm coming now.” + </p> + <p> + The door opened. The two in the sitting room huddled close together, + Keziah holding the broom like a battle-ax, ready for whatsoever might + develop. From the dimness of the tightly shuttered study stepped the owner + of the voice, a stranger, a young man, his hair rumpled, his tie + disarranged, and the buttons of his waistcoat filling the wrong + buttonholes. Despite this evidence of a hasty toilet in semidarkness, he + was not unprepossessing. Incidentally, he was blushing furiously. + </p> + <p> + “I'm—I'm sure I beg your pardon, ladies,” he stammered. “I scarcely + know what to say to you. I—” + </p> + <p> + His eyes becoming accustomed to the light in the sitting room, he was now + able to see his captors more clearly. He looked at Keziah, then at Miss + Van Horne, and another wave of blushes passed from his collar up into the + roots of his hair. Grace blushed, too, though, as she perfectly well knew, + there was no reason why she should. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin did not blush. This young fellow, although evidently not a + tramp or a burglar, had caused her some moments of distinct uneasiness, + and she resented the fact. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she observed rather tartly, “I'm sorry you don't know what to say, + but perhaps you might begin by telling us who you are and what you mean by + makin' a—er—dressin' room of a house that don't belong to you, + just because you happened to find the door unlocked. After that you might + explain why you didn't speak up when we first come, instead of keepin' so + mighty quiet. That looks kind of suspicious to me, I must say.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger's answer was prompt enough now. It was evident he resented + the suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't speak,” he said, “because you took me by surprise and I wasn't, + as I explained—er—presentable. Besides, I was afraid of + frightening you. I assure you I hurried as fast as I could, quietly, and + when you began to talk”—his expression changed and there was a + twitch at the corner of his mouth—“I tried to hurry still faster, + hoping you might not hear me and I could make my appearance—or my + escape—sooner. As for entering the house—well, I considered + it, in a way, my house; at least, I knew I should live in it for a time, + and—” + </p> + <p> + “Live in it?” repeated Keziah. “LIVE in it? Why! mercy on us! you don't + mean to say you're—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped to look at Grace. That young lady was looking at her with an + expression which, as it expressed so very much, is beyond ordinary powers + of description. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Ellery,” said the stranger. “I am the minister—the new + minister of the Regular society.” + </p> + <p> + Then even Keziah blushed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH KEZIAH ASSUMES A GUARDIANSHIP + </h3> + <p> + Didama would have given her eyeteeth—and, for that matter, the + entire upper set—to have been present in that parsonage sitting room + when the Rev. John Ellery made his appearance. But the fates were against + Didama that day and it was months afterwards before she, or any of what + Captain Zeb Mayo called the “Trumet Daily Advertisers,” picked up a hint + concerning it. Keziah and Grace, acquainted with the possibilities of + these volunteer news gatherers, were silent, and the Reverend John, being + in some respects a discreet young man with a brand-new ministerial dignity + to sustain, refrained from boasting of the sensation he had caused. He + thought of it very often, usually at most inconvenient times, and when, by + all the requirements of his high calling, his thought should have been + busy with different and much less worldly matters. + </p> + <p> + “I declare!” said Mrs. Thankful Payne, after the new minister's first call + at her residence, a week after his arrival at Trumet, “if Mr. Ellery ain't + the most sympathetic man. I was readin' out loud to him the poem my cousin + Huldy B.—her that married Hannibal Ellis over to Denboro—made + up when my second husband was lost to sea, and I'd just got to the p'int + in the ninth verse where it says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'The cruel billows crash and roar, + And the frail craft is tempest-tossed, + But the bold mariner thinks not of life, but says, + “It is the fust schooner ever I lost.”' +</pre> + <p> + And 'twas, too, and the last, poor thing! Well, I just got fur as this + when I looked up and there was the minister lookin' out of the window and + his face was just as red, and he kept scowlin' and bitin' his lips. I do + believe he was all but sheddin' tears. Sympathy like that I appreciate.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, Mr. Ellery had just seen Grace Van Horne pass that + window. She had not seen him, but for the moment he was back in that + disgusting study, making a frenzied toilet in the dusk and obliged to + overhear remarks pointedly personal to himself. + </p> + <p> + Grace left the parsonage soon after the supposed tramp disclosed his + identity. Her farewells were hurried and she firmly refused Mrs. Coffin's + not too-insistent appeal to return to the house “up street” and have + supper. She said she was glad to meet Mr. Ellery. The young minister + affirmed his delight in meeting her. Then she disappeared in the misty + twilight and John Ellery surreptitiously wiped his perspiring forehead + with his cuff, having in his late desire for the primal necessities + forgotten such a trifling incidental as a handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Ellery,” observed Keziah, turning to her guest, or employer, or + incumbrance—at present she was more inclined to consider him the + latter—“well, Mr. Ellery, this has been kind of unexpected for all + hands, ain't it? If I'd known you was comin' to-day, I'd have done my best + to have things ready, but Cap'n Elkanah said not before day after + to-morrow and—but there, what's the use of talkin' that way? I + didn't know I was goin' to keep house for you till this very forenoon. + Mercy me, what a day this has been!” + </p> + <p> + The minister smiled rather one-sidedly. + </p> + <p> + “It's been something of a day for me,” he admitted. “I am ahead of time + and I've made a lot of trouble, I'm afraid. But yesterday afternoon I was + ready and, to tell the truth, I was eager to come and see my new home and + get at my work. So I started on the morning train. Then the stage broke + down and I began to think I was stranded at Bayport. But this kind-hearted + chap from Wellmouth—I believe that's where he lived—happened + to pull up to watch us wrestling with the smashed wheel, and when he found + I was in a hurry to get to Trumet, offered to give me a lift. His name was—was + Bird. No, that wasn't it, but it was something like Bird, or some kind of + a bird.” + </p> + <p> + “Bird?” repeated Keziah thoughtfully. “There's no Birds that I know of in + Wellmouth. Hum! Hey? 'Twa'n't Sparrow, was it?” + </p> + <p> + “That was it—Sparrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Good land! Emulous Sparrow. Run consider'ble to whiskers and tongue, + didn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes; he did wear a beard. As for tongue—well, he was + conversational, if that's what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I mean. If you rode twelve mile with Emulous, you must have + had an earache for the last six. Did he ask a question or two about your + personal affairs, here and there between times?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ellery laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, one or two, between times,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “I shan't die of surprise. Did you tell him who you was?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o, to be honest, I didn't. He was so very anxious to find out, that—well, + I dodged. I think he believed I was going to visit Captain Daniels.” + </p> + <p> + “Good enough! If I was governor of this state I wouldn't send any + Thanksgivin' proclamations down this way. I'd just write Em Peters and + Didama Rogers and a couple more like them and save myself the trouble. + They'd have all I wanted to proclaim spread from one end of the county to + the other in less'n a day, and a peck or two of extrys pitched in for good + measure. I'm awful glad you didn't tell Emulous you was the minister. You + see, Trumet's Trumet, and, considerin' everything, maybe it's just as well + nobody knows about your bein' shut up in that study. Not but what 'twas + all right, you know, but—” + </p> + <p> + “I understand. I'm not proud of it. Still, some one may have seen me come + here.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, they didn't. This fog is as thick as Injun-meal puddin'. Nobody + saw you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” with some hesitation, “the young lady who was here with you—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Grace Van Horne! She's all right. She won't tell. She ain't that + kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Van Horne? That doesn't sound like a New England name.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tisn't. Her folks come from Jersey somewheres. But she was adopted by + old Cap'n Hammond, who keeps the tavern down on the bay shore by the + packet wharf, and she's lived in Trumet since she was six years old. Her + father was Teunis Van Horne, and he was mate on Cap'n Eben's coastin' + schooner and was drowned off Hatteras. Eben was saved just by the skin of + his teeth and got a broken hip and religion while it happened. His hip's + better except that he's some lame; but his religion's been more and more + feverish ever since. He's one of the head Come-Outers, and built their + chapel with his own money. You mustn't think I'm speakin' lightly of + religion, nor of Cap'n Eben, either. He's a dear good soul as ever was, + but he is the narrowest kind of Come-Outer. His creed is just about as + wide as the chapel door, and that's as narrow as the way leadin' to + salvation; it IS the way, too, so the Come-Outers think.” + </p> + <p> + “What are Come-Outers? Some new sect?” + </p> + <p> + “Sakes alive! Haven't you heard of Come-Outers? Cat's foot! Well, you'll + hear of 'em often enough from now on. They're folks who used to go to our + church, the Regular, but left because the services was too worldly, with + organs and choir singin', and the road to paradise too easy. No need for + me to tell you any more. You'll learn.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ellery was interested. He had been in Trumet but once before, on the + occasion when he preached his trial sermon, and of that memorable visit + remembered little except the sermon itself, the pews filled with captains + and their families, and the awe-inspiring personality of Captain Elkanah + Daniels, who had been his host. To a young man, the ink upon his diploma + from the theological school still fresh, a trial sermon is a weighty + matter, and the preaching of it weightier still. He had rehearsed it over + and over in private, had delivered it almost through clinched teeth, and + had returned to his room in the Boston boarding house with the conviction + that it was an utter failure. Captain Elkanah and the gracious Miss + Annabel, his daughter, had been kind enough to express gratification, and + their praise alone saved him from despair. Then, to his amazement, the + call had come. Of casual conversation at the church and about the + Daniels's table he could recall nothing. So there was another religious + organization in town and that made up of seceders from his own church. He + was surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Er—this Miss Van Horne?” he asked. “Is she a—Come-Outer?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said. “She's one. Couldn't be anything else and live with her + Uncle Eben, as she calls him.” + </p> + <p> + The minister experienced a curious feeling of disappointment and chagrin. + This young person, already predisposed to regard a clergyman of his + denomination with disapproval, had seen him for the first time under most + humiliating circumstances. And he should never have the opportunity to + regain her favor, or his own self-respect, by his efforts in the pulpit. + No matter how well he might preach she would never hear him. + </p> + <p> + “Has this Captain Hammond no children of his own?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Keziah's answer was short for her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said. “One.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! another daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “No, a son. Name's Nathaniel, and he's a sea captain. He's on his way from + Surinam to New York now. They expect him to make port most any time, I + believe. Now, Mr. Ellery, I s'pose we've got to arrange for your supper + and stayin' overnight; and with this house the way 'tis and all, I don't + see—” + </p> + <p> + But the minister was still interested in the Hammond household. + </p> + <p> + “This Nathaniel Hammond?” he asked. “You don't seem enthusiastic over him. + Is he a black sheep?” + </p> + <p> + This reply also was short, but emphatic. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Keziah. “He's a fine man.” + </p> + <p> + Then she resumed her semisoliloquy concerning her companion's + entertainment. + </p> + <p> + “I guess,” she said, “that the best thing for you to do will be to go to + Cap'n Elkanah's. They'll be real glad to see you, I know, and you'll be in + time for supper, for Elkanah and Annabel have been to Denboro and they'll + be late home. They can keep you overnight, too, for it's a big house with + lots of rooms. Then, after breakfast to-morrow you come right here. I'll + have things somewhere near shipshape by then, I guess, though the + cleanin'll have to be mainly a lick and a promise until I can really get + at it. Your trunk'll be here on the coach, I s'pose, and that'll be + through early in the forenoon. Get on your hat and coat and I'll go with + you to Elkanah's.” + </p> + <p> + The young man demurred a little at thrusting himself upon the hospitality + of the Daniels's home, but Keziah assured him that his unexpected coming + would cause no trouble. So he entered the now dark study and came out + wearing his coat and carrying his hat and valise in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I'm ever so much obliged to you,” he said. “And, as we are going + to be more or less together—or at least I guess as much from what + you say—would you mind if I suggest a mutual introduction. I'm John + Ellery; you know that already. And you—” + </p> + <p> + Keziah stopped short on her way to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I declare!” she exclaimed. “If I ain't the very worst! Fact is, you + dropped in so ahead of time and in such a irregular sort of way, that I + never once thought of introducin' anybody; and I'm sure Grace didn't. I'm + Keziah Coffin, and Cap'n Elkanah and I signed articles, so to speak, this + mornin', and I'm goin' to keep house for you.” + </p> + <p> + She explained the reason upsetting the former arrangement by which Lurania + Phelps was to have had the position. + </p> + <p> + “So I'm to keep house for you,” she concluded. Adding: “For a spell, + anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say that?” asked the minister. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you might not like me. You may be particular, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I can run that risk.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; well, you can't tell. Or I might not like you. You see, I'm pretty + particular myself,” she added with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + At the Daniels's door Keziah turned her new charge over to Matilda Snow, + the hired girl. It was an indication of the family's social position that + they kept “hired help.” This was unusual in Trumet in those days, even + among the well to do. + </p> + <p> + “Good night,” said the young man, extending his hand. “Good night, Miss—or + is it Mrs.—Coffin?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + “She's a widow,” explained Matilda. “Husband died 'fore she come back here + to live. Guess he didn't amount to much; she never mentions his name.” + </p> + <p> + “There was one thing I meant to tell her,” mused the minister, hesitating + on the threshold. “I meant to tell her not to attempt any cleaning up at + the parsonage to-night. To-morrow will do just as well.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens to Betsy!” sniffed the “hired help,” speaking from the depths of + personal conviction, “nobody but a born fool would clean house in the + night, 'specially after the cleanin' she's been doin' at her own place. I + guess you needn't worry.” + </p> + <p> + So Mr. Ellery did not worry. And yet, until three o'clock of the following + morning, the dull light of a whale-oil lantern illuminated the rooms of + the parsonage as Keziah scrubbed and swept and washed, giving to the musty + place the “lick and promise” she had prophesied. If the spiders had + prepared those ascension robes, they could have used them that night. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast the wagons belonging to the Wellmouth furniture dealer + drove in at the gate of the little house opposite Captain Elkanah's, and + Keziah saw, with a feeling of homesickness which she hid beneath smiles + and a rattle of conversation, the worn household treasures which had been + hers, and her brother's before her, carried away out of her life. Then her + trunks were loaded on the tailboards of the wagons, to be left at the + parsonage, and with a sigh and a quick brush of her hand across her eyes, + she locked the door for the last time and walked briskly down the road. + Soon afterwards John Ellery, under the eminently respectable escort of + Captain Elkanah and Miss Annabel, emerged from the Daniels's gate and + followed her. Mrs. Didama Rogers, thankful for a clear atmosphere and an + unobstructed view, saw them pass and recognized the stranger. And, within + a quarter of an hour, she, arrayed in a hurried calling costume, was + spreading the news along the main road. The “Trumet Daily Advertiser” had, + so to speak, issued an extra. + </p> + <p> + Thus the new minister came to Trumet and thus Keziah Coffin became his + housekeeper. She entered upon her duties with the whole-hearted energy + peculiar to her. She was used to hard work, and, as she would have said, + felt lonesome without it. She cleaned that parsonage from top to bottom. + Every blind was thrown open and the spring sunshine poured in upon the + braided mats and the rag carpets. Dust flew in clouds for the first day or + two, but it flew out of windows and doors and was not allowed to settle + within. The old black walnut furniture glistened with oil. The mirrors and + the crockery sparkled from baths of hot water and soap. Even St. Stephen, + in the engravings on the dining-room wall, was forced to a martyrdom of + the fullest publicity, because the spots and smears on the glass covering + his sufferings were violently removed. In the sleeping rooms upstairs the + feather beds were beaten and aired, the sheets and blankets and patchwork + comforters exposed to the light, and the window curtains dragged down and + left to flap on the clothesline. The smell of musty dampness disappeared + from the dining room and the wholesome odors of outdoors and of good + things cooking took its place. + </p> + <p> + Keziah, in the midst of her labors, found time to coach her employer and + companion in Trumet ways, and particularly in the ways which Trumet + expected its clergymen to travel. On the morning following his first night + in the parsonage, he expressed himself as feeling the need of exercise. He + thought he should take a walk. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said his housekeeper from her station opposite him at the + breakfast table, “if I was you I wouldn't take too long a one. You'd + better be back here by ten, anyhow. Where was you thinkin' of goin'?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ellery had no particular destination in mind. He would like to see + something of the village and, perhaps, if she could give him the names of + a few of his parishioners, he might make a few calls. Keziah shook her + head. + </p> + <p> + “Gracious goodness!” she exclaimed. “I wouldn't advise you to do that. You + ain't been here long enough to make forenoon calls. If you should catch + some of the women in this town with aprons and calico on, they'd never + forgive you in this world. Wait till afternoon; they'll be expectin' you + then and they'll be rigged out in their best bibs and tuckers. S'pose you + found Annabel Daniels with her hair done up in curl papers; what do you + think would happen? Mornin's are no time for ministers' calls. Even old + Mr. Langley never made calls in the forenoon—and he'd been here + thirty-odd years.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, you know best. Much obliged for the advice. Then I'll simply + take my walk and leave the calls until later.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd be back by ten, though. Folks'll begin callin' on you by that time.” + </p> + <p> + “They will? Doesn't the rule work both ways?” + </p> + <p> + “Not with new ministers it don't. Cat's foot! You don't s'pose Didama + Rogers and Laviny Pepper and their kind'll wait any longer'n they can help + afore they come to see what you look like, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they must have seen me when I preached here before. I remember—” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us! that was in meetin'. Meetin's diff'rent. All they could say + to you then was how much they liked your sermon. They say that to every + minister that comes, no matter how they may pick him to pieces afterwards. + But here they can ask you questions; about how you came to come here and + what you think of it far's you've got, and what your views are on certain + points in the creed. Likewise, who your folks were and whether they was + well off, and a few things like that. Then they'll want to see what kind + of clothes you wear and—” + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” Ellery whistled. “You're unfolding a pleasant prospect for me, I + must say. Am I supposed to be catechized on all of my private affairs?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! A minister hasn't got any private affairs; he's a public + character. There!” she laughed, as she poured the coffee, “I mustn't + discourage you. But don't you see that every mother's son—and, for + that matter, every daughter and children's child unto the third and fourth + generation—feel that, so long as they pay pew rent or put a cent in + the collection, they own a share in you. And we always keep a watch on our + investments down this way. That's the Yankee shrewdness you read so much + about, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + The minister absently played with his spoon. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you're a cynic,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I ain't. Though sometimes, considerin' everything, I feel as + though I had excuse enough if I wanted to belong to that tribe. But you're + young. You mustn't mind my sayin' that; if you was old, of course, I + wouldn't talk about ages. But you are young and this is your first church. + So you must start right. I'm no cynic, bless you. I've got trust in human + nature left—most kinds of human nature. If I hadn't, I'd have more + money, I s'pose. Perhaps you've noticed that those who trust a good deal + are usually poor. It's all right, Mr. Ellery; you go and take your walk. + And I'll walk into that pantry closet. It'll be a good deal like walkin' + into the Slough of Despond, but Christian came out on the other side and I + guess likely I will, if the supply of soapsuds holds out.” + </p> + <p> + When, promptly at ten o'clock, the minister returned from his walk, he + found Mrs. Rogers waiting in the sitting room. It is a prime qualification + of an alert reporter to be first on the scene of sensation. Didama was + seldom beaten. Mr. Ellery's catechism began. Before it was over Keziah + opened the door to admit Miss Pepper and her brother. “Kyan” was nervous + and embarrassed in the housekeeper's presence. Lavinia was a glacier, + moving majestically and freezing as it moved. Keziah, however, was not + even touched by the frost; she greeted the pair cordially, and begged them + to “take off their things.” + </p> + <p> + It was dinner time before the catechizers departed. The catechized came to + the table with an impaired appetite. He looked troubled. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let it worry you, Mr. Ellery,” observed Keziah calmly. “I think I + can satisfy you. Honest and true, I ain't half as bad as you might think.” + </p> + <p> + The minister looked more troubled than before; also surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mrs. Coffin!” he cried. “Could you hear—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! I couldn't hear nothin' in that closet except my own opinion on + dirt and dust. But if I was as deaf as the man that set on the powder keg + and dropped his pipe ashes into it, it wouldn't have made any difference. + The man said after they picked him up that they needn't have been so + rough, he'd have moved without bein' pushed if they'd have made signs they + wanted to use the keg. And if I was out in the next lot I'd have known + what you was listenin' to in that sittin' room. They hinted that they were + real sorry for you, but 'twasn't any of THEIR doin's. The parish + committee, bein' just men, was apt to make mistakes in certain matters. Of + course everything MIGHT be well enough, and if you wa'n't TOO particular + about cookin' and so on, why—Anyhow, you mustn't think that THEY + were criticisin'. 'Twas only that they took an interest and—That was + about it, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Coffin, I—I hope you don't think I paid any attention to their + remarks—of that kind, I mean. Honestly, I did my best to stop them. + I said—” + </p> + <p> + “Man alive! I'm not worried. Why should you be? We were talkin' about + trust just now—or I was. Well, you and I'll have to take each other + on trust for a while, until we see whether we're goin' to suit. If you see + anything that I'm goin' wrong in, I wish you'd tell me. And I'll do the + same by you, if that's agreeable. You'll hear a lot of things said about + me, but if they're very bad I give you my word they ain't true. And, to be + real frank, I'll probably hear some about you, which I'll take for what + they're worth and considerin' who said 'em. That's a good wholesome + agreement, I think, for both of us. What do you think?” + </p> + <p> + John Ellery said, with emphasis, that he thought well of it. He began to + realize that this woman, with her blunt common sense, was likely to be a + pilot worth having in the difficult waters which he must navigate as + skipper of the Regular church in Trumet. Also, he began to realize that, + as such a skipper, he was most inexperienced. And Captain Daniels had + spoken highly—condescendingly but highly—of his housekeeper's + qualifications and personality. So the agreement was ratified, with relief + on his part. + </p> + <p> + The first Sunday came and with it the first sermon. He read that sermon to + Keziah on Saturday evening and she approved of it as a whole, though she + criticised some of its details. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be afraid to put in plenty of salt,” she said. “Where you've got + the Christian life and spirit written down as bein' like a quiet, peaceful + home, free from all distrust, and like that, why don't you change it to a + good safe anchorage, where the soul can ride forever without fear of + breakers or no'theasters or the dangers besettin' the mariner on a lee + shore. They'll understand that; it gets right home to 'em. There's + scarcely a man or a woman in your congregation that ain't been out of + sight of land for weeks on a stretch.” + </p> + <p> + The breakfast hour on Sunday would be at nine o'clock, instead of seven, + as on week days, she told him. + </p> + <p> + “Trumet lays to bed Sunday mornin's,” she explained. “It's almost a part + of its religion, as you might say, and lived up to more conscientious than + some other parts, I'm afraid. Six days shalt thou labor and wear + comfort'ble clothes; and on the seventh you must be lazy and dress up. + Likewise you must have baked beans Saturday for supper, as we're havin' + 'em, and more beans with fish balls next mornin'. That is, if you want to + be orthodox.” + </p> + <p> + The service began at eleven o'clock. At half past ten the sexton, old Mr. + Jubal Knowles, rang the “first bell,” a clanging five-minute reminder. + Twenty minutes later he began on the second and final call. Mr. Ellery was + ready—and nervous—before the first bell had finished ringing. + But Keziah, entering the sitting room dressed in black alpaca and carrying + the hymn book with her name in gilt letters on the cover, forbade his + leaving the parsonage thus early. + </p> + <p> + “I shall go pretty soon,” she said, “but you mustn't. The minister ain't + expected until the last bell's 'most done. Parson Langley used to wait + until the Winslows went in. Gaius Winslow is a widower man who lives up to + the west end of the town and he's got nine children, all boys. You'll know + 'em because they always drive down to meetin' in one carryall with a white + horse. Gaius is as punctual as a boardin'-house dinner. The old parson + used to wait until the last Winslow had toddled up the meetin'-house steps + and then he'd come out of this side door with his sermon in his hand. It's + a pretty good rule to remember and saves watchin' the clock. Besides, it's + what we've been used to, and that goes a good ways with some folks. + Good-by, Mr. Ellery. You'll see me in the third pew from the back, on the + right side, wishin' you luck just as hard as I can.” + </p> + <p> + So, as in couples or family groups, afoot or in all sorts of vehicles, the + members of Trumet's Regular society came to the church to hear their new + minister, that functionary peeped under the parlor window shade of the + parsonage and waited, fidgetting and apprehensive, for the Winslows. They + arrived at last, and were not hard to recognize, for ten individuals + packed into one carriage are hard to overlook anywhere. As Gaius, with the + youngest in his arms, passed in at the church door, John Ellery passed out + of the parsonage gate. The last bell clanged its final stroke, the + vibrations ceased, the rustle of skirts and the sounds of decorous + coughing subsided and were succeeded by the dry rattle of the hymn-book + pages, the organ, presented by Captain Elkanah and played by his daughter, + uttered its preliminary groan, the service began. + </p> + <p> + Outside the spring breeze stirred the budding silver-leafs, the distant + breakers grumbled, the crows in the pines near Captain Eben Hammond's + tavern cawed ribald answers to the screaming gulls perched along the top + of the breakwater. And seated on one of the hard benches of the little + Come-Outer chapel, Grace Van Horne heard her “Uncle Eben,” who, as usual, + was conducting the meeting, speak of “them who, in purple and fine linen, + with organs and trumpets and vain shows, are gathered elsewhere in this + community to hear a hired priest make a mock of the gospel.” (A-MEN!) + </p> + <p> + But John Ellery, the “hired priest,” knew nothing of this. He did know, + however, that he was the center of interest for his own congregation, the + people among whom he had been called to labor. Their praise or criticism + meant everything to him; therefore he preached for dear life. + </p> + <p> + And Keziah Coffin, in the third pew from the back, watched him intently, + her mind working in sympathetic unison with his. She was not one to be + greatly influenced by first impressions, but she had been favorably + impressed by this young fellow, and had already begun to feel that sense + of guardianship and personal responsibility which, later on, was to make + Captain Zebedee Mayo nickname the minister “Keziah's Parson.” + </p> + <p> + The sermon was a success. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON DECIDES TO RUN IT BLINDFOLD + </h3> + <p> + On Monday afternoon the minister made a few calls. Keziah made out a short + list for him to follow, a “sort of chart of the main channel,” she called + it, “with the safe ports marked and the shoals and risky places labeled + dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “You see,” she said, “Trumet ain't a course you can navigate with your + eyes shut. We divide ourselves into about four sets—aristocrats, + poor relations, town folks, and scum. The aristocrats are the big bugs + like Cap'n Elkanah and the other well-off sea captains, afloat or ashore. + They 'most all go to the Regular church and the parish committee is + steered by 'em. The poor relations are mainly widows and such, whose + husbands died or were lost at sea. Most of them are Regulars. The town + folks are those that stay ashore and keep store or run salt works or + somethin'. And the scum work around on odd jobs or go fishin'. So, if you + really want to be safe, you must call on the aristocrats first, after that + on the poor relations, and so on down. You won't be bothered with scum + much; they're mainly Come-Outers.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery took the list from her hand and looked it over. + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” he said musingly. “Am I supposed to recognize these—er—class + distinctions?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That is, not in meetin' or sewin' circle or anything like that, or + not out and out and open anywhere. But you want to cultivate a sort of + different handshake and how-dy-do for each set, so's to speak. Gush all + you want to over an aristocrat. Be thankful for advice and always SO glad + to see 'em. With the poor relations you can ease up on the gush and maybe + condescend some. Town folks expect condescension and superiority; give it + to 'em. When it comes to scum, why—well, any short kind of a bow and + a 'Mornin' 'll do for them. 'Course the Lord, in His infinite mercy, made + 'em, same as He did potato bugs, but it's necessary to keep both bugs and + them down to their proper place.” + </p> + <p> + She delivered this in the intervals between trips to the kitchen with the + dinner dishes. The minister listened with a troubled expression on his + face. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Coffin,” he said, “I guess I'm dull. There was a Scotch professor at + college and the fellows used to say his bump of humor was a dent. Maybe + mine isn't much better. Are you joking?” + </p> + <p> + Keziah stacked the cups and saucers. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't jokin',” she declared. “I've been a poor relation in this village + for a good while and my brother was a shoemaker and on the upper fringe of + the town-folk class. My humor bump would have to stick up like Cannon Hill + afore I could see any joke in that.” + </p> + <p> + “But you're not seriously advising me to treat a rich man differently from + a poor one?” + </p> + <p> + “Not openly different—no. But if you want to steer a perfectly SAFE + course, one that'll keep deep water under your keel the whole voyage, why, + there's your chart.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ellery promptly tore the “chart” into small pieces. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going out,” he said. “I shall be back by supper time.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin eyed him grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Goin' to run it blindfold, are you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am.” + </p> + <p> + Her grimness disappeared and she smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have your supper ready for you,” she said. “Bring back a good + appetite.” + </p> + <p> + The young man hesitated on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Coffin,” he demanded, “would YOU have called only on the aristocrats + at first?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, smiling still. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, “not me. I've always taken risks. But I didn't know but + you might be a safe sailor. It saves a lot of trouble in this world.” + </p> + <p> + “How about the next?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, perhaps even the scum may count for somethin' over there.” She + turned to face him and her smile vanished. “Go on, Mr. Ellery,” she said. + “Go and call where you please. Far be it from me that I should tell you to + do anything else. I suppose likely you hope some day to be a great + preacher. I hope you will. But I'd enough sight rather you was a good man + than the very greatest. No reason why you can't be both. There was a + preacher over in Galilee once, so you told us yesterday, who was just + good. 'Twa'n't till years afterwards that the crowd came to realize that + he was great, too. And, if I recollect right, he chummed in with publicans + and sinners. I'm glad you tore up that fool paper of mine. I hoped you + might when I gave it to you. Now you run along, and I'll wash dishes. If + cleanliness is next to godliness, then a parson ought to eat out of clean + plates.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, the minister's calls were in the nature of a + compromise, although an unintentional one. He dropped in on Zebedee Mayo, + owner of the big house on the slope of the hill. Captain Zeb took him up + into what he called his “cupoler,” the observatory on the top of the + house, and showed him Trumet spread out like a map. The main road was + north and south, winding and twisting its rutted, sandy way. Along it were + clustered the principal houses and shops, shaded by silver-leaf poplars, a + few elms, and some willows and spruces. Each tree bent slightly away from + the northeast, the direction from which blew the heavy winter gales. + Beyond the main road were green slopes and pastures, with swamps in the + hollows, swamps which were to be cranberry bogs in the days to come. Then + the lower road, with more houses, and, farther on, the beach, the flats—partially + uncovered because it was high tide—and the bay. + </p> + <p> + Behind the Mayo house was the crest of Cannon Hill, more hills, pastures + and swamps, scattered houses and pine groves. Then began the tumbled, + humped waste of sand dunes, and, over their ragged fringes of beach plum + and bayberry bushes, the deep blue of the wide Atlantic. The lighthouse + was a white dot and the fish shanties a blotch of brown. Along the inner + edge of the blue were scars of dancing white, the flashing teeth of hungry + shoals which had torn to pieces and swallowed many a good ship. And, far + out, dotted and sprinkled along the horizon, were sails. + </p> + <p> + “See?” said Captain Zeb, puffing still from the exertion of climbing the + ladder to the “cupoler,” for he was distinctly “fleshy.” “See? The + beacon's up. Packet come in this mornin'. There she is. See her down there + by the breakwater?” + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, the empty barrel, painted red, was hoisted to the top of its + pole on the crest of Cannon Hill. And, looking down at the bay and + following the direction of the stubby pointing finger, Ellery saw a little + schooner, with her sails lowered, lying, slightly on her side, in a + shallow pool near a long ridge of piled stones—the breakwater. A + small wharf made out from the shore and black figures moved briskly upon + it. Carts were alongside the schooner and there more dots were busy. + </p> + <p> + “Eben's pennant's flyin',” said Captain Zeb. “He always sets colors when + the packet's in. Keeps packet tavern, Eben does. That's it, that + old-fashioned, gambrel-roofed house on the rise by the wharf. Call it + 'Saints' Rest,' they do now, 'cause Eben's so mighty religious.” + </p> + <p> + The minister saw the long, rambling house, with one lonely, twisted tree + in its yard, a flag flying from a pole beside it. So that was where the + Hammonds lived. And where the girl lived who was certain he was a + “conceited snippet.” Whatever he might be in reality he hoped it was not + that. “Snippet” was not in his dictionary, but he didn't like the sound of + it. + </p> + <p> + “Who owns the packet?” he asked, to make conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Zach Foster. Married Freewill Doane's daughter over to Harniss. She's + dead now.” + </p> + <p> + “A good sailor, is he?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Zeb spat in supreme disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Good farmer!” he snorted. “Zach took over the packet for a debt when the + chap that used to run her died. His dad, old man Foster, raised garden + truck at the same time mine went to sea. Both of us took after our + fathers, I guess. Anyhow, my wife says that when I die 'twill be of salt + water on the brain, and I'm sure Zach's head is part cabbage. Been better + for him if he'd stuck to his garden. However, I s'pose he does his best.” + </p> + <p> + “They say angels can do no more.” + </p> + <p> + “Um-m. Well, Zach'll be an angel pretty soon if he keeps on cruisin' with + that old hooker as she is. 'Bijah Perry, he's mate and the only good + seaman aboard, tells me that most of the riggin's rotten and the main + topmast ain't sound, by a good deal. The old man's put off havin' her + overhauled for two reasons, one that repairs cost money, and t'other that + puttin' off is the main sheet of his gospel. When there's no rain the roof + don't leak and long's it don't blow too hard 'most any kind of gear'll + hold. That's philosophy—cabbage philosophy.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery decided that he should like Captain Zeb, although it was evident + that the old whaler had decided opinions of his own which he did not + hesitate to express. He judged that the Mayos were of the so-called + aristocracy, but undoubtedly unique specimens. He visited four more + households that afternoon. The last call was at Mrs. Thankful Payne's, and + while there, listening to the wonderful “poem,” he saw Miss Van Horne pass + the window, as has already been told. He came home to a Cape Cod supper of + scalloped clams, hot biscuits, and baked Indian pudding, and Keziah + greeted him with a cheery smile which made him feel that it WAS home. His + summary disposal of the “chart” had evidently raised him in his + housekeeper's estimation. She did not ask a single question as to where he + had been. + </p> + <p> + Next day he had a taste of Trumet's real aristocracy, the genuine article. + Captain Elkanah Daniels and his daughter made their first formal call. The + captain was majestic in high hat, fur-collared cape, tailed coat, and + carrying a gold-headed cane. Miss Annabel wore her newest gown and bonnet + and rustled as she walked. They entered the sitting room and the lady + glanced superciliously about the apartment. + </p> + <p> + “Hum—ha!” barked Captain Elkanah. “Ahem! Mr. Ellery, I trust you're + being made comfortable. The parish committee are—hum—ah—anxious + that you should be. Yes?” + </p> + <p> + The minister said that he was very comfortable indeed. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't what you've been used to, we know,” observed Miss Annabel. “Mr. + Langley, our former pastor, was a sweet old gentleman, but he was + old-fashioned and his tastes were queer, especially in art. Have you + noticed that 'fruit piece' in the dining room? Isn't it too ridiculous?” + </p> + <p> + Ellery admitted that the fruit piece was rather funny; but no doubt it had + been a gift and so + </p> + <p> + —“Yes, indeed. I guess it was a present, fast enough. Nobody would + buy such a thing. It seems strange to pa and me that, although so many of + our people have been abroad, they have such strange ideas of art. Do you + remember the beautiful marbles in the palaces at Florence, Mr. Ellery? Of + course you've seen them?” + </p> + <p> + The minister was obliged to admit that he had never been abroad. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is that so? I've been so many times with pa that it seems almost as + if everybody was as familiar with Yurrup as I am. You remember what I said + about the marbles, pa?” + </p> + <p> + Her parent nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Hum—ha! Oh, yes, yes,” he said. “That was when I was in the + fruit-carrying trade and made a voyage to Valenchy.” + </p> + <p> + “Valencia, pa,” corrected Annabel. “And Valencia is in Spain.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it. But we went to Leghorn afterwards. I sailed to Cronstadt for + some years regular. Cronstadt is in Rooshy, Mr. Ellery.” + </p> + <p> + “Russia, pa,” snapped his daughter. Then she changed the subject to church + and parish affairs. They spoke of the sewing circle and the reading + society and the Friday-evening meetings. + </p> + <p> + “The Come-Outers are so vexed with us,” tittered Miss Annabel, “that they + won't even hold prayer meeting on the same night as ours. They have theirs + on Thursday nights and it's as good as a play to hear them shout and sing + and carry on. You'll enjoy the Come-Outers, Mr. Ellery. They're a perfect + delight.” + </p> + <p> + And as they rose to go Captain Elkanah asked: + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything you'd like done about the parsonage, Mr. Ellery? If so, + it shall be done immejitly. How are you satisfied with your housekeeper?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, indeed, Captain Daniels,” was the prompt reply. + </p> + <p> + “She's a character, isn't she?” giggled Annabel. “She was born here in + Trumet, but went away to New Bedford when she was young and grew up there. + Her maiden name was Hall, but while she was away she married a man named + Ansel Coffin. They didn't live together very long and weren't happy, I + guess. I don't know whose fault it was, nobody knows much of anything + about it, for that's the one thing she won't talk about. Anyhow, the + Coffin man was lost to sea, and after a while she came back to keep house + for her brother Solomon. She's an awful odd stick, but she's a good cook, + I believe; though I'm afraid you won't get the meals people such as + ourselves, who've been so much in the city, are used to.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery thought of the meals at his city boarding house and shuddered. He + was an orphan and had boarded for years. Incidentally, he had worked his + way through college. Captain Elkanah cleared his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Keziah,” he commanded. “Hum—ha! Keziah, come in here a minute.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah came in response to the call, her sewing in her hand. The + renovation of the parsonage had so far progressed that she could now find + time for a little sewing, after the dinner dishes were done. + </p> + <p> + “Keziah,” said the captain pompously, “we expect you to look out for Mr. + Ellery in every respect. The parish committee expects that—yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try,” said Mrs. Coffin shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Well, that's all. You can go. We must be going, too, Mr. Ellery. + Please consider our house at your disposal any time. Be neighborly—hum—ha!—be + neighborly.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” purred Annabel. “DO come and see us often. Congenial society is + very scarce in Trumet, for me especially. We can read together. Are you + fond of Moore, Mr. Ellery? I just dote on him.” + </p> + <p> + The last “hum—ha” was partially drowned by the click of the gate. + Keziah closed the dining-room door. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Coffin,” said the minister, “I shan't trouble the parish committee. + Be sure of that. I'm perfectly satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah sat down in the rocker and her needle moved very briskly for a + moment. Then she said, without looking up: + </p> + <p> + “That's good. I own up I like to hear you say it. And I am glad there are + some things I do like about this new place of mine. Because—well, + because there's likely to be others that I shan't like at all.” + </p> + <p> + On Friday evening the minister conducted his first prayer meeting. Before + it, and afterwards, he heard a good deal concerning the Come-Outers. He + learned that Captain Eben Hammond had preached against him in the chapel + on Sunday. Most of his own parishioners seemed to think it a good joke. + </p> + <p> + “Stir 'em up, Mr. Ellery,” counseled Lavinia Pepper. “Stir 'em up! Don't + be afraid to answer em from the pulpit and set 'em where they belong. + Ignorant, bigoted things!” + </p> + <p> + Others gave similar counsel. The result was that the young man became + still more interested in these people who seemed to hate him and all he + stood for so profoundly. He wished he might hear their side of the case + and judge it for himself. It may as well be acknowledged now that John + Ellery had a habit of wishing to judge for himself. This is not always a + politic habit in a country minister. + </p> + <p> + The sun of the following Thursday morning rose behind a curtain of fog as + dense as that of the day upon which Ellery arrived. A flat calm in the + forenoon, the wind changed about three o'clock and, beginning with a sharp + and sudden squall from the northwest, blew hard and steady. Yet the fog + still cloaked everything and refused to be blown away. + </p> + <p> + “There's rain astern,” observed Captain Zeb, with the air of authority + which belongs to seafaring men when speaking of the weather. “We'll get a + hard, driving rain afore mornin', you see. Then, if she still holds from + the northwest'ard, it'll fair off fine.” + </p> + <p> + “Goin' out in this, Mr. Ellery!” exclaimed Keziah, in amazement, as the + minister put on his hat and coat about seven that evening. “Sakes alive! + you won't be able to see the way to the gate. It's as dark as a nigger's + pocket and thicker than young ones in a poor man's family, as my father + used to say. You'll be wet through. Where in the world are you bound for + THIS night?” + </p> + <p> + The minister equivocated. He said he had been in the house all day and + felt like a walk. + </p> + <p> + “Well, take an umbrella, then,” was the housekeeper's advice. “You'll need + it before you get back, I cal'late.” + </p> + <p> + It was dark enough and thick enough, in all conscience. The main road was + a black, wet void, through which gleams from lighted windows were but + vague, yellow blotches. The umbrella was useful in the same way that a + blind man's cane is useful, in feeling the way. The two or three + stragglers who met the minister carried lanterns. One of these stragglers + was Mr. Pepper. Kyan was astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I snum!” cried Kyan, raising the lantern. “If 'tain't Mr. Ellery. + Where you bound this kind of night?” + </p> + <p> + Before the minister could answer, a stately figure appeared and joined the + pair. Lavinia, of course. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Ellery,” she said. “Ain't you lost, out in this fog? Anybody + sick?” + </p> + <p> + No, no one was sick. + </p> + <p> + “That's a mercy. Goin' callin', be you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! Queer weather for a walk, I call it. Won't be many out to-night, + except Come-Outers goin' to holler their lungs loose at prayer meetin'. + He, he! You ain't turned Come-Outer, have you, Mr. Ellery? You've headed + right for the chapel.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery's reply was hurried and a bit confused. He said good night and went + on. + </p> + <p> + “Laviny,” whispered the shocked Kyan, “do you think that was a—er—polite + thing to say to a parson? That about his turnin' Come-Outer? He didn't + make much answer, seemed to me. You don't think he was mad, do ye?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care if he was,” snorted Miss Pepper. “He could tell a body where + he was goin' then. Nobody can snub me, minister or not. I think he's kind + of stuck-up, if you want to know, and if he is, he'll get took down in a + hurry. Come along, don't stand there with your mouth open like a flytrap. + I'd like to know what he was up to. I've a precious good mind to follow + him; would if 'twa'n't so much trouble.” + </p> + <p> + She didn't. Yet, if she had, she would have deemed the trouble worth + while. For John Ellery stumbled on through the mist till he reached the + “Corners” where the store was located and the roads forked. There, he + turned to the right, into the way called locally “Hammond's Turn-off.” A + short distance down the “Turn-off” stood a small, brown-shingled building, + its windows alight. Opposite its door, on the other side of the road, grew + a spreading hornbeam tree surrounded by a cluster of swamp blackberry + bushes. In the black shadow of the hornbeam Mr. Ellery stood still. He was + debating in his mind a question: should he or should he not enter that + building? + </p> + <p> + As he stood there, groups of people emerged from the fog and darkness and + passed in at the door. Some of them he had seen during his fortnight in + Trumet. Others were strangers to him. A lantern danced and wabbled up the + “Turn-off” from the direction of the bay shore and the packet wharf. It + drew near, and he saw that it was carried by an old man with long white + hair and chin beard, who walked with a slight limp. Beside him was a thin + woman wearing a black poke bonnet and a shawl. In the rear of the pair + came another woman, a young woman, judging by the way she was dressed and + her lithe, vigorous step. The trio halted on the platform of the building. + The old man blew out the lantern. Then he threw the door open and a stream + of yellow light poured over the group. + </p> + <p> + The young woman was Grace Van Horne. The minister recognized her at once. + Undoubtedly, the old man with the limp was her guardian, Captain Eben + Hammond, who, by common report, had spoken of him, Ellery, as a “hired + priest.” + </p> + <p> + The door closed. A few moments thereafter the sound of a squeaky melodeon + came from within the building. It wailed and quavered and groaned. Then, + with a suddenness that was startling, came the first verse of a hymn, sung + with tremendous enthusiasm: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, who shall answer when the Lord shall call + His ransomed sinners home?” + </pre> + <p> + The hallelujah chorus was still ringing when the watcher across the street + stepped out from the shadow of the hornbeam. Without a pause he strode + over to the platform. Another moment and the door had shut behind him. + </p> + <p> + The minister of the Trumet Regular church had entered the Come-Outer + chapel to attend a Come-Outer prayer meeting! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH THE PARSON CRUISES IN STRANGE WATERS + </h3> + <p> + The Come-Outer chapel was as bare inside, almost, as it was without. Bare + wooden walls, a beamed ceiling, a raised platform at one end with a table + and chairs and the melodeon upon it, rows of wooden settees for the + congregation—that was all. As the minister entered, the worshipers + were standing up to sing. Three or four sputtering oil lamps but dimly + illumined the place and made recognition uncertain. + </p> + <p> + The second verse of the hymn was just beginning as Ellery came in. Most of + the forty or more grown people in the chapel were too busy wrestling with + the tune to turn and look at him. A child here and there in the back row + twisted a curious neck but twisted back again as parental fingers tugged + at its ear. The minister tiptoed to a dark corner and took his stand in + front of a vacant settee. + </p> + <p> + The man whom Ellery had decided must be Captain Eben Hammond was standing + on the low platform beside the table. A quaint figure, patriarchal with + its flowing white hair and beard, puritanical with its set, smooth-shaven + lips and tufted brows. Captain Eben held an open hymn book back in one + hand and beat time with the other. He wore brass-bowed spectacles well + down toward the tip of his nose. Swinging a heavy, stubby finger and + singing in a high, quavering voice of no particular register, he led off + the third verse: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, who shall weep when the roll is called + And who shall shout for joy?” + </pre> + <p> + The melodeon and the hymn book were in accord as to the tune, but Captain + Eben and the various members of the congregation seemed to have a desire + to improvise. They sang with spirit, however, and the rhythmic pat of feet + grew louder and louder. Here and there men and women were swaying and + rocking their bodies in time to the music. The chorus for each verse was + louder than the one preceding it. + </p> + <p> + Another hymn was given out and sung. And another and still another. The + windows rattled. The patting grew to a steady “thump! thump!” Momentary + pauses between lines were punctuated by hallelujahs and amens. Standing + directly in front of the minister was a six-foot, raw-boned individual + whose clothes smelled strongly of fish, and whose hands, each swung at the + end of an exposed five inches of hairy red wrist, looked like flippers. At + the end of the third hymn this personage sprang straight up into the air, + cracked the heels of a pair of red cowhide boots together, and whooped: + “Glory be! Send the PAOWER!” in a voice like the screech of a northeast + gale. Mr. Ellery, whom this gymnastic feat had taken by surprise, jumped + in sympathy, although not as high. + </p> + <p> + The singing over, the worshipers sat down. Captain Eben took a figured + handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. The thin, nearsighted + young woman who had been humped over the keyboard of the melodeon, + straightened up. The worshipers relaxed a little and began to look about. + </p> + <p> + Then the captain adjusted his spectacles and opened a Bible, which he took + from the table beside him. Clearing his throat, he announced that he would + read from the Word, tenth chapter of Jeremiah: + </p> + <p> + “'Thus saith the Lord. Learn not the way of the heathen, and be not + dismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed at them. + </p> + <p> + “'For the customs of the people are vain: for one cutteth a tree out of + the forest, the work of the hands of the workmen, with the ax.'” + </p> + <p> + He read in a measured singsong, stopping occasionally to hold the book in + a better light and peering at the fine print through his spectacles. And + as he read, there was a sudden rustle on one of the back benches. A child + had turned, stared, and pulled at its mother's sleeve. The rustle grew and + spread. + </p> + <p> + Captain Eben drawled on to the twentieth verse: + </p> + <p> + “'My tabernacle is spoiled and all my cords are broken: my children are + gone forth from me, and they are not: there is none to stretch forth my + tent any more, and to set up my curtains! + </p> + <p> + “'For the pastors are become brutish and have not sought the Lord: + therefore they shall not prosper, and—'” + </p> + <p> + “A-MEN!” + </p> + <p> + The shout came from the second bench from the front, where Ezekiel + Bassett, clam digger and fervent religionist, was always to be found on + meeting nights. Ezekiel was the father of Susannah B. Bassett, “Sukey B.” + for short, who played the melodeon. He had been, by successive seizures, a + Seventh Day Baptist, a Second Adventist, a Millerite, a Regular, and was + now the most energetic of Come-Outers. Later he was to become a + Spiritualist and preside at table-tipping seances. + </p> + <p> + Ezekiel's amen was so sudden and emphatic that it startled the reader into + looking up. Instead of the faces of his congregation, he found himself + treated to a view of their back hair. Nearly every head was turned toward + the rear corner of the room, there was a buzz of whispering and, in front, + many men and women were standing up to look. Captain Eben was scandalized. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he exclaimed. “Is this a prayer meetin' or—or—what? + Brethren and sisters, I must say—” + </p> + <p> + Ezekiel Bassett stepped forward and whispered in his ear. The captain's + expression of righteous indignation changed to one of blank astonishment. + He, too, gazed at the dark corner. Then his lips tightened and he rapped + smartly on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Brethren and sisters,” he thundered, in the voice which, of old, had + enforced obedience aboard his coasting schooner, “remember this is the + house of the Lord. Be reverent!” + </p> + <p> + He waited until every eye had swung about to meet his. Then he regarded + his abashed but excited hearers with a steady and prolonged stare. + </p> + <p> + “My friends,” he said, “let us bow in prayer.” + </p> + <p> + John Ellery could have repeated that prayer, almost word for word, years + after that night. The captain prayed for the few here gathered together: + Let them be steadfast. Let them be constant in the way. The path they were + treading might be narrow and beset with thorns, but it was the path + leading to glory. + </p> + <p> + “Scoffers may sneer,” he declared, his voice rising; “they may make a mock + of us, they may even come into Thy presence to laugh at us, but theirs is + the laugh that turns to groanin'. O Lord, strengthen us to-night to speak + what's in our hearts, without fear.” (“A-men!”) “To prophesy in Thy name! + To bid the mockers and them that dare—dare to profane this sanctuary + be careful. Hired singers and trumpets and vain shows we have not” (“Thank + the Lord! Amen!”), “but the true faith and the joy of it we do have.” + (“Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Glory!”) + </p> + <p> + And so on, his remarks becoming more personal and ever pointing like a + compass needle to the occupant of that seat in the corner. The minister's + determination to attend a Come-Outer meeting, though it had reached the + sticking point only a half hour before, was the result of considerable + deliberation. He had argued with himself and had made up his mind to find + out for himself just what these people did. He was finding out, certainly. + His motives were good and he had come with no desire to scoff, but, for + the life of him, he could not help feeling like a criminal. Incidentally, + it provoked him to feel that way. + </p> + <p> + “O Lord,” prayed Captain Hammond, the perspiration in beads on his + forehead, “Thou hast said that the pastors become brutish and have not + sought Thee and that they shan't prosper. Help us tonight to labor with + this one that he may see his error and repent in sackcloth and ashes.” + </p> + <p> + They sang once more, a hymn that prophesied woe to the unbeliever. Then + Ezekiel Bassett rose to “testify.” The testimony was mainly to the effect + that he was happy because he had fled to the ark of safety while there was + yet time. + </p> + <p> + “I found out,” he shouted, “that fancy music and—ah—and—ah—sot + sermons and fine duds and suchlike wa'n't goin' to do ME no good. I needed + somethin' else. I needed good times in my religion” (“Hallelujah!”) “and + I've found 'em right here. Yes, sir! right here. And I say this out loud,” + turning to glare at the intruder, “and I don't care who comes to poke fun + at me for sayin' it.” (“Amen!”) + </p> + <p> + A sharp-nosed female followed Mr. Bassett. She spoke with evident feeling + and in a voice that trembled and shook when her emotion carried it aloft. + SHE'D had enough of high-toned religion. Yes, and of them that upheld it. + When her brother Simeon was took bad with phthisic, “wheezin' like a + busted bellerses” and 'twas “up and down, trot, trot, trot,” to fetch and + carry for him day in and night out, did the folks from the Reg'lar church + help her? She guessed NOT. The only one that came nigh her was Laviny + Pepper, and she came only to gas and gabble and find out things that + wa'n't none of her business. What help she got was from a Come-Outer, from + Eben Hammond, bless his good soul! (“Amen!”) That phthisic settled her for + Reg'larism. Yes, and for them that preached it, too. So there! + </p> + <p> + Captain Eben called for more testimony. But the testifiers were, to use + the old minstrel joke, backward in coming forward that evening. At an + ordinary meeting, by this time, the shouts and enthusiasm would have been + at their height and half a dozen Come-Outers on their feet at once, + relating their experiences and proclaiming their happiness. But tonight + there was a damper; the presence of the leader of the opposition cast a + shadow over the gathering. Only the bravest attempted speech. The others + sat silent, showing their resentment and contempt by frowning glances over + their shoulders and portentous nods one to the other. + </p> + <p> + “Come, brethren,” commanded the captain sharply; “we are waitin' to hear + you. Are you afraid? If your faith is real, nothin' nor nobody should keep + you from cryin' it out loud. Now, if ever, is the accepted time. Speak up + for the spirit that's in you.” + </p> + <p> + An elderly man, grave and quiet, arose and said a few words, dignified and + solemn words of prayer and thankfulness for the comfort this little + society of true believers had been to him. Ellery realized that here was + another sort of Come-Outer, one of the Hammond type. Evidently, they were + not all like Ezekiel and the shrill-voiced woman. + </p> + <p> + Then, from the settee in front of him, rose the lengthy and fishy person + with the cowhide boots and enormous hands. His name was Josiah Badger and + he was, according to Trumet's estimate, “a little mite lackin' in his top + riggin'.” He stuttered, and this infirmity became more and more apparent + as he grew eloquent. + </p> + <p> + “I—I ain't afraid,” he proclaimed. “They can call me a + C-C-Come-Outer all they want to. I—I don't care if they do. Let 'em, + I say; l-let 'em! They can p-p-poke their fun and p-p-p-pup-pup-poke it, + but I tell 'em to h-heave ahead and p-pup-pup-POKE. When I used to g-go to + their old Reg'lar meetin' house, all I done was to go to sleep. But I + don't go to sleep here, glory hallelujah! No, sir! There's too much + b-b-blessed noise and we have too g-good times to g-go to sleep here. That + old K-Kyan Pepper called me t-town f-fool t'other day. T-tut-town fool's + what he called me. Says I to him, says I: 'You-you-y-you ain't got spunk + enough to be a fool,' I says, 'unless Laviny says you c-can be. You old + Reg'lar p-p-pepper shaker, you!” + </p> + <p> + By this time tee-hees from the children and chuckles from some of the + older members interfered with Mr. Badger's fervent but jerky discourse. + Captain Eben struck the table smartly. + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” he thundered. “Silence! Brother Badger, I beg your pardon for + 'em. Go on!” + </p> + <p> + But Josiah's train of thought had evidently been derailed by the + interruption. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—I cal'late that's about all,” he stammered and sat down. + </p> + <p> + The captain looked over the meeting. + </p> + <p> + “I'm ashamed,” he said, “ashamed of the behavior of some of us in the + Lord's house. This has been a failure, this service of ours. We have kept + still when we should have justified our faith, and allowed the presence of + a stranger to interfere with our duty to the Almighty. And I will say,” he + added, his voice rising and trembling with indignation, “to him who came + here uninvited and broke up this meetin', that it would be well for him to + remember the words of Scriptur', 'Woe unto ye, false prophets and workers + of iniquity.' Let him remember what the Divine wisdom put into my head to + read to-night: 'The pastors have become brutish and have not sought the + Lord; therefore they shall not prosper.'” + </p> + <p> + “Amen!” “Amen!” “Amen!” “So be it!” The cries came from all parts of the + little room. They ceased abruptly, for John Ellery was on his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Hammond,” he said, “I realize that I have no right to speak in + this building, but I must say one word. My coming here to-night may have + been a mistake; I'm inclined to think it was. But I came not, as you seem + to infer, to sneer or to scoff; certainly I had no wish to disturb your + service. I came because I had heard repeatedly, since my arrival in this + town, of this society and its meetings. I had heard, too, that there + seemed to be a feeling of antagonism, almost hatred, against me among you + here. I couldn't see why. Most of you have, I believe, been at one time + members of the church where I preach. I wished to find out for myself how + much of truth there was in the stories I had heard and to see if a better + feeling between the two societies might not be brought about. Those were + my reasons for coming here to-night. As for my being a false prophet and a + worker of iniquity”—he smiled—“well, there is another verse of + Scripture I would call to your attention: 'Judge not, that ye be not + judged.'” + </p> + <p> + He sat down. There was silence for a moment and then a buzz of whispering. + Captain Eben, who had heard him with a face of iron hardness, rapped the + table. + </p> + <p> + “We will sing in closin',” he said, “the forty-second hymn. After which + the benediction will be pronounced.” + </p> + <p> + The Regular minister left the Come-Outers' meeting with the unpleasant + conviction that he had blundered badly. His visit, instead of tending + toward better understanding and more cordial relationship, had been + regarded as an intrusion. He had been provoked into a public + justification, and now he was quite sure that he would have been more + politic to remain silent. He realized that the evening's performance would + cause a sensation and be talked about all over town. The Come-Outers would + glory in their leader's denunciation of him, and his own people would + perhaps feel that it served him right. If he had only told Mrs. Coffin of + what he intended to do. Yet he had not told her because he meant to do it + anyhow. Altogether it was a rather humiliating business. + </p> + <p> + So that old bigot was the Van Horne girl's “uncle.” It hardly seemed + possible that she, who appeared so refined and ladylike when he met her at + the parsonage, should be a member of that curious company. When he rose to + speak he had seen her in the front row, beside the thin, middle-aged + female who had entered the chapel with Captain Hammond and with her. She + was looking at him intently. The lamp over the speaker's table had shone + full on her face and the picture remained in his memory. He saw her eyes + and the wavy shadows of her hair on her forehead. + </p> + <p> + He stepped off the platform, across the road, out of the way of + homeward-bound Come-Outers, and stood there, thinking. The fog was as + heavy and wet as ever; in fact, it was almost a rain. The wind was blowing + hard from the northwest. The congregation dispersed in chattering groups, + their lanterns dipping and swinging like fireflies. The chatter dealt + entirely with one subject—himself. He heard his name mentioned at + least twenty times. Out of the gusty, dripping blackness came Mr. Badger's + voice. + </p> + <p> + “By time!” crowed Josiah, “he was took down a few p-p-pup-pegs, wa'n't he! + My! how Eben did g-gi-gi-give it to him. He looked toler'ble white under + the gills when he riz up to heave out his s-s-sus-sassy talk. And foolish, + too. I cal'late I won't be the only town fuf-fuf-fool from now on. He! + he!” + </p> + <p> + The noises died away in the distance. Within the chapel the tramp of heavy + boots sounded as the lights were blown out, one by one. The minister + frowned, sighed, and turned homeward. It is not pleasant to be called a + fool, even by a recognized member of the fraternity. + </p> + <p> + He had taken but a few steps when there was a rustle in the wet grass + behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ellery,” whispered a voice, “Mr. Ellery, may I speak to you just a + moment?” + </p> + <p> + He wheeled in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Why! why, Miss Van Horne!” he exclaimed. “Is it you?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ellery,” she began, speaking hurriedly and in a low voice, “I—I + felt that I must say a word to you before—” + </p> + <p> + She paused and glanced back at the chapel. Ezekiel Bassett, the janitor, + having extinguished the last lamp, had emerged from the door and was + locking up. In another moment he clumped past them in the middle of the + road, the circle of light from his lantern just missing them as they stood + in the grass at the side under the hornbeam and blackberry bushes. He was + alone; Sukey B. had gone on before, other and younger masculine escort + having been providentially provided. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bassett was out of hearing before Grace finished her sentence. The + minister was silent, waiting and wondering. + </p> + <p> + “I felt,” she said, “that I must see you and—explain. I am SO sorry + you came here to-night. Oh, I wish you hadn't. What made you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “I came,” began Ellery, somewhat stiffly, “because I—well, because I + thought it might be a good thing to do. As I said—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. But it wasn't. It was so—so—” + </p> + <p> + “So foolish. Thank you, I'm aware of it. I've heard myself called a fool + already since I left your church. Not that I needed to hear it. I realize + the fact.” + </p> + <p> + There was a bitterness in his tone, unmistakable. And a little laugh from + his companion did not tend to soothe his feelings. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said. “Perhaps it is funny. I did not find it so. Good + evening.” + </p> + <p> + This was priggish, but it must be borne in mind that John Ellery was very, + very fresh from the theological school, where young divines are taught to + take themselves seriously. He was ashamed of himself as soon as he said + it, which proved that his case was not beyond hope. + </p> + <p> + The girl detained him as he was turning away. + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't laughing at that,” she said. “I know who called you that—that + name. It was Josiah Badger, and he really is one, you know. I was thinking + of his testimony in meeting and how he called Ky—Abishai—a + pepper shaker. That was ridiculous enough, but it reminded me of something + else about Mr. Pepper, and I HAD to laugh. It wasn't at you, truly.” + </p> + <p> + So the minister begged her pardon; also he remained where he was, and + heard the drops from the tree patter hollow on his hat. + </p> + <p> + “I came after you,” went on Grace rapidly and with nervous haste, “because + I felt that you ought not to misjudge my uncle for what he said to-night. + He wouldn't have hurt your feelings for the world. He is a good man and + does good to everybody. If you only knew the good he does do, you wouldn't—you + wouldn't DARE think hardly of him.” + </p> + <p> + She stamped her foot in the wet grass as she said it. She was evidently in + earnest. But Ellery was not in the mood to be greatly impressed by Eben + Hammond's charity or innate goodness. The old tavern keeper's references + to himself were too fresh in his mind. “False prophet” and “worker of + iniquity!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not judging your uncle,” he declared. “It seemed to me that the boot + was on the other leg.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but you do judge him, and you mustn't. You see, he thought you + had come to make fun of him—and us. Some of the Regular people do, + people who aren't fit to tie his shoes. And so he spoke against you. He'll + be sorry when he thinks it over. That's what I came to tell you. I ask + your pardon for—for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, that's all right. I think I understood—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not asking it because he's a Come-Outer and you're a Regular + minister. He isn't ashamed of his religion. Neither am I. I'm a + Come-Outer, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I—I supposed you were.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am. There, good night, Mr. Ellery. All I ask is that you don't + think too hardly of uncle. He didn't mean it.” + </p> + <p> + She turned away now, and it was the minister who detained her. + </p> + <p> + “I've been thinking,” he said slowly, for in his present state of mind it + was a hard thing to say, “that perhaps I ought to apologize, too. I'm + afraid I did disturb your service and I'm sorry. I meant well, but—What's + that? Rain?” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt about it; it was rain and plenty of it. It came in a + swooping downpour that beat upon the trees and bushes and roared upon the + roof of the chapel. The minister hurriedly raised his umbrella. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” he cried, “let me—Miss Van Horne! Where are you?” + </p> + <p> + The answer came from a short distance down the “Turn-off.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night,” called the girl. “I must run.” + </p> + <p> + Evidently, she WAS running. Therefore the young man ran after her. He + caught up with her in a moment, in spite of some stumbles over the rough + road. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” he commanded, “you must take the umbrella. Really, you must. You + haven't one and you'll be wet through.” + </p> + <p> + She pushed the umbrella aside. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she answered. “I don't need it; I'm used to wet weather; truly I + am. And I don't care for this hat; it's an old one. You have a long way to + go and I haven't. Please, Mr. Ellery, I can't take it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” was the sternly self-sacrificing reply, “then I shall + certainly go with you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't wish you to.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help that. I'm not going to let you go unprotected through this + flood. Especially as you might have been at home before this if you hadn't + stopped to speak with me.” + </p> + <p> + “But you mustn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall.” + </p> + <p> + Here was the irresistible force and the immovable object. They stood stock + still in the middle of the road, while the rain drops jumped as they + struck the umbrella top. The immovable object, being feminine, voiced the + unexpected. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” she said; “then I suppose I shall have to take it.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “The umbrella. I'm sorry, and you'll get dreadfully wet, but it's your own + fault.” + </p> + <p> + He could feel her hand near his own on the handle. He did not relinquish + his grasp. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “I think, on the whole, that that is unreasonable. I SHOULD + get wet and, though I don't mind it when it is necessary, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” rather sharply, “what are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Go with you as far as your gate. I'm sorry, if my company is distasteful, + but—” + </p> + <p> + He did not finish the sentence, thinking, it may be, that she might finish + it for him. But she was silent, merely removing her hand from the handle. + She took a step forward; he followed, holding the umbrella above her head. + They plashed on, without speaking, through the rapidly forming puddles. + </p> + <p> + Presently she stumbled and he caught her arm to prevent her falling. To + his surprise he felt that arm shake in his grasp. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Miss Van Horne!” he exclaimed in great concern, “are you crying? I + beg your pardon. Of course I wouldn't think of going another step with + you. I didn't mean to trouble you. I only—If you will please take + this umbrella—” + </p> + <p> + Again he tried to transfer the umbrella and again she pushed it away. + </p> + <p> + “I—I'm not crying,” she gasped; “but—oh, dear! this is SO + funny!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ellery gazed blankly at her through the rain-streaked dark. This was + the most astonishing young person he had met in his twenty-three years of + worldly experience. + </p> + <p> + “Funny!” he repeated. “Well, perhaps it is. Our ideas of fun seem to + differ. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but it IS so funny. You don't understand. What do you think your + congregation would say if they knew you had been to a Come-Outers' meeting + and then insisted on seeing a Come-Outer girl home?” + </p> + <p> + John Ellery swallowed hard. A vision of Captain Elkanah Daniels and the + stately Miss Annabel rose before his mind's eye. He hadn't thought of his + congregation in connection with this impromptu rescue of a damsel in + distress. + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha!” he laughed mournfully. “I guess it is rather funny, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “It certainly is. Now will you leave me and go back to your parsonage?” + </p> + <p> + “Not unless you take the umbrella.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. It is a beautiful evening for a walk, don't you think so? Mr. + Ellery, I'm afraid we shan't have you with us in Trumet very long.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, because you're so very, very original. Are your sermons that way, + too? Captain Elkanah doesn't like his ministers to be too original.” + </p> + <p> + The minister set his teeth. At that moment he felt an intense desire to + bid the Daniels family mind their own business. Then another thought + struck him. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly your Uncle Eben might be somewhat—er—surprised if he + knew you were with me. Perhaps he might have something to say on the + subject.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess he would. We shall know very soon. I ran away and left him with + Mrs. Poundberry, our housekeeper. He doesn't know where I am. I wonder he + hasn't turned back to look for me before this. We shall probably meet him + at any moment.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to enjoy the prospect of the meeting. Ellery wondered what on + earth he should say to Captain Hammond—that is, provided he was + allowed to say anything. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a heavier gust of rain and wind beat upon them. The minister + struggled with the umbrella. The gust passed and with it the fog. An + instant before it had been all about them, shutting them within inky + walls. Now it was not. Through the rain he could see the shadowy + silhouettes of bushes at the road side. Fifty yards away the lighted + windows of the Hammond tavern gleamed yellow. Farther on, over a ragged, + moving fringe of grass and weeds, was a black flat expanse—the bay. + And a little way out upon that expanse twinkled the lights of a vessel. A + chain rattled. Voices shouting exultingly came to their ears. + </p> + <p> + “Why!” exclaimed Grace in excited wonder, “it's the packet! She was due + this morning, but we didn't expect her in till to-morrow. How did she find + her way in the fog? I must tell uncle.” + </p> + <p> + She started to run toward the house. The minister would have followed with + the umbrella, but she stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Ellery,” she urged earnestly. “No, please don't. I'm all right + now. Thank you. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + A few steps farther on she turned. + </p> + <p> + “I hope Cap'n Elkanah won't know,” she whispered, the laugh returning to + her voice. “Good night.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery stood still in the rain and watched her. He saw her pass the + lighted windows and open a door. Into the yellow radiance she flashed and + disappeared. A minute more and the bulky form of Eben Hammond, lantern in + hand, a sou'wester on his head and his shoulders working themselves into + an oilskin coat, burst out of the door and hurriedly limped down toward + the shore. On the threshold, framed in light, stood his ward, gazing after + him. And the minister gazed at her. + </p> + <p> + From the bay came the sound of oars in row-locks. A boat was approaching + the wharf. And suddenly from the boat came a hail. + </p> + <p> + “Halloo! Ahoy, dad! Is that you?” + </p> + <p> + There was an answering shout from the wharf; a shout of joy. Then a rattle + of oars and a clamor of talk. And Grace still stood in the doorway, + waiting. + </p> + <p> + The lantern bobbed up the slope. As it reached the tavern gateway, the + minister saw that it was now carried by a tall, active man, who walked + with a seaman's stride and roll. Captain Eben was close beside him, + talking excitedly. + </p> + <p> + They entered the yard. + </p> + <p> + “Grace! Grace!” screamed Captain Eben. “Gracie, girl, look who's come! + Look!” + </p> + <p> + The tall man ran forward. + </p> + <p> + “Hi, Grace!” he cried in a deep, hearty voice. “Is that you? Ain't you got + a word for your old messmate?” + </p> + <p> + The girl stepped out into the rain. + </p> + <p> + “Why! why, NAT!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + The big man picked her up bodily in his arms and carried her into the + house. Captain Eben followed and the door closed. + </p> + <p> + John Ellery picked his way homeward through the puddles and the pouring + rain. + </p> + <p> + He found Keziah in the sitting room, seated by the table, evidently + writing a letter. She looked tired and grave—for her. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” she exclaimed as he entered. “I guess you're soppin' now, sartin + sure. There's a light in your room. Take off your wet things and throw 'em + down to me, and I'll dry 'em in the kitchen. Better leave your boots here + now and stand that umbrella in the sink. The kettle's on the stove; you'd + better have somethin' hot—ginger tea or somethin'. I told you not to + go out such a night as this. Where in the world have you been?” + </p> + <p> + The minister said he would tell her all about it in the morning. Just now + he thought he had better go up and take off his wet clothes. He declined + the ginger tea, and, after removing his boots, went upstairs to his room. + </p> + <p> + Keziah dipped her pen in the ink and went on with her letter. + </p> + <p> + “I inclose ten dollars,” she wrote. “It is all I can send you now. More + than I ought to afford. Goodness knows why I send anything. You don't + deserve it. But while I live and you do I can't—” + </p> + <p> + The minister called from the landing. + </p> + <p> + “Here is my coat,” he said. “The cuffs and lower part of the sleeves are + pretty wet. By the way, the packet came in to-night. They didn't expect + her so soon on account of the fog. There was a passenger aboard whom I + think must be that Nathaniel Hammond you told me of.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah's pen stopped. The wet coat struck the hall floor with a soft + thump. The tick of the clock sounded loud in the room. A sheet of + wind-driven rain lashed the windows. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear?” called the minister. “I said that Nathaniel Hammond, + Captain Eben's son, came on the packet. I didn't meet him, but I'm sure it + was he. Er—Mrs. Coffin, are you there? Do you hear me?” + </p> + <p> + The housekeeper laid the pen down beside the unfinished letter. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “I hear you. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + For minutes she sat there, leaning back in her chair and staring at the + wall. Then she rose, went into the hall, picked up the coat, and took it + out into the kitchen, where she hung it on the clotheshorse by the cook + stove. After a while she returned to the table and took up the pen. Her + face in the lamplight looked more tired and grave than ever. + </p> + <p> + It was a long time before John Ellery fell asleep. He had much to think of—of + the morrow, of the talk his rash visit to the chapel would cause, of the + explanation he must make to Captain Elkanah and the rest. But the picture + that was before his closed eyes as he lay there was neither of Captain + Elkanah nor the parish committee; it was that of a girl, with dark hair + and a slim, graceful figure, standing in a lighted doorway and peering out + into the rain. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH OLD FRIENDS MEET + </h3> + <p> + When Ellery came down to breakfast the rain was over, the wind had gone + down, and the morning sunshine was pouring in at the dining-room windows. + Outside the lilacs were in bud, the bluebirds were singing, and there was + a sniff of real spring in the air. The storm was at an end and yet the + young minister was conscious of a troublesome feeling that, for him, it + was just beginning. + </p> + <p> + However, he had determined while dressing to make a clean breast of it to + his housekeeper—a nominally clean breast, that is. There were some + things he would not tell her, some that he would not speak of to anyone, + the picture in the doorway for instance. True, it was only a picture and + of no moment, but it was pleasant to remember. One of the very few + pleasant things connected with the previous evening. + </p> + <p> + So, as they sat opposite each other at the table, he began his confession. + The muffins scorched in the oven and the coffeepot boiled over as he told + his story, for Keziah was too much interested to think of trifles. + Interested and astounded, for, since Come-Outers had been Come-Outers and + the split in the society took place, no Regular minister had crossed the + threshold of a seceder's dwelling, much less attended their services and + walked home with a member of their congregation. She knew what this + amazing procedure was likely to mean, if her parson did not. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” she exclaimed when the recital was finished. “Well!” + </p> + <p> + “I—I'm afraid I was too hasty,” observed Mr. Ellery thoughtfully. + “Perhaps it would have been wiser not to have done it.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps 'twould. Yes, I wouldn't wonder a mite.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be talked about some, I suppose. Don't you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Some, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid some of my own people may think it queer.” + </p> + <p> + “Queer! Say, Mr. Ellery, you remind me of a half-breed Portugee feller—half + Portugee and a half Indian—that went to sea with my father, back in + the old days. He hardly ever spoke a word, mainly grunted and made signs. + One day he and another fo'mast hand went aloft in a calm to do somethin' + to the tops'l. The half-breed—they called him Billy Peter and he + always called himself that—was out on the end of the yard, with his + foot on the rope underneath, I forget the name of it, when the tarred + twine he had for a shoe string caught. Tryin' to get it loose it broke + sudden, his shoe pulled off, he lost his balance and fell. He grabbed at + the yard, saved himself for a second, fell again, grabbed the next yard, + then a rope and so on down, grabbin' and pullin' all the way. First his + shoe hit the deck, then his sheath knife, then a piece of rope, and + finally himself, landin' right on top of the Irish cook who was goin' aft + from the galley with father's dinner. + </p> + <p> + “There was the greatest racket you ever heard, pans fallin', dishes + smashin', men yellin', and the cook swearin'. Father run on deck, thinkin' + the ship was dismasted. He found the cook and Billy Peter sittin' in the + middle of the mess, lookin' at each other. Neither was hurt a mite. The + mates and the crew, part of 'em, was standin' starin' at the pair. + </p> + <p> + “'For Heaven sakes!' says father; 'what happened?' + </p> + <p> + “The half-breed looked up and rubbed his head. 'Ugh!' says he, 'Billy + Peter bust his shoe string.' + </p> + <p> + “The cook, his name was O'Neill, looked at him disgusted. 'Well, begorra!' + says he, 'Billy Peter, you don't exaggerate none, do ye! It's a good thing + BOTH of 'em didn't bust or we'd have foundered.' + </p> + <p> + “You remind me of Billy Peter, Mr. Ellery, you don't exaggerate. Queer? + Some folks think your goin' to that meetin' last night QUEER? At this + moment one half of Trumet is talkin' about it and runnin' out to tell the + other half. I guess I'd better hurry up with this breakfast. We're goin' + to have callers.” + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, however, this prophecy of early morning visitors did not + prove true. Nine o'clock, then ten, and no visitor came to the parsonage. + Mrs. Coffin affirmed that she did not understand it. Where was Didama? + Where Lavinia Pepper? Had the “Trumet Daily Advertiser” suspended + publication? + </p> + <p> + At half past ten the gate slammed. Keziah peered from the window. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” she ejaculated. “Here comes Elkanah and he's got storm signals + set, by the looks. He's comin' after you, Mr. Ellery.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” was the calm reply; “let him come.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you goin' to say to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, except that I did what I considered right at the time. Show him + into the study, Mrs. Coffin, please.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Daniels marched to the dining-room door, his gold-headed cane + marking time like a drumbeat. He nodded curtly to Keziah, who answered the + knock, and stepped across the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Hum—ha!” he barked. “Is the minister—hum—ha! is Mr. + Ellery in?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he's in.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him I want to see him.” + </p> + <p> + The housekeeper announced the visitor. + </p> + <p> + “He's as sour as a skimmin' of last week's milk,” she whispered. “Don't be + afraid of him, though.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm not. Show him in.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. Say, Mr. Ellery, it's none of my business, but I wouldn't say + anything about your seein' Grace home. That's none of HIS business, + either, or anybody else's.” + </p> + <p> + The head of the parish committee stalked into the study and the door + closed behind him. A rumble of voices in animated conversation succeeded. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Keziah's cheeks, already red from the heat of the stove, reddened still + more. Her lips twitched and her eyes sparkled. + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” she said again. “They say you can tell the Old Scratch by his + footprints, even if you can't smell the sulphur. Anyhow, you can tell a + Hammond by the size of his boots. Come out from behind that door this + minute. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?” + </p> + <p> + The owner of the boot stepped forth from behind the door and seized her by + both hands. + </p> + <p> + “Halloo, Keziah!” he cried joyfully. “My, but it's good to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Halloo, Nat!” said Keziah heartily. “It's kind of good to see you, too.” + </p> + <p> + The rest of him was in keeping with his boots. He was big and + broad-shouldered and bearded. His face, above the beard, was tanned to a + deep reddish brown, and the corners of his eyes were marked with dozens of + tiny wrinkles. He was dressed in blue cloth and wore a wide-brimmed, soft + felt hat. He entered the kitchen and tossed the hat into a corner. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he exclaimed. “Why don't you act surprised to see a feller? Here + I've been cruisin' from the Horn to Barnegat and back again, and you act + as if I'd just dropped in to fetch the cup of molasses I borrowed + yesterday. What do you mean by it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I heard you'd made port.” + </p> + <p> + “Did, hey? That's Trumet, sure pop. You ain't the only one. I sneaked off + acrost lots so's to dodge the gang of neighbors that I knew would be + sailin' into our yard, the whole fleet loaded to the gunwale with + questions. Wanted to see you first, Keziah.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. So, instead of callin' like a Christian, you crept up the back way + and threw cranberries at me. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a mite.” He took a handful of the frostbitten berries from his coat + pocket and inspected them lovingly. “Ain't they fine?” he asked, crunching + two or three between his teeth. “I picked 'em up as I came along. I tell + you, that's the home taste, all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't eat those frozen things. They'll give you your never-get-over.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Cape Cod cranberries! Never in the world. I'd rather eat sand down + here than the finest mug my steward can cook. Tell you what I'll do, + though; I'll swear off on the cranberries if you'll give me a four-inch + slice of that pie I saw you put in the oven. Dried-apple, I'll bet my + sou'wester. Think you might ask a feller to sit down. Ain't you glad to + see me?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin pulled forward one of the kitchen chairs. He seated himself on + it and it groaned under his weight. + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” he whistled. “Never made to stand rough weather, was it? Well, + AIN'T you glad?” + </p> + <p> + Keziah looked at him gravely. + </p> + <p> + “You know I'm glad, Nat,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “So? I hoped you would be, but I did want to hear you say it. Now you come + to anchor yourself and let's have a talk. I've been countin' on it ever + since we set tops'ls off Surinam.” + </p> + <p> + The housekeeper took the other chair. + </p> + <p> + “How are you—” she began. He stopped her. + </p> + <p> + “S-shh!” he interrupted. “Don't say anything for a minute. Let me look at + you. Just as clean and wholesome and good-lookin' as ever. They don't make + girls like that anywhere else but down on this old sand bar. Not a day + older, by the jumpin'—” + </p> + <p> + She held up her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Nat,” she protested; “don't talk foolish. Girl? Not a day older? + Why, if feelin's count for anything, I'm as old as Methusaleh. Haven't I + had enough to make me old?” + </p> + <p> + He was grave immediately. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Keziah,” he said. “I'm a dough head, that's a fact. I + hadn't forgot about Sol, but I was so glad to be home again and to see dad + and Grace and the old town and you that everything else flew out of my + mind. Poor Sol! I liked him.” + </p> + <p> + “He liked you, too. No wonder, considerin' what you did to—” + </p> + <p> + “Belay! Never mind that. Poor chap! Well, he's rid of his sufferin's at + last. Tell me about it, if you can without bringin' all the trouble back + too plain.” + </p> + <p> + So she told him of her brother's sickness and death, of having to give up + the old home, and, finally, of her acceptance of the housekeeper's + position. He listened, at first with sympathy and then with suppressed + indignation. + </p> + <p> + “By the jumpin' Moses!” he exclaimed. “And Elkanah was goin' to turn you + out of house and home. The mean, pompous old—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush! he's in there with Mr. Ellery.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Elkanah?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; they're in the study.” + </p> + <p> + “By the jumpin'—Let me talk to him for a few minutes. I'LL tell him + what's good for his health. You just listen.” + </p> + <p> + He rose from the chair, but she made him sit down again. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she protested. “He wasn't to blame. He had to have his rent and + I didn't feel that I could afford to keep up a whole house, just for + myself. And, besides, I ought to be thankful to him, I suppose. He got me + this place.” + </p> + <p> + “He did?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he did. I rather guess Zeb Mayo or somebody may have suggested it to + him first, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I rather guess so, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can't always tell. Sometimes when you really get inside of a + person you find a generous streak that—” + </p> + <p> + “Not in a Daniels. Anybody that got inside of Elkanah would find nothin' + but Elkanah there, and 'twould be crowded at that. So he's talkin' to the + new parson, hey? Bossin' him, too, I'll bet.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't so sure. Mr. Ellery's young, but he's got a mind of his own.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Hammond chuckled and slapped his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Ho, ho!” he laughed. “I've been hearin' somethin' about that mind. Went + to the chapel last night, I understand, and he and dad had a set-to. Oh, I + heard about it! Wish I might have been there.” + </p> + <p> + “How does your father act about it?” + </p> + <p> + “'Bout the way a red-hot stove acts when you spill water on it; every time + he thinks of the minister he sizzles. Ho, ho! I do wish I could have been + there.” + </p> + <p> + “What does Grace say?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she doesn't say much. I wouldn't wonder if she felt the way I do, + though we both keep quiet. I'll tell you, between ourselves and the ship's + pump, that I sort of glory in the young chap's spunk.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! So do I. I like him.” + </p> + <p> + “See here, Keziah! I'm gettin' frightened. You ain't settin' your cap to + be a parson's wife, are you? Because—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be silly. I might adopt him, but that's all, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + Her friend leaned forward. + </p> + <p> + “Keziah,” he said earnestly, “there's no sense in your slavin' yourself to + death here. I can think of a good deal pleasanter berth than that. + Pleasanter for me, anyhow, and I'd do my best to make it pleasant for you. + You've only got to say the word and—No? Well, then all I can do is + hope through another voyage.” + </p> + <p> + “Please don't, Nat. You know.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps you don't. But I know. I like you, Nat. I count on you as + the straightest, truest friend I've got; and I want to keep on countin' on + you just that way. Mayn't I?” + </p> + <p> + “'Course you can, Keziah. But—” + </p> + <p> + “Then don't say another word, please.” + </p> + <p> + He sighed and looked out at the open door. The kitchen clock ticked loud + in the silence. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said at last. “All right, but I'm goin' to keep on + hopin'.” + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't, Nat.” + </p> + <p> + “Keziah, when you set your foot down you're pretty stubborn; but I've got + somethin' of a foot myself. You remember you said so a few minutes ago. + Hi, hum! Well, speakin' of dad reminds me that I'm kind of worried about + him.” + </p> + <p> + “You are? Why? Isn't he well?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well, but he ain't strong, and he gets too excited over things + like last night's foolishness. Grace tells me that the doctor says he must + be careful or he'll drop off sudden some of these days. He had a shock + five or six years ago, a little one, and I've been anxious about him ever + since. I've got to go to New York off and on for the next month; after + that I hope to be home for a spell and I can keep an eye on him. Keziah, + if you'll listen I'll whisper somethin' to you—religion's a good + thing and so's a mustard plaster, but both of 'em can be put on too + strong. Dad is just a little mite crazy on Come-Outers, I'm afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I guess not! You mustn't worry. How did Grace look to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Like the harbor light on a stormy night. She's a brick, that girl, and + gets prettier every minute. Wonder to me some of the young chaps down here + don't carry her off by main strength. She'll make somebody a good wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Um-hm. Have—have you ever thought of her that way yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Keziah!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't get mad. I think a lot of Grace, and I don't know anyone I'd + rather see you marry.” + </p> + <p> + “I do. Keziah, that's enough of that. Are you and dad in partnership to + get me spliced and out of the way? He was at me this mornin' along the + same line. Don't say anything like that again, even in fun. YOU know why.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right. Now tell me about yourself. Have you had a good + voyage? How do you like your owners? How did Zach Foster ever get the + packet in through yesterday's fog?” + </p> + <p> + “Voyage was all right. Some rugged weather on the trip out, but homeward + bound we slid along like a slush bucket on a greased plank. Owners are all + right. Good people as ever I sailed for. As for Zach and the packet—Ho, + ho!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed, rocking back and forth on the chair, which creaked in + sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “What's the joke?” demanded the housekeeper. “Don't do that! That chair + wasn't made for elephants to use.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? 'Tis pretty weak in the knees, ain't it? Dad would say 'twas a piece + with the creed of those that owned it. I—What's that? Somebody's + comin'. I'm goin' to clear out. I don't want to be put through my + catechism yet a while.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you mustn't go. I want you to meet Mr. Ellery. You sit out on the + wash bench by the back door till I get rid of whoever 'tis that's comin'. + Scoot!” + </p> + <p> + Nat “scooted,” stopping to snatch up his hat as he ran. Keziah went into + the dining room and admitted Captain Zebedee Mayo, who was panting from + the exertion of his walk. + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” puffed Captain Zeb, mopping his forehead. “How be you, Keziah? + What? You ain't all alone! Thought you'd have a cabin full of gab machines + by this time. Have they been and gone?” + </p> + <p> + “No, they haven't been. I—My land, my pie!” + </p> + <p> + She rushed into the kitchen and snatched the pastry from the oven. Her new + caller followed her. + </p> + <p> + “So they ain't been, hey?” he said. “That's queer.” + </p> + <p> + “Elkanah's here. He's in there with the minister now.” + </p> + <p> + “He is? Givin' the young feller Hail Columby, I cal'late. Well, now, he + shan't. He, he! When they told me how the minister passed old + hop-and-go-fetch-it what was due him at the chapel last night I riz up and + hoorayed till my wife shut the windows. She said the neighbors all thought + I was loony, anyhow, and I needn't prove it to 'em. He, he! But Elkanah + ain't got any funny bone. He's as solemn as a stuffed owl, and he'll—Well, + I'm goin' to put MY oar in. I'm parish committee, too, I cal'late, and + I've got somethin' to say, even if I wa'n't christened Daniels. Here + goes!” + </p> + <p> + He headed for the study, but before he crossed the threshold of the + kitchen Ellery and his visitor came out into the dining room. Captain + Elkanah's face was flushed, and he fidgeted. The minister looked + determined but calm. + </p> + <p> + “Ahoy there, Elkanah!” hailed Zebedee cheerfully. “'Mornin', Mr. Ellery. + Been havin' officers' counsel, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Captain Mayo,” said the minister. + </p> + <p> + “'Mornin', Zebedee,” grunted Elkanah. “I have—hum—ha!—been + discussing the regrettable affair of last night with Mr. Ellery. I have + tried—hum—ha! to show him that respectable people of our + society don't associate with Come-Outers, and that for a Regular minister + to go to their meetings is something neither the congregation nor the + parish committee approves of. No—er—hum—ha! no!” + </p> + <p> + “And I explained to Captain Daniels,” observed the minister, “that I went + there for what seemed to me good reasons, and, as they did seem to me good + at the time, I'm not ashamed of having gone. It was an honest mistake on + my part and I may make more.” + </p> + <p> + “But the society—” began Elkanah. Captain Zeb interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry about the society, Mr. Ellery,” he said with emphasis. “Nor + about the parish committee, either. Great fishhooks! the most of us are + tickled to death over what you said to Eben Hammond. We think it's a + mighty good joke. YOU didn't know, of course, and what you did was done + innocent. He! he! he! Did you lay him out, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Zebedee,” began Captain Daniels, “I must say I can't see anything to + laugh at.” + </p> + <p> + “You never could, Elkanah. I remember that time when you and me and some + of the fellers home from sea went out sailin' and the boom knocked you + overboard with your Sunday clothes on. Lordy, how the rest of us did + holler! but you never cracked a smile. If you'd seen yourself when we + hauled you in! whiskers runnin' salt water; beaver hat lookin' like a + drownded kitten—” + </p> + <p> + “There! There! Never mind that. I think you'll find a good many of the + society feel as I do, shocked and—hum—ha!—sorry. I'm + surprised they haven't been here to say so.” + </p> + <p> + “I expected them,” remarked the minister. + </p> + <p> + “So did I,” chimed in Captain Zeb. “But I cal'late to know why they ain't + been. They're all too busy crowin' over the way Nat Hammond fetched the + packet home last night. WHAT? You ain't heard? Great fishhooks! it's the + best thing ever—” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard about it,” snapped Elkanah impatiently. “Mr. Ellery, I'm glad + you realize that your action was a mistake and I will take pains to have + that immejitly made plain to—” + </p> + <p> + “YOU ain't heard, Keziah, have you?” broke in Zebedee. “Nor you, Mr. + Ellery? Well, I must tell you. Here's where I gain a lap on Didama Rogers. + Seems the Deborah S.—that's the packet's name, Mr. Ellery—she + hauled out of Boston night afore last on the ebb, with a fair wind and sky + clear as a bell. But they hadn't much more'n got outside of Minot's 'fore + the fog shut down, thicker'n gruel for a sick rich man. The wind held till + 'long toward mornin'; then she flattened to a dead calm. 'Bije Perry, the + mate, he spun the yarn to me, and he said 'twas thick and flat as ever he + see and kept gettin' no better fast. + </p> + <p> + “They drifted along till noon time and then they was somewheres out in the + bay, but that's about all you could say. Zach, he was stewin' and + sputterin' like a pair of fried eels, and Lafayette Gage and Emulous + Peters—they're Denboro folks, Mr. Ellery, and about sixteen p'ints + t'other side of no account—they was the only passengers aboard + except Nat Hammond, and they put in their time playin' high low jack in + the cabin. The lookout was for'ard tootin' a tin horn and his bellerin' + was the most excitin' thing goin' on. After dinner—corned beef and + cabbage—trust Zach for that, though it's next door to cannibalism to + put cabbage in HIS mouth—after dinner all hands was on deck when Nat + says: 'Hush!' he says. 'Don't I hear somethin'?' + </p> + <p> + “They listened, and then they all heard it—all 'cept Zach, who's + deef in his larboard ear. + </p> + <p> + “'Stand by!' roars Nat. 'It's a squall, dead astern and comin' abilin'! + I'll take her, 'Bije. You look out for them tops'ls.' + </p> + <p> + “So Nat grabs the wheel and 'Bije tears for'ard and sends the two fo'mast + hands aloft on the jump. Zach was skipper, but all he done was race around + and holler and trip over his own feet. Oh, he's a prize sailor, he is! + Don't talk to me about them Fosters! I—” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody is talkin' about 'em but you, Zeb,” observed Keziah drily. “Go on. + How about the squall?” + </p> + <p> + “It hit 'em 'fore they got even one tops'l clewed down. That one, the + foretops'l 'twas, split to rags. The main tops'l was set, and when the + squall struck, the rotten old topmast went by the board 'Kerrash-o!' + 'Course splinters flew like all possessed, and one of 'em, about a foot + long, sailed past Nat's head, where he stood heavin' his whole weight on + the wheel, and lit right on the binnacle, smashin' it to matches. + </p> + <p> + “They say Nat never paid the least attention, no more'n if the chunk of + wood had been a June bug buzzin' past. He just held that wheel hard down + and that saved the packet. She come around and put her nose dead in the + wind just in time. As 'twas, 'Bije says there was a second when the water + by her lee rail looked right underneath him as he hung onto the deck with + finger nails and teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there they was, afloat, but with their upper riggin' gone and the + compass smashed flat. A howlin' no'thwester blowin' and fog thick as ever. + Zach was a whimperin', fidgetin' old woman, Lafayette and Emulous was + prayin' in the scuppers—and that ain't an exercise they're used to, + neither—and even 'Bije was mighty shook up and worried—he says + he was himself. But Nat Hammond was as cool and refreshin' as the bottom + of my well up home. + </p> + <p> + “'Better clear away that mess aloft, hadn't you?' he says to the skipper. + </p> + <p> + “Zach said he guessed so; he wa'n't sure of nothin'. However, they cleared + it away, and incidentally 'Bije yanked the prayer meetin' out of the + scuppers and set 'em to work. Then Nat suggests gettin' the spare compass + and, lo and behold you! there wa'n't any. Compasses cost money and money's + made to keep, so Zach thinks. + </p> + <p> + “So there they was. Wind was fair, or ought to be, but 'twas blowin' hard + and so thick you couldn't hardly see the jib boom. Zach he wanted to + anchor, then he didn't, then he did, and so on. Nobody paid much attention + to him. + </p> + <p> + “'What'll we do, Nat?' says 'Bije. He knew who was the real seaman aboard. + </p> + <p> + “'Keep her as she is, dead afore it, if you ask me, says Nat. 'Guess we'll + hit the broadside of the cape somewheres if this gale holds.' + </p> + <p> + “So they kept her as she was. And it got to be night and they knew they'd + ought to be 'most onto the edge of the flats off here, if their reck'nin' + was nigh right. They hove the lead and got five fathom. No flats about + that. + </p> + <p> + “Zach was for anchorin' again. 'What do you think, Nat?' asks 'Bije. + </p> + <p> + “'Anchor, of course, if you want to,' Nat says. 'You're runnin' this + craft. I'm only passenger.' + </p> + <p> + “'But what do you THINK?' whines Zach. 'Can't you tell us what you do + think?' + </p> + <p> + “'Well, if 'twas me, I wouldn't anchor till I had to. Prob'ly 'twill fair + off to-morrow, but if it shouldn't, we might have to lay out here all day. + Anyhow, we'd have to wait for a full tide.' + </p> + <p> + “'I'm afraid we're off the course,' says 'Bije, else we'd been acrost the + bar by this time.' + </p> + <p> + “'Well,' Nat tells him, 'if we are off the course and too far inshore, we + would have made the bar—the Bayport bar—if not the Trumet one. + And if we're off the course and too far out, we'd ought to have deeper + water than five fathom, hadn't we? 'Course I'm not sure, but—What's + that, lands-man?' + </p> + <p> + “'Three and a half, sir,' says the feller with the lead. That showed they + was edgin' in somewheres. Nat he sniffed, for all the world like a dog + catchin' a scent, so 'Bije declares. + </p> + <p> + “'I can smell home,' he says. + </p> + <p> + “Three fathom the lead give 'em, then two and a half, then a scant two. + They was drawin' six feet. Zach couldn't stand it. + </p> + <p> + “'I'm goin' to anchor,' he squeals, frantic. 'I believe we're plumb over + to Wellmouth and drivin' right onto Horsefoot Shoal.' + </p> + <p> + “'It's either that or the bar,' chimes in 'Bije. 'And whichever 'tis, we + can't anchor in the middle of it.' + </p> + <p> + “'But what'll we do?' shouts Zach. 'Can't nobody say somethin' to DO?' + </p> + <p> + “'Tell you I smell home,' says Nat, calm and chipper, 'and I'd know that + smell if I met it in Jericho. Ha! there she deepens again. That was the + bar and we're over it.' + </p> + <p> + “The wind had gone down to a stiff sailin' breeze, and the old Debby S. + slapped along afore it. Sometimes there was twelve foot under her keel and + sometimes eight or nine. Once 'twas only seven and a half. Zach and 'Bije + both looked at each other, but Nat only smiled. + </p> + <p> + “'Oh, you can laugh!' hollers Zach. ''Tain't your vessel you're runnin' + into danger. YOU aint paid out your good money—' + </p> + <p> + “Nat never answered; but he stopped smilin'. + </p> + <p> + “And all to once the water deepened. Hammond swung her up into the wind. + </p> + <p> + “'NOW you can anchor,' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'And 'bout time, too, I guess,' says 'Bije. 'I cal'late the skipper's + right. This IS Horsefoot and we're right between the shoals. Yes, sir, and + I hear breakers. Lively there!' + </p> + <p> + “They hove over the mudhook and dropped the sails. Nat shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “'Breakers or not,' says he, 'I tell you I've smelt home for the last half + hour. Now, by the jumpin' Moses, I can TASTE it!' + </p> + <p> + “And inside of a couple of shakes come the rain. It poured for a while and + then the fog cleared. Right acrost their bows was Trumet, with the town + clock strikin' ten. Over the flat place between the hills they could see + the light on the ocean side. And they was anchored right in the deep hole + inside the breakwater, as sure as I'm knee high to a marlin spike! + </p> + <p> + “'Bije just stared at Hammond with his mouth open. + </p> + <p> + “'Nat,' says he, 'you're a seaman, if I do say it. I thought I was a + pretty good bay pilot, but I can't steer a vessel without a compass + through a night as black as Pharaoh's Egypt, and in a thick fog besides, + and land her square on top of her moorin's. If my hat wa'n't sloshin' + around thirty mile astern, I snum if I wouldn't take it off to you this + minute!' + </p> + <p> + “'Nat,' stammers Zach, 'I must say I—' + </p> + <p> + “Nat snapped him shut like a tobacco box. 'You needn't,' says he. 'But + I'll say this to you, Zach Foster. When I undertake to handle a vessel I + handle her best I know how, and the fact that I don't own her makes no + difference to me. You just put that down somewheres so you won't forget + it.' + </p> + <p> + “And this mornin',” crowed Captain Zebedee, concluding his long yarn, + “after that, mind you, that lubber Zach Foster is around town tellin' + folks that his schooner had been over the course so often she COULDN'T get + lost. She found her way home herself. WHAT do you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + The two members of the parish committee left the parsonage soon after + Captain Mayo had finished his story. Elkanah had listened with growing + irritation and impatience. Zebedee lingered a moment behind his + companions. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you fret yourself about what happened last night, Mr. Ellery,” he + whispered. “It'll be all right. 'Course nobody'd want you to keep up + chummin' in with Come-Outers, but what you said to old Eben'll square you + this time. So long.” + </p> + <p> + The minister shut the door behind his departing guests. Then he went out + into the kitchen, whither the housekeeper had preceded him. He found her + standing on the back step, looking across the fields. The wash bench was + untenanted. + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” mused Ellery thoughtfully, “that was a good story of Captain + Mayo's. This man Hammond must be a fine chap. I should like to meet him.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah still looked away over the fields. She did not wish her employer to + see her face—just then. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you would meet him,” she said. “He was here a little while ago + and I asked him to wait. I guess Zeb's yarn was too much for him; he + doesn't like to be praised.” + </p> + <p> + “So? Was he here? At the Regular parsonage? I'm surprised.” + </p> + <p> + “He and I have known each other for a long while.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm sorry he's gone. I think I should like him.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah turned from the door. + </p> + <p> + “I know you would,” she said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH CAPTAIN NAT PICKS UP A DERELICT + </h3> + <p> + It is probable that John Ellery never fully realized the debt of gratitude + he owed to the fog and the squall and to Captain Nat Hammond. Trumet, + always hungry for a sensation, would have thoroughly enjoyed arguing and + quarreling over the minister's visit to Come-Outer meeting, and, during + the fracas, Keziah's parson might have been more or less battered. But + Captain Nat's brilliant piloting of the old packet was a bit of seamanship + which every man and woman on that foam-bordered stretch of sand could + understand and appreciate, and the minister's indiscretion was all but + forgotten in consequence. The “Daily Advertisers” gloated over it, of + course, and Captain Elkanah brought it up at the meeting of the parish + committee, but there Captain Zeb Mayo championed the young man's course + and proclaimed that, fur's he was concerned, he was for Mr. Ellery more'n + ever. “A young greenhorn with the spunk to cruise single-handed right into + the middle of the Come-Outer school and give an old bull whale like Eben + the gaff is the man for my money,” declared Zebedee. Most of his + fellow-committee agreed with him. “Not guilty, but don't do it again,” was + the general verdict. + </p> + <p> + As for the Come-Outers, they professed to believe that their leader had + much the best of the encounter, so they were satisfied. There was a note + of triumph and exultation in the “testimony” given on the following + Thursday night, and Captain Eben divided his own discourse between + thankfulness for his son's safe return and glorification at the + discomfiture of the false prophets. Practically, then, the result of + Ellery's peace overture was an increased bitterness in the feeling between + the two societies and a polishing of weapons on both sides. + </p> + <p> + Keziah watched anxiously for a hint concerning her parson's walk in the + rain with Grace, but she heard nothing, so congratulated herself that the + secret had been kept. Ellery did not again mention it to her, nor she to + him. A fortnight later he preached his great sermon on “The Voyage of + Life,” and its reference to gales and calms and lee shores and breakers + made a hit. His popularity took a big jump. + </p> + <p> + He met Nat Hammond during that fortnight. The first meeting was + accompanied by unusual circumstances, which might have been serious, but + were actually only funny. + </p> + <p> + The tide at Trumet, on the bay side, goes out for a long way, leaving + uncovered a mile and a half of flats, bare and sandy, or carpeted with + seaweed. Between these flats are the channels, varying at low water from + two to four feet in depth, but deepening rapidly as the tide flows. + </p> + <p> + The flats fascinated the young minister, as they have many another visitor + to the Cape, before or since. On cloudy days they lowered with a dull, + leaden luster and the weed-grown portions were like the dark squares on a + checkerboard, while the deep water beyond the outer bar was steely gray + and angry. When the sun shone and the wind blew clear from the northwest + the whole expanse flashed into fire and color, sapphire blue, emerald + green, topaz yellow, dotted with white shells and ablaze with diamond + sparkles where the reflected light leaped from the flint crystals of the + wet, coarse sand. + </p> + <p> + The best time to visit the flats—tide serving, of course—is + the early morning at sunrise. Then there is an inspiration in the wide + expanse, a snap and tang and joy in the air. Ellery had made up his mind + to take a before-breakfast tramp to the outer bar and so arose at five, + tucked a borrowed pair of fisherman's boots beneath his arm, and, without + saying anything to his housekeeper, walked down the lawn behind the + parsonage, climbed the rail fence, and “cut across lots” to the pine grove + on the bluff. There he removed his shoes, put on the boots, wallowed + through the mealy yellow sand forming the slope of the bluff, and came out + on the white beach and the inner edge of the flats. Then he plashed on, + bound out to where the fish weirs stood, like webby fences, in the + distance. + </p> + <p> + It was a wonderful walk on a wonderful day. The minister enjoyed every + minute of it. Out here he could forget the petty trials of life, the + Didamas and Elkanahs. The wind blew his hat off and dropped it in a + shallow channel, but he splashed to the rescue and laughed aloud as he + fished it out. It was not much wetter than it had been that night of the + rain, when he tried to lend his umbrella and didn't succeed. This + reflection caused him to halt in his walk and look backward toward the + shore. The brown roof of the old tavern was blushing red in the first rays + of the sun. + </p> + <p> + A cart, drawn by a plodding horse and with a single individual on its high + seat, was moving out from behind the breakwater. Some fisherman driving + out his weir, probably. + </p> + <p> + The sand of the outer bar was dimpled and mottled like watered silk by the + action of the waves. It sloped gradually down to meet the miniature + breakers that rolled over and slid in ripples along its edge. Ellery + wandered up and down, picking up shells and sea clams, and peering through + the nets of the nearest weir at the “horsefoot crabs” and squid and + flounders imprisoned in the pound. There were a few bluefish there, also, + and a small school of mackerel. + </p> + <p> + The minister had been on the bar a considerable time before he began to + think of returning to the shore. He was hungry, but was enjoying himself + too well to mind. The flats were all his that morning. Only the cart and + its driver were in sight and they were half a mile off. He looked at his + watch, sighed, and reluctantly started to walk toward the town; he mustn't + keep Mrs. Coffin's breakfast waiting TOO long. + </p> + <p> + The first channel he came to was considerably deeper than when he forded + it on the way out. He noticed this, but only vaguely. The next, however, + was so deep that the water splashed in at the top of one of his boots. He + did notice that, because though he was not wearing his best clothes, he + was not anxious to wet his “other ones.” The extent of his wardrobe was in + keeping with the size of his salary. + </p> + <p> + And the third channel was so wide and deep that he saw at once it could + not be forded, unless he was willing to plunge above his waist. This was + provoking. Now he realized that he had waited too long. The tide had been + flowing for almost an hour; it had flowed fast and, as he should have + remembered, having been told, the principal channels were eight feet deep + before the highest flats were covered. + </p> + <p> + He hurried along the edge, looking for a shallower place, but found none. + At last he reached the point of the flat he was on and saw, to his dismay, + that here was the deepest spot yet, a hole, scoured out by a current like + a mill race. Turning, he saw, creeping rapidly and steadily together over + the flat behind him, two lines of foam, one from each channel. His retreat + was cut off. + </p> + <p> + He was in for a wetting, that was sure. However, there was no help for it, + so he waded in. The water filled his boots there, it gurgled about his + hips, and beyond, as he could see, it seemed to grow deeper and deeper. + The current was surprisingly strong; he found it difficult to keep his + footing in the soft sand. It looked as though he must swim for it, and to + swim in that tide would be no joke. + </p> + <p> + Then, from behind him, came a hail. He turned and saw moving toward him + through the shallow water now covering the flat beyond the next channel, + the cart he had seen leave the shore by the packet wharf, and, later, on + the outer bar. The horse was jogging along, miniature geysers spouting + beneath its hoofs. The driver waved to him. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, mate,” he called. “Belay there. Stay where you are. I'll be + alongside in a shake. Git dap, January!” + </p> + <p> + Ellery waded back to meet this welcome arrival. The horse plunged into the + next channel, surged through it, and emerged dripping. The driver pulled + the animal into a walk. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” he cried, “I'm cruisin' your way; better get aboard, hadn't you? + There's kind of a heavy dew this mornin'. Whoa, Bill!” + </p> + <p> + “Bill” or “January” stopped with apparent willingness. The driver leaned + down and extended a hand. The minister took it and was pulled up to the + seat. + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” he panted. “I'm much obliged to you. I guess you saved me from a + ducking, if nothing worse.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” was the answer, “I wouldn't wonder if I did. This ain't Saturday + night and 'twould be against Trumet principles to take a bath any other + time. All taut, are you? Good enough! then we'll get under way.” He + flapped the reins and added, “G'long, Julius Caesar!” + </p> + <p> + The horse, a sturdy, sedate beast to whom all names seemed to be alike, + picked up his feet and pounded them down again. Showers of spray flew + about the heads of the pair on the seat. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't so sure about that duckin',” commented the rescuer. “Hum! I guess + likely we'll be out of soundin's if we tackle that sink hole you was + undertakin' to navigate. Let's try it a little further down.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery looked his companion over. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he observed with a smile, “from what I've heard of you, Captain + Hammond, I rather guess you could navigate almost any water in this + locality and in all sorts of weather.” + </p> + <p> + The driver turned in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “So?” he exclaimed. “You know me, do you? That's funny. I was tryin' to + locate you, but I ain't been able to. You ain't a Trumetite I'll bet on + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut! tut! tut! you don't tell me. Say, shipmate, you hurt my pride. I did + think there wa'n't a soul that ever trod sand in this village that I + couldn't name on sight, and give the port they hailed from and the names + of their owners. But you've got me on my beam ends. And yet you knew ME.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I did. Everybody knows the man that brought the packet home.” + </p> + <p> + Nat Hammond sniffed impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Um—hm!” he grunted. “I cal'late everybody does, and knows a lot + more about that foolishness than I do myself. If ever a craft was steered + by guess and by godfrey, 'twas that old hooker of Zach's t'other night. + Well—Humph! here's another piece of pilotin' that bids fair to be a + mighty sight harder. Heave ahead, Hannibal! hope you've got your web feet + with you.” + </p> + <p> + They had moved along the edge of the flat a short distance and now turned + into the channel. The horse was wading above its knees; soon the water + reached its belly and began to flow into the body of the cart. + </p> + <p> + “Pick up your feet, shipmate,” commanded Nat. “You may get rheumatiz if + you don't. This'll be a treat for those sea clams back in that bucket + amidships. They'll think I've repented and have decided to turn 'em loose + again. They don't know how long I've been countin' on a sea-clam pie. I'll + fetch those clams ashore if I have to lug 'em with my teeth. Steady, all + hands! we're off the ways.” + </p> + <p> + The cart was afloat. The horse, finding wading more difficult than + swimming, began to swim. + </p> + <p> + “Now I'm skipper again, sure enough,” remarked Hammond. “Ain't gettin' + seasick, are you?” + </p> + <p> + The minister laughed. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Good! she keeps on a fairly even keel, considerin' her build. THERE she + strikes! That'll do, January; you needn't try for a record voyage. + Walkin's more in your line than playin' steamboat. We're over the worst of + it now. Say! you and I didn't head for port any too soon, did we?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I should say not. I ought to have known better than to wait out there + so long. I've been warned about this tide. I—” + </p> + <p> + “S-sh-sh! YOU ought to have known better! What do you think of me? Born + and brought up within sight and smell of this salt puddle and let myself + in for a scrape like this! But it was so mighty fine off there on the bar + I couldn't bear to leave it. I always said that goin' to sea on land would + be the ideal way, and now I've tried it. But you took bigger chances than + I did. Are you a good swimmer?” + </p> + <p> + “Not too good. I hardly know what might have happened if you hadn't—” + </p> + <p> + “S-sh-sh! that's all right. Always glad to pick up a derelict, may be a + chance for salvage, you know. Here's the last channel and it's an easy + one. There! now it's plain sailin' for dry ground.” + </p> + <p> + The old horse, breathing heavily from his exertions, trotted over the + stretch of yet uncovered flats and soon mounted the slope of the beach. + The minister prepared to alight. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Hammond,” he said, “you haven't asked me my name.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I seldom do more'n once. There have been times when I'D just as soon + cruise without too big letters alongside my figurehead.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my name is Ellery.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? WHAT? Oh, ho! ho! ho!” + </p> + <p> + He rocked back and forth on the seat. The minister's feelings were a bit + hurt, though he tried not to show it. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't mind my laughin',” explained Nat, still chuckling. “It ain't + at you. It's just because I was wonderin' what you'd look like if I should + meet you and now—Ho! ho! You see, Mr. Ellery, I've heard of you, + same as you said you'd heard of me.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery smiled, but not too broadly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he admitted, “I imagined you had.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, seems to me dad mentioned your name once or twice. As much as that, + anyhow. Wonder what he'd say if he knew his son had been takin' you for a + mornin' ride?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably that it would have been much better to have left me where you + found me.” + </p> + <p> + The captain's jolly face grew serious. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” he protested. “Not so bad as that. Dad wouldn't drown anybody, + not even a Regular minister. He's a pretty square-built old craft, even + though his spiritual chart may be laid out different from yours—and + mine.” + </p> + <p> + “From yours? Why, I supposed—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. Well, WHEN I go to meetin', I generally go to the chapel to + please father. But when it comes right down to a confession of faith, I'm + pretty broad in the beam. Maybe I'd be too broad even for you, Mr. + Ellery.” + </p> + <p> + The minister, who had jumped to the ground, looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Hammond,” he said, “I'm very glad indeed that I met you. Not + alone because you helped me out of a bad scrape; I realize how bad it + might have been and that—” + </p> + <p> + “Shsh! shh! Nothin' at all. Don't be foolish.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm glad, too, because I've heard so many good things about you that + I was sure you must be worth knowing. I hope you won't believe I went to + your father's meeting with any—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Jumpin' Moses, man! I don't find fault with you for that. I + understand, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you don't mind the fact that I am what I am, I'd like to shake + hands with you.” + </p> + <p> + Nat reached down a big brown hand. + </p> + <p> + “Same here,” he said. “Always glad to shake with a chap as well + recommended as you are. Yes, indeed, I mean it. You see, you've got a + friend that's a friend of mine, and when she guarantees a man to be A. B., + I'll ship him without any more questions.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, good-by. I hope we shall meet again and often. And I + certainly thank you for—” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right. Maybe you'll fish ME out of the drink some day; you + never can tell. So long! Git dap, Gen'ral Scott!” + </p> + <p> + He drove off up the beach, but before he turned the corner of the nearest + dune he called back over his shoulder: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Mr. Ellery, if you think of it you might give my regards to—to—er—the + lady that's keepin' house for you.” + </p> + <p> + Breakfast had waited nearly an hour when the minister reached home. + Keziah, also, was waiting and evidently much relieved at his safe arrival. + </p> + <p> + “Sakes alive!” she exclaimed, as she met him at the back door. “Where in + the world have you been, Mr. Ellery? Soakin' wet again, too!” + </p> + <p> + Ellery replied that he had been for a walk out to the bar. He sat down on + the step to remove the borrowed boots. A small rivulet of salt water + poured from each as he pulled them off. + </p> + <p> + “For a walk! A swim, you mean. How could you get in up to your waist if + you just walked? Did you fall down?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not exactly. But I waited too long and the tide headed me off.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us! you mustn't take chances on that tide. If you'd told me you + was goin', I'd have warned you to hurry back.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've been warned often enough. It was my own fault, as usual. I'm not + sure that I don't need a guardian.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! well, I ain't sure either. Was the channels very deep?” + </p> + <p> + “Deep enough. The fact is, that I might have got into serious trouble if I + hadn't been picked up.” + </p> + <p> + He told briefly the story of his morning's adventure. The housekeeper + listened with growing excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens to Betsy!” she interrupted. “Was the channel you planned to swim + the one at the end of the flat by the longest weir leader?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “My soul! there's been two men drowned in that very place at half tide. + And they were good swimmers. After this I shan't dare let you out of my + sight.” + </p> + <p> + “So? Was it as risky as that? Why, Captain Hammond didn't tell me so. I + must owe him more even than I thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I guess you do. He wouldn't tell you, though; that ain't his way. + Deary me! for what we've received let us be thankful. And that reminds me + that biscuits ought to be et when they're first made, not after they've + been dried up on the back of the stove forever and ever amen. Go on and + change those wet things of yours and then we'll eat. Tryin' to swim the + main channel on the flood! My soul and body!” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Nat sent his regards to you, Mrs. Coffin,” said the minister, + moving toward the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Did, hey?” was the housekeeper's reply. “Want to know!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH THE PARSON AND MR. PEPPER DECLARE THEIR INDEPENDENCE + </h3> + <p> + That afternoon, when dinner was over, the Reverend John decided to make a + few duty calls. The first of these he determined should be on the Peppers. + Lavinia and her brother had called at the Parsonage several times, but as + yet he had not paid them a visit. It was not a ceremony to which he looked + forward with delight, but it must be performed. Miss Pepper had hinted + several times, at sewing circle and after prayer meeting, of “partiality” + and “only stoppin' in where they had fancy curtains up to the windows.” + So, as it could not be put off longer, without causing trouble, he + determined to go through with it. + </p> + <p> + The Pepper house was situated just off the main road on the lane leading + over the dunes to the ocean and the light. It was a small building, its + white paint dingy and storm beaten, and its little fenced-in front yard + dotted thickly with clumps of silver-leaf saplings. A sign, nailed + crookedly on a post, informed those seeking such information that within + was to be found “Abishai G. W. Pepper, Tax Collector, Assessor, Boots and + Shoes Repaired.” And beneath this was fastened a shingle with the chalked + notice, “Salt Hay for sale.” + </p> + <p> + The boot and shoe portion of the first sign was a relic of other days. + Kyan had been a cobbler once, but it is discouraging to wait three or four + weeks while the pair of boots one has left to be resoled are forgotten in + a corner. Captain Zeb Mayo's pointed comment, “I want my shoe leather to + wear while I'm alive, not to be laid out in after I die of old age,” + expressed the general feeling of the village and explained why custom had + left Mr. Pepper and flown to the more enterprising shoemaker at “The + Corners.” The tax collectorship might have followed it, but here Lavinia + kept her brother up to the mark. She went with him on his rounds and it + gave her opportunity to visit, and afterwards comment upon, every family + in town. + </p> + <p> + The minister walked up the dusty lane, lifted the Pepper gate and swung it + back on its one hinge, shooed away the three or four languid and + discouraged-looking fowls that were taking a sun bath on the clam-shell + walk, and knocked at the front door. No one coming in answer to the knock, + he tried again. Then he discovered a rusty bell pull and gave it a sharp + tug. The knob came off in his hand and he hurriedly thrust it back again + into its place. Evidently, that bell was solely for ornament. + </p> + <p> + He came to the conclusion that no one was at home and felt a guilty sense + of relief in consequence. But his conscience would not let him depart + without another try, so he clenched his fist and gave the cracked door + panel a series of tremendous thumps. A thin black cat, which had evidently + been asleep beneath the step, burst from its concealment and fled in + frantic terror. Then from somewhere in the rear of the house came the + sound of a human voice. + </p> + <p> + “Hi!” it called faintly. “Whoever you be, don't bust that door down. Come + round here.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery walked around the corner of the building. The voice came again. + </p> + <p> + “Say!” it wailed, “why don't you answer? Be you comin'? If you're a + peddler, you needn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a peddler,” was the minister's amused reply. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ain't ye? All right. Come along, then.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery “came along” as far as the angle where the ell joined the main body + of the house. So far as he could see every door and window was closed and + there were no signs of life. However, he stepped to the door, a + green-painted affair of boards, and ventured another knock. + </p> + <p> + “Don't start that poundin' again!” protested the voice. “Come round to + t'other side where I be.” + </p> + <p> + So around went the Reverend John, smiling broadly. But even on “t'other + side” there was no one to be seen. And no door, for that matter. + </p> + <p> + “Why!” exclaimed the voice, “if 'tain't Mr. Ellery! How d'ye do? Glad to + see you, Mr. Ellery. Fine day, ain't it? Here I be at this window.” + </p> + <p> + Sure enough; one of the windows on this side of the house was raised about + six inches at the bottom, the shade was up, and peering beneath the sash + the minister discerned the expressive features of Abishai Pepper—or + as much of those features as the size of the opening permitted to be seen. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed the visitor, “is that you, Mr. Pepper? Well, I'm glad to + see you, at last. You are rather hard to see, even now.” + </p> + <p> + Kyan was plainly embarrassed. He stammered as he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he agreed, “I—I shouldn't wonder if I be. How be you? Pretty + smart?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thank you. I'm well.” + </p> + <p> + “Er—er—come to call, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, that was my intention.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! Er—er—Laviny, she's gone over to Thankful Payne's. She + heard that Thankful's cousin up to Middleboro had died—passed away, + I mean—and she thought she'd run over and find out if Thankful was + willed anything. She said she'd be back pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Then, as she won't be gone long, perhaps I'll come in and + wait.” + </p> + <p> + He was moving away toward the corner when a shout from beneath the window + sash brought him to a halt. + </p> + <p> + “Hi!” called Abishai. “Hi, Mr. Ellery! don't go to that door. 'Tain't no + use; it's locked.” + </p> + <p> + “Locked? Well, you can unlock it, can't you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not very well. That is, I—Mr. Ellery, come back here, won't ye? + I don't want anybody to hear.” + </p> + <p> + The house of the nearest neighbor being several hundred yards away, the + likelihood of being overheard was improbable; but the minister came back, + nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Mr. Ellery,” stammered Kyan, “I—I'd like to have you come + in fust rate, but—er—Laviny she's got the key.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery was surprised. + </p> + <p> + “She has!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Um—hm, she's got it. She took it with her.” + </p> + <p> + “But there are other doors. She didn't take them all, did she?” + </p> + <p> + “No—o, but—Well, the fact is, Mr. Ellery, I—I—I'm + locked in.” + </p> + <p> + “Locked in?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, locked in this room. She—she—Oh, consarn it all, Mr. + Ellery, she's locked me in this room a-purpose, so's I won't get out and + go somewheres without her knowin' it.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Um—h'm; that's what she's done. Did you ever hear of anything like + that in your born days?” + </p> + <p> + This surprising disclosure was funny enough, but the tone of grieved + indignation in which Mr. Pepper told of his imprisonment was funnier + still. The minister coughed violently and looked the other way. + </p> + <p> + “She done it a-purpose,” continued Kyan, in a burst of confidence. “She + had me put one of them new-fangled spring locks on the door of this room + t'other day, 'cause she said she was afraid of tramps and wanted some + place to shut herself up in if one of em come. And—and after dinner + to-day she sent me in here for somethin' and then slammed the door on me. + Said she cal'lated I'd stay put till she got back from Thankful's. She + knew mighty well I couldn't get out of the window, 'cause it won't open no + further'n 'tis now. I wa'n't never so provoked in my life. 'Tain't no way + to treat your own brother, lockin' him up like a young one; now, is it?” + </p> + <p> + Ellery's reply was not made immediately. He had heard numerous stories + concerning this odd household, some of which seemed too absurd for belief. + But this performance was more ridiculous than anything he had heard. + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't right, is it, Mr. Ellery?” demanded Kyan. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” answered the caller chokingly, “I—I—it is rather + unusual, that's a fact. May I ask what you've done to—” + </p> + <p> + “Done? I ain't done nothin'. She's so darned scared some other woman'll + get my money that—you see, a month or so ago I—I—well, + she thought I done somethin', or was plannin' to do somethin' that—Keziah + Coffin never told you anything about me, did she?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed. What could Mrs. Coffin tell me about you?” + </p> + <p> + “All right. Nothin', nothin'. Only if she did, tain't so. But I ain't + goin' to stand it no more, Mr. Ellery. Bein' shut up in a darned old—excuse + my swearin', I didn't mean to, though I got reason enough, land knows—bein' + shut up in a room full of trunks and odds and ends is goin' too fur. I + never want to smell old clothes ag'in long's I live. Would you stand it if + you was me, Mr. Ellery?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course I mustn't interfere in your family matters, Mr. Pepper. + Perhaps I'd better call some other time. Good afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on! hold on! you ain't answered me yet. You're a minister and I go + to your meetin' house. Tell me what you'd do if you was me. Would you + stand it?” + </p> + <p> + Ellery laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I suppose I shouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I bet you wouldn't! What would you do?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. You're of age, Mr. Pepper, and you must decide for + yourself. I think I should declare my independence. Really, I must go. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be in such a hurry. I want advice. I need it. And, so fur's + DECLARIN' goes, that don't do me no good. She can declare more things in a + minute than I can think of in a week. Tongue! I never heard—No, no! + Never mind the declarin'. What would you DO? S'posin' you wanted to go + outdoor without havin' her tagged to your coat tails, how'd you stop the + taggin'?” + </p> + <p> + The absurdity of the affair was too much for the visitor. He roared a “Ha, + ha!” that caused Abishai to wave a warning hand beneath the sash. + </p> + <p> + “Ss-h-h! sshh!” he hissed. “Folks'll hear ye, and I'd be so ashamed if + they did that I wouldn't dast to show my head. Can't show much of it, + anyhow, just now. By gum! I'll do somethin' desperate. I—I dunno as + I won't pizen her. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush! you mustn't talk that way. I'm afraid you must be very + fascinating, Mr. Pepper. If your sister is so very fearful of your meeting + other women, it must be because she has good reason to fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop your foolishness! Oh!—I—I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery. + That ain't no way to talk to a minister. But I'm goin' to go out when I + want to if I bust a hole through the clapboards. I AIN'T fascinatin'. You + ask any woman—except her—if I be, and see what they say. + What'll I DO?” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha! I don't know, I'm sure. You might lock HER up, I suppose, just + for a change.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey!” There was a sound from behind the pane as if the imprisoned one had + slapped his knee. “By gum! I never thought of that. Would you now, Mr. + Ellery? Would you? Sshh! sshh! somebody's comin'. Maybe it's her. Run + around to the door, Mr. Ellery, quick. And don't tell her I've seen you, + for mercy sakes! Don't now, will ye? Please! Run!” + </p> + <p> + The minister did not run, but he walked briskly around the corner. Sure + enough, Lavinia was there, just unlocking the door. She expressed herself + as very glad to see the caller, ushered him into the sitting room and + disappeared, returning in another moment with her brother, whom she + unblushingly said had been taking a nap. Abishai did not contradict her; + instead, he merely looked apprehensively at the minister. + </p> + <p> + The call was a short one. Lavinia did seven eighths of the talking and + Ellery the rest. Kyan was silent. When the visit was over, Miss Pepper + escorted her guest to the door and bade him a voluble good-by. Over her + shoulder the minister saw Kyan making frantic signs to him; he interpreted + the signals as a request for secrecy concerning the interview by the + window. + </p> + <p> + Several times during the remainder of that week he surprised his + housekeeper by suddenly laughing aloud when there was, apparently, nothing + to laugh at. He explained these outbursts by saying that he had thought of + something funny. Keziah suggested that it must be mighty funny to make him + laugh in the middle of sermon writing. + </p> + <p> + “I've heard sermons that were funny,” she said, “though they wasn't + intended to be; but what I've heard of yours ain't that kind. I wish you'd + let me in on the joke. I haven't been feelin' like laughin' for the last + fortni't.” + </p> + <p> + She had been rather grave and preoccupied, for her, of late. Bustling and + busy she always was, never sitting down to “rest,” as she called it, + without a lap full of sewing. The minister's clothes were mended and his + socks darned as they had not been since his mother's day. And with him, at + meal times, or after supper in the sitting room, she was always cheerful + and good-humored. But he had heard her sigh at her work, and once, when + she thought herself unobserved, he saw her wipe her eyes with her apron. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she protested, when he asked if anything had gone wrong. “I'm + all right. Got a little cold or somethin', I guess, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + She would not give any other explanation and absolutely refused to see the + doctor. Ellery did not press the matter. He believed the “cold” to be but + an excuse and wondered what the real trouble might be. It seemed to him to + date from the evening of his chapel experience. + </p> + <p> + He told no one, not even her, of Kyan's confidential disclosure, and, + after some speculation as to whether or not there might be a sequel, put + the whole ludicrous affair out of his mind. He worked hard in his study + and at his pastoral duties, and was conscious of a pleasant feeling that + he was gaining his people's confidence and esteem. + </p> + <p> + A week from the following Sunday he dined in state at the Daniels's table. + Captain Elkanah was gracious and condescending. Annabel was more than + that. She was dressed in her newest gown and was so very gushing and + affable that the minister felt rather embarrassed. When, after the meal + was over, Captain Elkanah excused himself and went upstairs for his + Sabbath nap, the embarrassment redoubled. Miss Annabel spoke very + confidentially of her loneliness, without “congenial society,” of how VERY + much she did enjoy Mr. Ellery's intellectual sermons, and especially what + a treat it had been to have him as a guest. + </p> + <p> + “You must dine here every Sunday,” she said. “It will be no trouble at + all, and if you say no, I shall feel that it is because you don't want to + see me—FATHER and me, of course, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + The minister didn't accept this pressing invitation; on the other hand, he + could not refuse it absolutely. He did not like Miss Daniels overmuch, but + she was the daughter of his leading parishioner and she and her parent did + seem to like him. So he dodged the issue and said she was very kind. + </p> + <p> + He left the big house as soon as he could without giving offense, and + started back toward the parsonage. But the afternoon was so fine and the + early summer air so delightful that he changed his mind and, jumping the + fence at the foot of Cannon Hill, set off across the fields toward the + bluffs and the bay shore. + </p> + <p> + The sun was low in the west as he entered the grove of pines on the bluff. + The red light between the boughs made brilliant carpet patterns on the + thick pine needles and the smell was balsamy and sweet. Between the tree + trunks he caught glimpses of the flats, now partially covered, and they + reminded him of his narrow escape and of Nat Hammond, his rescuer. He had + met the captain twice since then, once at the store and again on the main + road, and had chatted with him. He liked him immensely and wished he might + count him as an intimate friend. But intimacy between a Regular clergyman + and the son of the leader of the Come-Outers was out of the question. + Partisans on both sides would shriek at the idea. + </p> + <p> + Thinking of the Hammond family reminded him of another member of it. Not + that he needed to be reminded; he had thought of her often enough since + she ran away from him in the rain that night. And the picture in the + doorway was not one that he could forget—or wanted to. If she were + not a Come-Outer, he could meet her occasionally and they might become + friends. She was a disconcerting young person, who lacked proper respect + for one of his profession and laughed when she shouldn't—but she was + interesting, he admitted that. + </p> + <p> + And then he saw her. She was standing just at the outer edge of the grove, + leaning against a tree and looking toward the sunset. She wore a simple + white dress and her hat hung upon her shoulders by its ribbons. The rosy + light edged the white gown with pink and the fringes of her dark hair were + crinkly lines of fire. Her face was grave, almost sad. + </p> + <p> + John Ellery stood still, with one foot uplifted for a step. The girl + looked out over the water and he looked at her. Then a crow, one of + several whirling above the pines, spied the intruder and screamed a + warning. The minister was startled and stepped back. A dead limb beneath + his foot cracked sharply. Grace turned and saw him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she cried. “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + Ellery emerged from the shadow. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be frightened, Miss Van Horne,” he said. “It is—er—I.” + </p> + <p> + This statement was neither brilliant nor original; even as an + identification it lacked considerable. + </p> + <p> + “I?” repeated the girl. “Who? Oh! Why—” + </p> + <p> + The minister came forward. + </p> + <p> + “Good afternoon, Miss Van Horne,” he stammered. “I'm afraid I frightened + you.” + </p> + <p> + She was looking at him with a queer expression, almost as if she scarcely + believed him real. + </p> + <p> + “I hope—” he began again. She interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said confusedly, “you didn't frighten me. I was a little + startled when I saw you there behind me. It seemed so odd, because I was + just thinking—No, I wasn't frightened. What is there to be + frightened of—in Trumet?” + </p> + <p> + He had extended his hand, but partially withdrew it, not sure how even + such a perfunctory act of friendliness might be received. She saved him + embarrassment by frankly offering her own. + </p> + <p> + “Not much, that's a fact,” he said, in answer to her question. He would + have liked to ask what she had been thinking that made his sudden + appearance seem so odd. + </p> + <p> + “You came to see the sunset, I suppose?” she said hurriedly, as if to head + off a question. “So did I. It is a beautiful evening for a walk, isn't + it?” + </p> + <p> + She had said precisely the same thing on that other evening, when they + stood in the middle of “Hammond's Turn-off” in the driving rain. He + remembered it, and so, evidently, did she, for she colored slightly and + smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I mean it this time,” she said. “I'm glad you didn't get cold from your + wetting the other day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I wasn't very wet. You wouldn't let me lend you the umbrella, so I + had that to protect me on the way home.” + </p> + <p> + “Not then; I meant the other morning when Nat—Cap'n Hammond—met + you out on the flats. He said you were wading the main channel and it was + over your boots.” + </p> + <p> + “Over my boots! Is that all he said? Over my head would be the plain + truth. To cross it I should have had to swim and, if what I've heard since + is true, I doubt if I could swim that channel. Captain Hammond helped me + out of a bad scrape.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! I guess not. He said you were cruising without a pilot and he + towed you into port; that's the way he expressed it.” + </p> + <p> + “It was worse than that, a good deal worse. It might have been my last + cruise. I'm pretty certain that I owe the captain my life.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him uncomprehendingly. + </p> + <p> + “Your life?” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “I believe it. That part of the channel I proposed swimming was exactly + where two men have been drowned, so people say. I'm not a very strong + swimmer, and they were. So, you see.” + </p> + <p> + Grace cried out in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she exclaimed. Then pointing toward the bay, she asked: “Out there, + by the end of that leader, was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that was it.” + </p> + <p> + She drew a long breath. Then, after a moment: + </p> + <p> + “And Nat spoke as if it was all a joke,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt he did. From what I hear of your brother, he generally refers to + his own plucky, capable actions as jokes. Other people call them something + else.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer, but continued to gaze at the half-submerged “leader,” + with the pine bough tied at its landward end to mark the edge of deep + water, and the tide foaming through its lath gratings. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother—” went on the minister. + </p> + <p> + “He isn't my brother,” she interrupted absently. “I wish he was.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed as she uttered the last sentence. + </p> + <p> + “No, of course he isn't your real brother; I forgot. But he must seem like + one.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” rather doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “You must be proud of him.” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” There was nothing doubtful this time. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he saved me from drowning. I'm almost certain of that.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm so glad.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to mean it. He looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said drily. “I'm rather glad myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I didn't mean it exactly that way. Of course I'm glad you weren't + drowned, but I'm especially glad that—that one of our family saved + you. Now you won't believe that Come-Outers are all bad.” + </p> + <p> + “I never believed it.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you did,” she affirmed stubbornly. “You've heard nothing good of + us since you came here. Don't tell fibs, Mr. Ellery.” + </p> + <p> + “But I assure you—” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! Does—well, does Cap'n Daniels, or his daughter, say + anything good of us? Be honest, do they?” + </p> + <p> + “I hardly think—that is, I shouldn't call their opinions + unprejudiced. And, Miss Van Horne, perhaps the prejudice isn't all on one + side. What did your uncle say about Cap'n Nat's meeting me the other day?” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Eben doesn't know. Nat didn't tell anyone but me. He doesn't boast. + And uncle would be glad he helped you. As I told you before, Mr. Ellery, + I'm not ashamed of my uncle. He has been so good to me that I never can + repay him, never! When my own father was drowned he took me in, a little + orphan that would probably have been sent to a home, and no father could + be kinder or more indulgent than he has been. Anything I asked for I got, + and at last I learned not to ask for too much. No self-denial on his part + was too great, if he could please me. When he needed money most he said + nothing to me, but insisted that I should be educated. I didn't know until + afterwards of the self-sacrifice my four years at the Middleboro Academy + meant to him.” + </p> + <p> + The minister had listened eagerly to this defense of the man whom he had + been led to consider his arch enemy. It was given with spirit and the + girl's head was uplifted and her eyes flashed as she spoke. Ellery's next + remark was uttered without premeditation. Really, he was thinking aloud. + </p> + <p> + “So you went away to school?” he mused. “That is why—” + </p> + <p> + “That is why I don't say 'never done nothin'' and 'be you' and 'hain't + neither.' Yes, thank you, that's why. I don't wonder you were surprised.” + </p> + <p> + The young man blushed. + </p> + <p> + “You misunderstand me,” he protested. “I didn't mean—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, you did. Not precisely that, perhaps, but pretty near it. I + suppose you expected me to speak like Josiah Badger or Kyan Pepper. I try + not to. And I try not to say 'immejitly,' too,” she added, with a + mischievous twinkle. + </p> + <p> + Ellery recognized the “immejitly” quotation and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I never heard but one person say that,” he observed. “And he isn't a + Come-Outer.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he isn't. Well, this lesson in English can't be very interesting to + you, Mr. Ellery, and I must go. But I'm very glad Nat helped you the other + day and that you realize the sort of man he is. And I'm glad I have had + the opportunity to tell you more about Uncle Eben. I owe him so much that + I ought to be glad—yes, glad and proud and happy, too, to gratify + his least wish. I must! I know I must, no matter how I—What am I + talking about? Yes, Mr. Ellery, I'm glad if I have helped you to + understand my uncle better and why I love and respect him. If you knew him + as I do, you would respect him, too. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + She was going, but the minister had something to say. He stepped forward + and walked beside her. + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute, please,” he urged. “Miss Van Horne, I do understand. I do + respect your uncle. We have a mutual friend, you and I, and through her I + have come to understand many things.” + </p> + <p> + Grace turned and looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “A mutual friend?” she repeated. “Oh! I know. Mrs. Coffin?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; Mrs. Coffin. She's a good woman and a wise one.” + </p> + <p> + “She's a dear! Do you like her, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she told you about me—about uncle, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Why, she told me—” + </p> + <p> + He began to enumerate some of the things Keziah had told concerning the + Hammond family. They were all good things, and he couldn't help seeing + that the recital pleased her. So he went on to tell how his housekeeper + had helped him, of her advice, of her many acts of kindness, of what he + owed to her. The girl listened eagerly, asking questions, nodding + confirmation, and, in her delight at hearing Keziah praised, quite + forgetting her previous eagerness to end the interview. And, as he talked, + he looked at her, at the red light on her hair, the shine of her eyes, + like phosphorus in the curl of a wave at night, at her long lashes, and— + </p> + <p> + —“Yes,” said Miss Van Horne, “you were saying—” + </p> + <p> + The minister awoke with a guilty start. He realized that his sentence had + broken off in the middle. + </p> + <p> + “Why! why—er—yes,” he stammered. “I was saying that—that + I don't know what I should have done without Mrs. Coffin. She's a + treasure. Frankly, she is the only real friend I have found in Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. I feel the same way about her. She means so much to me. I love + her more than anyone else in the world, except uncle, of course—and + Nat. I miss her very much since—since—” + </p> + <p> + “Since I came, you mean. I'm sorry. I wish—I hate to think I am the + cause which separates you two. It isn't my fault, as you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I know that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and I object to having others choose my friends for me, people who, + because of a fanatical prejudice, stand in the way of—If it wasn't + for that, you might call and see Mrs. Coffin, just as you used to do.” + </p> + <p> + Grace shook her head. They had moved on to the bend of the bluff, beyond + the fringe of pines, and were now standing at the very edge of the high + bank. + </p> + <p> + “If it wasn't for that, you would come,” asserted the minister. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose so. I should like to come. I miss my talks with Aunt + Keziah more than you can imagine—now especially. But, somehow, what + we want to do most seems to be what we mustn't, and what we don't like is + our duty.” + </p> + <p> + She said this without looking at him, and the expression on her face was + the same sad, grave one he had noticed when he first saw her standing + alone by the pine. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you come?” he persisted. + </p> + <p> + “I can't, of course. You know I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? If my company is objectionable I can go away when you come. If + you dislike me I—” + </p> + <p> + “You know I don't dislike you personally.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm awfully glad of that.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's impossible. Uncle respects and is fond of Aunt Keziah, but he + wouldn't hear of my visiting the parsonage.” + </p> + <p> + “But don't you think your uncle might be persuaded? I'm sure he + misunderstands me, just as I should him if it weren't for Mrs. Coffin—and + what you've said. Don't you think if I called on him and he knew me better + it might help matters? I'll do it gladly. I will!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. He wouldn't listen. And think of your own congregation.” + </p> + <p> + “Confound my congregation!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Ellery!” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him in amazement; then her lips began to curl. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Ellery!” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + The minister turned very red and drew his hand across his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't mean that exactly,” he stammered. “But I'm not a child. I + have the right to exercise a man's discretion. My parish committee must + understand that. They shall! If I choose to see you—Look out!” + </p> + <p> + She was close to the overhanging edge of the bluff and the sod upon which + she stood was bending beneath her feet. He sprang forward, caught her + about the waist, and pulled her back. The sod broke and rattled down the + sandy slope. She would have had a slight tumble, nothing worse, had she + gone with it. There was no danger; and yet the minister was very white as + he released her. + </p> + <p> + She, too, was pale for a moment, and then crimson. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” she gasped. “I—I must go. It is late. I didn't realize + how late it was. I—I must go.” + </p> + <p> + He did not answer, though he tried to. + </p> + <p> + “I must go,” she said hurriedly, speaking at random. “Good afternoon. + Good-by. I hope you will enjoy your walk.” + </p> + <p> + “I have enjoyed it.” His answer was unstudied but emphatic. She recognized + the emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come to see Mrs. Coffin?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, no. You know I can't. Good-by. The sunset is beautiful, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I—I think the sunsets from this point are the finest I have + ever seen. I come here every Sunday afternoon to see them.” + </p> + <p> + This remark was given merely to cover embarrassment, but it had an + unexpected effect. + </p> + <p> + “You DO?” cried the minister. The next moment he was alone. Grace Van + Horne had vanished in the gloom of the pine thickets. + </p> + <p> + It was a strange John Ellery who walked slowly back along the path, one + that Keziah herself would not have recognized, to say nothing of Captain + Elkanah and the parish committee. The dignified parson, with the dignified + walk and calm, untroubled brow, was gone, and here was an absent-minded + young fellow who stumbled blindly along, tripping over roots and dead + limbs, and caring nothing, apparently, for the damage to his Sunday boots + and trousers which might result from the stumbles. He saw nothing real, + and heard nothing, not even the excited person who, hidden behind the + bayberry bush, hailed him as he passed. It was not until this person + rushed forth and seized him by the arm that he came back to the + unimportant affairs of this material earth. + </p> + <p> + “Why! Why, Mr. Pepper!” he gasped. “Are you here? What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Am I here?” panted Kyan. “Ain't I been here for the last twenty minutes + waitin' to get a chance at you? Ain't I been chasin' you from Dan to + Beersheby all this dummed—excuse me—afternoon? Oh, my godfreys + mighty!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Matter? Matter enough! It's all your fault. You got me into the mess, now + you git me out of it.” + </p> + <p> + Usually, when Abishai addressed his clergyman, it was in a tone of humble + respect far different from his present frantic assault. The Reverend John + was astounded. + </p> + <p> + “What IS the trouble, Mr. Pepper?” he demanded. “Behave yourself, man. + What IS it?” + </p> + <p> + “You—you made me do it,” gurgled Kyan. “Yes, sir, 'twas you put me + up to it. When you was at our house t'other day, after Laviny locked me + up, you told me the way to get square was to lock her up, too. And I done + it! Yes, sir, I done it when she got back from meetin' this noon. I run + off and left her locked in. And—and”—he wailed, wringing his + hands—“I—I ain't dast to go home sence. WHAT'll I do?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT + </h3> + <p> + The hysterical Mr. Pepper doubtless expected his clergyman to be almost as + much upset as he was by the news of his action. But John Ellery was + provokingly calm. As a matter of fact he scarcely grasped the purport of + the little man's disjointed story. He had been wandering in dreamland, his + head among the clouds, and the explosion of Keziah's bomb disturbed, but + did not clear the air. + </p> + <p> + “What will you do?” he repeated. “Why—er—I don't know, I'm + sure.” + </p> + <p> + Kyan was staggered. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know?” he shouted. “YOU don't? Then who does, for the land + sakes? Didn't you tell me to lock her up? Didn't I do it 'CAUSE you told + me? Didn't—didn't—” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be on the verge of apoplexy. Also he had raised his voice to + a yell. The minister seized him by the arm and shook him into silence. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush!” he commanded. “Wait a minute. Let me understand this thing. + Some one is locked up, you say. Who is it? Where—” + </p> + <p> + “WHO is it? Ain't I tellin' you. It's Laviny. She went into that spare + room where I was t'other day and I slammed the spring lock to on her. Then + I grabbed the key and run. That was afore three this afternoon; now it's + 'most night and I ain't dast to go home. What'll she say when I let her + out? I got to let her out, ain't I? She can't starve to death in there, + can she? And YOU told me to do it! YOU did! Oh—” + </p> + <p> + The apoplectic attack was once more imminent. + </p> + <p> + “Stop it, Mr. Pepper,” ordered Ellery. “I don't remember telling you to + lock your sister up, though—Why, yes, I may have said something or + other, as a joke, but I didn't expect you would seriously consider doing + such a thing. Ha, ha! This is the most idiotic piece of business that I + ever—” + </p> + <p> + “Be you laughin'?” demanded the shocked Abishai. “LAUGHIN'? Why, my + godfreys mighty! Idiotic? Well, who's the idiot? 'Tain't me! I'D never + have thought of such a fool trick. But you said—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Let me think. Have you told anybody?” + </p> + <p> + “TOLD anybody! I guess NOT. And nobody'll never know if they wait for me + to tell 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I don't see why you can't go home and—hum—I don't + like to advise your telling a lie, but you might let her infer that it was + an accident. OR, if you really mean to be your own master, you can tell + her you did it purposely and will do it again if she ever tries the trick + on you.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell her that! I tell her! O Mr. Ellery, DON'T talk so. You don't know + Laviny; she ain't like most women. If I should tell her that she'd—I + don't know's she wouldn't take and horsewhip me. Or commit suicide. She's + said she would afore now if—if—” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! She won't do that, you needn't worry.” He burst into another + laugh, but checked himself, as he saw the look of absolute distress on + poor Kyan's face. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Mr. Pepper,” he said. “We'll think of some plan to smooth + matters over. I'll go home with you now and we'll let her out together.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you, Mr. Ellery? Will you, honest? Say, by godfreys mighty, I'd get + down on my knees and thank you this minute if—if I wa'n't in such a + hurry. Come right on; come quick!” + </p> + <p> + It was a silent procession of two that wended its way out of the pines and + across the fields, by the brook and the pond, where the evening mists were + rising and the frogs chanting their good-night song, through the gathering + twilight shades, across the main road and up the lighthouse lane. Kyan, + his mind filled with fearful forebodings, was busily trying to think of a + reasonable excuse for the “accidental” imprisonment of his sister. John + Ellery was thinking, also, but his thoughts were not of the Peppers. + </p> + <p> + The little house was dark and still as they approached it. No welcoming + light in the dining-room windows, no open door, no shrill voice demanding + to know where the wandering brother had been “all this everlastin' time.” + Even the hens had gone to roost. Abishai groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” he wailed. “I'm scart to death. Where is she? You don't + cal'late she's done it, do ye?” + </p> + <p> + “Done it? Done what?” + </p> + <p> + “Done the suicidin'. She said she would if—O Laviny!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Be quiet. She's all right. She's in the room where you left her, of + course. She couldn't get out, could she? You've got the key. Come in.” + </p> + <p> + They entered the house. The dining room was dark and quiet. So was the + sitting room. The clock ticked, solemn and slow. Kyan clutched at his + companion's arm. + </p> + <p> + “I don't hear her,” he whispered. “You don't s'pose she HAS done it? + Godfreys mighty!” + </p> + <p> + The gloom and mystery were having their effect, even on Mr. Ellery's + nerves. His answer also was given in a tense whisper, but with some + irritation. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” he murmured. “Let go of my wrist. You've pinched it black and + blue. Which room did you leave her in? Show me at once.” + </p> + <p> + Kyan's trembling knees managed to carry him to the little hall leading + from the sitting room toward the ell at the side of the house. This hall + was almost pitch black. The minister felt his guide's chin whisker brush + his ear as the following sentence was literally breathed into it: + </p> + <p> + “Here—here 'tis,” panted Kyan. “Here's the door. I don't hear + nothin', do you? Listen!” + </p> + <p> + They listened. Not a sound, save the dismal tick of the clock in the room + they had left. Ellery knocked on the door. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Pepper,” he said; “Miss Pepper, are you there?” + </p> + <p> + Kyan caught his breath. No answer. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Pepper,” repeated the minister. “Miss Pepper!” + </p> + <p> + Silence, absolute. Abishai could stand it no longer. He groaned and + collapsed on his knees. + </p> + <p> + “She has!” he moaned. “She's done it and there ain't nothin' in there but + her remains. Oh, my soul!” + </p> + <p> + Ellery, now rather frightened himself, shook him violently. + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet, you idiot!” he commanded. “We must go in. Give me the key.” + </p> + <p> + After repeated orders and accompanying shakings, Kyan produced a key. The + minister snatched it from his trembling fingers, felt for the keyhole and + threw the door open. The little room was almost as dark as the hall and + quite as still. There was a distinct smell of old clothes and camphor. + </p> + <p> + “A match,” demanded Ellery. “Quick!” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't got none,” quavered Mr. Pepper. “They're all in the box in the + settin' room. Oh, my godfreys mighty! What'll I do? What undertaker'll I + have? Solon Tripp's the reg'lar one, but Laviny and he had a row and she + said she'd come back and ha'nt me if I ever let him touch her rema—Where + you goin'? DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!” + </p> + <p> + The minister was going after a match, and said so. In a moment he returned + with several. One of these he lit. The brimstone sputtered, burned blue + and fragrant, then burst into a yellow flame. + </p> + <p> + The little room was empty. + </p> + <p> + John Ellery drew a breath of relief. Then he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” he exclaimed. “She's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “GONE? Why, she ain't nuther! Where could she go?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, but she has gone—somewhere. At any rate, she's not + here.” + </p> + <p> + Kyan rose to his feet. His alarm had changed to paralyzed astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “How could she go?” he repeated. “That window won't open more'n six + inches. Laviny ain't what you'd call fleshy, but she never could squeeze + through that in this world. And I locked the door, 'cause I heard the + click. I—I—I—do you b'lieve in spirits, Mr. Ellery?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! Come into the sitting room, light a lamp, and let's talk it + over.” + </p> + <p> + The lamp was found and lighted at last. Its radiance brightened the dingy + sitting room. + </p> + <p> + “Do you b'lieve in spirits?” repeated Kyan. “I've heard yarns about folks + bein' spirited away, but I never took much stock in 'em. And,” he added + with conviction, “'twould take a pretty husky spirit to handle Laviny if + she had her mad up. She—Hush! hear that!” + </p> + <p> + The sound of wheels was heard in the lane by the front gate. A vehicle + stopped. Then some one called a hurried good night. Mr. Pepper's fear + returned. + </p> + <p> + “It's her!” he cried. “She's been ahuntin' for me. NOW I'll get it! You + stand by me, Mr. Ellery. You got to. You said you would. But how on earth + did she get—” + </p> + <p> + The minister motioned him to silence. + </p> + <p> + “I'll stand by you,” he whispered. “Don't speak. Leave it to me.” + </p> + <p> + A step sounded on the back step. The dining-room door was hurriedly thrown + open. + </p> + <p> + “'Bishy,” called Miss Pepper eagerly. “'Bish, where are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Here—here I be, Laviny,” faltered Kyan. + </p> + <p> + His sister appeared on the threshold. She was dressed in her Sunday best, + flowered poke bonnet, mitts, imitation India shawl, rustling black + bombazine gown. She looked at Mr. Pepper then at the minister. + </p> + <p> + “O Mr. Ellery!” she exclaimed, “be you here?” + </p> + <p> + The Reverend John admitted his presence. Miss Pepper's demeanor surprised + him. She did not seem angry; indeed, she acted embarrassed and confused, + as if she, and not her brother, were the guilty party. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I'm awful late, 'Bishy,” she said. “Have you had your supper?” + </p> + <p> + Kyan was too perturbed to venture a reply. The sword above his head was + quivering on its single hair and he was preparing to dodge the fall. But + it did not fall. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't had any supper, have you?” purred Miss Pepper pityingly. + “It's too bad. You poor thing! you must be awful hungry.” + </p> + <p> + She moved across the room and kissed him. Abishai, who had prepared + himself for a different sort of greeting, clutched his chair with both + hands. He looked as if he might faint. The minister gazed open-mouthed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm awful sorry, Mr. Ellery,” gushed Lavinia, removing the bonnet. “You + see, I was invited out to ride this afternoon and—and—I went.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at her brother, reddened—yes, almost blushed—and + continued. + </p> + <p> + “You know, 'Bishy,” she said “Thankful Payne's cousin's home avisitin' + her. He come about that cousin's will—the other cousin that's just + died. He's a reel nice man—her live cousin is—keeps a shoe + store up to Sandwich, and I used to know him years ago. When I was over to + Thankful's t'other day, him and me had quite a talk. We got speakin' of + what nice drives there was around Trumet and—and—er—well, + he asked me if I wouldn't like to go to ride next Sunday afternoon—that's + to-day. And a ride bein' a good deal of a treat to me, I said I would. + Thankful was goin', too, but—er—er—she couldn't very + well. So Caleb—that's his name, you remember, 'Bishy—he come + round with his horse and team about ha'f past three and we started. But + I'd no IDEE 'twas so late. I—I—meant to tell you I was goin', + 'Bish, but I forgot.” + </p> + <p> + Kyan had listened to this recital, or explanation, or apology, with a + curious succession of expressions passing over his face. He swallowed two + or three times, but did not interrupt. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so sorry I kept you waitin' supper,” gushed Lavinia. “I'll get you a + good one now. Oh, well, deary me! I must be gettin' absent-minded. I ain't + asked you where you've been all the afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + Abishai's eyes turned beseechingly toward his promised backer. Ellery + could not resist that mute appeal. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother has been with me for some time, Miss Pepper,” he + volunteered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, has he? Ain't that nice! He couldn't have been in better comp'ny, I'm + sure. But oh, say, 'Bishy! I ain't told you how nigh I come to not gettin' + out at all. Just afore Mr. Payne come, I was in that spare room and—you + remember I put a spring lock on that door?” + </p> + <p> + It was here at last. The long-dreaded explosion was imminent. Kyan's chin + shook. He braced himself for the blow. The minister prepared to come to + the rescue. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” went on Lavinia. “I—I put a lock on that door so's I—I + could shut the room up when I wanted to. Well, when I was in there this + afternoon the wind blew the door shut and—Hey?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I never said nothin',” panted Kyan. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it blew to, the lock clicked, and there I was. If I hadn't had the + other key in my pocket I don't know's I wouldn't have been in there yet. + That would have been a pretty mess, wouldn't it! He! he! he!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed shrilly. The minister looked at her, then at her brother, and + he, too, burst into a shout of laughter. Kyan did not laugh; yet his grip + upon the chair relaxed, and over his countenance was spreading a look of + relief, of hope and peace, like a clear sunrise after a stormy night. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must go and get supper,” declared Lavinia. “You'll forgive me for + leavin' you so, won't you, 'Bishy?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pepper sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said slowly. “I'll forgive you, Laviny.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew you would. I hope you ain't been too lonesome. Did you miss me? + Was you worried?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Yes, I—I missed you consider'ble. I WAS gettin' sort of + worried. I didn't s'pose you'd go off to ride with—with a feller and + leave me all alone. But I forgive you.” He stopped, drew his hand across + his forehead, and then added, “I s'pose I hadn't ought to complain. Maybe + I'd better get used to it; I guess likely this is only the beginnin'.” + </p> + <p> + Lavinia blushed furiously. + </p> + <p> + “Why, 'Bish!” she exclaimed. “How you do talk! Ain't he awful, Mr. + Ellery?” + </p> + <p> + The Reverend John did not answer. He could not trust himself to speak just + then. When he did it was to announce that he must be getting toward home. + No, he couldn't stay for supper. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pepper went into the kitchen, and Abishai saw the visitor to the + door. Ellery extended his hand and Kyan shook it with enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “Wa'n't it fine?” he whispered. “Talk about your miracles! Godfreys + mighty! Say, Mr. Ellery, don't you ever tell a soul how it really was, + will you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I know you won't. You won't tell on me and I won't tell on you. + That's a trade, hey?” + </p> + <p> + The minister stopped in the middle of his step. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he said, turning. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pepper merely smiled, winked, and shut the door. John Ellery reflected + much during his homeward walk. + </p> + <p> + The summer in Trumet drowsed on, as Trumet summers did in those days, when + there were no boarders from the city, no automobiles or telephones or + “antique” collectors. In June the Sunday school had its annual picnic. On + the morning of the Fourth of July some desperate spirits among the younger + set climbed in at the church window and rang the bell, in spite of the + warning threats of the selectmen, who had gone on record as prepared to + prosecute all disturbers of the peace to the “full extent of the law.” One + of the leading citizens, his name was Daniels, awoke to find the sleigh, + which had been stored in his carriage house, hoisted to the roof of his + barn, and a section of his front fence tastefully draped about it like a + garland. The widow Rogers noticed groups of people looking up at her house + and laughing. Coming out to see what they were laughing at, she was + provoked beyond measure to find a sign over the front door, announcing + “Man Wanted Imediate. Inquire Within.” The door of the Come-Outer chapel + was nailed fast and Captain Zeb Mayo's old white horse wandered loose + along the main road ringed with painted black stripes like a zebra. + Captain Zeb was an angry man, for he venerated that horse. + </p> + <p> + The storm caused by these outbreaks subsided and Trumet settled into its + jog trot. The stages rattled through daily, the packet came and went every + little while, occasionally a captain returned home from a long voyage, and + another left for one equally long. Old Mrs. Prince, up at the west end of + the town, was very anxious concerning her son, whose ship was overdue at + Calcutta and had not been heard from. The minister went often to see her + and tried to console, but what consolation is there when one's only child + and sole support is nobody knows where, drowned and dead perhaps, perhaps + a castaway on a desert island, or adrift with a desperate crew in an open + boat? And Mrs. Prince would say, over and over again: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, Mr. Ellery. Thank you. I'm sure you mean to encourage me, but + oh, you don't know the things that happen to seafarin' men. I do. I went + to sea with my husband for fourteen year. He died on a voyage and they + buried him over the vessel's side. I can't even go to his grave. The sea + got him, and now if it's taken my Eddie—” + </p> + <p> + The young clergyman came away from these calls feeling very young, indeed, + and woefully inadequate. What DID he know of the great sorrows of life? + </p> + <p> + The Sunday dinners with the Daniels family were almost regular weekly + functions now. He dodged them when he could, but he could not do so often + without telling an absolute lie, and this he would not do. And, regularly, + when the solemn meal was eaten, Captain Elkanah went upstairs for his nap + and the Reverend John was left alone with Annabel. Miss Daniels did her + best to be entertaining, was, in fact, embarrassingly confidential and + cordial. It was hard work to get away, and yet, somehow or other, at the + stroke of four, the minister always said good-by and took his departure. + </p> + <p> + “What is your hurry, Mr. Ellery?” begged Annabel on one occasion when the + reading of Moore's poems had been interrupted in the middle by the guest's + sudden rising and reaching for his hat. “I don't see why you always go so + early. It's so every time you're here. Do you call at any other house on + Sunday afternoons?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” was the prompt reply. “Oh, no.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why can't you stay? You know I—that is, pa and I—would + LOVE to have you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. Thank you. You're very kind. But I really must go. Good + afternoon, Miss Daniels.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Rogers said she saw you going across the fields after you left here + last Sunday. Did you go for a walk?” + </p> + <p> + “Er—er—yes, I did.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you had mentioned it. I love to walk, and there are SO few people + that I find congenial company. Are you going for a walk now?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no—er—not exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry. GOOD-by. Will you come again next Sunday? Of COURSE you will. + You know how dreadfully disappointed I—we—shall be if you + don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Miss Daniels. I enjoyed the dinner very much. Good afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried down the path. Annabel watched him go. Then she did an odd + thing. She passed through the sitting room, entered the front hall, went + up the stairs, tiptoed by the door of her father's room, and then up + another flight to the attic. From here a steep set of steps led to the + cupola on the roof. In that cupola was a spyglass. + </p> + <p> + Annabel opened a window a few inches, took the spyglass from its rack, + adjusted it, laid it on the sill of the open window and knelt, the glass + at her eye. The floor of the cupola was very dusty and she was wearing her + newest and best gown, but she did not seem to mind. + </p> + <p> + Through the glass she saw the long slope of Cannon Hill, with the beacon + at the top and Captain Mayo's house near it. The main road was deserted + save for one figure, that of her late caller. He was mounting the hill in + long strides. + </p> + <p> + She watched him gain the crest and pass over it out of sight. Then she + shifted the glass so that it pointed toward the spot beyond the curve of + the hill, where the top of a thick group of silver-leafs hid the + parsonage. Above the tree tops glistened the white steeple of the Regular + church. If the minister went straight home she could not see him. But + under those silver-leafs was the beginning of the short cut across the + fields where Didama had seen Mr. Ellery walking on the previous Sunday. + </p> + <p> + So Annabel watched and waited. Five minutes, then ten. He must have + reached the clump of trees before this, yet she could not see him. + Evidently, he had gone straight home. She drew a breath of relief. + </p> + <p> + Then, being in a happier frame of mind, and the afternoon clear and + beautiful, she moved the glass along the horizon, watching the distant + white specks across the bay on the Wellmouth bluffs—houses and + buildings they were—the water, the shore, the fish weirs, the pine + groves. She became interested in a sloop, beating into Wellmouth harbor, + and watched that. After a time she heard, in the house below, her father + shouting her name. + </p> + <p> + She gave the glass one more comprehensive sweep preparatory to closing it + and going downstairs. As she did this a moving speck came into view and + vanished. + </p> + <p> + Slowly she moved the big end of the spyglass back along the arc it had + traveled. She found the speck and watched it. It was a man, striding + across the meadow land, a half mile beyond the parsonage, and hurrying in + the direction of the beach. She saw him climb a high dune, jump a fence, + cross another field and finally vanish in the grove of pines on the edge + of the bluff by the shore. + </p> + <p> + The man was John Ellery, the minister. Evidently, he had not gone home, + nor had he taken the short cut. Instead he had walked downtown a long way + and THEN turned in to cross the fields and work his way back. + </p> + <p> + Annabel put down the glass and, heedless of her father's calls, sat + thinking. The minister had deliberately deceived her. More than that, he + had gone to considerable trouble to avoid observation. Why had he done it? + Had he done the same thing on other Sunday afternoons? Was there any real + reason why he insisted on leaving the house regularly at four o'clock? + </p> + <p> + Annabel did not know. Her eyes snapped and her sharp features looked + sharper yet as she descended the steps to the attic. She did not know; but + she intended to find out. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH KEZIAH'S TROUBLES MULTIPLY + </h3> + <p> + Keziah was getting worried about her parson. Not concerning his popularity + with his congregation. She had long since ceased to worry about that. The + young minister's place in his people's regard was now assured, the + attendance was increasing, and the Regular church was now on a firmer + footing, financially and socially, than it had been in years. Even Mrs. + Rogers and Lavinia Pepper had ceased to criticise, except as pertained to + unimportant incidentals, and were now among the loudest of the praise + chanters. And as Captain Zeb Mayo said: “When Didama and Laviny stops + fault-findin', the millennium's so nigh port a feller ought to be + overhaulin' his saint uniform.” + </p> + <p> + But what worried Mrs. Coffin was John Ellery's personal appearance and + behavior. He had grown perceptibly thinner during the past month, his + manner was distrait, and, worst of all in the housekeeper's eyes, his + appetite had fallen off. She tried all sorts of tempting dishes, but the + result was discouraging. + </p> + <p> + “What!” she exclaimed. “Don't want but one piece of huckleberry pie? Why, + a week ago you ate three and looked kind of disappointed 'cause the dish + was empty. What is the matter? Are you sick?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mrs. Coffin,” replied the Reverend John. “No, I'm not sick. I just + don't feel hungry, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! Well, I've usually noticed that when a healthy man don't feel hungry + at dinner time, 'specially in the huckleberry season, his healthiness is + pretty shaky. What does ail you, Mr. Ellery? Got somethin' on your mind? + If you have, I'd heave it overboard. Or you might unload it onto me and + let me prescribe. I've had consider'ble experience in that kind of + doctorin'.” + </p> + <p> + But the answer was unsatisfactory. Mr. Ellery laughed, changed the + subject, and wandered out into the garden, where Keziah saw him, shortly + afterwards, intently regarding nothing in particular with a rapt stare. + She watched him for a few moments and then, with a puzzled shake of the + head, returned to her work. She believed that he was troubled about + something and was herself troubled in consequence. + </p> + <p> + His absent-mindedness was most acute on Sunday evenings, before prayer + meeting, and after he had returned from the afternoon at Captain + Elkanah's. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Mr. Ellery,” she said, on one of these Sunday evenings, “do you + know, it seems to me that Elkanah's meals must go to your head. Don't have + any of his granddad's New England rum, do you? They tell me he's got some + of that down cellar that he doles out occasional to his very particular + friends. That's the common yarn around town, though I couldn't swear 'twas + gospel.” + </p> + <p> + The minister smiled and denied acquaintanceship with the New England + beverage. + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Then it must be the other thing. You ain't in love, are you?” + </p> + <p> + The young man started, colored, and was plainly embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “In love?” he repeated. “In love, Mrs. Coffin?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in love. Annabel hasn't landed a male at last, has she? She's a line + over the side for a long time.” + </p> + <p> + The hearty laugh with which this was received settled the question of + Annabel's success. Keziah was relieved. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm glad of that,” she said. “I ain't got any grudge against + Annabel, but neither have I got one against you. Another man in that + family would have an easy time in one way, he wouldn't have to do any + thinkin' for himself—Elkanah and his daughter would do all that was + necessary. So you're not in love. Then I don't know what does ail you. + I'll say this, though, for a body that ain't in love you certainly stay + with the Danielses a long time. You went there right after meetin' this + noon and now it's seven o'clock and you've just got home. And 'twas the + same last Sunday and the one before. Been there all the time, have you?” + </p> + <p> + She knew he had not, because she had seen him pass the parsonage, on the + opposite side of the road, two hours before. But she was curious to learn + what his reply would be. It was noncommittal. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said slowly. “Not all the time. I—er—went for a short + walk.” + </p> + <p> + Before she could inquire concerning that walk he had entered the study and + closed the door after him. + </p> + <p> + During the week which followed this particular conversation he was more + absent-minded than ever. There were evenings when he spoke scarcely a + word, but sat silent in his chair, while Keziah, looking up from her + mending, watched him and guessed and wondered. After he had gone to his + room for the night, she would hear him pacing the floor, back and forth, + back and forth. She asked no more questions, however; minding her own + business was a specialty of Keziah's, and it was a rare quality in Trumet. + </p> + <p> + Sunday was a cloudy, warm day, “muggy,” so Captain Zeb described it. After + the morning service Mr. Ellery, as usual, went home with Captain Daniels + and Annabel. Keziah returned to the parsonage, ate a lonely dinner, washed + the dishes, and sat down to read a library book. She read for an hour and + then, finding it difficult to keep her mind on the story, gave it up, + closed the book and, rising, walked to the window. But the misty, hot + loneliness of the afternoon, was neither interesting nor cheerful, so she + turned away and went upstairs to her own room. Her trunk was in one corner + of this room and she unlocked it, taking from a compartment of the tray a + rosewood writing case, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, a present from her + father, who had brought it home from sea when she was a girl. + </p> + <p> + From the case she took a packet of letters and a daguerreotype. The latter + was the portrait of a young man, in high-collared coat, stock, and fancy + waistcoat. His hair, worn long over the ears, was smooth with a shine that + suggested oil, and in his shirt front was a large pin, which might + possibly have been mistaken by a credulous observer for a diamond. Mrs. + Coffin looked at the daguerreotype, sighed, shuddered, and laid it aside. + Then she opened the packet of letters. Selecting one from the top of the + pile, she read it slowly. And, as she read, she sighed again. + </p> + <p> + She did not hear the back door of the parsonage open and close softly. Nor + did she hear the cautious footsteps in the rooms below. What aroused her + from her reading was her own name, spoken at the foot of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Keziah! Keziah, are you there?” + </p> + <p> + She started, sprang up, and ran out into the hall, the letter still in her + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” she asked sharply. “Mr. Ellery, is that you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” was the answer. “It's me—Nat. Are you busy, Keziah? I want to + see you for a minute.” + </p> + <p> + The housekeeper hurriedly thrust the letter into her waist. + </p> + <p> + “I'll be right down, Nat,” she answered. “I'm comin'.” + </p> + <p> + He was in the sitting room when she entered. He was wearing his Sunday + suit of blue and his soft felt hat was on the center table. She held out + her hand and he shook it heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” she observed, smiling, “I declare if I don't believe you've got + the tiptoe habit. This is the second time you've sneaked into the house + and scared me 'most to death. I asked you before if you wa'n't ashamed of + yourself and now I ask it again.” + </p> + <p> + Before he could reply she caught a glimpse of his face. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she asked. “What is the matter? Is anybody sick? Is your + father—” + </p> + <p> + “No, he's all right. That is, he's as well as he has been lately, though + that isn't sayin' much.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Grace—” + </p> + <p> + “No, she's all right, too, I guess. Been sort of quiet and sorrowful for + the last few weeks—or I've seemed to notice that she has—but I + cal'late it's nothin' serious. I wouldn't wonder if the same thing that's + troublin' her is what ails me.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is it? Why don't you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' to tell you, Keziah. That's what I come here for. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, can't you? Don't stand up there like a lighthouse, shuttin' out + the whole broadside of the room. You are the BIGGEST thing!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Hammond selected the most substantial chair in the apartment and + sat down upon it. He looked at his friend and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No use, Keziah,” he said. “If I was as deep down in the blues as the + bottom of the Whale Deep, a look at that face of yours would pull me to + the top again. You're a good woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks! When I have spare time on my hands I'll practice tryin' to + believe that. But what is the trouble, Nat? Out with it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Keziah, it's trouble enough. Dad and I have had a fallin' out.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin's mouth and eyes opened. + </p> + <p> + “What?” she cried, in utter astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It's true. We had what was next door to a real quarrel after dinner + to-day. It would have been a real one if I hadn't walked off and left him. + He's as set as the rock of Gibraltar, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And your foundations ain't given to slippin' much. Nat Hammond, I'm + surprised at you! What was it all about? Religion?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not a sliver of religion in it. If 'twas that, I could dodge, or haul + down my colors, if I had to. But it's somethin' worse, enough sight worse. + Somethin' I can't do—even for dad—and won't either. Keziah, + he's dead set on my marryin' Grace. Says if I don't he'll know that I + don't really care a tin nickel for him, or for his wishes, or what becomes + of the girl after he's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Nat!” + </p> + <p> + “It's a fact. You see, dad realizes, better'n I thought he did, that his + health is pretty shaky and that he is likely to founder 'most any time. He + says that don't worry him; if he knew Grace and I were provided for he'd + slip his cable with a clean manifest. But the dream of his life, he says, + has been that we should marry. And he wants to see it done.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly: + </p> + <p> + “And Grace herself? How does she feel about it? Has he spoken to her?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I guess likely he has. Perhaps that's why she's been so + sort of mournful lately. But never mind whether he has or not; I won't do + it and I told him so. He got red hot in a jiffy. I was ungrateful and + stubborn and all sorts of things. And I, bein' a Hammond, with some of the + Hammond balkiness in me, I set my foot down as hard as his. And we had it + until—until—well, until I saw him stagger and tremble so that + I actually got scared and feared he was goin' to keel over where he stood. + </p> + <p> + “'Why can't you?' he kept sayin'. 'But WHY can't you? Ain't she a girl + anyone would be proud to have for a wife?' 'Course there was no answer to + that but yes. Then back he comes again with 'Then why can't you?' At last, + bein' frightened, as I said, that he might have another shock or + somethin', I said I'd think it over and come away and left him. And I come + straight to you. Keziah, what shall I do? What can you say to help me?” + </p> + <p> + Keziah was silent. She was looking, not at her companion, but at the + carpet center of one of the braided rugs on the floor. Her face was very + grave and the lines about her mouth seemed to deepen. Her hands, clasped + in her lap, tightened one upon the other. But her voice was calm when, at + last, she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Nat,” she said, “there's only one thing I can say. And that's what your + father said: Why can't you?” + </p> + <p> + The captain sprang from his chair. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he cried incredulously. “What are you sayin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Just what your father said, Nat. Why can't you marry Grace? She's a dear, + good girl and—” + </p> + <p> + “That be—keelhauled! Keziah Coffin, you sit there and ask me why I + can't marry her! YOU do?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Nat.” + </p> + <p> + “Keziah, you're crazy! Don't talk to me like that. We're not jokin' now. + You know why I can't marry her, nor anyone else in this round world but + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nat, I can't marry you.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know. You're always sayin' that. But you don't mean it. You + can't mean it. Why, you and me have been picked out for each other by the + Almighty, Keziah. I swear I believe just that. We went together when we + were boy and girl, to parties and such. We was promised when I first went + to sea. If it hadn't been for that fool row we had—and 'twas all my + fault and I know it—you never would have let that da—that + miserable Anse Coffin come near you. And when 'twas too late and you'd + married him, the mean, drunken, cruel—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Nat! hush! Stop it!” + </p> + <p> + “He was, and you know he was. Yes, and worse besides. Runnin' off and + leavin' a wife like you to—Oh, my God! when I think I might have + been your husband to look out for you and take care of you! That you might + have been with me on board my ships. That, when I come down the companion + on stormy nights I might have found you there to comfort me and—O + Keziah! we aren't young any more. What's the use of foolin'? I want you. + I'm goin' to have you. Coffin is dead these ten years. When I heard he was + drowned off there in Singapore, all I could say was: 'Serve him right!' + And I say it now. I come home then more determined to get you. Say yes, + and let's be happy. Do!” + </p> + <p> + “I can't, Nat.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? For Heaven sakes! why not? Don't you care for me? You've let me + think—well, at any rate, I have thought you did. You used to. Don't + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nat, I—I care for you more than anybody else on earth. But I can't + marry you. Oh, don't keep askin' it! Please don't. I can't marry you, Nat. + No!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not now, maybe. Not this month, or even this year, perhaps, but + some day—” + </p> + <p> + “No, Nat. You must listen. There's no use of this goin' on any longer. I + mean it. I can't marry you.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't, you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you wish to think so. Then I won't.” + </p> + <p> + “But by and by—” + </p> + <p> + “No, not by and by. Never, Nat. Never.” + </p> + <p> + He drew his hand across his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” he repeated, more to himself than to her. + </p> + <p> + “Never. Yes, Nat.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, by the everlastin'! I'll do somethin'—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, you won't. Nat Hammond, I know you. You're a great big, + brave-hearted, sensible man. You won't be foolish. You'll do—yes, I + think you'd better do just what your father asks you to do. Marry Grace, + if she wants you and will have you. She'll make you a good wife; you'll + learn to care for her, and I know she'll have the best husband that a girl + could hope for. And you and I will be friends, just as we've always been, + and—” + </p> + <p> + “Keziah, stop that! Stop it, do you hear! I don't want to listen to such + stuff. I tell you I'm past soft soap, and I didn't think you'd give it to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nat!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, 'Nat'! A lot you care for 'Nat'! Not a reason on God's footstool + why you won't have me—except one, and that one that you don't want + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Please, Nat! I can hardly believe this is you. This trouble with your + father has upset you. You don't mean what you say. You're not talkin' like + yourself and—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop it, I tell you. I don't feel like myself. I banked on you, Keziah. + I've lived for you. And now—O Keziah, take it back! Give me a little + hope, just enough to keep my head above water.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to, Nat. I only wish I could. But 'twouldn't be any use. I can't + do it.” + </p> + <p> + He snatched his hat from the table and strode to the door. Turning, he + looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said chokingly. “All right. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + His steps sounded on the oilcloth of the kitchen. Then the back door + slammed. He was gone. + </p> + <p> + Keziah started, as if the slam of the door had been an electric shock. + During the interview she had been pale and grave but outwardly calm. Now + she sank wearily down in the chair from which she had risen and her head + dropped forward upon her arms on the table. The letter she had been + reading before Captain Nat's arrival fell from her waist to the floor and + lay there, its badly spelled and blotted lines showing black and fateful + against the white paper. And she cried, tears of utter loneliness and + despair. + </p> + <p> + The clouds thickened as the afternoon passed. The setting sun was hidden + behind them; over the horizon of ocean and bay the fog banks were rolling + in tumbled, crumpled masses. The shadows in the lonely sitting room + deepened. There came a knock at the dining-room door. + </p> + <p> + Keziah sprang from her chair, smoothed her hair, hastily wiped her eyes, + picked up the dropped letter and went to admit the visitor, whoever he or + she might be. She was glad of the shadows, they prevented her face from + being seen too plainly. + </p> + <p> + “Good afternoon,” she said, opening the door. “Oh! it's you, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” admitted Abishai Pepper, standing on the stone step, and shifting + uneasily from one foot to the other. “Yes, Keziah, it's—it's me, + thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't mention it. Well, is Laviny with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No—o, she ain't. She—she didn't come.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! Did she know you was comin'?” + </p> + <p> + “No—o, I don't cal'late she did.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Well, what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin's welcome was not too cordial. She had laughed many times over + Abishai's proposal of marriage, but she had never quite forgiven him for + making her ridiculous on that occasion. Incidentally, she did not feel + like laughing. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + Kyan was plainly nervous. + </p> + <p> + “I only wanted to see Mr. Ellery,” he announced. “It's all right, Keziah. + You needn't be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Afraid! What on earth should I be afraid of?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, I didn't know but you might be afraid I was goin' to—to + talk about what we talked about when I—I talked to you that day up + at—” + </p> + <p> + “There! that'll do. It ain't me that would have reason to be afraid if + THAT was what you come for. What do you want? Don't stand there dancin' a + jig.” + </p> + <p> + “I only wanted to see Mr. Ellery.” + </p> + <p> + “He's out. Good day.” + </p> + <p> + “But I won't keep him but a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “He's out, I tell you. Do you want to leave a message?” + </p> + <p> + “No—o. No, I guess not.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it important?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I don't know. Kind of, maybe. I wanted to ask his advice about + somethin'. It's a secret. Only him and me know about it. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell him you'll call again? Or ask him to come up to your house?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pepper, who had started to go, now hurried back to the steps. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he protested, in alarm. “Don't you tell him that. I wouldn't + have him come there for no money. Why, Laviny, she—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Laviny isn't in the secret, then?” Keziah smiled in spite of herself. + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly. That is, not much. Don't you tell her I come here, will you? + I'll find Mr. Ellery. I know where he is.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't go to the Danielses', if I was you. Elkanah might not like to + have you chasin' after his visitors.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the minister ain't at the Danielses', not as late's this, he ain't. I + know where he is.” + </p> + <p> + “You do?” The housekeeper looked at him keenly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I do. I know where he goes Sunday afternoons—and why he + goes, too. Mr. Ellery and me's good friends. We understand each other.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Kyan Pepper! What are you talkin' about?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', nothin'. Good day.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! Stand still! Come in the house here. I want you to.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Keziah. Really, I'd love to, but I can't stop.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Reluctantly, but lacking the strength of mind to refuse, Mr. Pepper + entered the dining room. Then Mrs. Coffin turned upon him. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean,” she demanded, “by throwin' out hints that the minister + and you are in some sort of secret? How dare you go round tellin' people + such yarns as that?” + </p> + <p> + “They ain't yarns. And I never told nobody afore, anyhow. I got to move + along. I'll—” + </p> + <p> + “Stay where you are. I guess I'll run right up and ask your sister about + this. Perhaps she might—” + </p> + <p> + “Ss-sh! ss-sh! don't talk that way, Keziah. Don't! Laviny don't know what + I mean. Don't go askin' HER things.” + </p> + <p> + “But you said—” + </p> + <p> + “I just said I knew where Mr. Ellery goes every Sunday afternoon. He don't + know anybody knows, but I do. That's all there is to it. I shan't tell. So—” + </p> + <p> + “Tell? Do you mean there's somethin' Mr. Ellery wouldn't want told? Don't + you dare—I WILL see Laviny!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no, no! 'Tain't nothin' much. I just know where he goes after he + leaves Elkanah's and who he goes to meet. I—Lordy! I hadn't ought to + said that! I—Keziah Coffin, don't you ever tell I told you. I've + said more'n I meant to. If it comes out there'd be the biggest row in the + church that ever was. And I'd be responsible! I would! I'd have to go on + the witness stand and then Laviny'd find out how I—Oh, oh, oh! what + SHALL I do?” + </p> + <p> + The poor frightened creature's “jig” had, by this time, become a + distracted fandango. But the housekeeper had no mercy on him. She was + beginning to fear for her parson and, for the time, everything else, her + own trouble and the recent interview with Nat, was pushed aside. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she persisted. “WHAT would bring on the row in the church? + WHO does Mr. Ellery meet? Out with it! What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that the minister meets that Van Horne girl every Sunday afternoon + after he leaves Elkanah's. There, now! It's out, and I don't give a darn + if they hang me for it.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah turned white. She seized Mr. Pepper by the lapel of his Sunday coat + and shook him. + </p> + <p> + “Grace Van Horne!” she cried. “Mr. Ellery meets Grace Van Horne on Sunday + afternoons? Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Down in them pines back of Peters's pastur', on the aidge of the bank + over the beach. He's met her there every Sunday for the last six weeks—longer, + for what I know. I've watched 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “You HAVE? YOU have! You've dared to spy on—I think you're lyin' to + me. I don't believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't lyin'! It's so. I'll bet you anything they're there now, walkin' + up and down and talkin'. What would I want to lie for? You come with me + this minute and I'll show 'em to you.” + </p> + <p> + In the desire to prove his veracity he was on his way to the door. But + Keziah stepped in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “'Bish Pepper,” she said slowly and fiercely, shaking a forefinger in his + face, “you go straight home and stay there. Don't you breathe a word to a + livin' soul of what you say you've seen. Don't you even think it, or—or + dream it. If you do I'll—I'll march straight to Laviny and tell her + that you asked me to marry you. I will, as sure as you're shakin' in front + of me this minute. Now you swear to me to keep still. Swear!” + </p> + <p> + “How—HOW'll I swear?” begged Kyan. “What do you say when you swear? + I'll say it, Keziah! I'll say anything! I'll—” + </p> + <p> + “All right. Then mind you remember. Now clear out quick. I want to think. + I MUST think. GO! Get out of my sight!” + </p> + <p> + Kyan went, glad to escape, but frightened to the soul of him. Keziah + watched him until he turned from the main road into the lighthouse lane. + Then, certain that he really was going straight home, she re-entered the + parsonage and sat down in the nearest chair. For ten minutes she sat + there, striving to grasp the situation. Then she rose and, putting on her + bonnet and shawl, locked the dining-room door, and went out through the + kitchen. On the step she looked cautiously back to see if any of the + neighbors were at their windows. But this was Sunday, the one day when + Trumet people sat in their front parlors. The coast was clear. She hurried + through the back yard, and down the path leading across the fields. She + was going to the pine grove by the shore, going to find out for herself if + Kyan's astonishing story was true. + </p> + <p> + For if it was true, if the Rev. John Ellery was meeting clandestinely the + adopted daughter of Eben Hammond, it meant—what might it not mean, + in Trumet? If he had fallen in love with a Come-Outer, with Grace Van + Horne of all people, if he should dare think of marrying her, it would + mean the utter wreck of his career as a Regular clergyman. His own society + would turn him out instantly. All sorts of things would be said, lies and + scandal would be invented and believed. His character would be riddled by + the Trumet gossips and the papers would publish the result broadcast. + </p> + <p> + And Grace! If she loved a Regular minister, what would happen to her? + Captain Eben would turn her from his door, that was certain. Although he + idolized the girl, Keziah knew that he would never countenance such a + marriage. And if Nat stood by Grace, as he would be almost sure to do, the + breach between father and son would widen beyond healing. If it were + merely a matter of personal selection, Mrs. Coffin would rather have seen + her parson marry Grace than anyone else on earth. As it was, such a match + must not be. It meant ruin for both. She must prevent the affair going + further. She must break off the intimacy. She must save those two young + people from making a mistake which would—She wrung her hands as she + thought of it. Of her own sorrow and trouble she characteristically + thought nothing now. Sacrifice of self was a part of Keziah's nature. + </p> + <p> + The pines were a deep-green blotch against the cloudy sky and the gloomy + waters of the bay. She skirted the outlying clumps of bayberry and beach + plum bushes and entered the grove. The pine needles made a soft carpet + which deadened her footfalls, and the shadows beneath the boughs were + thick and black. She tiptoed on until she reached the clearing by the + brink of the bluff. No one was in sight. She drew a breath of relief. Kyan + might be mistaken, after all. + </p> + <p> + Then she heard low voices. As she crouched at the edge of the grove, two + figures passed slowly across the clearing, along the bush-bordered path + and into the shrubbery beyond. John Ellery was walking with Grace Van + Horne. He was holding her hand in his and they were talking very + earnestly. + </p> + <p> + Keziah did not follow. What would have been the use? This was not the time + to speak. She KNEW now and she knew, also, that the responsibility was + hers. She must go home at once, go home to be alone and to think. She + tiptoed back through the grove and across the fields. + </p> + <p> + Yet, if she had waited, she might have seen something else which would + have been, at least, interesting. She had scarcely reached the outer edge + of the grove when another figure passed stealthily along that narrow path + by the bluff edge. A female figure treading very carefully, rising to peer + over the bushes at the minister and Grace. The figure of Miss Annabel + Daniels, the “belle” of Trumet. And Annabel's face was not pleasant to + look upon. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN RECEIVES A CALLER + </h3> + <p> + At the edge of the bluff, just where the pines and the bayberry bushes + were thickest, where the narrow, crooked little footpath dipped over the + rise and down to the pasture land and the salt meadow, John Ellery and + Grace had halted in their walk. It was full tide and the miniature + breakers plashed amid the seaweed on the beach. The mist was drifting in + over the bay and the gulls were calling sleepily from their perch along + the breakwater. A night hawk swooped and circled above the tall “feather + grass” by the margin of the creek. The minister's face was pale, but set + and determined, and he was speaking rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it,” he said. “I can't help it. I have made up my mind and + nothing can change it, nothing but you. It rests with you. If you say yes, + then nothing else matters. Will you say it?” + </p> + <p> + He was holding both her hands now, and though she tried to withdraw them, + he would not let her. + </p> + <p> + “Will you?” he pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “I can't,” she answered brokenly. “I can't. Think of your church and of + your people. What would they say if—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care what they say.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, you do. Not now, perhaps, but later you will. You don't know + Trumet as I know it. No, it's impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you there is only one impossible thing. That is that I give you + up. I won't do it. I CAN'T do it! Grace, this is life and death for me. My + church—” + </p> + <p> + He paused in spite of himself. His church, his first church! He had + accepted the call with pride and a determination to do his best, the very + best that was in him, for the society and for the people whom he was to + lead. Some of those people he had learned to love; many of them, he felt + sure, loved him. His success, his popularity, the growth of the + organization and the praise which had come to him because of it, all these + had meant, and still meant, very much to him. No wonder he paused, but the + pause was momentary. + </p> + <p> + “My church,” he went on, “is my work and I like it. I believe I've done + some good here and I hope to do more. But no church shall say whom I shall + marry. If you care for me, Grace, as I think and hope you do, we'll face + the church and the town together, and they will respect us for it.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Some of them might respect you,” she said. “They would say you had been + led into this by me and were not so much to blame. But I—” + </p> + <p> + “They shall respect my wife,” he interrupted, snapping his teeth together, + “or I'll know the reason why.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “I think they'll tell you the reason,” she answered. “No, John, no! we + mustn't think of it. You can see we mustn't. This has all been a mistake, + a dreadful mistake, and I am to blame for it.” + </p> + <p> + “The only mistake has been our meeting in this way. We should have met + openly; I realize it, and have felt it for sometime. It was my fault, not + yours. I was afraid, I guess. But I'll not be a coward any longer. Come, + dear, let's not be afraid another day. Only say you'll marry me and I'll + proclaim it openly, to-night—Yes, from the pulpit, if you say so.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated and he took courage from her hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Say it,” he pleaded. “You WILL say it?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't! I can't! My uncle—” + </p> + <p> + “Your uncle shall hear it from me. We'll go to him together. I'll tell him + myself. He worships you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. He does worship me. That's why I am sure he had rather see + me dead than married to you, a Regular, and a Regular minister.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it. He can't be so unreasonable. If he is, then you + shouldn't humor such bigotry.” + </p> + <p> + “He has been my father for years, and a dear, kind father.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. That's why I'm so certain we can make him understand. Come, dear! + come! Why should you consider everyone else? Consider your own happiness. + Consider mine.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “I am considering yours,” she said. “That is what I consider most of all. + And, as for uncle, I know—I KNOW he would never consent. His heart + is set on something else. Nat—” + </p> + <p> + “Nat? Are you considering him, too? Is HE to stand between us? What right + has he to say—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush! He hasn't said anything. But—but he and uncle have + quarreled, just a little. I didn't tell you, but they have. And I think I + know the reason. Nat is Uncle Eben's idol. If the quarrel should grow more + serious, I believe it would break his heart. I couldn't bear to be the + cause of that; I should never forgive myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You the cause? How could you be the cause of a quarrel between those two? + Grace, think of me.” + </p> + <p> + Here was the selfishness of man and the unselfishness of woman answered. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she said, “it is of you I am thinking. Everything else could—might + be overcome, perhaps. But I must think of your future and your life. I + MUST. That is why—” + </p> + <p> + He did not wait to hear more. He seized her in his arms and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “Then you DO care!” he cried joyfully. “You will marry me?” + </p> + <p> + For an instant she lay quiet in his embrace, receiving, if not responding + to his caresses. Then she gently but firmly freed herself. He saw that + there were tears in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Grace,” he urged, “don't—don't hesitate any longer. You were meant + to be my wife. We were brought together for just that. I know it. Come.” + </p> + <p> + She was crying softly. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you?” he begged. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she sobbed. “Oh, I don't know! I must think—I MUST! + Wait, please wait, John. Perhaps by to-morrow I can answer. I'll try—I'll + try. Don't ask me again, now. Let me think. Oh, do!” + </p> + <p> + Doubtless he would have asked her again. He looked as if he meant to. But + just then, drifting through the twilight and the mist, came the sound of a + bell, the bell of the Regular church, ringing for the Sunday evening + meeting. They both heard it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Grace, “that is your bell. You will be late. You must go, + and so must I. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + She started down the path. He hesitated, then ran after her. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow?” he questioned eagerly. “Tomorrow, then, you'll say that you + will?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, perhaps, perhaps! I mustn't promise. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + It was after seven when Grace reached the old tavern. The housekeeper, + Mrs. Poundberry, was anxiously awaiting her. She wore her bonnet and + Sunday gown and was evidently ready to go out. + </p> + <p> + “Land sakes alive!” she sputtered. “Where in the name of goodness have you + been to? I was gettin' scairt. Didn't know but you'd run off and got + married, or sunthin' dreadful.” + </p> + <p> + Grace was thankful that the cloudy twilight made it impossible to see her + face distinctly. The housekeeper rattled on without waiting for an answer. + </p> + <p> + “Supper's on the table and the kittle's abilin'. You better eat in a + hurry, 'cause it's meetin' time now. Your uncle, he started ten minutes + ago. I'm agoin' right along, too, but I ain't goin' to meetin'; I'm agoin' + up to Betsy E.'s to stay all night. She's got a spine in her back, as the + feller said, and ain't feelin' good, so I told her I'd come and stay a + little spell. S'pose you can get along to-morrow without me?” + </p> + <p> + “Betsy E.” was Mrs. Poundberry's second cousin, an elderly spinster living + alone in a little house near the salt works. Grace assured her questioner + that she could attend to the house and the meals during the following day, + longer if the troublesome “spine” needed company. Mrs. Poundberry sighed, + groaned, and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I shan't stay no longer,” she affirmed; “not if Betsy's all over spines, + like one of them Mexican cactus plants. No, marm, my place is right here + and I know it. Your Uncle Eben's mighty feeble and peaked lately. He ain't + long for this world, I'm afraid. You'd ought to be awful good to him, + Gracie.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” was the hurried reply. “Where's Nat?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Can't keep track of HIM. Might's well try to put your + finger on a flea. He's here to-day and gone yesterday, as the Scriptur' + says. He ate a little mite of supper, but not much, and then off he puts. + Says he's goin' to walk the fog out'n his head. I told him, s' I, 'You'll + walk a plaguey sight more in than you do out, THIS night,' but he went + just the same. He was dreadful kind of dumpy and blue this evenin'. Seemed + to be sort of soggy in his mind. And why he never went to meetin' with his + dad and why his dad never asked him TO go is more'n I can tell. Land of + livin', how I do gabble! My grandmarm used to say my tongue was loose at + both ends and hung in the middle, and I guess she wa'n't fur off the + course. Good-by. Take care of yourself. You can put what's left of that + mock mince pie on the top shelf in the butt'ry and you'd better heave a + dish towel or sunthin' over it to keep the ants out. There's more ants in + this house than there is dollars, a good sight. Betsy B., she's got a plan + for keepin' of 'em out by puttin' sassers of brimstone round the shelves, + but I told her, s' I, 'THEM ants don't care for no brimstone. They're used + to it. Sometimes I b'lieve they're sent by the everlastin' father of + brimstone,' and she—” + </p> + <p> + She had reached the gate by this time, and Grace shut off the flow of + conversation by closing the door. Then she took a candle from the row on + the dining-room mantel, lighted it, and went up to her own room. Standing + before the old-fashioned bureau with its little oval mirror, she hastily + arranged her hair. She did not wish to go to the prayer meeting at the + chapel, but she felt that she must. The Come-Outer gatherings, with their + noisy singing and shouting, had grown more and more repugnant to her. + </p> + <p> + And to-night, of all nights! How could she meet those people who had known + her since she was a child, who boasted of her as one of their staunchest + adherents, who believed in her and trusted her? How could she meet them + and talk with them, knowing what she knew and realizing that they, too, + would know it on the morrow? But her uncle would miss her and be worried + about her if she did not come. She could not bear to trouble him now; she + never loved him so dearly, was never so anxious to humor his every wish as + on this, perhaps the last evening they would spend together. For, though + she would not yet admit it, even to herself, her decision was made, had + really been made the first time John Ellery asked her weeks before. Only + the thought of what might happen to him if she consented had caused her to + hesitate so long. + </p> + <p> + She blew out the candle and came out into the hall at the head of the + stairs. She was about to descend when she heard voices. The door of the + dining room opened and closed. She felt certain that Nat had returned and + wondered who was with him. Then she heard her uncle's voice, speaking + sharply and with unwonted sternness. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what 'tis you want to see me about,” said Captain Eben. “You + say it's important; well, it's got to be to keep me from my meetin'. I + ought to be on the Lord's business this minute and nothin' worldly's goin' + to keep me from servin' Him. So speak quick. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + The voice that answered was one that Grace recognized, though she had + never before heard in it the note of agitation and undignified excitement. + There were no ponderous pauses and “Hum—ha's” now. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a fool, Hammond!” it said. “And don't stand there preaching. + Lock that door! Get a lamp! Are you sure there's nobody but us in the + house?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Elkanah Daniels! Captain Elkanah visiting a Come-Outer! and the + leader of the Come-Outers!! Grace caught her breath. What in the world—She + started to descend and then a thought flashed to her mind. She stopped + short. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't the fool, Elkanah,” she heard her uncle retort sternly. “The + fools are them who are deef to the call from on high. My foot was on the + threshold of His house when you led me astray. It's never halted there + afore. I warn you—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Shut up! Can't you forget that—that Come-Outer circus of + yours for a minute?” + </p> + <p> + “Elkanah Daniels, I'll have no blasphemy here. Another word like that and—” + </p> + <p> + “WILL you be still and hear me? The Lord's business! I guess you'll think + it's the Lord's business when you understand what I'm going to tell you! + The Lord's business! The devil's business, you better say! Will you lock + that door?” + </p> + <p> + “My church is waitin' for me and—” + </p> + <p> + “Let it wait. What's a parcel of yelling Come-Outers compared to the + decency of this town? Stop! Shut up! Eben Hammond, I tell you that your + precious church—yes and mine, the Regular church of Trumet—will + go to rack and ruin if you and me don't pull together this night.” + </p> + <p> + “And I tell you, Elkanah Daniels, I'll have no blasphemy here. That little + sanctuary up the road is founded on a rock and neither you nor any of your + Phariseein' priest-worshipin' crew can shake it. The Almighty'll protect + His own. As for the Reg'lar church, that's no concern of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “But I tell you 'tis your concern. Or if the church isn't, your own family + is.” + </p> + <p> + “My—my family?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your own family. Huh! that makes you listen, don't it?” + </p> + <p> + There was an instant of silence. Grace, crouching on the stairs, noticed + the change in her uncle's voice as he answered. + </p> + <p> + “My own family?” he repeated slowly. “My own—And the Reg'lar church—What + do you mean? Has Nat—” + </p> + <p> + “No, he ain't. But that cussed girl of yours—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” Eben's shout rang through the house. The listener heard it, rose, + and then sank slowly to her knees. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” shouted Captain Hammond. “Elkanah Daniels, for your own sake now, + be careful. If you dast to say a word, another word like that, I'll—” + </p> + <p> + “If I dast! The hussy! But there's no use talkin' to you. You're as crazy + as a Bedlamite. Either that, or you're in the game with her. If you are, I + warn you—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! What game? What do you mean? Gracie! My Grace! What is it? For + mercy sakes, Elkanah—” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I wondered if I couldn't get some sense into you, finally. Lock + that door!” + </p> + <p> + “I will! I will! But Elkanah—” + </p> + <p> + “Lock it! Give me the key!” + </p> + <p> + The click of the lock sounded sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Where's the lamp?” demanded Daniels. “And the matches? Don't stand there + shaking.” + </p> + <p> + A smell of sulphur floated out into the hall. Then the sickly glow of the + “fluid” lamp shone through the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “What ails you?” asked Elkanah. “Are you struck dumb? Now go and see if + there's anybody else in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but there ain't. I know there ain't. Hannah's gone and Gracie's + at meetin' by this time.” + </p> + <p> + “She? Humph! Well, maybe she's at meeting and maybe she isn't. Maybe she's + over in Peters's pines, hugging and kissing that man she's met there every + Sunday for I don't know how long—Here! let go, you old fool! Let go, + I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + A chair fell to the floor with a bang. There was the sound of hard + breathing and rapid footsteps. + </p> + <p> + “Let go!” panted Daniels. “Are you crazy? Take your hands off me!” + </p> + <p> + “You liar!” snarled Captain Eben. “You low-lived liar! By the Almighty, + Elkanah Daniels! I'll—You take that back or I'll choke the + everlastin' soul out of you. I will—” + </p> + <p> + “Let go, you lunatic! You'll kill yourself. Listen! I'm not lying. It's + the truth. She's met a man, I tell you. Been meeting him for months, I + guess. There! now will you listen?” + </p> + <p> + The footsteps had ceased, but the heavy breathing continued. + </p> + <p> + “A man!” gasped Eben. “A man! Gracie! It's a—Who is he? What's his + name?” + </p> + <p> + “His name's John Ellery, and he's minister of the Regular church in this + town; that's who he is! Here! hold up! Good Lord! are you dying? Hold up!” + </p> + <p> + The girl on the stairs sprang to her feet. Her head was reeling and she + could scarcely stand, but she blindly began the descent. She must go to + her uncle. She must. But Captain Daniels's voice caused her to halt once + more. + </p> + <p> + “There! there!” it said in a tone of relief. “That's better. Set still + now. Be quiet, that's it. Shall I get some water?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! let me be. Just let me be. I ain't what I used to be and this—I'm + all right, I tell you. Grace! And—and—What was it you just + said? I—I don't b'lieve I heard it right.” + </p> + <p> + “I said that daughter of yours, or niece, or whatever she is, this Grace + Van Horne, has been meeting young Ellery, our minister, in Peters's grove. + Been meeting him and walking with him, and kissing him, and—” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie! It ain't so, Elkanah! Prove it or—It—it CAN'T be + so, can it? Please—” + </p> + <p> + “It is so. She's met him in those pines every Sunday afternoon for a long + time. She was seen there with him this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Who—who saw her?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. The one that did'll never tell—unless it's necessary. + They're fixing to be married, and—” + </p> + <p> + “MARRIED! She marry a Reg'lar minister! Oh—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Listen! They ain't married yet. We can stop 'em, you and I, if we + get right to work. It isn't too late. Will you help?” + </p> + <p> + “Will I—I—Go on! tell me more.” + </p> + <p> + “We can stop 'em. I know it would be a good catch for her, the sneaking, + designing—Well, never mind. But it can't be. It shan't be. You've + got to tell her so, Hammond. We folks of the Regular church have pride in + our society; we won't have it disgraced. And we have been proud of our + minister, the young, rattle-headed fool! We'll save him if we can. If we + can't”—the speaker's teeth grated—“then we'll send him to + eternal smash or die trying.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't believe it's true. It's a mistake; some other girl and not + Gracie. Why, she don't even know him. She wouldn't—But she HAS been + out every Sunday afternoon for weeks. If it SHOULD be!” + </p> + <p> + “It is. I tell you it is. Don't waste time rolling your eyes and talking + stuff. We've got to work and you've got to work first. I don't know + whether you're only making believe or not. I realize that 'twould be a + good thing for your girl to marry a promising young chap like him, but—Hush! + let me go on. I tell you, Hammond, it can't be. We won't let her. I won't + let her. I'm a man of influence in this town, and outside of it, too. I'm + head of the parish committee and a member of the National Regular Society. + I can't reach your precious ward, maybe, but I can reach the fellow she's + after, and if he marries her, I'll drive 'em both to the poorhouse. + </p> + <p> + “Here's where you come in, Hammond. It may be she does really care for + him. Or maybe she's after position and money. Well, you talk to her. You + tell her that if she keeps on going with him, if she doesn't break off + this damnable business now, tomorrow, I'll ruin John Ellery as sure as I'm + a living man. He'll be ruined in Trumet, anyhow. He'll be thrown out by + the parish committee. I'm not sure that his church people won't tar and + feather him. Marrying a low-down Come-Outer hussy! As if there wa'n't + decent girls of good families he might have had! But losing this church + won't be the only thing that'll happen to him. The committee'll see that + he doesn't get another one. I'll use my influence and have him thrown out + of the Regular ministry. Think I can't? What sort of yarns do you suppose + will be told about him and her, meeting the way they did? Won't the county + papers print some fine tales? Won't the Boston ones enjoy such a scandal? + I tell you, Eben Hammond, that young chap's name will be dragged so deep + in the mud it'll never get clean again.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped for breath. His companion was silent. After a moment, he + continued: + </p> + <p> + “You tell her that, Hammond,” he went on. “If she really cares for him, + it'll be enough. She won't let him ruin his life. And I'll keep quiet till + I hear from you. If she's sensible and really decent, then she can give + him his clearance papers without his knowing why she did it and everything + will be a secret and kept so. Nobody else'll ever know. If she won't do + that, then you tell me and I'll have a session with HIM. If THAT'S no + good, then out he goes and she with him; and it's ruination for both of + 'em, reputations and all. Why am I doing this? I'll tell you. I like him. + He isn't orthodox enough to suit me, but I have liked him mighty well. And + Annab—Humph! that's neither here nor there. What I'm fighting for is + the Trumet Regular church. That's MY church and I'll have no dirty scandal + with Come-Outers dragging it down. Now you understand. Will you tell her + what I've said?” + </p> + <p> + The chair creaked. Evidently, Captain Eben was rising slowly to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” repeated Elkanah. + </p> + <p> + “Elkanah Daniels,” said Eben slowly, his voice shaking from nervous + exhaustion and weakness, but with a fine ring of determination in every + word, “Elkanah Daniels, you listen to me. I've heard you through. If your + yarn is true, then my heart is broke, and I wish I might have died afore I + heard it. But I didn't die and I have heard it. Now listen to me. I love + that girl of mine better'n the whole wide world and yet I'd ruther see her + dead afore me than married to a Reg'lar minister. Disgrace to HIM! + Disgrace to your miser'ble church! What about the disgrace to MINE? And + the disgrace to HER? Ruin to your minister! Ruin to my girl here and + hereafter is what I'm thinkin' of; that and my people who worship God with + me. I'll talk to Grace. I'll talk to her. But not of what'll happen to him + or you—or any of your cantin', lip-servin' crew. I'll tell her to + choose between him and me. And if she chooses him, I'll send her out of + that door. I'll do my duty and read her out of my congregation. And I'll + know she's gone to everlastin' hell, and that's worse'n the poorhouse. + That's all to-night, Elkanah. Now you better go.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Well, I declare! you ARE a bigoted—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop it! I've kept my hands off you so fur, because I'm the Lord's + servant. But I'm fightin' hard to keep down my old salt-water temper. You + go! There's the door.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right! I don't care what you say, so long as it's said so + as to stop her from getting him—and said soon.” + </p> + <p> + “It'll be said to-night. Now go! My people are waitin' at the chapel.” + </p> + <p> + “You're not going to that prayer meeting after THIS?” + </p> + <p> + “Where else should I go? 'Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy + laden.' And—and”—his voice broke—“He knows that I AM + heavy laden. Lord! Lord! do help me, for this is more'n I can bear alone.” + </p> + <p> + The lock turned; the door opened and closed. Grace, clinging to the + balusters, heard Captain Hammond cross the room, slowly and feebly. She + heard him enter the sitting room. Then she heard nothing more, not another + sound, though the minutes dragged on and on, endlessly, eternally, and + each with a message, a sentence repeated over and over again in her brain. + “If she really cares for him, she won't let him ruin his life.” + </p> + <p> + By and by, pale, but more composed, and with her mind made up, she came + down into the hall. Drawing a long breath, she turned into the sitting + room to face her uncle. By the light shining through the dining-room door + she saw him on his knees by the haircloth sofa. She spoke his name. He did + not answer nor look up. Alarmed, she touched him on the shoulder. At her + touch his arm slid from the couch and he fell gently over upon his side on + the carpet. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN MAKES PORT + </h3> + <p> + Half past eight. In the vestry of the Regular church John Ellery was + conducting his prayer meeting. The attendance was as large as usual. Three + seats, however, were vacant, and along the settees people were wondering + where Captain Elkanah Daniels and his daughter might be. They had not + missed a service for many a day. And where was Keziah Coffin? + </p> + <p> + At the Come-Outer chapel the testifying and singing were in full blast. + But Ezekiel Bassett was leading, for Captain Eben Hammond had not made his + appearance. Neither had Grace Van Horne, for that matter, but Captain + Eben's absence was the most astonishing. + </p> + <p> + “Somethin's the matter,” whispered Josiah Badger to his right-hand + neighbor. “Somethin's wrong d-d-d-down to the tavern, sartin' sure. I'm + goin' down there just soon's meetin's over and f-f-f-find out. Eben + wouldn't no more miss leadin' his meetin' from choice than I'd go without + a meal's v-v-vi-vittles. Somethin's happened and I'm goin' to know what + 'tis. You'll go along with me, won't ye, Lot?” + </p> + <p> + The answer was an affirmative. In fact, almost every worshiper in that + chapel had determined to visit the Hammond tavern as soon as the service + was at an end. + </p> + <p> + In the Regular parsonage Keziah sat alone by the sitting-room table. + Prayer meeting and supper she had forgotten entirely. The minister had not + come home for his evening meal, and food was furthest from the + housekeeper's thoughts. What should she do? What ought she to do? How + could she avert the disaster so certain to overwhelm those two young + people the moment their secret became known? + </p> + <p> + It was in vain that she tried to encourage herself with the hope that Kyan + had exaggerated—that the meetings in the grove had not been as + frequent as he said they were, or that they had been merely casual. She + knew better. She had seen the pair together and the look in John Ellery's + eyes. No, the mischief was done, they loved each other; or, at least, he + loved her. There was the great trouble. + </p> + <p> + Keziah, in spite of her worldly common sense, was an idealist at heart. + Love matches she believed in thoroughly. If the man had not been a Regular + minister, or if he had been a minister in any other town than narrow, + gossiping, squabbling Trumet, where families were divided on “religious” + grounds, neighbors did not speak because their creeds were different, and + even after death were buried in cemeteries three miles apart; if the girl + had been other than the ward of bigoted old Eben Hammond—then, + though they were poor as poverty itself, Keziah would have joined their + hands and rejoiced. Even as it was, she was strongly tempted to do it. Her + sense of right and her every inclination urged her toward that course. + “Face the world together and fight it out,” that was the advice she would + like to give them. But no, the battle was too uneven. The odds were too + great. They must not think of marriage, for the present, and they must + cease to meet. Perhaps some day—she tried to comfort herself with + the thought—perhaps some day, years afterwards and under different + circumstances, they might. + </p> + <p> + —With Ellery she felt certain she could accomplish nothing by + argument or persuasion. She knew him well enough by this time to realize + that, if his mind was made up, all Trumet and all creation could not + change it. He would keep on his course, and, if wrecked, would go down + with colors set and helm lashed. But Grace, perhaps she did not fully + realize the situation. She might be made to see, to listen to reason. And, + perhaps, it was possible—perhaps, on her part, matters were not as + serious. The minister had not acted like a triumphant lover, assured of + success; he had seemed, now that she thought of it, more like a pleader, a + supplicant. Perhaps, if she could see Grace and talk plainly with the + girl, it might not be too late. She determined to try that very night. + </p> + <p> + She rose and again donned her bonnet and shawl. She was about to blow out + the lamp when she heard rapid footsteps, the sound of some one running + along the sidewalk in front of the house. As she listened, the footsteps + sounded on the path. Whoever the runner was he was coming to the + parsonage. She stepped to the door and opened it. + </p> + <p> + The runner was a boy, Maria Higgins's boy Isaac, whose widowed mother + lived down by the shore. He did the chores at the Hammond tavern. His + freckled face was dripping with perspiration and he puffed and blew like a + stranded whale. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Ike?” demanded Keziah. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Have ye—have ye,” panted Ike, “have ye seen the doctor anywheres, + Mis Coffin?” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Dr. Parker? Have I seen—what in the world are you comin' HERE + after the doctor for?” + </p> + <p> + “'Cause—'cause I didn't know where else to come. I been to his house + and he ain't to home. Nobody ain't to home. His wife, Mis Parker, she's + gone up to Boston yes'day on the coach, and—and it's all dark and + the house door's open and the shay's gone, so—” + </p> + <p> + “Who's sick? Who wants him?” + </p> + <p> + “And—and—all the rest of the houses round here was shut up + 'cause everybody's to meetin'. I peeked in at the meetin' house and he + ain't there, and I see your light and—” + </p> + <p> + “Who's sick? Tell me that, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Cap'n Eben. He's awful sick. I cal'late he's goin' to die, and Gracie, + she—” + </p> + <p> + “Cap'n Eben? Eben Hammond! Dyin'? What are you talkin' about?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh! huh!” puffed the messenger impatiently. “Didn't I tell ye? Cap'n + Eben's adyin'. I seen him. All white and still and—and awful. And + Gracie, she's all alone and—” + </p> + <p> + “Alone? Where's Nat?” + </p> + <p> + “She don't know. He ain't to home. But I got to find Dr. Parker.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on! Stop! I'll tell you where the doctor is most likely. Up to Mrs. + Prince's. She's been poorly and he's prob'ly been called there. Run! run + fast as ever you can and get him and I'll go to Grace this minute. The + poor thing! Have you told anybody else?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! ain't seen nobody but you to tell. They was prayin' over to + meetin', and the fellers that waits outside to keep comp'ny with the girls + ain't got there yet. And I never met nobody. And 'twas so blasted dark I + fell down four times and tore my best pants and—” + </p> + <p> + “S-sh-sh! Listen to me! Don't tell anybody. Not a soul but the doctor. + Half this town'll be runnin' to find out if you do, and that poor girl + must be distracted already. I'll go to her. You get Dr. Parker and tell + him to hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell him; don't you fret.” + </p> + <p> + He was gone, running harder than ever. A moment later Keziah followed him, + running also. + </p> + <p> + It was a misty, black night, and Trumet sidewalks were uneven and hard to + navigate. But she stumbled on, up the main road to the Corners, down the + “Turn-off,” past the chapel of the Come-Outers, from the open window of + which sounded the drone of a high, nasal voice. Josiah Badger was + “testifying,” and Keziah caught a fragment of the testimony as she hurried + by. + </p> + <p> + “I says to 'em, says I, I says to 'em, 'I don't care about your smart + mum-mum-minister and what fine sermons he preaches. Let him BE smart,' I + says. Says I, 'Smartness won't g-g-g-git ye into heaven.' (“Amen!”) 'No, + sirree! it takes more'n that. I've seen smart folks afore and they got + c-c-cuk-catched up with sooner or later. Pride goes ahead of a tumble, + I've heard tell, and—” + </p> + <p> + This was all that Keziah heard of Mr. Badger's testimony, for, as she ran + on, a rattle of wheels and the thud of hoofs came from behind her. Then a + rocking chaise, drawn by a galloping horse, shot by. Dr. Parker's + carriage, she was sure. The Higgins boy must have met the doctor and + delivered his message. + </p> + <p> + The horse and chaise were standing by the front gate of the tavern as she + pantingly drew near it. The side door of the house was ajar and she opened + it softly and entered. The dining room was empty. There was a light on the + sitting-room table and low voices came from the little bedroom adjoining. + Then, from the bedroom, emerged Dr. Parker and Grace Van Horne. The girl + was white and there were dark circles under her eyes. The doctor was very + grave. + </p> + <p> + Keziah stepped forward and held out both hands. Grace looked, recognized + her, and with a cry ran toward her. Keziah took her in her arms and + soothed her as if she were a child. + </p> + <p> + “There! there! deary,” she said, stroking her hair. “There! there! deary, + don't take it so hard. Poor thing! you're worn out. If I'd only known + sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “O Aunt Keziah!” sobbed the girl. “I'm so glad you've come. It was so good + of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Land of mercy! If I hadn't come, I'd have been worse than the + beasts that perish. Don't cry, don't. How is he now? Some better?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at the doctor as she asked it. He shook his head emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, dear,” went on Mrs. Coffin hurriedly. “He will be pretty + soon, we'll hope. You mustn't give up the ship, you know. Now you go and + lay down somewheres and I'll get my things off and see what there is to + do. Some good strong tea might be good for all hands, I guess likely. + Where's Hannah Poundberry?” + </p> + <p> + “She's gone to her cousin's to stay all night. I suppose I ought to send + for her, but I—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, you hadn't. Might's well send for a poll parrot, the critter + would be just as much good and talk less. I'll look out for things, me and + the doctor. Where's—where's Nat?” + </p> + <p> + “He came in just after I sent the boy for the doctor. He's in there with—with + him,” indicating the bedroom. “Poor Nat!” + </p> + <p> + Keziah looked longingly toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said slowly. “Poor fellow, it's an awful shock to him. He and + his father are—But there! you lay down on that lounge.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't lie down. I can't do anything but think. Oh, what a dreadful day + this has been! And I thought it was going to be such a happy one!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, deary, I know.” + </p> + <p> + Grace raised her head. + </p> + <p> + “You know?” she repeated, looking up into the housekeeper's face. + </p> + <p> + “I mean I know it's been a dreadful day,” explained Keziah quickly. “Yes, + indeed it has,” with a sigh. “But there! our moanin' over it don't cheer + it up any. Will you lay down? No? Well, then, SET down, there's a good + girl.” + </p> + <p> + Grace, protesting that she couldn't sit down, she couldn't leave uncle, + and there were so many things to do, was at last persuaded by Keziah and + the doctor to rest for a few moments in the big rocker. Then Mrs. Coffin + went into the kitchen to prepare the tea. As she went, she beckoned to Dr. + Parker, who joined her a moment later. + </p> + <p> + “Well, doctor?” she asked anxiously. + </p> + <p> + The stout, gray-haired old physician—he had practiced in Trumet for + nearly thirty years—shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Not a single chance,” he whispered. “He may possibly live till morning, + but I doubt if he lasts an hour. It's his heart. I've expected it at any + time. Ever since he had that shock, I've been at him to take things easy; + but you might as well talk to a graven image. That Come-Outer foolishness + is what really killed him, though just what brought on this attack I can't + make out. Grace says she found him lying on the floor by the sofa. He was + unconscious then. I'm rather worried about her. She was very near to + fainting when I got here.” + </p> + <p> + “No wonder. All alone in this ark of a house and nobody to help or to + send. Lucky she found that Ike Higgins. Say, I wonder if the young one's + around here now? If he is, he must stand at the gate and scare off + Come-Outers. The whole chapel, mates, crew, and cabin boy, 'll be down + here soon's meetin's over to see what kept Eben. And they mustn't get in.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say not. I'll hunt up Ike. If a Come-Outer gets into this house + to-night I'll eat him, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Some of 'em would give you dyspepsy, I guess. Yes, Grace, I'll be there + in a jiffy.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor left the house to find young Higgins and post him at the gate. + The boy, who had been listening under the window, was proud of his new + responsibility. + </p> + <p> + “I'll fix 'em, doctor,” he declared. “I only hope old Zeke Bassett comes. + He lammed me with a horsewhip t'other day, 'cause I was ridin' behind his + ox cart. If he tried to git by me, I'll bounce a rock off'n his Sunday + hat.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctor,” whispered Keziah from the kitchen window. “Doctor, come quick. + Nat wants you.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Nat was standing at the door of the bedroom. His face was drawn + and he had seemingly grown years older since noon. + </p> + <p> + “He's come to himself, doc,” he whispered. “He don't remember how it + happened or anything. And he wants us all. Why! why, Keziah! are you + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Nat. I've been here a little while.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her steadily and his eyes brightened just a trifle. + </p> + <p> + “Did you come to see me?” he asked. “Was it about what I said this—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Nat; no. I heard the news and that Grace was alone; so I come + right down.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded wearily. + </p> + <p> + “You can come in, too,” he said. “I know dad likes you and I guess—Wait + a minute; I'll ask him.” He stepped back into the bedroom. “Yes,” he + nodded, returning, “you come, too. He wants you.” + </p> + <p> + The little room, Captain Eben's own, was more like a skipper's cabin than + a chamber on land. A narrow, single bed, a plain washstand, a battered, + painted bureau and a single chair—these made up the list of + furniture. Two pictures, both of schooners under full sail, hung on the + walls. Beside them hung a ship's barometer, a sextant, and a clock that + struck the “bells,” instead of the hours as the landsman understands them. + In the corner stood the captain's big boots and his oilskins hung above + them. His Sunday cane was there also. And on the bureau was a worn, heavy + Bible. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Parker brushed by the others and bent over the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, cap'n,” he said cheerily, “how's she headed? How are you feeling + now?” + </p> + <p> + The old face on the pillow smiled feebly. + </p> + <p> + “She's headed for home, I guess, doc,” said Captain Eben. “Bound for home, + and the harbor light broad abeam, I cal'late.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! you'll make a good many voyages yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in this hulk, I won't, doctor. I hope I'll have a new command pretty + soon. I'm trustin' in my owners and I guess they'll do the fair thing by + me. Halloo, Gracie, girl! Well, your old uncle's on his beam ends, ain't + he?” + </p> + <p> + Grace glanced fearfully at his face. When he spoke her name she shrank + back, as if she feared what he might say. But he only smiled as, with the + tears streaming down her face, she bent over and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “There! there!” he protested. “You mustn't cry. What are you cryin' about + me for? We know, you and me, who's been lookin' out for us and keepin' us + on the course all these years. We ain't got anything to cry for. You just + keep on bein' a 'good girl, Gracie, and goin' to the right church and—I + s'pose Ezekiel'll lead in meetin' now,” he added. “I do wish he was a + stronger man.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor, whose fingers had been upon the old man's wrist, looked up at + Nat significantly. + </p> + <p> + “There, dad,” said the latter, “don't you worry about Zeke Bassett, nor + anything else. You just lay in dry dock and let Parker here overhaul your + runnin' riggin' and get you fit for sea. That's what you've got to do.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm fit and ready for the sea I'm goin' to sail,” was the answer. His + eyes wandered from his son to Mrs. Coffin. For an instant he seemed + puzzled. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “'Evenin', Keziah. I don't know why you're here, but—” + </p> + <p> + “I heard that Grace was alone and that you was sick, Eben. So I come right + down, to help if I could.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank ye. You're a good-hearted woman, Keziah, even though you ain't seen + the true light yet. And you're housekeeper for that hired priest—a—a—” + He paused, and a troubled look came over his face. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, dad?” asked Nat. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—Where's Gracie? She's here, ain't she?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, uncle, I'm here. Here I am,” said the girl. His fingers groped for + her hand and seized it. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, you're here,” murmured Captain Eben. “I—I—for a + minute or so, I—I had an awful dream about you, Gracie. I dreamed—Never + mind. Doc, answer me this now, true and honest, man to man: Can you keep + me here for just a little spell longer? Can you? Try! Ten minutes, say. + Can you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I can. Cap'n Hammond, what are you—” + </p> + <p> + “I know. That's all right. But I ain't a young one to be petted and lied + to. I'm a man. I've sailed ships. I've been on blue water. I'm goin' to + make port pretty soon, and I know it, but I want to get my decks clear + fust, if I can. Gracie, stand still. Nat, run alongside where I can see + you plainer. Keziah, you and the doctor stay where you be. I want you to + witness this.” + </p> + <p> + “Cap'n,” protested Dr. Parker, “if I were you I wouldn't—” + </p> + <p> + “Belay! Silence there, for'ard! Nat, you're my boy, ain't you? You set + some store by the old man, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I guess I do, dad.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I guess you do, too. You've been a pretty good boy; stubborn and + pig-headed sometimes, but, take you by and large, pretty good. And Gracie, + you've been a mighty good girl. Never done nothin' I wouldn't like, + nothin' mean nor underhand nor—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, uncle! Hush! Please hush!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you ain't; so why should I hush? In this—this dream I had, + seems 'sif you—seems as if a man come to me and said that you was—It + WAS a dream, wa'n't it?” + </p> + <p> + He tried to rise. Nat and the doctor started forward. Grace shrank back. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it was, cap'n,” said the doctor briskly. “Now you mustn't fret + yourself in this way. Just lie still and—” + </p> + <p> + “Belay, I tell you. Yes, I guess 'twas a dream. It had to be, but 'twas so + sort of real that I—How long have I been this way?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a little while! Now just—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Don't pull your hand away, Gracie. Nat, give me yours. That's it. + Now I put them two hands together. See, doctor? See, Keziah?” + </p> + <p> + “He's wandering. We must stop this,” muttered Parker. Mrs. Coffin, who + began to comprehend what was coming, looked fearfully at Nat and the girl. + </p> + <p> + “No, I ain't wanderin', neither,” declared the old Come-Outer fretfully. + “I'm sane as ever I was and if you try to stop me I'll—Gracie, your + Uncle Eben's v'yage is 'most over. He's almost to his moorin's and they're + waitin' for him on the pier. I—I won't be long now. Just a little + while, Lord! Give me just a little while to get my house in order. Gracie, + I don't want to go till I know you'll be looked out for. I've spoke to Nat + about this, but I ain't said much to you. Seems if I hadn't, anyhow; I + ain't real sartin; my head's all full of bells ringin' and—and + things.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, uncle, don't!” pleaded Grace. “Don't worry about me. Think of + yourself, please.” + </p> + <p> + “S-sh-sh! Don't put me off. Just listen. I want you to marry my boy, after + I'm gone. I want you to say you will—say it now, so's I can hear it. + Will you, Gracie?” + </p> + <p> + Grace would have withdrawn her hand, but he would not let her. He clung to + it and to that of his son with all his failing strength. + </p> + <p> + “Will you, Gracie?” he begged. “It's the last thing I'm goin' to ask of + you. I've tried to be sort of good to you, in my way, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, don't!” she sobbed. “Let me think a minute, uncle, dear. Oh, do + let me think!” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't got time, Gracie. You'll have to say it now, or else—All + right, then, think; but think quick.” + </p> + <p> + Grace was thinking. “If she really cares for him, she won't let him ruin + his life.” That was what Captain Elkanah had said. And here was a way to + save him from ruin. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you say it for me, Gracie?” pleaded Captain Eben. She hesitated no + longer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, uncle,” she answered through tears, “if Nat wants me he can have + me.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah clasped her hands. Captain Eben's face lit up with a great joy. + </p> + <p> + “Thank the Almighty!” he exclaimed. “Lord, I do thank you. Nat, boy, + you're consider'ble older than she is and you'll have to plan for her. You + be a good husband to her all her days, won't ye? Why, what are you waitin' + for? Why don't you answer me?” + </p> + <p> + Nat groaned aloud. + </p> + <p> + “A minute, dad,” he stammered. “Just give me a minute, for Heaven sakes! + Keziah—” + </p> + <p> + “Keziah!” repeated Eben. “Keziah? What are you talkin' to HER for? She + knows there couldn't be no better match in the world. You do know it, + don't ye, Keziah?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Keziah slowly. “I guess—I guess you're right, Eben.” + </p> + <p> + “Keziah Coffin,” cried Nat Hammond, “do you tell me to marry Grace?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Nat, I—I think your father's right.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—then—what difference does—All right, dad. Just as + Grace says.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” cried Captain Eben. “Doctor, you and Mrs. Coffin are + witnesses to this. There! now my decks are clear and I'd better get ready + to land. Gracie, girl, the Good Book's over there on the bureau. Read me a + chapter, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + An hour later Keziah sat alone in the dining room. She had stolen away + when the reading began. Dr. Parker, walking very softly, came to her and + laid his hand on her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “He's gone,” he said simply. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH KEZIAH BREAKS THE NEWS + </h3> + <p> + It was nearly five o'clock, gray dawn of what was to be a clear, beautiful + summer morning, when Keziah softly lifted the latch and entered the + parsonage. All night she had been busy at the Hammond tavern. Busy with + the doctor and the undertaker, who had been called from his bed by young + Higgins; busy with Grace, soothing her, comforting her as best she could, + and petting her as a mother might pet a stricken child. The poor girl was + on the verge of prostration, and from hysterical spasms of sobs and + weeping passed to stretches of silent, dry-eyed agony which were harder to + witness and much more to be feared. + </p> + <p> + “It is all my fault,” she repeated over and over again. “All my fault! I + killed him! I killed him, Aunt Keziah! What shall I do? Oh, why couldn't I + have died instead? It would have been so much better, better for + everybody.” + </p> + <p> + “Ss-sh! ss-sh! deary,” murmured the older woman. “Don't talk so; you + mustn't talk so. Your uncle was ready to go. He's been ready for ever so + long, and those of us who knew how feeble he was expected it any time. + 'Twa'n't your fault at all and he'd say so if he was here now.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he wouldn't. He'd say just as I do, that I was to blame. You don't + know, Aunt Keziah. Nobody knows but me.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I do, Gracie, dear; maybe I do. Maybe I understand better'n you + think I do. And it's all been for the best. You'll think so, too, one of + these days. It seems hard now; it is awful hard, you poor thing, but it's + all for the best, I'm sure. Best for everyone. It's a mercy he went sudden + and rational, same as he did. The doctor says that, if he hadn't, he'd + have been helpless and bedridden and, maybe, out of his head for another + year. He couldn't have lived longer'n that, at the most.” + </p> + <p> + “But you DON'T know, Aunt Keziah! You don't know what I—I AM to + blame. I'll never forgive myself. And I'll never be happy again.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will. You'll come, some day, to think it was best and right, for + you and—and for others. I know you think you'll never get over it, + but you will. Somehow or other you will, same as the rest of us have had + to do. The Lord tries us mighty hard sometimes, but He gives us the + strength to bear it. There! there! don't, deary, don't.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Parker was very anxious. + </p> + <p> + “She must rest,” he told Mrs. Coffin. “She must, or her brain will give + way. I'm going to give her something to make her sleep and you must get + her to take it.” + </p> + <p> + So Keziah tried and, at last, Grace did take the drug. In a little while + she was sleeping, uneasily and with moans and sobbings, but sleeping, + nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + “Now it's your turn, Keziah,” said the doctor. “You go home now and rest, + yourself. We don't need you any more just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's—where's Cap'n Nat?” asked Keziah. + </p> + <p> + “He's in there with his father. He bears it well, although he is mighty + cut up. Poor chap, he seems to feel that he is to blame, somehow. Says + Cap'n Eben and he had disagreed about something or other and he fears that + hastened the old man's death. Nonsense, of course. It was bound to come + and I told him so. 'Twas those blasted Come-Outers who really did it, + although I shan't say so to anyone but you. I'm glad Nat and the girl have + agreed to cruise together. It's a mighty good arrangement. She couldn't + have a better man to look out for her and he couldn't have a better wife. + I suppose I'm at liberty to tell people of the engagement, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Yes, I don't see any reason why not. Yes—I guess likely you'd + better tell 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. Now you go home. You've had a hard night, like the rest of + us.” + </p> + <p> + How hard he had no idea. And Keziah, as she wearily entered the parsonage, + realized that the morning would be perhaps the hardest of all. For upon + her rested the responsibility of seeing that the minister's secret was + kept. And she, and no other, must break the news to him. + </p> + <p> + The dining room was dark and gloomy. She lighted the lamp. Then she heard + a door open and Ellery's voice, as he called down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” he demanded. “Mrs. Coffin?” + </p> + <p> + She was startled. “Yes,” she said softly, after a moment. “Yes, Mr. + Ellery, it's me. What are you doin' awake at such an hour's this?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm awake. I couldn't sleep well to-night, somehow. Too much to + think of, I imagine. But where have you been? Why weren't you at meeting? + And where—Why, it's almost morning!” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer at once. The temptation was to say nothing now, to put + off the trying scene as long as possible. + </p> + <p> + “It's morning,” repeated the minister. “Are you sick? Has anything + happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered slowly, “somethin' has happened. Are you dressed? + Could you come down?” + </p> + <p> + He replied that he would be down in a moment. When he came he found her + standing by the table waiting for him. The look of her face in the + lamplight shocked him. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mrs. Coffin!” he exclaimed. “What IS it? You look as if you had been + through some dreadful experience.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I have,” she replied. “Maybe I have. Experiences like that come to + us all in this life, to old folks and young, and we have to bear 'em like + men and women. That's the test we're put to, Mr. Ellery, and the way we + come through the fire proves the stuff we're made of. Sorrows and + disappointments and heartbreaks and sicknesses and death—” + </p> + <p> + She paused on the word. He interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “Death?” he repeated. “Death? Is some one dead, some one I know? Mrs. + Coffin, what is it you are trying to tell me?” + </p> + <p> + Her heart went out to him. She held out both her hands. + </p> + <p> + “You poor boy,” she cried, “I'm trying to tell you one of the hardest + things a body can tell. Yes, some one is dead, but that ain't all. Eben + Hammond, poor soul, is out of his troubles and gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Eben Hammond! Captain Eben? Dead! Why, why—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Eben's gone. He was took down sudden and died about ten o'clock last + night. I was there and—” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Eben dead! Why, he was as well as—as—She said—Oh, + I must go! I must go at once!” + </p> + <p> + He was on his way to the door, but she held it shut. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said gravely, “you mustn't go. You mustn't go, Mr. Ellery. + That's the one thing you mustn't do.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand. By and by I can tell you why I must be there, but + now—” + </p> + <p> + “I do understand. I understand it all. Lord help us! if I'd only + understood sooner, how much of this might have been spared. Why DIDN'T you + tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Coffin—” + </p> + <p> + “John—you won't mind my callin' you John. I'm old enough, pretty + nigh, to be your mother, and I've come to feel almost as if I was. John, + you've got to stay here with me. You can't go to that house. You can't go + to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Coffin, what are you saying? Do you know—Have you—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know all about it. I know about the meetin's in the pines and all. + Oh, why didn't you trust me and tell me? If you had, all would have been + SO much better!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her in utter amazement. The blood rushed to his face. + </p> + <p> + “You know THAT?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she tell—” + </p> + <p> + “No, nobody told. That is, only a little. I got a hint and I suspicioned + somethin' afore. The rest I saw with my own eyes.” + </p> + <p> + He was now white, but his jaw shot forward and his teeth closed. + </p> + <p> + “If you do know,” he said, “you must realize that my place is with her. + Now, when she is in trouble—” + </p> + <p> + “Would you want to make that trouble greater? More than she could bear?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I might help her to bear it. Mrs. Coffin, you have been my truest + friend, but one, in Trumet. You HAVE been like a mother to me. But I have + thought this out to the end and I shall go through with it. It is my + affair—and hers. If my own mother were alive and spoke as you do, I + should still go through with it. It is right, it is my life. I'm not + ashamed of anything I've done. I'm proud. I'm proud of her. And humble + only when I think how unworthy I am to be her husband. I suppose you are + fearful of what my congregation will say. Well, I've thought of that, too, + and thought it through. Whatever they say and whatever they do will make + no difference. Do you suppose I will let THEM keep me from her? Please + open that door.” + </p> + <p> + He was very tragic and handsome—and young, as he stood there. The + tears overflowed the housekeeper's eyes as she looked at him. If her own + love story had not been broken off at its beginning, if she had not thrown + her life away, she might have had a son like that. She would have given + all that the years had in store for her, given it gladly, to have been + able to open the door and bid him go. But she was firm. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't the congregation, John,” she said. “Nor Trumet, nor your + ministry. That means more'n you think it does, now; but it ain't that. You + mustn't go to her because—well, because she don't want you to.” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't want me? I know better.” He laughed in supreme scorn. + </p> + <p> + “She doesn't want you, John. She wouldn't see you if you went. She would + send you away again, sure, sartin sure. She would. And if you didn't go + when she sent you, you wouldn't be the man I hope you are. John, you + mustn't see Grace again. She ain't yours. She belongs to some one else.” + </p> + <p> + “Some one else!” He repeated the words in a whisper. “Some one ELSE? Why, + Mrs. Coffin, you must be crazy! If you expect me to—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush! I ain't crazy, though there's times when I wonder I ain't. + John, you and Grace have known each other for a few months, that's all. + You've been attracted to her because she was pretty and educated and—and + sweet; and she's liked you because you were about the only young person + who could understand her and—and all that. And so you've been + meetin' and have come to believe—you have, anyway—that 'twas + somethin' more than likin'. But you neither of you have stopped to think + that a marriage between you two was as impossible as anything could be. + And, besides, there's another man. A man she's known all her life and + loved and respected—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Mrs. Coffin! stop this wicked nonsense. I won't hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “John, Grace Van Horne is goin' to marry Cap'n Nat Hammond. There! that's + the livin' truth.” + </p> + <p> + In his absolute confidence and faith he had again started for the door. + Now he wheeled and stared at her. She nodded solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “It's the truth,” she repeated. “She and Nat are promised to each other. + Cap'n Eben, on his deathbed, asked Dr. Parker and me to be witnesses to + the engagement. Now you see why you mustn't go nigh her again.” + </p> + <p> + He did not answer. Instead, he stood silently staring. She stepped forward + and laid a hand on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Set down, John,” she said. “Set down and let me tell you about it. Yes, + yes, you must. If I tell you, you'll understand better. There! there! + don't you interrupt me yet and don't you look that way. Do set down.” + </p> + <p> + She led him over to the rocking-chair and gently forced him into it. He + obeyed, although with no apparent realization of what he was doing. Still + with her hand on his shoulder she went on speaking. She told him of her + visit to the Hammond tavern, saying nothing of Mr. Pepper's call nor of + her own experience in the grove. She told of Captain Eben's seizure, of + what the doctor said, and of the old Come-Outer's return to consciousness. + Then she described the scene in the sick room and how Nat and Grace had + plighted troth. He listened, at first stunned and stolid, then with + growing impatience. + </p> + <p> + “So you see,” she said. “It's settled; they're engaged, and Dr. Parker + will tell everybody of the engagement this very mornin'. It wa'n't any + great surprise to me. Those two have been brought up together; 'twas the + natural thing that was almost bound to happen. Eben's heart was set on it + for years. And she'll have a good husband, John, that I know. And she'll + do her best to make him happy. He's a good man and—” + </p> + <p> + The minister sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “A good man!” he cried furiously. “A good man! One who will make use of a + dying father to drive a girl into—Stand aside, Mrs. Coffin!” + </p> + <p> + “John, you mustn't speak that way of Nat Hammond. He ain't the kind to + drive a girl against her will. And Grace is not one to be driven.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you blind? Can't you see? Why, only yesterday, she—Do you think + I shall permit such a wicked crime as that to—” + </p> + <p> + “Ss-sh! No, it ain't wicked, it's right. Right and best for everybody, for + her especial. Yesterday she might have forgot for a minute. But think, + just think what would have happened if she cared for you.” + </p> + <p> + “But she does! I know she does. Mrs. Coffin, stand away from that door.” + </p> + <p> + “No, John; if you go out of that door now, to go to her, you'll have to go + by main strength. You shan't wreck yourself and that girl if I can help + it. Be a man.” + </p> + <p> + The pair looked at each other. Keziah was determined, but so, evidently, + was he. She realized, with a sinking heart, that her words had made + absolutely no impression. He did not attempt to pass, but he slowly shook + his head. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Coffin,” he said, “perhaps you believe you're doing right. I hope—yes, + I'll give you credit for that belief. But I KNOW I am right and I shall go + to her. Such a—a BARGAIN as that you have just told me of is no more + to be regarded than—” + </p> + <p> + “John, I beg you—” + </p> + <p> + “NO.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go. Go this minute and break her heart and ruin her life and spoil + her good name in this village where she's lived since she was eight years + old. Go! be selfish. I suppose that's part of a man's make-up. Go! Never + mind her. Go!” + </p> + <p> + “I do 'mind' her, as you call it. I AM thinking of her.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you're not. It's yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “If it was myself—and God knows it is the only happiness on earth + for me—if it was only myself, and I really thought she wished me to + stay away, I'd stay, I'd stay, though I'd pray to die before this hour was + over.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know. I've prayed to die myself afore now, but I'm here yet; + and so will you be. We can't die so easy.” + </p> + <p> + “But I know—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you suppose SHE would come to YOU if she knew it would be your ruin?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. The last time they met, ages before—no, only the + previous afternoon—she had told him it was his happiness and his + future only that she thought of. He choked and drew his hand across his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Coffin,” he said, “you tell me it will be her ruin. YOU tell me so. + You SAY she doesn't want me. I tell you that the only thing that will keep + me from her is hearing that from her own lips. When she tells me to leave + her I will, and not before.” + </p> + <p> + “She'll tell you, John; she'll tell you. I know you must despise me, + pretty nigh. I cal'late you think I'm a worldly old woman, carin' nothin' + for your feelin's. Maybe I've talked pretty hard in the last few minutes, + but I haven't meant to be hard. To be honest, I didn't think you'd listen + to me. I expected you'd insist on seein' her yourself. Well, then, go and + see her, if you must, though what will come of it can only be more + trouble, for you run the risk of folks knowin' it and beginnin' to wonder. + And I know Grace. She's made up her mind and won't change it. But I do ask + you this: I ask you not to go now. Wait a little while, do. I left her + asleep, worn out by what she's been through and under the effects of the + doctor's sleepin' medicine. He said she must rest or he was afraid her + brain would give out. For her sake, then, wait a little. Then, if you + don't hear from her, maybe I can arrange a meetin' place where you can see + her without anyone's knowin' it. I'll try. But do wait a little while, for + her sake, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + At last he was listening and hesitating. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you?” begged Keziah. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered slowly. “I'll wait. I'll wait until noon, somehow, if I + can. I'll try. But not a minute later. Not one. You don't know what you're + asking, Mrs. Coffin.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do. I know well. And I thank you for her sake.” + </p> + <p> + But he did not have to wait until noon. At six o'clock, through the + dew-soaked grass of the yard, came the Higgins boy. For the first time in + his short life he had been awake all night and he moved slowly. + </p> + <p> + The housekeeper opened the door. Ike held up an envelope, clutched in a + grimy hand. + </p> + <p> + “It's for you, Mrs. Keziah,” he said. “Gracie, she sent it. There ain't no + answer.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah took the letter. “How is she? And how's Nat?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “They're doin' pretty well, so ma says. Ma's there now and they've sent + for Hannah Poundberry. Gee!” he added, yawning, “I ain't slept a wink. + Been on the jump, now I tell ye. Didn't none of them Come-Outers git in, + not one. I sent 'em on the home tack abilin'. You ought to hear me give + old Zeke Bassett Hail Columby! Gosh! I was just ahopin' HE'D come.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin closed the door and tore open the envelope. Within was another + addressed, in Grace's handwriting, to Mr. Ellery. The housekeeper entered + the study, handed it to him and turned away. + </p> + <p> + The minister, who had been pacing the floor, seized the note eagerly. It + was written in pencil and by a hand that had trembled much. Yet there was + no indecision in the written words. + </p> + <p> + “Dear John,” wrote Grace. “I presume Aunt Keziah has told you of uncle's + death and of my promise to Nat. It is true. I am going to marry him. I am + sure this is right and for the best. Our friendship was a mistake and you + must not see me again. Please don't try. + </p> + <p> + “GRACE VAN HORNE.” + </p> + <p> + Beneath was another paragraph. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry about me. I shall be happy, I am sure. And I shall hope that + you may be. I shall pray for that.” + </p> + <p> + The note fell to the floor with a rustle that sounded loud in the + stillness. Then Keziah heard the minister's step. She turned. He was + moving slowly across the room. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she cried anxiously, “you poor boy!” + </p> + <p> + He answered without looking back. + </p> + <p> + “I'm—going—up—to—my—room,” he said, a pause + between each word. “I want to be alone awhile, Mrs. Coffin.” + </p> + <p> + Wearily Keziah set about preparing breakfast. Not that she expected the + meal would be eaten, but it gave her something to do and occupied her + mind. The sun had risen and the light streamed in at the parsonage + windows. The breeze blew fresh and cool from the ocean. It was a + magnificent morning. + </p> + <p> + She called to him that breakfast was ready, but he did not answer. She + could eat nothing herself, and, when the table was cleared, prepared to do + the week's washing, for Monday is always washday in Trumet. Noon came, + dinner time, but still he did not come down. At last Keziah could stand it + no longer. She determined to go to him. She climbed the steep stairs and + rapped on the door of his room. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” she heard him say. + </p> + <p> + “It's me,” was the reply. “Mr. Ellery, can I come in? I know you want to + be alone, but I don't think you'd ought to be, too much. I'd like to talk + with you a few minutes; may I?” + </p> + <p> + A moment passed before he told her to enter. He was sitting in a chair by + the window, dressed just as he had been when she returned from the tavern. + She looked sharply at his face as it was turned toward her. His eyes were + dry and in them was an expression so hopeless and dreary that the tears + started to her own. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she said, “I couldn't bear to think of your facin' it alone up + here. I just had to come.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled, and the smile was as hopeless as the look in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Face it?” he repeated. “Well, Mrs. Coffin, I must face it, I suppose. + I've been facing it ever since—since I knew. And I find it no + easier.” + </p> + <p> + “John, what are you goin' to do?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. “I don't know,” he said. “Go away somewhere, first of + all, I guess. Go somewhere and—and try to live it down. I can't, of + course, but I must try.” + </p> + <p> + “Go away? Leave Trumet and your church and your congregation?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you suppose I could stay here?” + </p> + <p> + “I hoped you would.” + </p> + <p> + “And see the same people and the same places? And do the same things? See—see + HER! Did you”—he moved impatiently—“did you expect me to + attend the wedding?” + </p> + <p> + She put out her hand. “I know it'll be hard,” she said, “stayin' here, I + mean. But your duty to others—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think we've heard enough about duty to others? How about my + duty to myself?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess that's the last thing we ought to think about in the world, if we + do try to be fair and square. Your church thinks a heap of you, John. They + build on you. You've done more in the little while you've been here than + Mr. Langley did in his last fifteen years. We've grown and we're doin' + good—doin' it, not talkin' it in prayer meetin'. The parish + committee likes you and the poor folks in the society love you. Old Mrs. + Prince was tellin' me, only a little spell ago, that she didn't know how + she'd have pulled through this dreadful time if 'twa'n't for you. And + there's lots of others. Are you goin' to leave them? And what reason will + you give for leavin'?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. “I don't know,” he answered. “I may not give any. But I + shall go.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe you will. I don't believe you're that kind. I've watched + you pretty sharp since you and I have been livin' together and I have more + faith in you than that comes to. You haven't acted to me like a coward and + I don't think you'll run away.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Coffin, it is so easy for you to talk. Perhaps if I were in your + place I should be giving good advice about duty and not running away and + so on. But suppose you were in mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, suppose I was.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose—Oh, but there! it's past supposing.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know's 'tis. My life hasn't been all sunshine and fair winds, by + no means.” + </p> + <p> + “That's true. I beg your pardon. You have had troubles and, from what I + hear, you've borne them bravely. But you haven't had to face anything like + this.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I? Well, what is it you're asked to face? Disappointment? I've + faced that. Sorrow and heartbreak? I've faced them.” + </p> + <p> + “You've never been asked to sit quietly by and see the one you love more + than all the world marry some one else.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know I ain't? How do you know I ain't doin' just that now?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Coffin!” + </p> + <p> + “John Ellery, you listen to me. You think I'm a homely old woman, + probably, set in my ways as an eight-day clock. I guess I look like it and + act like it. But I ain't so awful old—on the edge of forty, that's + all. And when I was your age I wa'n't so awful homely, either. I had + fellers aplenty hangin' round and I could have married any one of a dozen. + This ain't boastin'; land knows I'm fur from that. I was brought up in + this town and even when I was a girl at school there was only one boy I + cared two straws about. He and I went to picnics together and to parties + and everywhere. Folks used to laugh and say we was keepin' comp'ny, even + then. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when I was eighteen, after father died, I went up to New Bedford to + work in a store there. Wanted to earn my own way. And this young feller + I'm tellin' you about went away to sea, but every time he come home from a + voyage he come to see me and things went on that way till we was promised + to each other. The engagement wa'n't announced, but 'twas so, just the + same. We'd have been married in another year. And then we quarreled. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas a fool quarrel, same as that kind gen'rally are. As much my fault + as his and as much his as mine, I cal'late. Anyhow, we was both proud, or + thought we was, and neither would give in. And he says to me, 'You'll be + sorry after I'm gone. You'll wish me back then.' And says I, BEIN' a fool, + 'I guess not. There's other fish in the sea.' He sailed and I did wish him + back, but I wouldn't write fust and neither would he. And then come + another man.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, hesitated, and then continued. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind about the other man. He was handsome then, in a way, and he + had money to spend, and he liked me. He wanted me to marry him. If—if + the other, the one that went away, had written I never would have thought + of such a thing, but he didn't write. And, my pride bein' hurt, and all, I + finally said yes to the second chap. My folks did all they could to stop + it; they told me he was dissipated, they said he had a bad name, they told + me twa'n't a fit match. And his people, havin' money, was just as set + against his takin' a poor girl. Both sides said ruin would come of it. But + I married him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, for the first year 'twa'n't so bad. Not happiness exactly, but not + misery either. That come later. His people was well off and he'd never + worked much of any. He did for a little while after we was married, but + not for long. Then he begun to drink and carry on and lost his place. + Pretty soon he begun to neglect me and at last went off to sea afore the + mast. We was poor as poverty, but I could have stood that; I did stand it. + I took in sewin' and kept up an appearance, somehow. Never told a soul. + His folks come patronizin' around and offered me money, so's I needn't + disgrace them. I sent 'em rightabout in a hurry. Once in a while he'd come + home, get tipsy and abuse me. Still I said nothin'. Thank God, there was + no children; that's the one thing I've been thankful for. + </p> + <p> + “You can't keep such things quiet always. People are bound to find out. + They come to me and said, 'Why don't you leave him?' but I wouldn't. I + could have divorced him easy enough, there was reasons plenty, but I + wouldn't do that. Then word came that he was dead, drowned off in the East + Indies somewheres. I come back here to keep house for Sol, my brother, and + I kept house for him till he died and they offered me this place here at + the parsonage. There! that's my story, part of it, more'n I ever told a + livin' soul afore, except Sol.” + </p> + <p> + She ceased speaking. The minister, who had sat silent by the window, + apathetically listening or trying to listen, turned his head. + </p> + <p> + “I apologize, Mrs. Coffin,” he said dully, “you have had trials, hard + ones. But—” + </p> + <p> + “But they ain't as hard as yours, you think? Well, I haven't quite + finished yet. After word come of my husband's death, the other man come + and wanted me to marry him. And I wanted to—oh, how I wanted to! I + cared as much for him as I ever did; more, I guess. But I wouldn't—I + wouldn't, though it wrung my heart out to say no. I give him up—why? + 'cause I thought I had a duty laid on me.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery sighed. “I can see but one duty,” he said. “That is the duty given + us by God, to marry the one we love.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah's agitation, which had grown as she told her story, suddenly + flashed into flame. + </p> + <p> + “Is that as fur as you can see?” she asked fiercely. “It's an easy duty, + then—or looks easy now. I've got a harder one; it's to stand by the + promise I gave and the man I married.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her as if he thought she had lost her wits. + </p> + <p> + “The man you married?” he replied. “Why, the man you married is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he ain't. You remember the letter you saw me readin' that night when + you come back from Come-Outers' meetin'? Well, that letter was from him. + He's alive.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time during the interview the minister rose to his feet, + shocked out of his despair and apathy by this astounding revelation. + </p> + <p> + “Alive?” he repeated. “Your husband ALIVE? Why, Mrs. Coffin, this is—” + </p> + <p> + She waved him to silence. “Don't stop me now,” she said. “I've told so + much; let me tell the rest. Yes, he's alive. Alive and knockin' round the + world somewheres. Every little while he writes me for money and, if I have + any, I send it to him. Why? Why 'cause I'm a coward, after all, I guess, + and I'm scared he'll do what he says he will and come back. Perhaps you + think I'm a fool to put up with it; that's what most folks would say if + they knew it. They'd tell me I ought to divorce him. Well, I can't, I + CAN'T. I walked into the mess blindfold; I married him in spite of + warnin's and everything. I took him for better or for worse, and now that + he's turned out worse, I must take my medicine. I can't live with him—that + I can't do—but while HE lives I'll stay his wife and give him what + money I can spare. That's the duty I told you was laid on me, and it's a + hard one, but I don't run away from it.” + </p> + <p> + John Ellery was silent. What could he say? Keziah went on. + </p> + <p> + “I don't run away from it,” she exclaimed, “and you mustn't run away from + yours. Your church depends on you, they trust you. Are you goin' to show + 'em their trust was misplaced? The girl you wanted is to marry another + man, that's true, and it's mighty hard. But she'll marry a good man, and, + by and by, she'll be happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Happy!” he said scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, happy. I know she'll be happy because I know she's doin' what'll be + best for her and because I know him that's to be her husband. I've known + him all my life; he's that other one that—that—and I give him + up to her; yes, I give him up to her, and try to do it cheerful, because I + know it's best for him. Hard for YOU? Great Lord A'mighty! do you think it + ain't hard for ME? I—I—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped short; then covering her face with her apron, she ran from the + room. John Ellery heard her descending the stairs, sobbing as she went. + </p> + <p> + All that afternoon he remained in his chair by the window. It was six + o'clock, supper time, when he entered the kitchen. Keziah, looking up from + the ironing board, saw him. He was white and worn and grim, but he held + out his hand to her. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Coffin,” he said, “I'm not going away. You've shown me what devotion + to duty really means. I shall stay here and go on with my work.” + </p> + <p> + Her face lit up. “Will you?” she said. “I thought you would. I was sure + you was that kind.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH THE SEA MIST SAILS + </h3> + <p> + They buried Captain Eben in the little Come-Outer cemetery at the rear of + the chapel. A bleak, wind-swept spot was that cemetery, bare of trees and + with only a few graves and fewer headstones, for the Come-Outers were a + comparatively new sect and their graveyard was new in consequence. The + grave was dug in the yellow sand beside that of Mrs. Hammond, Nat's + mother, and around it gathered the fifty or sixty friends who had come to + pay their last tribute to the old sailor and tavern keeper. + </p> + <p> + The Come-Outers were there, all of them, and some members of the Regular + society, Captain Zeb Mayo, Dr. Parker, Keziah Coffin, Mrs. Higgins, and + Ike. Mrs. Didama Rogers was there also, not as a mourner, but because, in + her capacity as gatherer of gossip, she made it a point never to miss a + funeral. The Rev. Absalom Gott, Come-Outer exhorter at Wellmouth, preached + the short sermon, and Ezekiel Bassett added a few remarks. Then a hymn was + sung and it was over. The little company filed out of the cemetery, and + Captain Eben Hammond was but a memory in Trumet. + </p> + <p> + Keziah lingered to speak a word with Grace. The girl, looking very white + and worn, leaned on the arm of Captain Nat, whose big body acted as a + buffer between her and over-sympathetic Come-Outers. Mrs. Coffin silently + held out both hands and Grace took them eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for coming, Aunt Keziah,” she said. “I was sure you would.” + </p> + <p> + “Least I could do, deary,” was the older woman's answer. “Your uncle and I + was good friends once; we haven't seen each other so often of late years, + but that ain't changed my feelin's. Now you must go home and rest. Don't + let any of these”—with a rather scornful glance at Josiah Badger and + Ezekiel and the Reverend Absalom—“these Job's comforters bother you. + Nat, you see that they let her alone, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Nat nodded. He, too, looked very grave and worn. “I'll tend to + them,” he said shortly. “Come, Grace,” he added; “let's go.” + </p> + <p> + But the girl hung back. “Just a minute, Nat,” she said. “I—I—would + you mind if I spoke to Aunt Keziah—alone? I only want to say a + word.” + </p> + <p> + Nat strode off to the cemetery gate, where Josiah Badger stood, + brandishing a red cotton handkerchief as a not too-clean emblem of + mourning. Mr. Badger eagerly sprang forward, but ran into an impossible + barrier in the form of the captain's outstretched arm. Josiah protested + and the captain replied. Grace leaned forward. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie,” she whispered, “tell me: Did a letter—Did he—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it came. I gave it to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Did—did he tell you? Do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know, deary.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he—is he—” + </p> + <p> + “He's well, deary. He'll be all right. I'll look out for him.” + </p> + <p> + “You will, won't you? You won't let him do anything—” + </p> + <p> + “Not a thing. Don't worry. We've had a long talk and he's going to stay + right here and go on with his work. And nobody else'll ever know, Gracie.” + </p> + <p> + “How—O Aunt Keziah! how he must despise me.” + </p> + <p> + “Despise you! For doin' what was your duty? Nonsense! He'll respect you + for it and come to understand 'twas best for both of you, by and by. Don't + worry about him, Gracie. I tell you I'll look out for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess it will be better if he does despise me. And hate me, too. He + can't despise and hate me more than I do myself. But it IS right—what + I'm doing; and the other was wrong and wicked. Auntie, you'll come and see + me, won't you? I shall be so lonesome.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; I'll come. Perhaps not right away. There's reasons why I'd + better not come right away. But, by and by, after it's all settled and you + and Nat”—she hesitated for an instant in spite of herself—“after + you and Nat are married I'll come.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk about that NOW. Please don't.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, I won't. You be a good, brave girl and look out for Nat; + that's your duty and I'm sure you'll do it. And I'll do my best for John.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you call him John?” + </p> + <p> + “Yup. We had a sort of—of adoptin' ceremony the other mornin' and I—Well, + you see, I've got to have somebody to call by their front name and he's + about all I've got left.” + </p> + <p> + “O Aunt Keziah! if I could be one half as patient and brave and sweet as + you are—” + </p> + <p> + “Sssh! here comes Nat. Be kind to him. He's sufferin', too; maybe more'n + you imagine. Here she is, Nat. Take her back home and be good to her.” + </p> + <p> + The broad-shouldered skipper led his charge out of the gate and down the + “Turn-off.” Josiah Badger looked after them disgustedly. As Keziah + approached, he turned to her. + </p> + <p> + “I swan to man!” he exclaimed, in offended indignation, “if I ain't losin' + my respect for that Nat Hammond. He's the f-f-fuf-for'ardest critter ever + I see. I was just agoin' to hail Gracie and ask her what she thought about + my leadin' some of the meetin's now her uncle has been called aloft. I + wanted to ask her about it fust, afore Zeke Bassett got ahead of me, but + that Nat wouldn't let me. Told me she mustn't be b-b-b-bothered about + little things now. LITTLE things! Now, what do you think of that, Mrs. + Coffin? And I spoke to Lot Taylor, one of our own s-s-sas-sassiety, and + asked what he thought of it, and he said for me to go home set d-d-down + and let my h-h-h-hah-hair grow. Of all—” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what you do, Josiah,” broke in the voice of Captain Zeb Mayo, + “you go home or somewhere else and set down and have it cut. That'll take + pretty nigh as long, and'll keep it from wearin' out your coat collar. + Keziah, I've been waitin' for you. Get in my shay and I'll drive you back + to the parsonage.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Coffin accepted the invitation and a seat in the chaise beside + Captain Zeb. The captain spoke of the dead Come-Outer and of his respect + for him in spite of the difference in creed. He also spoke of the Rev. + John Ellery and of the affection he had come to feel for the young man. + </p> + <p> + “I like that young feller, Keziah,” he said. “Like him for a lot of + reasons, same as the boy liked the hash. For one thing, his religion ain't + all starch and no sugar. He's good-hearted and kind and—and human. + He seems to get just as much satisfaction out of the promise of heaven as + he does out of the sartainty of t'other port. He ain't all the time + bangin' the bulkhead and sniffin' brimstone, like parsons I have seen. + Sulphur's all right for a spring medicine, maybe, but when June comes I + like to remember that God made roses. Elkanah, he comes to me a while ago + and he says, 'Zebedee,' he says, 'don't you think Mr. Ellery's sermons + might be more orthodox?' 'Yes,' says I, 'they might be, but what a mercy + 'tis they ain't.' He, he, he! I kind of like to poke Elkanah in the shirt + front once in a while, just to hear it crackle. Say, Keziah, you don't + think the minister and Annabel are—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” was the emphatic interruption; “I know they ain't; he ain't, + anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Them Danielses cal'late they own the most of this town already; if + they owned the minister they'd swell up so the rest of us would have to go + aloft or overboard; we'd be crowded off the decks, sure.” + </p> + <p> + “No one owns him. Haven't you found that out?” + </p> + <p> + “Yup, I cal'late I have and I glory in his spunk.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to hear you say so. Of course Cap'n Elkanah is boss of the + parish committee and—” + </p> + <p> + “What? No, he ain't nuther. He's head of it, but his vote counts just one + and no more. What makes you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nuthin'. Only I thought maybe, long as Elkanah was feelin' that Mr. + Ellery wa'n't orthodox enough, he might be goin' to make a change.” + </p> + <p> + “He might? HE might! Say, Keziah Coffin, there was Mayos in this town and + in this church afore the fust Daniels ever washed ashore; and they'll be + here when the last one blows up with his own importance. I'm on that + parish committee—you understand?—and I've sailed ships and + handled crews. I ain't so old nor feeble but what I can swing a belayin' + pin. Boss! I'll have you to know that no livin' man bosses me.” + </p> + <p> + “All right! I didn't mean to stir you up, Zebedee. But from things Cap'n + Daniels has said I gathered that he was runnin' the committee. And, as I'm + a friend of Mr. Ellery, it—” + </p> + <p> + “Friend! Well, so'm I, ain't I? If you ever hear of Daniels tryin' any + tricks against the minister, you send for me, that's all. I'LL show him. + Boss! Humph!” + </p> + <p> + The wily Keziah alighted at the parsonage gate with the feeling that she + had sown seed in fertile ground. She was quite aware of Captain Zeb's + jealousy of the great Daniels. And the time might come when her parson + needed an influential friend on the committee and in the Regular society. + </p> + <p> + The news of the engagement between Captain Nat Hammond and Grace Van + Horne, told by Dr. Parker to one or two of his patients, spread through + Trumet like measles through a family of small children. Didama Rogers + learned it, so did Lavinia Pepper, and after that it might as well have + been printed on the walls for all to read. It was talked over and gossiped + about in every household from the lighthouse keeper's family to that of + George Washington Cash, who lived in the one-room hovel in the woods near + the Wellmouth line, and was a person of distinction, in his way, being the + sole negro in the county. And whenever it was discussed it was considered + a fine thing for both parties concerned. Almost everyone said it was + precisely what they expected. + </p> + <p> + Annabel Daniels and her father had not expected it. They were, however, + greatly pleased. In their discussion, which lasted far into the night, + Captain Elkanah expressed the opinion that the unexpected denouement was + the result of his interview with Eben. He had told the old Come-Outer what + would happen to his ward if she persisted in her impudent and audacious + plot to entrap a Regular clergyman. She, being discovered, had yielded, + perforce, and had accepted Nat as the next best catch. + </p> + <p> + Annabel was not satisfied with this explanation. Of course, she said, she + did not pretend to believe Grace's statement that she had found her uncle + unconscious. No doubt the pair had had an interview and all that. But she + believed the minister himself had come to his senses and had dismissed the + brazen creature. She did not blame Mr. Ellery so much. He was a young man, + with a kind heart, and no doubt the “Van Horne person” had worked upon his + sympathies and had taken advantage of his inexperience of feminine wiles. + </p> + <p> + “I think, pa,” she said, “that it's our duty, yours and mine, to treat him + just as we always have. He doesn't know that we know, and we will keep the + secret. And, as Christians, we should forget and forgive. We'll invite him + here as we always have, keep him under our good influence, and be very + kind to him, poor innocent. As for Captain Hammond, I'm sorry for him, + knowing the kind of wife he is going to have, but no doubt Come-Outers are + not particular.” + </p> + <p> + Kyan Pepper was another whom the news of the engagement surprised greatly. + When Lavinia told him of it, at the dinner table, he dropped the knife he + was holding and the greasy section of fish-ball balanced upon it. + </p> + <p> + “'Bishy,” said Miss Pepper, “what do you s'pose has happened down to the + Hammond tavern?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know that,” was the reply. “I heard that long ago; Cap'n Eben's + dead.” + </p> + <p> + “'Course he's dead; and I knew you knew it. Land sakes! don't be such a + ninny. Why, I told you myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I didn't know but you'd forgot. Anybody's li'ble to forget who + they've told things to. Why, I've forgot more things—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there ain't no doubt about that. I've told you a million times, if I + have once, to tuck your napkin round your neck when you've got your Sunday + clothes on. And there you be this minute without a sign of a napkin.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Laviny! I MUST have it round my neck. I know I—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be so foolish! Think I'm blind? Can't I see you ain't got it? Now + where is it?” + </p> + <p> + Kyan began a futile hunt for the missing napkin, in his lap, on the table, + and finally under it. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand,” he stammered, “where that napkin can be. I'm just as + sure I had it and now I'm just as sure I ain't got it. What do you s'pose + I done with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness knows! 'Twouldn't surprise me if you'd et it, you're that + absent-minded. Here! what's that stickin' out of your breast pocket?” + </p> + <p> + Her brother put his hand to the pocket indicated and produced the missing + napkin, much crumpled. + </p> + <p> + “There!” he exclaimed, in a tone of relief. “Now I remember. It must have + dropped on the floor and I thought 'twas my handkerchief and picked it up + and—” + </p> + <p> + “What did you think you'd be carryin' a white handkerchief for, on a week + day?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I had on my Sunday suit and—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and for the dear mercy sakes WHY have you got it on?” + </p> + <p> + Kyan saw an opportunity for self-justification. + </p> + <p> + “You TOLD me to put it on,” he declared triumphantly. “You said yourself + I'd better rig out in my Sunday clothes 'cause we might go to Eben's + funeral. You know you did.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear the man! And then, after you've dressed up to go to his funeral, you + pretend to believe I'm goin' to tell you he's dead. I never—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what IS it, then? He ain't come to life, has he?” + </p> + <p> + “Grace Van Horne's engaged to be married, that's what it is. Look out! Oh, + you—” + </p> + <p> + Just here occurred the accident already described. Knife and fish ball + descended upon the waistcoat belonging to the “Sunday suit.” Lavinia flew + for warm water, ammonia, and a cloth, and the soiled waistcoat was + industriously scrubbed. The cleansing process was accompanied by a lively + tongue lashing, to which Kyan paid little attention. + </p> + <p> + “Engaged?” he kept repeating. “Gracie Van Horne engaged? Engaged? En—” + </p> + <p> + “Be still, you poll parrot! Dear! dear! dear! look at them spots. Yes, + yes; don't say it again; she's engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “Who—who—who—” + </p> + <p> + “Now you've turned to an owl, I do believe. 'Hoo! hoo!' She's engaged to + Nat Hammond, that's who. Nothin' very surprisin' about that, is there?” + </p> + <p> + Kyan made no answer. He rubbed his forehead, while his sister rubbed the + grease spots. In jerky sentences she told of the engagement and how the + news had reached her. + </p> + <p> + “I can't believe it,” faltered Abishai. “She goin' to marry Nat! Why, I + can't understand. I thought—” + </p> + <p> + “What did you think? See here! you ain't keepin' anything from me, be + you?” + </p> + <p> + The answer was enthusiastically emphatic. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no, no!” declared Kyan. “Only I didn't know they was—was—” + </p> + <p> + “Neither did anybody else, but what of it? Folks don't usually advertise + when they're keepin' comp'ny, do they?” + </p> + <p> + “No—o. But it's gen'rally found out. I know if I was keepin' comp'ny—or + you was, La-viny—” + </p> + <p> + His sister started. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you say that?” she demanded, looking quickly up from her + rubbing. + </p> + <p> + “Why, nothin'. Only if I was—or you was, somebody'd see somethin' + suspicious and kind of drop a hint, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Better for them if they 'tended to their own affairs,” was the sharp + answer. “I ain't got any patience with folks that's always talkin' about + their neighbor's doin's. There! now you go out and stand alongside the + cook stove till that wet place dries. Don't you move till 'TIS dry, + neither.” + </p> + <p> + So to the kitchen went Kyan, to stand, a sort of living clotheshorse, + beside the hot range. But during the drying process he rubbed his forehead + many times. Remembering what he had seen in the grove he could not + understand; but he also remembered, even more vividly, what Keziah Coffin + had promised to do if he ever breathed a word. And he vowed again that + that word should not be breathed. + </p> + <p> + The death and funeral of Captain Eben furnished Trumet with a subject of + conversation for a week or more. Then, at the sewing circle and at the + store and after prayer meeting, both at the Regular meeting house and the + Come-Outer chapel, speculation centered on the marriage of Nat and Grace. + When was it to take place? Would the couple live at the old house and + “keep packet tavern” or would the captain go to sea again, taking his + bride with him? Various opinions, pro and con, were expressed by the + speculators, but no one could answer authoritatively, because none knew + except those most interested, and the latter would not tell. + </p> + <p> + John Ellery heard the discussions at the sewing circle when, in company + with some of the men of his congregation, he dropped in at these + gatherings for tea after the sewing was over. He heard them at church, + before and after the morning service, and when he made pastoral calls. + People even asked his opinion, and when he changed the subject inferred, + some of them, that he did not care about the doings of Come-Outers. Then + they switched to inquiries concerning his health. + </p> + <p> + “You look awful peaked lately, Mr. Ellery,” said Didama Rogers. “Ain't you + feelin' well?” + </p> + <p> + The minister answered that he was as well as usual, or thought he was. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, you ain't nuther,” declared Didama. “You look's if you was comin' + down with a spell of somethin'. I ain't the only one that's noticed it. + Why, Thankful Payne says to me only yesterday, 'Didama,' says she, 'the + minister's got somethin' on his mind and it's wearin' of him out.' You + ain't got nothin' on your mind, have you, Mr. Ellery?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess not, Mrs. Rogers. It's a beautiful afternoon, isn't it? + </p> + <p> + “There! I knew you wa'n't well. A beautiful afternoon, and it hotter'n + furyation and gettin' ready to rain at that! Don't tell me! 'Tain't your + mind, Mr. Ellery, it's your blood that's gettin' thin. My husband had a + spell just like it a year or two afore he died, and the doctor said he + needed rest and a change. Said he'd ought to go away somewheres by + himself. I put my foot down on THAT in a hurry. 'The idea!' I says. 'You, + a sick man, goin' off all alone by yourself to die of lonesomeness. If you + go, I go with you.' So him and me went up to Boston and it rained the + whole week we was there, and we set in a little box of a hotel room with a + window that looked out at a brick wall, and set and set and set, and + that's all. I kept talkin' to him to cheer him up, but he never cheered. + I'd talk to him for an hour steady and when I'd stop and ask a question + he'd only groan and say yes, when he meant no. Finally, I got disgusted, + after I'd asked him somethin' four or five times and he'd never answered, + and I told him, I believed he was gettin' deef. 'Lordy!' he says, 'I wish + I was!' Well, that was enough for ME. Says I, 'If your mind's goin' to + give out we'd better be home.' So home we come. And that's all the good + change and rest done HIM. Hey? What did you say, Mr. Ellery?” + </p> + <p> + “Er—oh, nothing, nothing, Mrs. Rogers.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. So home we come and I'd had enough of doctors to last. I figgered + out that his blood was thinnin' and I knew what was good for that. My + great Aunt Hepsy, that lived over to East Wellmouth, she was a great hand + for herbs and such and she'd give me a receipt for thickenin' the blood + that was somethin' wonderful. It had more kind of healin' herbs in it than + you could shake a stick at. I cooked a kittleful and got him to take a + dose four times a day. He made more fuss than a young one about takin' it. + Said it tasted like the Evil One, and such profane talk, and that it stuck + to his mouth so's he couldn't relish his vittles; but I never let up a + mite. He had to take it and it done him a world of good. Now I've got that + receipt yet, Mr. Ellery, and I'll make some of that medicine for you. I'll + fetch it down to-morrow. Yes, yes, I will. I'm agoin' to, so you needn't + say no. And perhaps I'll have heard somethin' about Cap'n Nat and Grace by + that time.” + </p> + <p> + She brought the medicine, and the minister promptly, on her departure, + handed it over to Keziah, who disposed of it just as promptly. + </p> + <p> + “What did I do with it?” repeated the housekeeper. “Well, I'll tell you. I + was kind of curious to see what 'twas like, so I took a teaspoonful. I did + intend to pour the rest of it out in the henyard, but after that taste I + had too much regard for the hens. So I carried it way down to the pond and + threw it in, jug and all. B-r-r-r! Of all the messes that—I used to + wonder what made Josh Rogers go moonin' round makin' his lips go as if he + was crazy. I thought he was talkin' to himself, but now I know better, he + was TASTIN'. B-r-r-r!” + </p> + <p> + Keziah was the life of the gloomy parsonage. Without her the minister + would have broken down. Time and time again he was tempted to give up, in + spite of his promise, and leave Trumet, but her pluck and courage made him + ashamed of himself and he stayed to fight it out. She watched him and + tended him and “babied” him as if he was a spoiled child, pretending to + laugh at herself for doing it and at him for permitting it. She cooked the + dishes he liked best, she mended his clothes, she acted as a buffer + between him and callers who came at inopportune times. She was cheerful + always when he was about, and no one would have surmised that she had a + sorrow in the world. But Ellery knew and she knew he knew, so the + affection and mutual esteem between the two deepened. He called her “Aunt + Keziah” at her request and she continued to call him “John.” This was in + private, of course; in public he was “Mr. Ellery” and she “Mrs. Coffin.” + </p> + <p> + In his walks about town he saw nothing of Grace. She and Mrs. Poundberry + and Captain Nat were still at the old home and no one save themselves knew + what their plans might be. Yet, oddly enough, Ellery was the first + outsider to learn these plans and that from Nat himself. + </p> + <p> + He met the captain at the corner of the “Turnoff” one day late in August. + He tried to make his bow seem cordial, but was painfully aware that it was + not. Nat, however, seemed not to notice, but crossed the road and held out + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, Mr. Ellery?” he said. “I haven't run across you for + sometime. What's the matter? Seems to me you look rather under the + weather.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery answered that he was all right and, remembering that he had not met + the captain since old Hammond's death, briefly expressed his sympathy. His + words were perfunctory and his manner cold. His reason told him that this + man was not to blame—was rather to be pitied, if Keziah's tale was + true. Yet it is hard to pity the one who is to marry the girl you love. + Reason has little to do with such matters. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Ellery,” said Captain Nat, “I won't keep you. I see you're in a + hurry. Just thought I'd run alongside a minute and say good-by. Don't + know's I'll see you again afore I sail.” + </p> + <p> + “Before you sail? You—you are going away?” + </p> + <p> + “Yup. My owners have been after me for a good while, but I wouldn't leave + home on account of dad's health. Now he's gone, I've got to be gettin' + back on salt water again. My ship's been drydocked and overhauled and + she's in New York now loadin' for Manila. It's a long vy'age, even if I + come back direct, which ain't likely. So I may not see the old town again + for a couple of years. Take care of yourself, won't you? Good men, + especially ministers, are scurse, and from what I hear about you I + cal'late Trumet needs you.” + </p> + <p> + “When are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “Last of next week, most likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you—shall you go alone? Are you to be—to be—” + </p> + <p> + “Married? No. Grace and I have talked it over and we've agreed it's best + to wait till I come back. You see, dad's been dead such a little while, + and all, that—well, we're goin' to wait, anyhow. She'll stay in the + old house with Hannah, and I've fixed things so she'll be provided for + while I'm gone. I left it pretty much to her. If she'd thought it best for + us to marry now, I cal'late I should have—have—well, done what + she wanted. But she didn't. Ah, hum!” he added with a sigh; “she's a good + girl, a mighty good girl. Well, so long and good luck.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, captain.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by. Er—I say, Mr. Ellery, how things at the parsonage? All + well there, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Er—Keziah—Mrs. Coffin, your housekeeper, is she smart?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She's well.” + </p> + <p> + “That's good. Say, you might tell her good-by for me, if you want to. Tell + her I wished her all the luck there was. And—and—just say that + there ain't any—well, that her friend—say just that, will you?—her + FRIEND said 'twas all right. She'll understand; it's a—a sort of + joke between us.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, captain; I'll tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged. And just ask her to keep an eye on Grace while I'm gone. + Tell her I leave Gracie under her wing. Keziah and me are old chums, in a + way, you see.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I'll tell her that, too.” + </p> + <p> + “And don't forget the 'friend' part. Well, so long.” + </p> + <p> + They shook hands and parted. + </p> + <p> + Didama and her fellow news-venders distributed the tale of Captain Nat's + sailing broadcast during the next few days. There was much wonderment at + the delayed marriage, but the general verdict was that Captain Eben's + recent death and the proper respect due to it furnished sufficient excuse. + Hannah Poundberry, delighted at being so close to the center of interest, + talked and talked, and thus Grace was spared the interviews which would + have been a trouble to her. Nat left town, via the packet, on the + following Wednesday. Within another week came the news that his ship, the + Sea Mist, had sailed from New York, bound for Manila. Her topsails sank + beneath the horizon, and she vanished upon the wild waste of tumbling + waves and out of Trumet's knowledge, as many another vessel, manned and + officered by Cape Cod men, had done. The village talked of her and her + commander for a few days and then forgot them both. Only at the old home + by the landing and at the parsonage were they remembered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH TRUMET TALKS OF CAPTAIN NAT + </h3> + <p> + Summer was over, autumn came, passed, and it was winter—John + Ellery's first winter in Trumet. Fish weirs were taken up, the bay filled + with ice, the packet ceased to run, and the village settled down to + hibernate until spring. The stage came through on its regular trips, + except when snow or slush rendered the roads impassable, but passengers + were very few. Occasionally there were northeast gales, with shrieking + winds, driving gusts of sleet and hail and a surf along the ocean side + that bellowed and roared and tore the sandy beach into new shapes, washing + away shoals and building others, blocking the mouth of the little inlet + where the fish boats anchored and opening a new channel a hundred yards + farther down. Twice there were wrecks, one of a fishing schooner, the crew + of which were fortunate enough to escape by taking to the dories, and + another, a British bark, which struck on the farthest bar and was beaten + to pieces by the great waves, while the townspeople stood helplessly + watching from the shore, for launching a boat in that surf was impossible. + </p> + <p> + The minister was one of those who watched. News of the disaster had been + brought to the village by the lightkeeper's assistant, and Ellery and most + of the able-bodied men in town had tramped the three miles to the beach, + facing the screaming wind and the cutting blasts of flying sand. As they + came over the dunes there were times when they had to dig their heels into + the ground and bend forward to stand against the freezing gale. And, as + they drew nearer, the thunder of the mighty surf grew ever louder, until + they saw the white clouds of spray leap high above the crazily tossing, + flapping bunches of beach grass that topped the last knoll. + </p> + <p> + Three masts and a broken bowsprit sticking slantwise up from a whirl of + creamy white, that was all they could see of the bark, at first glance. + But occasionally, as the breakers drew back for another cruel blow, they + caught glimpses of the tilted deck, smashed bare of houses and rail. + </p> + <p> + “Those black things on the masts?” asked Ellery, bending to scream the + question into the ear of Gaius Winslow, his companion. “Are they—it + can't be possible that they're—” + </p> + <p> + “Yup,” shrieked Gaius in reply, “they're men. Crew lashed in the riggin'. + Poor fellers! it'll soon be over for 'em. And they're most likely frozen + stiff a'ready and won't sense drownin', that's a comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “Men!” repeated the minister in horror. “Men! Great God! and are we to + stand by here and see them die without lifting a hand? Why, it's + barbarous! It's—” + </p> + <p> + Winslow seized his arm and pointed. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” he shouted. “Look at them! How much good would our liftin' hands + do against them?” + </p> + <p> + Ellery looked. The undertow, that second, was sucking the beach dry, + sucking with such force that gravel and small stones pattered down the + slope in showers. And behind it a wave, its ragged top raveled by the wind + into white streamers, was piling up, up, up, sheer and green and mighty, + curling over now and descending with a hammer blow that shook the land + beneath their feet. And back of it reared another, and another, and + another, an eighth of a mile of whirling, surging, terrific breakers, with + a yelling hurricane whipping them on. + </p> + <p> + It was soon over, as Gaius had said it would be. A mighty leap of spray, a + section of hull broken off and tossed into view for an instant, then two + of the masts went down. The other followed almost at once. Then the + watchers, most of them, went back to the village, saying little or nothing + and dispersing silently to their homes. + </p> + <p> + During the next fortnight John Ellery conducted six funeral services, + brief prayers beside the graves of unknown men from that wreck. The + bodies, as they were washed ashore, were put into plain coffins paid for + by the board of selectmen, and buried in the corner of the Regular + cemetery beside other waifs thrown up by the sea in other years. It was a + sad experience for him, but it was an experience and tended to make him + forget his own sorrow just a little. Or, if not to forget, at least to + think of and sympathize more keenly with the sorrows of others. Somewhere, + in England or Ireland or scattered over the wide world, there were women + and children waiting for these men, waiting anxiously for news of their + safe arrival in port, praying for them. When he mentioned this thought to + the townspeople they nodded philosophically and said yes, they “presumed + likely.” As Captain Zeb put it, “Most sailors are fools enough to get + married, prob'ly this lot wa'n't any exception.” It was no new thought to + him or to any other dweller in that region. It was almost a fixed + certainty that, if you went to sea long enough, you were bound to be + wrecked sometime or other. The chances were that, with ordinary luck and + good management, you would escape with your life. Luck, good or bad, was + the risk of the trade; good management was expected, as a matter of + course. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pepper made no more calls at the parsonage, and when the minister met + him, at church or elsewhere, seemed anxious to avoid an interview. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Abishai,” asked Ellery, on one of these occasions, “how are you + getting on at home? Has your sister locked you up again?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, she ain't,” replied Kyan. “Laviny, she's sort of diff'rent + lately. She ain't nigh so—so down on a feller as she used to be. I + can get out once in a while by myself nowadays, when she wants to write a + letter or somethin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she's writing letters, is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Um—hm. Writes one about every once in a week. I don't know who + they're to, nuther, but I have my suspicions. You see, we've got a cousin + out West—out Pennsylvany way—and he ain't very well and has + got a turrible lot of money. I'm sort of surmisin' that Laviny's writin' + to him. We're about his only relations that's left alive and—and so—” + </p> + <p> + “I see.” The minister smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Yup. Laviny's a pretty good navigator, fur's keepin' an eye to wind'ard + is concerned. She was awful down on Phineas—that's his name—'cause + he married a Philadelphy woman, but he's a widower man now, so I s'pose + she feels better toward him. She's talkin' of goin' up to Sandwich pretty + soon.” + </p> + <p> + “She IS? Alone?” + </p> + <p> + “So she says.” + </p> + <p> + “To leave you here? Why! well, I'm surprised.” + </p> + <p> + “Godfreys mighty! so be I. But she says she b'lieves she needs a change + and there's church conference up there, you know, and she figgers that she + ain't been to conference she don't know when. I s'pose you'll go, won't + you, Mr. Ellery?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably.” + </p> + <p> + “Um—hm. I kind of wisht I was goin' myself. 'Twill be kind of + lonesome round home without her.” + </p> + <p> + Considering that that variety of lonesomeness had been Abishai's dream of + paradise for years, Ellery thought his change of heart a good joke and + told Keziah of it when he returned to the parsonage. The housekeeper was + greatly surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Well! well! well!” she exclaimed. “Miracles'll never cease. I don't + wonder so much at Laviny wantin' to go to conference, but her darin' to go + and leave Kyan at home is past belief. Why, every time she's had a cold + her one fear was that she'd die and leave 'Bish behind to be kidnaped by + some woman. Kyan himself was sick once, and the story was that his sister + set side of the bed night and day and read him over and over again that + chapter in the Bible that says there's no marryin' or givin' in marriage + in heaven. Dr. Parker told me that he didn't believe 'Bish got ha'f the + comfort out of that passage that she did. And now she's goin' to Sandwich + and leave him. I can't think it's true.” + </p> + <p> + But it was true, and Lavinia got herself elected a delegate and went, in + company with Captain Elkanah, Mrs. Mayo, and others, to the conference. + She was a faithful attendant at the meetings and seemed to be having a + very good time. She introduced the minister to one Caleb Pratt, a resident + of Sandwich, whom she said she had known ever since she was a girl. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pratt's a cousin to Thankful Payne over to home,” volunteered + Lavinia. “You know Thankful, Mr. Ellery.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery did know Mrs. Payne and said so. Mr. Pratt, who was dressed in a + new suit of black which appeared to hurt him, imparted the information + that he'd heard tell consider'ble of Mr. Ellery. + </p> + <p> + “I enjoyed your sermon to-night fust—rate,” he added solemnly. “Fust—rate, + sir—yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you, indeed? I'm glad.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. You used words in that sermon that I never heard afore in my + life. 'Twas grand.” + </p> + <p> + Lavinia confided to her pastor that Mr. Pratt made the best shoes in + Ostable County. He could fit ANY kind of feet, she declared, and the + minister ought to try him sometime. She added that he had money in the + bank. + </p> + <p> + The Reverend John rode home in the stage beside Miss Annabel, not from + choice, but because the young lady's father insisted upon it. Miss Daniels + gushed and enthused as she always did. As they drove by the Corners the + minister, who had been replying absently to Annabel's questions, suddenly + stopped short in the middle of a sentence. His companion, leaning forward + to look out of the window, saw Grace Van Horne entering the store. For an + instant Annabel's face wore a very unpleasant expression. Then she smiled + and said, in her sweetest manner: + </p> + <p> + “Why, there's the tavern girl! I haven't seen her for sometime. How old + she looks! I suppose her uncle's death has aged her. Well, she'll be + married soon, just as soon as Cap'n Nat gets back. They perfectly worship + each other, those two. They say she writes him the longest letters. Hannah + Poundberry told me. Hannah's a queer creature and common, but devoted to + the Hammonds, Mr. Ellery. However, you're not interested in Come-Outers, + are you? Ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + Ellery made some sort of an answer, but he could not have told what it + was. The sight of Grace had brought back all that he was trying so hard to + forget. Why couldn't one forget, when it was so painful—and so + useless—to remember? + </p> + <p> + Spring once more; then summer. And now people were again speaking of + Captain Nat Hammond. His ship was overdue, long overdue. Even in those + days, when there were no cables and the telegraph was still something of a + novelty, word of his arrival should have reached Trumet months before + this. But it had not come, and did not. Before the summer was over, the + wise heads of the retired skippers were shaking dubiously. Something had + happened to the Sea Mist, something serious. + </p> + <p> + As the weeks and months went by without news of the missing vessel, this + belief became almost a certainty. At the Come-Outer chapel, where Ezekiel + Bassett now presided, prayers were offered for the son of their former + leader. These prayers were not as fervent as they might have been, for + Grace's nonattendance at meetings was causing much comment and a good deal + of resentment. She came occasionally, but not often. “I always said she + was stuck-up and thought she was too good for the rest of us,” remarked + “Sukey B.” spitefully. “'And, between you and me, pa says he thinks Nat + Hammond would be one to uphold her in it. He wa'n't a bit spirituous and + never experienced religion. If anything HAS happened to him, it's a + punishment sent, that's what pa thinks.” + </p> + <p> + Those were gloomy days at the parsonage. Keziah said little concerning the + topic of which all the village was talking, and John Ellery forebore to + mention it. The housekeeper was as faithful as ever in the performance of + her household duties, but her smile had gone and she was worn and anxious. + The minister longed to express his sympathy, but Keziah had not mentioned + Nat's name for months, not since he, Ellery, gave her the message + intrusted to him by the captain before sailing. He would have liked to ask + about Grace, for he knew Mrs. Coffin visited the Hammond home + occasionally, but this, too, he hesitated to do. He heard from others that + the girl was bearing the suspense bravely, that she refused to give up + hope, and was winning the respect of all the thinking class in Trumet by + her courage and patience. Even the most bigoted of the Regulars, Captain + Daniels and his daughter excepted of course, had come to speak highly of + her. “She's a spunky girl,” declared Captain Zeb, with emphasis. “There's + nothing of the milk-sop and cry-baby about her. She's fit to be a sailor's + wife, and I only hope Nat's alive to come back and marry her. He was a + durn good feller, too—savin' your presence, Mr. Ellery—and if + he was forty times a Come-Outer I'd say the same thing. I'm 'fraid he's + gone, though, poor chap. As good a seaman as he was would have fetched + port afore this if he was atop of water. As for Gracie, she's a brick, and + a lady, every inch of her. My old girl went down t'other day to call on + her and that's the fust Come-Outer she's been to see sence there was any. + Why don't you go see her, too, Mr. Ellery? 'Twould be a welcome change + from Zeke Bassett and his tribe. Go ahead! it would be the Almighty's own + work and the society'd stand back of you, all them that's wuth + considerin', anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + This was surprising advice from a member of the Regular and was indicative + of the changed feeling in the community, but the minister, of course, + could not take it. He had plunged headlong into his church work, hoping + that it and time would dull the pain of his terrible shock and + disappointment. It had been dulled somewhat, but it was still there, and + every mention of her name revived it. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon Keziah came into his study, where he was laboring with his + next Sunday sermon, and sat down in the rocking-chair. She had been out + and still wore her bonnet and shawl. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she said, “I ask your pardon for disturbin' you. I know you're + busy.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery laid down his pen. “Never too busy to talk with you, Aunt Keziah,” + he observed. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to ask if you knew Mrs. Prince was sick?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Is she? I'm awfully sorry. Nothing serious, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I guess not. Only she's got a cold and is kind of under the weather. + I thought p'r'aps you'd like to run up and see her. She thinks the world + and all of you, 'cause you was so good when she was distressed about her + son. Poor old thing! she's had a hard time of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go. I ought to go, of course. I'm glad you reminded me of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I told her you hadn't meant to neglect her, but you'd been busy + fussin' with the fair and the like of that.” + </p> + <p> + “That was all. I'll go right away. Have you been there to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I just heard that she was ailin' from Didama Rogers. Didama said she + was all but dyin', so I knew she prob'ly had a little cold, or somethin'. + If she was really very bad, Di would have had her buried by this time, + so's to be sure her news was ahead of anybody else's. I ain't been up + there, but I met her t'other mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Didama?” + </p> + <p> + “No; Mrs. Prince. She'd come down to see Grace.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The old lady's been awful kind and sympathizin' since—since + this new trouble. It reminds her of the loss of her own boy, I presume + likely, and so she feels for Grace. John, what do they say around town + about—about HIM?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Hammond?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + The minister hesitated. Keziah did not wait for him to answer. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” she said slowly. “Do they all feel that way?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, if you mean that they've all given up hope, I should hardly say + that. Captain Mayo and Captain Daniels were speaking of it in my hearing + the other day and they agreed that there was still a chance.” + </p> + <p> + “A pretty slim one, though, they cal'lated, didn't they?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they were—were doubtful, of course. There was the possibility + that he had been wrecked somewhere and hadn't been picked up. They cited + several such cases. The South Pacific is full of islands where vessels + seldom touch, and he and his crew may be on one of these.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. They might, but I'm afraid not. Ah, hum!” + </p> + <p> + She rose and was turning away. Ellery rose also and laid his hand on her + arm. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Keziah,” he said, “I'm very sorry. I respected Captain Hammond, in + spite of—of—in spite of everything. I've tried to realize that + he was not to blame. He was a good man and I haven't forgotten that he + saved my life that morning on the flats. And I'm so sorry for YOU.” + </p> + <p> + She did not look at him. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she answered, with a sigh, “sometimes I think you'd better get + another housekeeper.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Are you going to leave me? YOU?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, 'twouldn't be because I wanted to. But it seems almost as if there + was a kind of fate hangin' over me and that,” she smiled faintly, “as if + 'twas sort of catchin', as you might say. Everybody I ever cared for has + had somethin' happen to 'em. My brother died; my—the man I married + went to the dogs; then you and Grace had to be miserable and I had to help + make you so; I sent Nat away and he blamed me and—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. He didn't blame you. He sent you word that he didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he did, all the same. He must have. I should if I'd been in his + place. And now he's dead, and won't ever understand—on this earth, + anyhow. I guess I'd better clear out and leave you afore I spoil your + life.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Keziah, you're my anchor to windward, as they say down here. If I + lost you, goodness knows where I should drift. Don't you ever talk of + leaving me again.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, John. I'm glad you want me to stay. I won't leave yet awhile; + never—unless I have to.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should you ever have to?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know. Yes, I do know, too. John, I had another letter + t'other day.” + </p> + <p> + “You did? From—from that man?” + </p> + <p> + “Yup, from—” For a moment it seemed as if she were about to + pronounce her husband's name, something she had never done in his + presence; but if she thought of it, she changed her mind. + </p> + <p> + “From him,” she said. “He wanted money, of course; he always does. But + that wa'n't the worst. The letter was from England, and in it he wrote + that he was gettin' sick of knockin' around and guessed he'd be for comin' + to the States pretty soon and huntin' me up. Said what was the use of + havin' an able-bodied wife if she couldn't give her husband a home.” + </p> + <p> + “The scoundrel!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know what he is, maybe full as well as you do. That's why I spoke + of leavin' you. If that man comes to Trumet, I'll go, sure as death.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Aunt Keziah, you must free yourself from him. No power on earth + can compel you to longer support such a—” + </p> + <p> + “None on earth, no. But it's my punishment and I've got to put up with it. + I married him with my eyes wide open, done it to spite the—the + other, as much as anything, and I must bear the burden. But I tell you + this, John: if he comes here, to this town, where I've been respected and + considered a decent woman, if he comes here, I go—somewhere, + anywhere that'll be out of the sight of them that know me. And wherever I + go he shan't be with me. THAT I won't stand! I'd rather die, and I hope I + do. Don't talk to me any more now—don't! I can't stand it.” + </p> + <p> + She hurried out of the room. Later, as the minister passed through the + dining room on his way to the door, she spoke to him again. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she said, “I didn't say what I meant to when I broke in on you + just now. I meant to tell you about Grace. I knew you'd like to know and + wouldn't ask. She's bearin' up well, poor girl. She thought the world of + Nat, even though she might not have loved him in the way that—” + </p> + <p> + “What's that? What are you saying, Aunt Keziah?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean—well, I mean that he'd always been like an own brother to + her and she cared a lot for him.” + </p> + <p> + “But you said she didn't love him.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I? That was a slip of the tongue, maybe. But she bears it well and I + don't think she gives up hope. I try not to, for her sake, and I try not + to show her how I feel.” + </p> + <p> + She sewed vigorously for a few moments. Then she said: + </p> + <p> + “She's goin' away, Gracie is.” + </p> + <p> + “Going away?” + </p> + <p> + “Yup. She's goin' to stay with a relation of the Hammonds over in + Connecticut for a spell. I coaxed her into it. Stayin' here at home with + all this suspense and with Hannah Poundberry's tongue droppin' + lamentations like kernels out of a corn sheller, is enough to kill a + healthy batch of kittens with nine lives apiece. She didn't want to go; + felt that she must stay here and wait for news; but I told her we'd get + news to her as soon as it come, and she's goin'.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery took his hat from the peg and opened the door. His foot was on the + step when Keziah spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “She—it don't mean nothin', John, except that she ain't so + hard-hearted as maybe you might think—she's asked me about you 'most + every time I've been there. She told me to take good care of you.” + </p> + <p> + The door closed. Keziah put down her sewing and listened as the minister's + step sounded on the walk. She rose, went to the window and looked after + him. She was wondering if she had made a mistake in mentioning Grace's + name. She had meant to cheer him with the thought that he was not entirely + forgotten, that he was, at least, pitied; but perhaps it would have been + better to have remained silent. Her gaze shifted and she looked out over + the bay, blue and white in the sun and wind. When she was a girl the sea + had been kind to her, it had brought her father home safe, and those + homecomings were her pleasantest memories. But she now hated it. It was + cruel and cold and wicked. It had taken the man she loved and would have + loved till she died, even though he could never have been hers, and she + had given him to another; it had taken him, killed him cruelly, perhaps. + And now it might be bringing to her the one who was responsible for all + her sorrow, the one she could not think of without a shudder. She clung to + the window sash and prayed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Lord! Lord!” she pleaded, “don't put any more on me now. I couldn't stand + it! I couldn't!” + </p> + <p> + Ellery, too, was thinking deeply as he walked up the main road on his way + to Mrs. Prince's. Keziah's words were repeating themselves over and over + in his brain. She had asked about him. She had not forgotten him + altogether. And what did the housekeeper mean by saying that she had not + loved Captain Hammond in the way that—Not that it could make any + difference. Nothing could give him back his happiness. But what did it + mean? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Prince was very glad to see him. He found her in the big armchair + with the quilted back and the projecting “wings” at each side of her head. + She was wrapped in a “Rising Sun” quilt which was a patchwork glory of red + and crimson. A young girl, a neighbor, who was apparently acting in the + dual capacity of nurse and housekeeper, admitted him to the old lady's + presence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” she exclaimed delightedly. “Then you ain't forgot me + altogether. I'm awful glad to see you. You'll excuse me for not gettin' + up; my back's got more pains in it than there is bones, a good sight. Dr. + Parker says it's nothin' serious, and all I had to do was set still and + take his medicine. I told him that either the aches or the medicine made + settin' still serious enough, and when your only amusement is listenin' to + Emeline Berry—she's the girl that's takin' care of me—when + your only fun is listenin' to Emeline drop your best dishes in the kitchen + sink, it's pretty nigh tragic. There! there! don't mind an old woman, Mr. + Ellery. Set down and let's talk. It's a comfort to be able to say + somethin' besides 'Don't, Emeline!' and 'Be sure you pick up all the + pieces!'” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Prince's good spirits were of short duration. Her conversation soon + shifted to the loss of her son and she wept, using the corner of the quilt + to wipe away her tears. “Eddie” had been her idol and, as she said, it was + hard to believe what folks kept tellin' her, that it was God's will, and + therefore all for the best. + </p> + <p> + “That's so easy to say,” she sobbed. “Maybe it is best for the Lord, but + how about me? I needed him more than they did up there, or I think I did. + O Mr. Ellery, I don't mean to be irreverent, but WHY was it all for the + best?” + </p> + <p> + Questions like this are hard to answer. The young minister tried, but the + answers were unsatisfactory, even to him. + </p> + <p> + “And there's Nat Hammond,” continued Mrs. Prince. “A fine man—no + better anywhere, even though his father was a Come-Outer—just goin' + to be married and all, now they say he's drowned—why? Why was that + necessary?” + </p> + <p> + Ellery could not reply. The old lady did not wait for him to do so. The + mention of Captain Nat's name reminded her of other things. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Gracie!” she said. “It's turrible hard on her. I went down to see + her two or three times afore I was took with this backache. She's an awful + nice girl. And pretty as a pink, too. Don't you think so? Hey? don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I've been kind of expectin' she might get up to see me. Hannah + Poundberry told the Berrys that she said she was comin'. I don't care + about her bein' a Come-Outer. I ain't proud, Mr. Ellery. And there's + Come-Outers and COME-Outers. Proud! Lord 'a' mercy! what has an old woman, + next door to the poorhouse, got to be proud over? Yes, she told Hannah she + was comin', and the Berry folks thought it might be to-day. So I've been + watchin' for her. What! you ain't agoin', Mr. Ellery?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I must, Mrs. Prince.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't! Do stay a spell longer. Gracie might come and I'd like for you + to meet her. She needs sympathy and comfort an awful lot, and there's no + tellin', you might convert her to bein' a Reg'lar. Oh, yes, you might. + You've got the most persuadin' way, everybody says so. And you don't know + her very well, do you? Land sakes alive! talk about angels! I snum if she + ain't comin' up the road this blessed minute.” + </p> + <p> + John Ellery had risen. Now he seized his hat and moved hastily toward the + door. Mrs. Prince called to him to remain, but he would not. However, her + good-bys delayed him for a minute, and before he reached the yard gate + Grace was opening it. They were face to face for the first time since they + had parted in the grove, so many months before. + </p> + <p> + She was thinner and paler, he saw that. And dressed very quietly in black. + She looked at him, as he stood before her in the path, and her cheeks + flushed and her eyes fell. He stepped aside and raised his hat. + </p> + <p> + She bowed gravely and murmured a “Good afternoon.” Then she passed on up + the path toward the door. He watched her for an instant and then stepped + quickly after her. The black gown and the tired look in her eyes touched + him to the heart. He could not let her go without a word. + </p> + <p> + She turned at the sound of his step behind her. + </p> + <p> + “Er—Miss Van Horne,” he stammered, “I merely wanted to tell you how + deeply I—we all feel for you in your trouble. I—I—I am + so sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” she said simply, and after a moment's hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “I mean it sincerely. I—I did not know Captain Hammond very well, + but I respected and liked him the first time we met. I shall hope that—that—it + is not so serious as they fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” she said again. “We are all hoping.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I—I—” It was dreadfully hard to get words together. “I + have heard so much of the captain from—” + </p> + <p> + “From Aunt Keziah? Yes, she was Nat's warmest friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. Er—Mrs. Coffin tells me you are going away. I hope you may + hear good news and soon. I shall think of you—of him—I want + you to understand that I shall.” + </p> + <p> + The door opened and Emeline Berry appeared on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Come right in, Grace,” she called. “Mrs. Prince wants you to. She's + ahollerin' for you to hurry up.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” said the minister. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by. Thank you again. It was very kind of you to say this.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “I know; that was why it was so kind. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand and he took it. He knew that his was trembling, but + so, too, was hers. The hands fell apart. Grace entered the house and John + Ellery went out at the gate. + </p> + <p> + That night Keziah, in the sitting room, trying to read, but finding it + hard to keep her mind on the book, heard her parson pacing back and forth + over the straw-matted floor of his chamber. She looked at the clock; it + was nearly twelve. She shut the book and sighed. Her well-meant words of + consolation had been a mistake, after all. She should not have spoken + Grace Van Horne's name. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE + </h3> + <p> + “Hey, Mr. Ellery!” + </p> + <p> + It was Captain Zeb Mayo who was calling. The captain sat in his antique + chaise, drawn by the antique white horse, and was hailing the parsonage + through a speaking trumpet formed by holding both his big hands before his + mouth. The reins he had tucked between the edge of the dashboard and the + whip socket. If he had thrown them on the ground he would still have been + perfectly safe, with that horse. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ellery, ahoy!” roared Captain Zeb through his hands. + </p> + <p> + The window of Zoeth Peters's house, next door to the Regular church, was + thrown up and Mrs. Peters's head, bound with a blue-and-white handkerchief + in lieu of a sweeping cap, was thrust forth into the crisp March air. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Cap'n Mayo?” screamed Mrs. Peters. “Hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” repeated Captain Zeb, peering round the chaise curtain. “Who's + that?” + </p> + <p> + “It's me. Is somebody dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Who's me? Oh! No, Hettie, nobody's dead, though I'm likely to bust a + blood vessel if I keep on yellin' much longer. Is the parson to home?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, heavens alive! I say is—Ha, there you be, Mr. Ellery. Mornin', + Keziah.” + </p> + <p> + The minister and Mrs. Coffin, the former with a napkin in his hand, had + emerged from the side door of the parsonage and now came hurrying down to + the gate. + </p> + <p> + “Land of Goshen!” exclaimed the captain, “you don't mean to tell me you + ain't done breakfast yet, and it after seven o'clock. Why, we're thinkin' + about dinner up to our house.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah answered. “Yes,” she said, “I shouldn't wonder. Your wife tells me, + Zeb, that the only time you ain't thinkin' about dinner is when you think + of breakfast or supper. We ain't so hungry here that we get up to eat in + the middle of the night. What's the matter? Hettie Peters is hollerin' at + you; did you know it?” + </p> + <p> + “Did I know it? Tut! tut! tut! I'd known it if I was a mile away, 'less I + was paralyzed in my ears. Let her holler; 'twill do her good and keep her + in practice for Come-Outer meetin'. Why, Mr. Ellery, I tell you: Em'lous + Sparrow, the fish peddler, stepped up to our house a few minutes ago. He's + just come down from the shanties over on the shore by the light—where + the wreck was, you know—and he says there's a 'morphrodite brig + anchored three or four mile off and she's flyin' colors ha'f mast and + union down. They're gettin' a boat's crew together to go off to her and + see what's the row. I'm goin' to drive over and I thought maybe you'd like + to go along. I told the old lady—my wife, I mean—that I + thought of pickin' you up and she said 'twas a good idee. Said my likin' + to cruise with a parson in my old age was either a sign that I was hopeful + or fearful, she didn't know which; and either way it ought to be + encouraged. He, he, he! What do you say, Mr. Ellery? Want to go?” + </p> + <p> + The minister hesitated. “I'd like to,” he said. “I'd like to very much. + But I ought to work on my sermon this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah cut in here. “Cat's foot!” she sniffed. “Let your sermon go for + this once, do. If it ain't long enough as it is, you can begin again when + you've got to the end and preach it over again. Didama Rogers said, last + circle day, that she could set still and hear you preach right over n' + over. I'd give her a chance, 'specially if it did keep her still. Keepin' + Didama still is good Christian work, ain't it, Zeb?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Mayo slapped his knee. “He, he, he!” he chuckled. “Cal'late you're + right, Keziah.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I am. I believe it would be Christianity and I KNOW 'twould be + work. There! there! run in and get your coat and hat, Mr. Ellery. I'll + step across and ease Hettie's mind and—and lungs.” + </p> + <p> + She went across the road to impart the news of the vessel in distress to + the curious Mrs. Peters. A moment later the minister, having donned his + hat and coat, ran down the walk and climbed into the chaise beside Captain + Zeb. The white horse, stimulated into a creaky jog trot by repeated + slappings of the reins and roars to “Get under way!” and “Cast off!” moved + along the sandy lane. + </p> + <p> + During the drive the captain and his passenger discussed various topics of + local interest, among them Captain Nat Hammond and the manner in which he + might have lost his ship and his life. It was now taken for granted, in + Trumet and elsewhere, that Nat was dead and would never be heard from + again. The owners had given up, so Captain Zeb said, and went on to + enumerate the various accidents which might have happened—typhoons, + waterspouts, fires, and even attacks by Malay pirates—though, added + the captain, “Gen'rally speakin', I'd ruther not bet on any pirate gettin' + away with Nat Hammond's ship, if the skipper was alive and healthy. Then + there's mutiny and fevers and collisions, and land knows what all. And, + speakin' of trouble, what do you cal'late ails that craft we're goin' to + look at now?” + </p> + <p> + They found a group on the beach discussing that very question. A few + fishermen, one or two lobstermen and wreckers, and the lightkeeper were + gathered on the knoll by the lighthouse. They had a spyglass, and a + good-sized dory was ready for launching. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she, Noah?” asked Captain Zeb of the lightkeeper. “That her off + back of the spar buoy? Let me have a squint through that glass; my eyes + ain't what they used to be, when I could see a whale spout two miles + t'other side of the sky line and tell how many barrels of ile he'd try + out, fust look. Takes practice to keep your eyesight so's you can see + round a curve like that,” he added, winking at Ellery. + </p> + <p> + “She's a brigantine, Zeb,” observed the keeper, handing up the spyglass. + “And flyin' the British colors. Look's if she might be one of them salt + boats from Turk's Islands. But what she's doin' out there, anchored, with + canvas lowered and showin' distress signals in fair weather like this, is + more'n any of us can make out. She wa'n't there last evenin', though, and + she is there now.” + </p> + <p> + “She ain't the only funny thing along shore this mornin', nuther,” + announced Theophilus Black, one of the fishermen. “Charlie Burgess just + come down along and he says there's a ship's longboat hauled up on the + beach, 'bout a mile 'n a half t'other side the mouth of the herrin' crick + yonder. Oars in her and all. And she ain't no boat that b'longs round + here, is she, Charlie?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Thoph, she ain't,” was the reply. “Make anything out of her, cap'n?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Zeb, who had been inspecting the anchored vessel through the + spyglass, lowered the latter and seemed puzzled. “Not much,” he answered. + “Blessed if she don't look abandoned to me. Can't see a sign of life + aboard her.” + </p> + <p> + “We couldn't neither,” said Thoph. “We was just cal'latin' to go off to + her when Charlie come and told us about the longboat. I guess likely we + can go now; it's pretty nigh smooth as a pond. You'll take an oar, won't + you, Noah?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't leave the light very well. My wife went over to the village last + night. You and Charlie and Bill go. Want to go, too, Zeb?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'll stay here, I guess. The old lady made me promise to keep my feet + dry afore I left the house.” + </p> + <p> + “You want to go, Mr. Ellery? Lots of room.” + </p> + <p> + The minister was tempted. The sea always had a fascination for him and the + mystery of the strange ship was appealing. + </p> + <p> + “Sure I won't be in the way?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! 'course you won't,” said Burgess. “Come right along. You set in + the bow, if you don't mind gettin' sprinkled once in a while. I'll steer + and Thoph and Bill'll row. That'll be enough for one dory. If we need + more, we'll signal. Heave ahead.” + </p> + <p> + The surf, though low for that season of the year, looked dangerous to + Ellery, but his companions launched the dory with the ease which comes of + experience. Burgess took the steering oar and Thoph and “Bill,” the latter + a lobsterman from Wellmouth Neck, bent their broad backs for the long + pull. The statement concerning the pondlike smoothness of the sea was + something of an exaggeration. The dory climbed wave after wave, long and + green and oily, at the top of each she poised, tipped and slid down the + slope. The minister, curled up in the bow on a rather uncomfortable + cushion of anchor and roding, caught glimpses of the receding shore over + the crests behind. One minute he looked down into the face of Burgess, + holding the steering oar in place, the next the stern was high above him + and he felt that he was reclining on the back of his neck. But always the + shoulders of the rowers moved steadily in the short, deep strokes of the + rough water oarsman, and the beach, with the white light and red-roofed + house of the keeper, the group beside it, and Captain Zeb's horse and + chaise, grew smaller and less distinct. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” grunted Charlie. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” asked Thoph. + </p> + <p> + The steersman, who was staring hard in the direction they were going, + scowled. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” he grunted again. “I swan to man, fellers, I believe she IS + abandoned!” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish!” panted Bill, twisting his neck to look over his shoulder. + “'Course she ain't! Who'd abandon a craft such weather's this, and + Province-town harbor only three hours' run or so?” + </p> + <p> + “When it comes to that,” commented Burgess, “why should they anchor off + here, 'stead of takin' her in by the inlet? If there's anybody aboard they + ain't showed themselves yet. She might have been leakin', but she don't + look it. Sets up out of water pretty well. Well, we'll know in a few + minutes. Hit her up, boys!” + </p> + <p> + The rowers “hit her up” and the dory moved faster. Then Burgess, putting + his hand to his mouth, hailed. + </p> + <p> + “Ship ahoy!” he roared. “Ahoy!” + </p> + <p> + No reply. + </p> + <p> + “Ahoy the brig!” bellowed Burgess. “What's the matter aboard there? All + hands asleep?” + </p> + <p> + Still no answer. Thoph and Bill pulled more slowly now. Burgess nodded to + them. + </p> + <p> + “Stand by!” he ordered. “Easy! Way enough! Let her run.” + </p> + <p> + The dory slackened speed, turned in obedience to the steering oar, and + slid under the forequarter of the anchored vessel. Ellery, looking up, saw + her name in battered gilt letters above his head—the San Jose. + </p> + <p> + “Stand by, Thoph!” shouted Charlie. “S'pose you can jump and grab her + forechains? Hold her steady, Bill. Now, Thoph! That's the time!” + </p> + <p> + Thoph had jumped, seized the chains, and was scrambling aboard. A moment + later he appeared at the rail amidships, a rope in his hand. The dory was + brought alongside and made fast; then one after the other the men in the + boat climbed to the brig's deck. + </p> + <p> + “Ahoy!” yelled Burgess. “All hands on deck! tumble up, you lubbers! Humph! + She is abandoned, sure and sartin.” + </p> + <p> + “Yup,” assented Bill. “Her boats are gone. See? Guess that explains the + longboat on the beach, Charlie.” + </p> + <p> + “Cal'late it does; but it don't explain why they left her. She ain't + leakin' none to speak of, that's sure. Rides's light's a feather. + Christmas! look at them decks; dirty hogs, whoever they was.” + </p> + <p> + The decks were dirty, and the sails, sloppily furled, were dirty likewise. + The brig, as she rolled and jerked at her anchor rope, was dirty—and + unkempt from stem to stern. To Ellery's mind she made a lonesome picture, + even under the clear, winter sky and bright sunshine. + </p> + <p> + Thoph led the way aft. The cabin companion door was open and they peered + down. + </p> + <p> + “Phew!” sniffed Burgess. “She ain't no cologne bottle, is she? Well, come + on below and let's see what'll we see.” + </p> + <p> + The cabin was a “mess,” as Bill expressed it. The floor was covered with + scattered heaps of riff-raff, oilskins, coats, empty bottles, and papers. + On the table a box stood, its hinged lid thrown back. + </p> + <p> + “Medicine chest,” said Burgess, examining it. “And rum bottles aplenty. + Somebody's been sick, I shouldn't wonder.” + </p> + <p> + The minister opened the door of one of the little staterooms. The light + which shone through the dirty and tightly closed “bull's-eye” window + showed a tumbled bunk, the blankets soiled and streaked. The smell was + stifling. + </p> + <p> + “Say, fellers,” whispered Thoph, “I don't like this much myself. I'm for + gettin' on deck where the air's better. Somethin's happened aboard this + craft, somethin' serious.” + </p> + <p> + Charlie and Bill nodded an emphatic affirmative. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn't we better look about a little more?” asked Ellery. “There's + another stateroom there.” + </p> + <p> + He opened the door of it as he spoke. It was, if possible, in a worse + condition than the first. And the odor was even more overpowering. + </p> + <p> + “Skipper's room,” observed Burgess, peeping in. “And that bunk ain't been + slept in for weeks. See the mildew on them clothes. Phew! I'm fair sick to + my stomach. Come out of this.” + </p> + <p> + On deck, in the sunlight, they held another consultation. + </p> + <p> + “Queerest business ever I see,” observed Charlie. “I never—” + </p> + <p> + “I see somethin' like it once,” interrupted Bill. “Down in the Gulf 'twas. + I was on the old Fishhawk. Eben Salters's dad from over to Bayport + skippered her. We picked up a West Injy schooner, derelict, abandoned same + as this one, but not anchored, of course. Yeller jack was the trouble + aboard her and—Where you bound, Thoph?” + </p> + <p> + “Goin' to take a squint at the fo'castle,” replied Theophilus, moving + forward. The minister followed him. + </p> + <p> + The fo'castle hatchway was black and grim. Ellery knelt and peered down. + Here there was practically no light at all and the air was fouler than + that in the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “See anything, Mr. Ellery?” asked Thoph, looking over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't see anything. But I thought—” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be listening. + </p> + <p> + “What did you think?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on! you ain't goin' down there, be you? I wouldn't. No tellin' what + you might find. Well, all right. I ain't curious. I'll stay up here and + you can report.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped over and leaned against the rail. Bill came across the deck and + joined him. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Charlie?” asked Thoph. + </p> + <p> + “Gone back to the cabin,” was the answer. “Thought likely he might find + some of her papers or somethin' to put us on the track. I told him to + heave ahead; I didn't want no part of it. Too much like that yeller-jack + schooner to suit me. What's become of the parson?” + </p> + <p> + Thoph pointed to the open hatch. + </p> + <p> + “Down yonder, explorin' the fo'castle,” he replied. “He can have the job, + for all me. Phew! Say, Bill, what IS this we've struck, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + Ellery descended the almost perpendicular ladder gingerly, holding on with + both hands. At its foot he stopped and tried to accustom his eyes to the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + A room perhaps ten feet long, so much he could make out. The floor strewn, + like that of the cabin, with heaps of clothing and odds and ends. More + shapes of clothes hanging up and swaying with the roll of the brig. A + little window high up at the end, black with dirt. And cavities, bunks in + rows, along the walls. A horrible hole. + </p> + <p> + He took a step toward the center of the room, bending his head to avoid + hitting the fo'castle lantern. Then in one of the bunks something stirred, + something alive. He started violently, controlled himself with an effort, + and stumbled toward the sound. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he whispered. “Who is it? Is anyone there?” + </p> + <p> + A groan answered him. Then a voice, weak and quavering, said: + </p> + <p> + “Gimme a drink! Gimme a drink! Can't none of you God-forsaken devils give + me a drink?” + </p> + <p> + He stooped over the bunk. A man was lying in it, crumpled into a dreadful + heap. He stooped lower, looked, and saw the man's face. + </p> + <p> + There was a shout from the deck, or, rather, a yell. Then more yells and + the sound of running feet. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ellery!” screamed Burgess, at the hatchway. “Mr. Ellery, for the + Almighty's sake, come up here! Come out of that this minute. Quick!” + </p> + <p> + The minister knew what was coming, was sure of it as he stepped to the + foot of the ladder, had known it the instant he saw that face. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ellery!” shrieked Burgess. “Mr. Ellery, are you there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm here,” answered the minister, slowly. He was fighting with all + his might to keep his nerves under control. His impulse was to leap up + those steps, rush across that deck, spring into the dory and row, anywhere + to get away from the horror of that forecastle. + </p> + <p> + “Come up!” called Burgess. “Hurry! It's the smallpox! The darned hooker's + rotten with it. For God sakes, come quick!” + </p> + <p> + He ran to the rail, yelling order to Bill and Thoph, who were frantically + busy with the dory. Ellery began to climb the ladder. His head emerged + into the clean, sweet air blowing across the deck. He drew a breath to the + very bottom of his lungs. + </p> + <p> + Then from behind and below him came the voice again. + </p> + <p> + “Gimme a drink!” it wailed. “Gimme a drink of water. Ain't one of you + cussed swabs got decency enough to fetch me a drink? I'm dyin' for a + drink, I tell you. I'm dyin'!” + </p> + <p> + The minister stood still, his feet on the ladder. The three men by the + rail were working like mad, their faces livid under the sunburn and their + hands trembling. They pushed each other about and swore. They were not + cowards, either. Ellery knew them well enough to know that. Burgess had, + that very winter, pulled a skiff through broken ice in the face of a + wicked no'theaster to rescue an old neighbor whose dory had been capsized + in the bay while he was hauling lobster pots. But now Burgess was as + scared as the rest. + </p> + <p> + Thoph and Bill sprang over the rail into the boat. Burgess turned and + beckoned to Ellery. + </p> + <p> + “Come on!” he called. “What are you waitin' for?” + </p> + <p> + The minister remained where he was. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure—” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Sure! Blast it all! I found the log. It ain't been kept for a fortni't, + but there's enough. It's smallpox, I tell you. Two men died of it three + weeks ago. The skipper died right afterwards. The mate—No wonder + them that was left run away as soon as they sighted land. Come on! Do you + want to die, too?” + </p> + <p> + From the poison pit at the foot of the ladder the man in the bunk called + once more. + </p> + <p> + “Water!” he screeched. “Water! Are you goin' to leave me, you d—n + cowards?” + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven sakes!” cried Burgess, clutching the rail, “what's that?” + </p> + <p> + Ellery answered him. “It's one of them,” he said, and his voice sounded + odd in his own ears. “It's one of the crew.” + </p> + <p> + “One of the—Down THERE? Has he—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he has.” + </p> + <p> + “Help! help!” screamed the voice shrilly. “Are you goin' to leave me to + die all alone? He-elp!” + </p> + <p> + The minister turned. “Hush!” he called, in answer to the voice, “hush! + I'll bring you water in a minute. Burgess,” he added, “you and the rest go + ashore. I shall stay.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll stay? You'll STAY? With THAT? You're crazy as a loon. Don't be a + fool, man! Come on! We'll send the doctor and somebody else—some one + that's had it, maybe, or ain't afraid. I am and I'm goin'. Don't be a + fool.” + </p> + <p> + Thoph, from the dory, shouted to know what was the matter. Ellery climbed + the ladder to the deck and walked over to the rail. As he approached, + Burgess fell back a few feet. + </p> + <p> + “Thoph,” said the minister, addressing the pair in the dory, “there is a + sick man down in the forecastle. He has been alone there for hours, I + suppose, certainly since his shipmates ran away. If he is left longer + without help, he will surely die. Some one must stay with him. You and the + rest row ashore and get the doctor and whoever else you can. I'll stay + here till they come.” + </p> + <p> + Thoph and his companions set up a storm of protest. It was foolish, it was + crazy, the man would die anyhow, and so on. They begged the minister to + come with them. But he was firm. + </p> + <p> + “Don't stop to argue,” he urged. “Hurry and get the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Charlie,” ordered Bill. “No use talkin' to him, he's set. Come + on! I won't stay alongside this craft another minute for nobody. If you be + comin', come.” + </p> + <p> + Burgess, still protesting, clambered over the rail. The dory swung clear + of the brig. The rowers settled themselves for the stroke. + </p> + <p> + “Better change your mind, Mr. Ellery,” pleaded Charlie. “I hate to leave + you this way. It seems mean, but I'm a married man with children, like the + rest of us here, and I can't take no risks. Better come, too. No? Well, + we'll send help quick as the Lord'll let us. By the Almighty!” he added, + in a sudden burst, “you've got more spunk than I have—yes, or + anybody I ever come across. I'll say that for you, if you are a parson. + Give way, fellers.” + </p> + <p> + The oars dipped, bent, and the dory moved off. The sound of the creaking + thole pins shot a chill through Ellery's veins. His knees shook, and + involuntarily a cry for them to come back rose to his lips. But he choked + it down and waved his hand in farewell. Then, not trusting himself to look + longer at the receding boat, he turned on his heel and walked toward the + forecastle. + </p> + <p> + The water butts stood amidships, not far from the open door of the galley. + Entering the latter he found an empty saucepan. This he filled from the + cask, and then, with it in his hand, turned toward the black hatchway. + Here was the greatest test of his courage. To descend that ladder, + approach that bunk, and touch the terrible creature in it, these were the + tasks he had set himself to do, but could he? + </p> + <p> + Vaccination in those days was by no means the universal custom that it now + is. And smallpox, even now, is a disease the name of which strikes panic + to a community. The minister had been vaccinated when he was a child, but + that was—so it seemed to him—a very long time ago. And that + forecastle was so saturated with the plague that to enter it meant almost + certain infection. He had stayed aboard the brig because the pitiful call + for help had made leaving a cowardly impossibility. Now, face to face, and + in cold blood, with the alternative, it seemed neither so cowardly or + impossible. The man would die anyhow, so Thoph had said; was there any + good reason why he should risk dying, too, and dying in that way? + </p> + <p> + He thought of a great many things and of many people as he stood by the + hatchway, waiting; among others, he thought of his housekeeper, Keziah + Coffin. And, somehow, the thought of her, of her pluck, and her + self-sacrifice, were the very inspirations he needed. “It's the duty + that's been laid on me,” Keziah had said, “and it's a hard one, but I + don't run away from it.” He began to descend the ladder. + </p> + <p> + The sick man was raving in delirium when he reached him, but the sound of + the water lapping the sides of the saucepan brought him to himself. He + seized Ellery by the arm and drank and drank. When at last he desisted, + the pan was half empty. + </p> + <p> + The minister laid him gently back in the bunk and stepped to the foot of + the ladder for breath. This made him think of the necessity for air in the + place and he remembered the little window. It was tightly closed and + rusted fast. He went up to the deck, found a marlin spike, and, returning, + broke the glass. A sharp, cold draught swept through the forecastle, + stirring the garments hanging on the nails. + </p> + <p> + An hour later, two dories bumped against the side of the San Jose. Men, + talking in low tones, climbed over the rail. Burgess was one of them; + ashamed of his panic, he had returned to assist the others in bringing the + brigantine into a safer anchorage by the inlet. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Parker, very grave but businesslike, reached the deck among the first. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ellery,” he shouted, “where are you?” + </p> + <p> + The minister's head and shoulders appeared at the forecastle companion. + “Here I am, doctor,” he said. “Will you come down?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor made no answer in words, but he hurried briskly across the + deck. One man, Ebenezer Capen, an old fisherman and ex-whaler from East + Trumet, started to follow him, but he was the only one. The others waited, + with scared faces, by the rail. + </p> + <p> + “Get her under way and inshore as soon as you can,” ordered Dr. Parker. + “Ebenezer, you can help. If I need you below, I'll call.” + </p> + <p> + The minister backed down the ladder and the doctor followed him. Parker + bent over the bunk for a few moments in silence. + </p> + <p> + “He's pretty bad,” he muttered. “Mighty little chance. Heavens, what a + den! Who broke that window?” + </p> + <p> + “I did,” replied Ellery. “The air down here was dreadful.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor nodded approvingly. “I guess so,” he said. “It's bad enough + now. We've got to get this poor fellow out of here as soon as we can or + he'll die before to-morrow. Mr. Ellery,” he added sharply, “what made you + do this? Don't you realize the risk you've run?” + </p> + <p> + “Some one had to do it. You are running the same risk.” + </p> + <p> + “Not just the same, and, besides, it's my business. Why didn't you let + some one else, some one we could spare—Humph! Confound it, man! + didn't you know any better? Weren't you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + His tone rasped Ellery's shaken nerves. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I was,” he snapped irritably. “I'm not an idiot.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Well, all right; I beg your pardon. But you oughtn't to have done + it. Now you'll have to be quarantined. And who in thunder I can get to + stay with me in this case is more than I know. Just say smallpox to this + town and it goes to pieces like a smashed egg. Old Eb Capen will help, for + he's had it, but it needs more than one.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going to take—him?” pointing to the moaning occupant + of the bunk. + </p> + <p> + “To one of the empty fish shanties on the beach. There are beds there, + such as they are, and the place is secluded. We can burn it down when the + fuss is over.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why can't I stay? I shall have to be quarantined, I know that. Let + me be the other nurse. Why should anyone else run the risk? I HAVE run it. + I'll stay.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Parker looked at him. “Well!” he exclaimed. “Well! I must say, young + man, that you've got—Humph! All right, Mr. Ellery; I'm much + obliged.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED + </h3> + <p> + Before sunset that afternoon the San Jose was anchored behind the point by + the inlet. The fishing boats changed moorings and moved farther up, for + not a single one of their owners would trust himself within a hundred + yards of the stricken brigantine. As soon as the anchors were dropped, the + volunteer crew was over side and away, each of its members to receive a + scolding from his family for taking such a risk and to have his garments + sulphur-smoked or buried. Charlie Burgess, whose wife was something of a + Tartar, observed ruefully that he “didn't take no comfort 'round home + nowadays; between the smell of brimstone and the jawin's 'twas the + hereafter ahead of time.” + </p> + <p> + The largest of the beach shanties, one which stood by itself a quarter of + a mile from the light, was hurriedly prepared for use as a pesthouse and + the sick sailor was carried there on an improvised stretcher. Dr. Parker + and Ellery lifted him from his berth and, assisted by old Ebenezer Capen, + got him up to the deck and lowered him into the dory. Ebenezer rowed the + trio to the beach and the rest of the journey was comparatively easy. + </p> + <p> + The shanty had three rooms, one of which was given up to the patient, one + used as a living room, and, in the third, Capen and the minister were to + sleep. Mattresses were procured, kind-hearted and sympathizing townspeople + donated cast-off tables and chairs, and the building was made as + comfortable as it could be, under the circumstances. Sign boards, warning + strangers to keep away, were erected, and in addition to them, the Trumet + selectmen ordered ropes stretched across the lane on both sides of the + shanty. But ropes and signs were superfluous. Trumet in general was in a + blue funk and had no desire to approach within a mile of the locality. + Even the driver of the grocery cart, when he left the day's supply of + provisions, pushed the packages under the ropes, yelled a hurried “Here + you be!” and, whipping up his horse, departed at a rattling gallop. + </p> + <p> + The village sat up nights to discuss the affair and every day brought a + new sensation. The survivors of the San Jose's crew, a wretched, + panic-stricken quartette of mulattos and Portuguese, were apprehended on + the outskirts of Denboro, the town below Trumet on the bay side, and were + promptly sequestered and fumigated, pending shipment to the hospital at + Boston. Their story was short but grewsome. The brigantine was not a Turks + Islands boat, but a coaster from Jamaica. She had sailed with a small + cargo for Savannah. Two days out and the smallpox made its appearance on + board. The sufferer, a negro foremast hand, died. Then another sailor was + seized and also died. The skipper, who was the owner, was the next victim, + and the vessel was in a state of demoralization which the mate, an + Englishman named Bradford, could not overcome. Then followed days and + nights of calm and terrible heat, of pestilence and all but mutiny. The + mate himself died. There was no one left who understood navigation. At + last came a southeast gale and the San Jose drove before it. Fair weather + found her abreast the Cape. The survivors ran her in after dark, anchored, + and reached shore in the longboat. The sick man whom they had left in the + forecastle was a new hand who had shipped at Kingston. His name was + Murphy, they believed. They had left him because he was sure to die, like + the others, and, besides, they knew some one would see the distress + signals and investigate. That was all, yes. Santa Maria! was it not + enough? + </p> + <p> + This tale was a delicious tidbit for Didama and the “daily advertisers,” + but, after all, it was a mere side dish compared to Mr. Ellery's + astonishing behavior. That he, the minister of the Regular church, should + risk his life, risk dying of the smallpox, to help a stranger and a common + sailor, was incomprehensible. Didama, at least, could not understand it, + and said so. “My soul and body!” she exclaimed, with uplifted hands. “I + wouldn't go nigh my own grandfather if he had the smallpox, let alone + settin' up with a strange critter that I didn't know from Adam's cat. And + a minister doin' it! He ought to consider the congregation, if he done + nothin' else. Ain't we more important than a common water rat that, even + when he's dyin', swears, so I hear tell, like a ship's poll parrot? I + never heard of such foolishness. It beats ME!” + </p> + <p> + It “beat” a good many who, like the Widow Rogers, could not understand + self-sacrifice. But there were more, and they the majority of Trumet's + intelligent people, who understood and appreciated. Dr. Parker, a man with + a reputation for dangerously liberal views concerning religious matters + and an infrequent attendant at church, was enthusiastic and prodigal of + praise. + </p> + <p> + “By George!” vowed the doctor. “That's MY kind of Christianity. That's the + kind of parson I can tie to. I'm for John Ellery after this, first, last, + and all the time. And if he don't get the smallpox and die, and if he does + live to preach in the Regular church, you'll see me in one of the front + pews every Sunday. That's what I think of him. Everybody else ran away and + I don't blame 'em much. But he stayed. Yes, sir, by George! he stayed. + 'Somebody had to do it,' says he. I take off my hat to that young fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Zeb Mayo went about cheering for his parson. Mrs. Mayo cooked + delicacies to be pushed under the ropes for the minister's consumption. + The parish committee, at a special session, voted an increase of salary + and ordered a weekly service of prayer for the safe delivery of their + young leader from danger. Even Captain Elkanah did not try to oppose the + general opinion; “although I cannot but feel,” he said, “that Mr. Ellery's + course was rash and that he should have considered us and our interest in + his welfare before—” + </p> + <p> + “Dum it all!” roared Captain Zeb, jumping to his feet and interrupting, + “he didn't consider himself, did he? and ain't he as important TO himself + as you, Elkanah Daniels, or anybody else in this meetin' house? Bah! don't + let's have no more talk like that or I'll say somethin' that won't be fit + to put in the minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Even at Come-Outers' meeting, when Ezekiel Bassett hinted at a “just + punishment fallin' on the head of the leader of the Pharisees,” Thoph + Black rose and defended Ellery. + </p> + <p> + Keziah Coffin was, perhaps, the one person most disturbed by her parson's + heroism. She would have gone to the shanty immediately had not Dr. Parker + prevented. Even as it was, she did go as far as the ropes, but there she + was warded off by Ebenezer until Ellery came running out and bade her come + no nearer. + </p> + <p> + “But you shan't stay here, Mr. Ellery,” vowed Keziah. “Or, if you do, I'll + stay, too. I ain't afraid of smallpox.” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” confessed the minister, “and I'm not going to let anyone I care + for expose themselves to it unnecessarily. If you try to come in here I + shall”—he smiled—“well, Capen and I will put you off the + premises by force. There!” + </p> + <p> + Keziah smiled, too, in spite of herself. “Maybe you'd have your hands + full,” she said. “O John, what in the world made you do this thing? It's + dreadful. I shan't sleep a wink, thinkin' of you. I just must come here + and help.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you mustn't. You can come as far as the—the dead line once in a + while, if Captain Mayo will drive you over, but that's all. I'm all right. + Don't worry about me. I'm feeling tiptop and I'm not going to be sick. Now + go home and make me some of that—some of those puddings of yours. We + can use them to advantage, can't we, Capen?” + </p> + <p> + “Bet yer!” replied Ebenezer with enthusiasm. Keziah, after more + expostulation, went back to the parsonage, where the puddings were made + and seasoned with tears and fervent prayers. She wrote to Grace and told + her the news of the San Jose, but she said nothing of the minister's part + in it. “Poor thing!” sighed Keziah, “she's bearin' enough already. Her + back ain't as strong as mine, maybe, and mine's most crackin'. Well, let + it crack for good and all; I don't know but that's the easiest way out.” + </p> + <p> + The sick sailor grew no better. Days and nights passed and he raved and + moaned or lay in a stupor. Ebenezer acted as day nurse while Ellery slept, + and, at night, the minister, being younger, went on watch. The doctor came + frequently, but said there was no hope. A question of time only, and a + short time, he said. + </p> + <p> + Capen occupied his mind with speculations concerning the patient. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, parson,” he said, “seem's if I'd seen the feller somewheres + afore. 'Course I never have, but when I used to go whalin' v'yages I + cruised from one end of creation to t'other, pretty nigh, and I MIGHT have + met him. However, his own folks wouldn't know him now, would they? so I + cal'late I'm just gettin' foolish in my old age. Said his name's Murphy, + them ha'f-breeds did, didn't they? I know better'n that.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” asked Ellery, idly listening. + </p> + <p> + “'Cause when he's floppin' round on the bed, out of his head, he sings out + all kinds of stuff. A good deal of it's plain cussin', but there's times + when he talks respectable and once I heard him say 'darn' and another time + 'I cal'late.' Now no Irishman says THAT. That's Yankee, that is.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he ought to know his own name.” + </p> + <p> + “Prob'ly he does—or used to—but 'most likely he don't want + nobody else to know it. That's why he said 'twas Murphy and, bein' as he + DID say it, I know 'tain't it. See my argument, don't you, Mr. Ellery?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I guess so.” + </p> + <p> + “Um—hm! Why, land sakes, names don't mean nothin' with seafarin' + men. I've seen the time when I had more names—Humph! Looks kind of + squally off to the east'ard, don't it?” + </p> + <p> + That night the sick man was much worse. His ravings were incessant. The + minister, sitting in his chair in the living room, by the cook stove, + could hear the steady stream of shouts, oaths, and muttered fragments of + dialogue with imaginary persons. Sympathy for the sufferer he felt, of + course, and yet he, as well as Dr. Parker and old Capen, had heard enough + to realize that the world would be none the worse for losing this + particular specimen of humanity. The fellow had undoubtedly lived a hard + life, among the roughest of companions afloat and ashore. Even Ebenezer, + who by his own confession, was far from being a saint, exclaimed + disgustedly at the close of a day's watching by the sick bed: “Phew! I + feel's if I'd been visiting state's prison. Let me set out doors a spell + and listen to the surf. It's clean, anyhow, and that critter's talk makes + me want to give my brains a bath.” + </p> + <p> + The wooden clock, loaned by Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife, ticked + steadily, although a half hour slow. Ellery, glancing at it to see if the + time had come for giving medicine, suddenly noticed how loud its ticking + sounded. Wondering at this, he was aware there was no other sound in the + house. He rose and looked in at the door of the adjoining room. The + patient had ceased to rave and was lying quiet on the bed. + </p> + <p> + The minister tiptoed over to look at him. And, as he did so, the man + opened his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Halloo!” he said faintly. “Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + Ellery, startled, made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” demanded the man again. Then, with an oath, he repeated the + question, adding: “What place is this? This ain't the fo'castle. Where am + I?” + </p> + <p> + “You're ashore. You've been sick. Don't try to move.” + </p> + <p> + “Sick? Humph! Sick? 'Course I been sick. Don't I know it? The d—n + cowards run off and left me; blast their eyes! I'll fix 'em for it one of + these days, you hear—” + </p> + <p> + “Sshh!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush up yourself. Where am I?” + </p> + <p> + “You're ashore. On Cape Cod. At Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + “Trumet! TRUMET!” + </p> + <p> + He was struggling to raise himself on his elbow. Ellery was obliged to use + force to hold him down. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush!” pleaded the minister, “you mustn't try to—” + </p> + <p> + “Trumet! I ain't. You're lyin'. Trumet! Good God! Who brought me here? Did + she—Is she—” + </p> + <p> + He struggled again. Then his strength and his reason left him + simultaneously and the delirium returned. He began to shout a name, a name + that caused Ellery to stand upright and step back from the bed, scarcely + believing his ears. + </p> + <p> + All the rest of that night the man on the bed raved and muttered, but of + people and places and happenings which he had not mentioned before. And + the minister, listening intently to every word, caught himself wondering + if he also was not losing his mind. + </p> + <p> + When the morning came, Ebenezer Capen was awakened by a shake to find John + Ellery standing over him. + </p> + <p> + “Capen,” whispered the minister, “Capen, get up. I must talk with you.” + </p> + <p> + Ebenezer was indignant. + </p> + <p> + “Judas priest!” he exclaimed; “why don't you scare a feller to death, + comin' and yankin' him out of bed by the back hair?” Then, being more wide + awake, he added: “What's the row? Worse, is he? He ain't—” + </p> + <p> + “No. But I've got to talk with you. You used to be a whaler, I know. Were + you acquainted in New Bedford?” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin. Was a time when I could have located every stick in it, pretty + nigh, by the smell, if you'd set me down side of 'em blindfold.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever know anyone named—” He finished the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Sure and sartin, I did. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you know him well?” + </p> + <p> + “Well's I wanted to. Pretty decent feller one time, but a fast goer, and + went downhill like a young one's sled, when he got started. His folks had + money, that was the trouble with him. Why, 'course I knew him! He married—” + </p> + <p> + “I know. Now, listen.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery went on talking rapidly and with great earnestness. Ebenezer + listened, at first silently, then breaking in with ejaculations and grunts + of astonishment. He sat up on the edge of the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish!” he cried at last, “why, 'tain't possible! The feller's dead as + Methusalem's grandmarm. I remember how it happened and—” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't true. That much I know. I KNOW, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + He went on to explain why he knew. Capen's astonishment grew. + </p> + <p> + “Judas priest!” he exclaimed again. “That would explain why I thought I'd + seen—There! heave ahead. I've got to see. But it's a mistake. I + don't believe it.” + </p> + <p> + The pair entered the sick room. The sailor lay in a stupor. His breathing + was rapid, but faint. Capen bent over him and gently moved the bandage on + his face. For a full minute he gazed steadily. Then he stood erect, drew a + big red hand across his forehead, and moved slowly back to the living + room. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked Ellery eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Ebenezer sat down in the rocker. “Judas priest!” he said for the third + time. “Don't talk to ME! When it comes my time they'll have to prove I'm + dead. I won't believe it till they do. Ju-das PRIEST!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you recognize him?” + </p> + <p> + The old man nodded solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “Yup,” he said, “it's him. Mr. Ellery, what are you goin' to do about it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I don't know. I must go somewhere by myself and think. I + don't know WHAT to do.” + </p> + <p> + The minister declined to wait for breakfast. He said he was not hungry. + Leaving Ebenezer to put on the coffeepot and take up his duties as day + nurse, Ellery walked off along the beach. The “dead line” prevented his + going very far, but he sat down in the lee of a high dune and thought + until his head ached. What should he do? What was best for him to do? + </p> + <p> + He heard the rattle of the doctor's chaise and the voices of Ebenezer and + Parker in conversation. He did not move, but remained where he was, + thinking, thinking. By and by he heard Capen calling his name. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ellery!” shouted Ebenezer. “Mr. Ellery, where be you?” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” replied the minister. + </p> + <p> + The old man came scrambling over the sand. He was panting and much + excited. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ellery!” he cried, “Mr. Ellery! it's settled for us—one part of + it, anyhow. He's slipped his cable.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” The minister sprang up. + </p> + <p> + “Yup. He must have died just a little while after you left and after I + gave him his medicine. I thought he looked kind of queer then. And when + the doctor came we went in together and he was dead. Yes, sir, dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead!” + </p> + <p> + “Um—hm. No doubt of it; it's for good this time. Mr. Ellery, what + shall we do? Shall I tell Dr. Parker?” + </p> + <p> + Ellery considered for a moment. “No,” he said slowly. “No, Capen, don't + tell anyone. I can't see why they need ever know that he hasn't been dead + for years, as they supposed. Promise me to keep it a secret. I'll tell—her—myself, + later on. Now promise me; I trust you.” + </p> + <p> + “Land sakes, yes! I'll promise, if you want me to. I'm a widower man, so + there'll be nobody to coax it out of me. I guess you're right, cal'late + you be. What folks don't know they can't lie about, can they? and that's + good for your business—meanin' nothin' disreverent. I'll promise, + Mr. Ellery; I'll swear to it. Now come on back to the shanty. The doctor + wants you.” + </p> + <p> + The next day the body of “Murphy,” foremast hand on the San Jose, was + buried in the corner of the Regular graveyard, near those who were drowned + in the wreck of that winter. There was no funeral, of course. The minister + said a prayer at the shanty, and that was all. Ebenezer drove the wagon + which was used as hearse for the occasion, and filled in the grave + himself. So great was the fear of the terrible smallpox that the sexton + would not perform even that service for its victim. + </p> + <p> + Capen remained at the shanty another week. Then, as the minister showed no + symptoms of having contracted the disease and insisted that he needed no + companion, Ebenezer departed to take up his fishing once more. The old man + was provided with a new suit of clothes, those he had worn being burned, + and having been, to his huge disgust, fumigated until, as he said, he + couldn't smell himself without thinking of a match box, went away. The + room which the dead sailor had occupied was emptied and sealed tight. The + San Jose was to stay at her anchorage a while longer. Then, when all + danger was past, she was to be towed to Boston and sold at auction for the + benefit of the heirs of her dead skipper and owner. + </p> + <p> + Ellery himself was most urgent in the decision that he should not go back + to the parsonage and his church just yet. Better to wait until he was + sure, he said, and Dr. Parker agreed. “I'd be willing to bet that you are + all right,” declared the latter, “but I know Trumet, and if I SHOULD let + you go and you did develop even the tail end of a case of varioloid—well, + 'twould be the everlasting climax for you and me in this county.” + </p> + <p> + Staying alone was not unpleasant, in a way. The “dead line” still + remained, of course, and callers did not attempt to pass it, but they came + more frequently and held lengthy conversations at a respectful distance. + Ellery did his own cooking, what little there was to do, but so many good + things were pushed under the ropes that he was in a fair way to develop + weight and indigestion. Captain Zeb Mayo drove down at least twice a week + and usually brought Mrs. Coffin with him. From them and from the doctor + the prisoner learned the village news. Once Captain Elkanah and Annabel + came, and the young lady's gushing praise of the minister's “heroism” made + its recipient almost sorry he had ever heard of the San Jose. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Parker told him of Grace Van Horne's return to the village. She had + come back, so the doctor said, the day before, and was to live at the + tavern for a while, at least. Yes, he guessed even she had given up hope + of Captain Nat now. + </p> + <p> + “And say,” went on Parker, “how are you feeling?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well, thank you,” replied the minister. “I seem to be rather tired + and good for nothing. More so than I was during the worst of it.” + </p> + <p> + “No wonder. A chap can't go through what you did and not feel some + reaction. I expected that. Don't get cold, that's all. But what I want to + know is whether you think I could leave you for a couple of days? The + Ostable County Medical Society meets at Hyannis to-morrow and I had + promised myself to take it in this year. But I don't want to leave you, if + you need me.” + </p> + <p> + Ellery insisted that he did not need anyone, was getting along finely, and + would not hear of his friend's missing the medical society's meeting. So + the physician went. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” he called as he drove off. “I guess your term is pretty nearly + over. I shall let you out of jail inside of four or five days, if you + behave yourself.” + </p> + <p> + This should have been cheering news, but, somehow, John Ellery did not + feel cheerful that afternoon. The tired feeling he had spoken of so + lightly was worse than he had described it, and he was despondent, for no + particular reason. That night he slept miserably and awoke with a chill to + find a cold, pouring rain beating against the windows of the shanty. + </p> + <p> + He could not eat and he could not keep warm, even with the cook-stove top + red hot and a blanket over his shoulders. By noon the chill had gone and + he was blazing with fever. Still the rain and the wind, and no visitors at + the ropes, not even the light-keeper. + </p> + <p> + He lay down on his bed and tried to sleep, but though he dozed a bit, woke + always with a start and either a chill or fever fit. His head began to + ache violently. And then, in the lonesomeness and misery, fear began to + take hold of him. + </p> + <p> + He remembered the symptoms the doctor had warned him against, headache, + fever, and all the rest. He felt his wrists and arms and began to imagine + that beneath the skin were the little bunches, like small shot, that were + the certain indications. Then he remembered how that other man had looked, + how he had died. Was he to look that way and die like that? And he was all + alone, they had left him alone. + </p> + <p> + Night came. The rain had ceased and stars were shining clear. Inside the + shanty the minister tossed on the bed, or staggered back and forth about + the two rooms. He wondered what the time might be; then he did not care. + He was alone. The smallpox had him in its grip. He was alone and he was + going to die. Why didn't some one come? Where was Mrs. Coffin? And Grace? + She was somewhere near him—Parker had said so—and he must see + her before he died. He called her name over and over again. + </p> + <p> + The wind felt cold on his forehead. He stumbled amidst the beach grass. + What was this thing across his path? A rope, apparently, but why should + there be ropes in that house? There had never been any before. He climbed + over it and it was a climb of hundreds of feet and the height made him + giddy. That was a house, another house, not the one he had been living in. + And there were lights all about. Perhaps one of them was the light at the + parsonage. And a big bell was booming. That was his church bell and he + would be late for the meeting. + </p> + <p> + Some one was speaking to him. He knew the voice. He had known it always + and would know it forever. It was the voice he wanted to hear. “Grace!” he + called. “Grace! I want you. Don't go! Don't go! Grace! oh, my dear! don't + go!” + </p> + <p> + Then the voice had gone. No, it had not gone. It was still there and he + heard it speaking to him, begging him to listen, pleading with him to go + somewhere, go back, back to something or other. And there was an arm about + his waist and some one was leading him, helping him. He broke down and + cried childishly and some one cried with him. + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning, just as day was breaking, a buggy, the horse which + drew it galloping, rocked and bumped down the lighthouse lane. Dr. Parker, + his brows drawn together and his lips set with anxiety, was driving. He + had been roused from sleep in the hotel at Hyannis by a boy with a + telegram. “Come quick,” it read. “Mr. Ellery sick.” The sender was Noah + Ellis, the lightkeeper. The doctor had hired a fast horse, ridden at top + speed to Bayport, gotten a fresh horse there and hurried on. He stopped at + his own house but a moment, merely to rouse his wife and ask her if there + was any fresh news. But she had not even heard of the minister's seizure. + </p> + <p> + “My soul, Will!” she cried, “you don't think it's the smallpox, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord knows! I'm afraid so,” groaned her husband. “WHAT made me leave him? + I ought to have known better. If that boy dies, I'll never draw another + easy breath.” + </p> + <p> + He rushed out, sprang into the buggy, and drove on. At the ropes, early as + it was, he found a small group waiting and gazing at the shanty. The + lightkeeper was there and two or three other men. They were talking + earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “How is he, Noah?” demanded the doctor, jumping to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, doc,” replied Ellis. “I ain't heard sence last night when I + telegraphed you.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't heard? What do you mean by that? Haven't you been with him?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o,” was the rather sheepish reply. “You see, I—I wanted to, but + my wife's awful scart I'll catch it and—” + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” Dr. Parker swore impatiently. “Who is with him then? You + haven't left him alone, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o,” Noah hesitated once more. “No-o, he ain't alone. She's there.” + </p> + <p> + “She? Who? Keziah Coffin?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't cal'late Keziah's heard it yet. We was waitin' for you 'fore we + said much to anybody. But she's there—the—the one that found + him. You see, he was out of his head and wanderin' up the lane 'most to + the main road and she'd been callin' on Keziah and when she come away from + the parsonage she heard him hollerin' and goin' on and—” + </p> + <p> + “Who did?” + </p> + <p> + “Why”—the lightkeeper glanced at his companions—“why, doc, + 'twas Grace Van Horne. And she fetched him back to the shanty and then + come and got me to telegraph you.” + </p> + <p> + “Grace Van Horne! Grace Van—Do you mean to say she is there with him + NOW?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She wouldn't leave him. She seemed 'most as crazy's he was. My wife + and me, we—” + </p> + <p> + But Parker did not wait to hear the rest. He ran at full speed to the door + of the shanty. Grace herself opened it. + </p> + <p> + “How is he?” demanded the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “I think he seems a little easier; at any rate, he's not delirious. He's + in there. Oh, I'm so thankful you've come.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the doctor?” called Ellery weakly from the next room. “Is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Parker, throwing off his coat and hat. “Coming, Mr. + Ellery.” + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, doctor, send her away. Don't let her stay. Make her go. + Make her GO! I've got the smallpox and if she stays she will die. Don't + you understand? she MUST go.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, John,” said Grace soothingly. “Hush, dear.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Parker stopped short and looked at her. She returned the look, but + without the slightest semblance of self-consciousness or embarrassment. + She did not realize that she had said anything unusual, which must sound + inexplicably strange to him. Her thoughts were centered in that adjoining + room and she wondered why he delayed. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she asked impatiently. “What is it? Why do you wait?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor did not answer. However, he waited no longer, but hurried in to + his new patient. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT + </h3> + <p> + The news was flying from house to house along the main road. Breakfasts + were interrupted as some neighbor rushed in to tell the story which + another neighbor had brought to him or her. Mr. Ellery was very sick and + it was feared he had the smallpox, that was what Mrs. Parker, the doctor's + wife, told those who lived near her. By the time the Corners heard of it + the tale had grown until the minister was said to be dying. And when it + reached Gaius Winslow's home at the upper end of the town he was reported + dead. This was denied, upon investigation, but soon another rumor grew and + spread; Grace Van Horne was with him, had taken him back to the shanty, + and insisted upon staying there until the doctor came. Facing that + dreadful disease and—It was wonderful—and queer. + </p> + <p> + At the Danielses' house the servant girl rushed into the dining room to + serve the toast and the story at one swoop. Captain Elkanah's dignity + deserted him for an instant and his egg spoon jingled to the floor. + Annabel's face turned a dull red. Her eyes flashed sparks. + </p> + <p> + “Pa!” she cried, “I—I—if you don't do something now I'll never—” + </p> + <p> + Her father shook his head warningly. “Debby,” he said to the maid, “you + needn't wait.” + </p> + <p> + Debby departed reluctantly. After the kitchen door had closed, Captain + Elkanah said: “My dear, we mustn't be too hasty in this matter. Remember, + Mr. Ellery is very sick. As for—for the Van Horne girl, we haven't + heard the whole truth yet. She may not be there at all, or it may be just + an accident—” + </p> + <p> + “Accident! Pa, you make me boil. Accident! Accidents like that don't + happen. If you let her stay there, or if—Oh, to think of it! And we + were calling him a hero and—and everything! Hero! he stayed there + just so she might—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush, child!” + </p> + <p> + “I shan't hush. Pa, are you going to let him disgrace himself with HER?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Probably there ain't any idea of his marrying her. If there is—” + </p> + <p> + “If there is you put him out of the church and out of this town. And as + for HER—O-oh! And we've been having him here at dinner and—and + I have—Oh, I shall die! I wish I WAS dead!” + </p> + <p> + Then followed hysterics and agony, greedily listened to by Debby, whose + ear was at the crack of the door. Captain Elkanah soothed and pleaded and + tried to pacify. It ended by his promising to investigate and, if + necessary, take steps 'immejitly.' + </p> + <p> + Lavinia Pepper sprung the mine on her brother. Kyan was horrified. He had + grown to be one of Ellery's most devoted worshipers. + </p> + <p> + “Smallpox!” he groaned. “The minister got the smallpox. Oh! that's + turrible.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't it?” observed his sister, also horrified, but rather relishing the + horror. “And if it hadn't been for Gracie Van Horne—” + </p> + <p> + “WHAT?” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with you? I say, if Gracie Van Horne hadn't happened to + meet him, wanderin' around, crazy as a coot, and toted him back—” + </p> + <p> + “Gracie—Van—Horne! Godfreys mighty! She—she met him? + Where? Down to Peters's grove, was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Peters's grove! No. What on earth made you think 'twas there? She'd been + visitin' Keziah Coffin at the parsonage, and when she come out on the main + road she heard him aravin' down the lane. Must have passed right by this + house and we never heard him. I never see such a dead man as you be when + you're asleep. You don't SOUND dead, I'll say that for you, but nothin' + wakes you up.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Laviny! you never woke up yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right, lay it onto me. I expected you would; it's just like you. + But why in time did you think Grace met the minister way down to Peters's + grove? That's the most loony notion ever I heard, even from you. What made + you think of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', nothin'. I guess I WAS loony, maybe. Dear! dear! dear! have you + heard how's he's gettin' on? Is he took bad?” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't heard nothin' yet, nobody has. But see here, 'Bish Pepper, you + act funny to me. I want to know more about that Peters's grove notion. WHY + did you say it?” + </p> + <p> + Kyan wriggled upon the rack and dodged and squirmed for the next twenty + minutes. He tried his best to keep the fateful secret, but he admitted too + much, or not enough, and his sister kept up the cross-examination. At the + end of the session she was still unsatisfied, but she was on the scent and + her brother knew it. He fled to the woodshed and there punctuated his + morning task of kindling chopping with groans and awful forebodings. + </p> + <p> + One of the very first to hear of the minister's illness was Keziah Coffin. + Mrs. Parker told her and Keziah started for the beach before the tale of + Grace's part in the night's happenings reached the village. She did not + wait for a conveyance, hardly waited to throw a shawl over her shoulders, + but began to cover the three miles on foot. She had walked nearly two + thirds of the distance when Captain Zeb Mayo overtook her and gave her a + seat in his chaise. + </p> + <p> + They said little during the drive, the shock and anxiety forbidding + conversation. At the ropes was the same group, larger now, and Dr. + Parker's horse was hitched to one of the posts. + </p> + <p> + “You can't go in, Mrs. Coffin,” said Thoph Black. “The doctor give us his + orders not to let nobody get by. I guess nobody wants to, but all the same—” + </p> + <p> + Keziah paid not the slightest attention to Mr. Black. She stooped beneath + his arm, under the rope and was on her way to the shanty before they + realized her intention. Captain Zeb roared a command for her to return, + but she kept on. No one followed, not even the captain. Mrs. Mayo had + strictly forbidden his passing the dead line. + </p> + <p> + Keziah opened the door and entered the little building. The living room + was empty, but at the sound of her step some one came from the room + adjoining. That some one was Grace. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Keziah!” she cried. “What did you come here for? Why did you?” + </p> + <p> + “Gracie!” exclaimed the housekeeper. “You?—YOU?” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Parker appeared, holding up a hand for silence. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” he cried. “He's quiet now and I think he will sleep. Don't talk + here. Go outside, if you must talk—and I suppose you must.” + </p> + <p> + Grace led the way. Fortunately, the door was on the side not visible from + the spot where Captain Zeb and the rest were standing. Keziah, bewildered + and amazed at the girl's presence, followed dumbly. + </p> + <p> + “Now, auntie,” whispered Grace, turning to her, “you want to know how he + is, of course. Well, I think he is better. The doctor thinks so, too. But + why did you come here?” + </p> + <p> + “Why did I come? I? Why, because my place was here. I belonged here. For + the love of mercy's sakes what are YOU doin' here? With HIM? And the + smallpox!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush. I can't help it. I don't care. I don't care for anything any more. + I'm glad I came. I'm glad I was the one to find him and help him. No + matter what happens—to me—I'm glad. I never was so glad + before. I love him, Aunt Keziah. I can say it to you, for you know it—you + must know it. I LOVE him and he needed me and I came. He was calling my + name when I found him. He might have died there, alone in the wet and + cold, and I saved him. Think what that means to me.” + </p> + <p> + The girl was in a sort of frenzy of excitement and hysterical exaltation. + All the night she had been calm and quiet, repressing her feelings, and + tending the man she loved. Now, with some one to whom she could confide, + she was calm no longer. Keziah answered her soothingly, questioning her + from time to time, until, at last, she learned the whole story. + </p> + <p> + The door opened softly and Dr. Parker came out. + </p> + <p> + “He's asleep,” he said. “And he's better, much better. And I'll tell you + something else, if you won't make too much noise about it—he hasn't + got the smallpox.” + </p> + <p> + The two women looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Fact,” he said, with an emphatic nod. “Not a symptom of it. I'd have bet + my best hat that he wasn't going to have it and I won't have to go + bareheaded yet awhile. He is pretty close to brain fever, though, but I + guess he'll dodge that this time, with care. On the whole, Keziah, I'm + glad you came. This young lady,” with a movement of the head toward Grace, + “has done her part. She really saved his life, if I'm not mistaken. Now, I + think she can go away and leave him to you and me. I'll pretty nearly + guarantee to have him up and out of this—this pesthole in a + fortnight.” + </p> + <p> + Here was joyful tidings, the better for being so unexpected. Keziah leaned + against the boards and drew a long breath. Grace said nothing, but, after + a moment, she went into the house. + </p> + <p> + “That's a good thing, too,” commented Parker, watching her as she went. “I + wanted to talk with you, Keziah Coffin, and right away. Now, then, there's + something up, something that I don't know about, and I rather guess you + do. Young women—even when they're her kind and that's as good a kind + as there is—don't risk smallpox for any young man they pick up + casually. They don't carry—I guess it was pretty nearly carrying—him + home and put him to bed and care for him and cry over him and call him + 'dear.' And he doesn't beg them to run away and let him die rather than to + stay there and risk dying, too. No, not to any great extent. Now, Keziah, + you and I are fairly good friends and we ought to know each other by this + time. I see a light—a little one. Now, then, if you turn up the + lamp, so that I can see the whole blaze, maybe I can help those two in + yonder.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah considered. “All right, doctor,” she said, when she reached a + decision, “all right; I'll tell you the whole thing, and you can see one + of the reasons why my hair is gettin' grayer. This thing has reached the + point now where there's no keepin' it quiet. Folk'll know—I s'pose + they know already—that she's been here with him. They'll suspect a + lot more and the truth is better than suspicion—that is, it can't be + worse than the suspicions that come natural to a good many minds in this + town. I am glad I can tell you, for I guess the time's come to step out in + broad daylight and h'ist our colors. Now, you listen. Here 'tis, from + beginnin' to end.” + </p> + <p> + She went on to tell all she knew of her parson's love story. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Parker listened. + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” he said thoughtfully, “I see. What made her change her mind so + suddenly? You say, or you gather from what Mr. Ellery told you, that she + had all but agreed to marry him. She cares for him, that's sure. Then, all + at once, she throws him over and accepts Nat. Of course her uncle's sudden + seizure was a shock and he wanted Nat to have her, but she isn't the kind + of girl to be easily swayed. Why did she do it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, doctor, that's kind of a puzzle to me. All I can think is that she + come to realize what it might mean to him, the minister, if he married a + Come-Outer. I think she done it for his sake, to save him, though what + made her realize it all at once I don't know. There's the part we ain't + heard.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you're right. Something happened between the time she left Ellery + and when you and I reached the tavern. But never mind that, that doesn't + count now. Let's look at things as they are this minute. She's here and + folks know it. As they do know it they'll begin to talk, and the more they + talk the farther from the truth they'll get—most of 'em. Nat, poor + chap, is dead, so her promise to him is canceled. Ellery will get well if + he isn't troubled, and her being with him will help more than anything + else. I can understand now why he broke down.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he ain't been himself since it happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, and the last few weeks of worry and night work have helped to + wreck his nerves. Well, as I see it, there's only one thing to do. If she + leaves him he'll go to pieces again, so she mustn't leave. And she can't + stay without an explanation. I say let's give the explanation; let's come + right out with the announcement that they're engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “Whew! that'll stir things up.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet! But let it stir. I like that parson of yours; he's a trump. And + I always liked her, although, generally speaking, I don't love + Come-Outers. And I like her more than ever now, when she risked what she + thought was smallpox to care for him. As I said, she saved his life, and + she ought to have him. She SHALL have him.” + </p> + <p> + “But she's a Come-Outer and—there's the church.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I know it. But he never was so popular as he is now. And she isn't + by any means a steady-going Come-Outer. Why, Zeke Bassett and the rest + have been finding fault with her and calling her a backslider. That'll + help. Then you trust me to whoop up her heroism and the fact that without + her he would have died. We can do it, Keziah. Come on! I've tackled a good + many jobs, but matchmaking isn't one of 'em. Here goes to tackle that.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah was delighted; here was work after her own heart. But she still + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor,” she said, “you've forgot one thing, that's Gracie herself. Would + she marry him now, knowing it may mean the loss of his ministry and all, + any more than she would at first? I don't believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “That's your part, Keziah. You've got to show her she MUST marry him or + he'll die; see? Call on me to back you up in any fairy yarn you spin. You + prove to her it's her duty to marry him. You'll have to stay, here and + help nurse, of course, and that's easy because his disease isn't + contagious. You convince her and I'll take care of the congregation. He'll + live to be minister here for the rest of his life, if he wants to, and + she'll be a minister's wife and sit in the front pew. I'll guarantee the + church if you'll guarantee the girl. Why, it's your duty! Come, now, what + do you say?” + </p> + <p> + Keziah's hesitation was at an end. Her face lit up. + </p> + <p> + “I say good!” she cried. “And I'll be thankful to you all the rest of my + life. But for the dear mercy sakes, don't say 'duty' to me again. Oh, + doctor, if you only knew what it means to me to be fightin' at last for + somethin' that ain't just duty, but what I really want! I do honestly + believe we can win. Glory, hallelujah! And now I want to give you a piece + of advice, your course for the first leg, as you might say: you see Cap'n + Zebedee Mayo.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Cap'n Zeb is the first man I mean to see.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Zeb listened with his mouth and eyes and ears open. Mrs. Mayo was + with him when the doctor called, and she, too, listened. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” exclaimed the captain, when the plea for support was ended. “Well, + by the flukes of Jonah's whale! Talk about surprises! Old lady, what do + you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I say go ahead, Zebedee. Go ahead! If Mr. Ellery wanted to marry + Jezebel's sister, and I knew he really wanted to, I'd—I do believe + I'd help him get her. And Grace Van Horne is a good girl. Go ahead.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” put in Parker, profiting by a hint of Mrs. Coffin's, “of + course Daniels will fight tooth and nail against us. He'll be for + discharging Ellery at once. And he really runs the parish committee.” + </p> + <p> + “He does, hey? Well, I cal'late he don't. Not if I'm on deck, he don't. + All right, doctor, I'm with you. He, he, he!” he chuckled. “Say, doc, do + you know I sort of love a good lively row. That's been the only trouble + with our society sence Mr. Ellery took command of it—there ain't + been any rows. He, he, he! Well, there'll be one now.” + </p> + <p> + There was, and it was lively enough to suit even Captain Zeb. Dr. Parker, + on his calls that day, was assailed with a multitude of questions + concerning Grace's presence at the shanty. He answered them cheerfully, + dilating upon the girl's bravery, her good sense, and the fact that she + had saved Mr. Ellery's life. Then he confided, as a strict secret, the + fact that the two were engaged. Before his hearers had recovered from the + shock of this explosion, he was justifying the engagement. Why shouldn't + they marry if they wanted to? It was a free country. The girl wasn't a + Come-Outer any longer, and, besides—and this carried weight in a + good many households—what a black eye the marriage would be for that + no-account crowd at the chapel. + </p> + <p> + Captain Zebedee, having shipped with the insurgents, worked for them from + sunrise to sunset and after. Zeb was something of a politician and knew + whom to “get at.” He sought his fellows on the parish committee and + labored with them. Mrs. Mayo and the doctor's wife championed the cause at + sewing circle. They were lively, those sewing meetings, and the fur flew. + Didama Rogers and Lavinia Pepper were everywhere and ready to agree with + whichever side seemed likely to win. Lavinia was so deeply interested that + she forgot to catechise Abishai further about his untimely reference to + Peters's grove. And Kyan, puzzled but thankful, kept silence. + </p> + <p> + It was by no means a one-sided struggle. Captain Elkanah, spurred on by + the furious Annabel, marshaled his forces and proclaimed that Ellery, + having disgraced the Regular Society, should no longer occupy its pulpit. + </p> + <p> + “If he does,” thundered Elkanah, “I shall never cross the threshold of + that church. And I've worshiped there for fifty years. Hum—ha! I + should like to know whose money has gone more liberal for that meeting + house than mine! But not another cent—no, sir! not one—if that + licentious young scamp continues to blaspheme there.” + </p> + <p> + He hinted concerning a good-sized contribution toward a parish house, + something the society needed. If Ellery was discharged, the contribution + would probably be made, not otherwise. And this was a point worth + considering. + </p> + <p> + Daniels also wrote to his influential friends of the National Regular + Society. But Captain Zebedee had forestalled him there and both letters + were laid on the table to await further developments. As for the + Come-Outers, they were wild with rage and Grace was formally read out of + their communion. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” shrieked Ezekiel Bassett, in prayer meeting, “what the sperrit + of the good and great man who used to lead us from this 'ere platform + would say if he was here now? Hey? what would he say?” + </p> + <p> + Josiah Badger upreared his lanky person. “I dreamed about Cap'n Eben + t'other n-nin-nun-night,” he stammered. “I see him just as—p-pup-pup-plain + as you hear me n-n-now. And he says to me, he says, Josiah,' he says, + 'I-I-I-I—'” + </p> + <p> + “Ki yi!” broke in Thoph Baker, from the shadow of the rear seat. Josiah + turned to berate Thoph, who, being in disgrace because of his defense of + Ellery, was reckless, and the communication from the dead leader of the + Come-Outers was lost in the squabble which followed. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Keziah, installed as head nurse at the shanty, was having her + troubles. The minister was getting better, slowly but surely getting + better. The danger of brain fever was at an end, but he was very weak and + must not be excited, so the doctor said. He knew nothing of the struggle + for and against him which was splitting Trumet in twain, and care was + taken that he should not know it. He was not allowed to talk, and, for the + most part, was quite contented to be silent, watching Grace as she moved + about the room. If he wondered why she was still with him, he said + nothing, and the thought of what his congregation might say did not vex + him in the least. She was there, he saw her every day, that was enough. + </p> + <p> + He had expressed a wish to talk with his housekeeper. “I've got something + to tell you, Aunt Keziah,” he said weakly. “Some news for you and—and—” + </p> + <p> + “Cat's foot!” snapped Keziah briskly, “don't start in tellin' me news now. + I've got my hands full as 'tis. News'll keep and you won't, if you talk + another minute.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is important.” + </p> + <p> + “So are you, though you may not think so. If you don't believe it ask + Grace.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” the minister sighed. “Well, perhaps I won't tell it now. I'd + rather wait until I feel stronger. You won t care, will you? It will be + hard to tell and I—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Care? No. If it's bad news I don't want to hear it, and if it's + good I can wait, I cal'late. You turn over and take a nap.” + </p> + <p> + She could manage him; it was with Grace that she had her struggle. John + was safe now; he would be himself again before very long, and the girl had + begun to think of his future and his reputation. She knew that gossip must + be busy in the village, and, much as she wished to remain by his side, she + decided that she should not do so. And then Keziah began to fulfill her + agreement with Dr. Parker. + </p> + <p> + First, and bluntly, she told the girl that her leaving now was useless. + The secret was out; it had been made public. Everyone knew she was in love + with John and he with her. Their engagement was considered an established + certainty. Grace was greatly agitated and very indignant. + </p> + <p> + “Who dared say so?” she demanded. “Who dared say we were engaged? It's not + true. It's a wicked lie and—Who is responsible, Aunt Keziah?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose likely I am, much as anybody, deary.” + </p> + <p> + “You? You, Aunt Keziah?” + </p> + <p> + “Yup; me. You are in love with him; at any rate, you said so. And you're + here with him, ain't you? If you two ain't engaged you ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Keziah, how can you speak so? Don't you realize—” + </p> + <p> + “Look here. Don't you want to marry him?” + </p> + <p> + “WANT to? Oh, please—How can you? I—” + </p> + <p> + “S-s-sh! There! there! I am a bull-headed old thing, for sure. But I'm + like the dog that chased the rat across the shelf where they kept the best + china, my intentions are good. Don't cry, deary. Let's get to the bottom + of this thing, as the man said when he tumbled into the well. When I first + knew that you and John were in love with each other, I felt dreadful. I + knew your uncle and I knew Trumet. If you had married then, or let people + know that you thought of it, 'twould have been the end, and ruin for John + and you. But things are diff'rent now, a good deal diff'rent. John is + worshiped pretty nigh, since his pluck with that smallpox man. He could go + into church and dance a jig in the pulpit and nobody—or precious + few, at least—would find fault. And you've stood by him. If it + wa'n't for you he wouldn't be here to-day, and people know that. Dr. + Parker and Captain Zebedee and Gaius Winslow and dozens more are fighting + for him and for you. And the doctor says they are going to win. Do you + want to spoil it all?” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Keziah, that night before uncle died I was upstairs in my room and I + heard uncle and Captain Elkanah Daniels talking.” + </p> + <p> + “Elkanah? Was he there at your house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Somehow or other—I don't know how—he had learned about—about + John and me. And he was furious. Aunt Keziah, I heard him say that unless + I broke off with John he would drive him from the ministry and from Trumet + and disgrace him forever. He said that if I really cared for him I would + not ruin his life. That brought me to myself. I realized how wicked I had + been and what I was doing. That was why I—I—” + </p> + <p> + “There! there! Tut! tut! tut! hum! Now I see. But, Gracie, you ain't goin' + to ruin his life. No, nor Elkanah ain't goin' to do it, either. He can't, + no matter how hard he tries. I've lived to see the day when there's a + bigger man in the Reg'lar church than Elkanah Daniels, and I thank the + good Lord for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I never should have come here. I know it. But he needed me. Aunt Keziah, + he was sick and dying almost, and I couldn't leave him. I came, and now he + will be ruined and disgraced.” + </p> + <p> + “He won't, I tell you; he won't. Listen to me. I ain't talkin' for my + health. Listen!” + </p> + <p> + She argued and pleaded and coaxed, and, at last, when she began to think + she had prevailed, Grace brought forward another objection. She had given + her word to her uncle. How could she break that promise made to a dying + man? She would feel like a traitor. + </p> + <p> + “Traitor to who?” demanded the housekeeper, losing patience. “Not to poor + Nat, for he's gone. And don't you suppose that he and Eben understand + things better now, where they are? Do you suppose that Nat wouldn't want + you to be happy? I know he would, for I knew him.” + </p> + <p> + It was still unsettled when the long talk was over, but Grace agreed not + to leave the minister at present. She would stay where she was until he + was himself again, at least. Keziah was satisfied with the preliminary + skirmish. She felt confident of winning the victory, and in the prospect + of happiness for others, she was almost happy herself. Yet each time the + mail was brought to the shanty she dreaded to look at it, and the sight of + a stranger made her shake with fear. Ansel Coffin had threatened to come + to Trumet. If he came, she had made up her mind what to do. + </p> + <p> + The parish committee was to meet. Captain Elkanah had announced his + intention of moving that John Ellery be expelled from the Regular church. + There was to be no compromise, no asking for a resignation; he must be + discharged, thrown out in disgrace. The county papers were full of the + squabble, but they merely reported the news and did not take sides. The + fight was too even for that. + </p> + <p> + Captain Zeb chuckled. “It's all right, Keziah,” he said. “We know what's + what and who's who. The Rev. Mr. Ellery can preach here for the next + hundred year, if he lives that long and wants to, and he can marry whoever + he darn pleases, besides. Elkanah's licked and he knows it. He ain't got + enough backers to man a lobster dory. Let him holler; noise don't scare + grown folks.” + </p> + <p> + One afternoon a few days before the date set for the meeting Elkanah and + two or three of his henchmen were on the piazza of the Daniels home, + discussing the situation. They were blue and downcast. Annabel was in the + sitting room, shedding tears of humiliation and jealous rage on the + haircloth sofa. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” observed her father, “there's one thing we can do. If the vote in + committee goes against us, I shall insist on the calling of a + congregational meeting. Hum—ha! Yes, I shall insist on that.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't be no good, cap'n,” sniffed Beriah Salters dolefully. “The biggest + part of the congregation's for Ellery, and you know it. They're as sot on + him as if he was the angel Gabriel. If you'd only told what you knew afore + this smallpox business, we'd have been able to give him and his Come-Outer + woman what b'longs to 'em. But not now.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Daniels shifted uneasily in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Hum—ha!” he barked, to cover confusion. “Hum—ha! It seemed to + me more—er—charitable to give the misguided young man another + chance, and I did it. But—What's that?” + </p> + <p> + Some one was talking excitedly on the sidewalk beyond the lilac bushes at + the border of the Daniels property. Voices answered. Didama Rogers darted + out of her yard and past the house in the direction of the sounds. Salters + rose and walked down to the gate. + </p> + <p> + “Hey!” he shouted. “Halloo! Ahoy there! You, Em'lous, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + Emulous Sparrow, the fish peddler, was seated in his cart, which was + surrounded by men and women, neighbors of the Danielses. There was a + perfect storm of questionings and ejaculations. Salters opened the gate + and joined the group. A moment later he came running back, up the walk + toward the piazza. + </p> + <p> + “Cap'n,” he shouted. “Cap'n Elkanah, here's news! What do you think? A + telegram's just come from Nat Hammond. He's safe and sound in New York, + and he'll be here day after to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + They could not believe it and rushed out to hear more. Emulous, glowing + with importance, affirmed that it was so. He had seen the telegram at the + store. It was for Grace Van Horne and they were just going to send a boy + over to the shanty with it. + </p> + <p> + “No details nor nothin',” he declared. “Just said 'Am all right. Arrived + to-day. Will be in Trumet Thursday.' And 'twas signed 'Nathaniel Hammond.' + There!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, by thunder!” exclaimed Salters. “If that don't beat all. I wonder + what's happened to him? Two year gone and give up for dead, and now—What + do you cal'late it means?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Elkanah seized him by the arm and led him out of the group. The + old man's face was alight with savage joy and his voice shook with + exultation. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you one thing it means,” he whispered. “It means the end of + Ellery, so far as his marrying her is concerned. She gave her word to + Hammond and she'll keep it. She's no liar, whatever else she is. He may be + minister of the Regular church, though I'LL never set under him, but he'll + never marry her, now.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH A RECEPTION IS CALLED OFF + </h3> + <p> + Far out on the Pacific coast there are two small islands, perhaps a + hundred miles distant from one another. The first of these is uninhabited. + On the other is a little colony of English-speaking people, half-breed + descendants of native women and the survivors of a crew from a British + vessel cast away there in the latter part of the eighteenth century. + </p> + <p> + On the first of these islands, the smaller one, the Sea Mist had been + wrecked. Driven out of her course by a typhoon, she staggered through day + after day and night after night of terrific wind and storm until, at last, + there was promise of fair weather. Captain Nat, nearly worn out from + anxiety, care, and the loss of sleep, had gone to his stateroom and the + first mate was in charge. It was three o'clock, the wind still blowing and + the darkness pitchy, when the forward lookout shrieked a warning, + “Breakers under the lee!” Almost the next instant the ship was on a coral + reef, full of water, and the seas breaking over her from stem to stern. + </p> + <p> + Morning came and showed a little patch of land, with palm trees and + tropical vegetation waving in the gusts and green in the sunshine. Captain + Nat ordered the boats to be lowered. Much as he hated the thought, he saw + that the Sea Mist had made her last voyage and must be abandoned. He went + to the cabin, collected papers and charts and prepared to leave. The + ship's money, over ten thousand dollars in gold belonging to the owner and + to be used in trade and speculation among the East Indies, he took with + him. Then the difficult and dangerous passage through the opening in the + reef was begun. + </p> + <p> + Only the captain's boat reached the shore. The mate's was caught by a huge + breaker, dashed against the reef and sunk. Captain Nat, his second mate + and five of his men were all that was left of the Sea Mist's company. And + on that island they remained for nearly two weeks. Provisions they had + brought ashore with them. Water they found by digging. Nat hid the gold at + night, burying it on the beach below high-water mark. + </p> + <p> + Then, having made sure of his location by consulting the chart, he + determined to attempt a voyage to the second island, where he knew the + English colony to be. Provisions were getting short, and to remain longer + where they were was to risk starvation and all its horrors. So, in the + longboat, which was provided with a sail, they started. Charts and papers + and the gold the skipper took with them. None of the crew knew of the + existence of the money; it was a secret which the captain kept to himself. + </p> + <p> + A hundred miles they sailed in the longboat and, at last, the second + island was sighted. They landed and found, to their consternation and + surprise, that it, too, was uninhabited. The former residents had grown + tired of their isolation and, a trading vessel having touched there, had + seized the opportunity to depart for Tahiti. Their houses were empty, + their cattle, sheep, goats, and fowl roamed wild in the woods, and the + fruit was rotting on the trees. In its way the little island was an + Eyeless Eden, flowing with milk and honey; but to Captain Nat, a + conscientious skipper with responsibilities to his owners, it was a prison + from which he determined to escape. Then, as if to make escape impossible, + a sudden gale came up and the longboat was smashed by the surf. + </p> + <p> + “I guess that settles it,” ruefully observed the second mate, “another + Cape Codder, from Hyannis. Cal'late we'll stay here for a spell now, hey, + Cap'n.” + </p> + <p> + “For a spell, yes,” replied Nat. “We'll stay here until we get another + craft to set sail in, and no longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Another craft? ANOTHER one? Where in time you goin' to get her?” + </p> + <p> + “Build her,” said Captain Nat cheerfully. Then, pointing to the row of + empty houses and the little deserted church, he added, “There's timber and + nails—yes, and cloth, such as 'tis. If I can't build a boat out of + them I'll agree to eat the whole settlement.” + </p> + <p> + He did not have to eat it, for the boat was built. It took them six months + to build her, and she was a curious-looking vessel when done, but, as the + skipper said, “She may not be a clipper, but she'll sail anywhere, if you + give her time enough.” He had been the guiding spirit of the whole + enterprise, planning it, laying the keel, burning buildings, to obtain + nails and iron, hewing trees for the largest beams, showing them how to + spin ropes from cocoa-nut fiber, improvising sails from the longboat's + canvas pieced out with blankets and odd bits of cloth from the abandoned + houses. Even a strip of carpet from the church floor went into the making + of those sails. + </p> + <p> + At last she was done, but Nat was not satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “I never commanded a ship where I couldn't h'ist Yankee colors,” he said, + “and, by the everlastin'! I won't now. We've got to have a flag.” + </p> + <p> + So, from an old pair of blue overalls, a white cotton shirt, and the red + hangings of the church pulpit, he made a flag and hoisted it to the truck + of his queer command. They provisioned her, gave her a liberal supply of + fresh water, and, one morning, she passed through the opening of the + lagoon out to the deep blue of the Pacific. And, hidden in her captain's + stateroom under the head of his bunk, was the ten thousand dollars in + gold. For Nat had sworn to himself, by “the everlasting” and other oaths, + to deliver that money to his New York owners safe and, necessary expenses + deducted of course, untouched. + </p> + <p> + For seven weeks the crazy nondescript slopped across the ocean. Fair winds + helped her and, at last, she entered the harbor of Nukahiva, over twelve + hundred miles away. And there—“Hammond's luck,” the sailors called + it—was a United States man-of-war lying at anchor, the first + American vessel to touch at that little French settlement for five years. + The boat they built was abandoned and the survivors of the Sea Mist were + taken on board the man-of-war and carried to Tahiti. + </p> + <p> + From Tahiti Captain Nat took passage on a French bark for Honolulu. Here, + after a month's wait, he found opportunity to leave for New York on an + American ship, the Stars and Stripes. And finally, after being away from + home for two years, he walked into the office of his New York owners, + deposited their gold on a table, and cheerfully observed, “Well, here I + am.” + </p> + <p> + That was the yarn which Trumet was to hear later on. It filled columns of + the city papers at the time, and those interested may read it, in all its + details, in a book written by an eminent author. The tale of a Cape Cod + sea captain, plucky and resourceful and adequate, as Yankee sea captains + were expected to be, and were, in those days. + </p> + <p> + But Trumet did not hear the yarn immediately. All that it heard and all + that it knew was contained in Captain Nat's brief telegram. “Arrived + to-day. Will be home Thursday.” That was all, but it was enough, for in + that dispatch was explosive sufficient to blow to atoms the doctor's plans + and Keziah's, the great scheme which was to bring happiness to John Ellery + and Grace Van Horne. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Parker heard it, while on his way to Mrs. Prince's, and, neglecting + that old lady for the once, he turned his horse and drove as fast as + possible to the shanty on the beach. Fast as he drove, Captain Zebedee + Mayo got there ahead of him. Captain Zeb was hitching his white and + ancient steed to the post as the doctor hove in sight. + </p> + <p> + “By mighty!” the captain exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, “I'm glad + enough you've come, doctor. I hated to go in there alone. You've heard, of + course.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, ain't it wonderful! I'm tickled all up one side and sorry all down + t'other. Nat's a true-blue feller, and I'm glad enough that he ain't shark + bait; but what about the minister and her? She's promised to Nat, you + know, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I know. Don't I know! I've been going over the affair and trying to see a + way out ever since I heard of the telegram. Tut! tut! I'm like you, mighty + glad Hammond is safe, but it would have spared complications if he had + stayed wherever he's been for a few months longer. We would have married + those two in there by that time.” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin we would. But he didn't stay. Are you goin' to tell Mr. Ellery?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. And I hope he hasn't been told. He's getting well fast + now, but he mustn't be worried, or back he'll go again. We must see Mrs. + Coffin. Keziah is our main hold. That woman has got more sense than all + the rest of us put together.” + </p> + <p> + But it was Grace, not Keziah, who opened the shanty door in answer to + their knock. She was pale and greeted them calmly, but it was evident that + her calmness was the result of sheer will power. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you come in, doctor?” she asked. “Good afternoon, Captain Mayo.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Parker entered the building, but Captain Zeb remained outside, + stammering that he cal'lated he'd better stay where he could keep an eye + on his horse. This was such a transparent excuse that it would have been + funny at any other time. No one smiled now, however. + </p> + <p> + “Is—is Mrs. Coffin—er—Keziah aboard?” the captain asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, she isn't. She went to the parsonage a few hours ago. Mr. Ellis + brought the mail and there was a letter in it for her. She said it was + important and that she must go home to see about some things. She'll be + back pretty soon, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor whispered her name then and she went inside, closing the door + after her. Captain Zebedee sat down on the step to ponder over the new and + apparently insurmountable difficulty which had arisen. As he said + afterwards, “The more I tried to get an observation, the thicker it got. + Blamed if I could see anything but fog, but I could hear—I could + hear Elkanah and his gang gigglin', ahead, astern and off both bows.” + </p> + <p> + Parker found his patient sleeping soundly and had not disturbed him. + Returning to the living room he spoke to Grace. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” he grunted, watching her from under his brows, “everything seems + to be all right in there. He hasn't been excited or anything like that?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “That's good. He mustn't be. You understand that? He mustn't be told + anything that will upset him. He's getting well fast and I want it to + continue.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! Er—have you heard—Has anyone been here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I have heard. The telegram came and I answered it.” + </p> + <p> + “You did? Well, it's a miracle and we're all thankful, of course. Did you—er—er—” + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, I must go home. I mustn't stay here any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “You know why not. I must be at home when he comes. You must get some one + to take my place. Aunt Keziah will stay, of course, and perhaps Mrs. + Higgins would come, or Hannah Poundberry. She—” + </p> + <p> + “Not if I know it. I'd as soon have a hay-cutter running in here as + Hannah's tongue. I could stop a hay-cutter when it got too noisy. Well, if + you must go, you must, I suppose. But stay through tomorrow, at any rate. + Nat won't get here until Thursday, and I may be able to find another nurse + by that time. And what I shall say to him,” motioning toward the other + room, “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Must you say anything? Just say that I have been called away for a few + days on—on some business. Don't tell him. Don't tell him the truth, + doctor, now. He is too weak and I am afraid—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped and turned away. The doctor watched her pityingly. + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up,” he said. “At any rate, this is only for a little while. When + the captain knows, if he's the man I take him for, he'll—” + </p> + <p> + She whirled like a flash. “You're not going to tell him?” she cried. “No, + no! You mustn't. You must promise me you won't. Promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Somebody'll tell him. Telling things is Trumet's specialty.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you must stop it. No one must tell him—no one except me. I + shall tell him, of course. He must hear it from me and not from anyone + else. He would think I was disloyal and ungrateful—and I am! I have + been! But I was—I COULDN'T help it. You know, doctor, you know—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I know. Well, I'll promise, but it will all come out right, you + see. You mustn't think I—we—have been interfering in your + affairs, Grace. But we've all come to think a whole lot of that parson of + ours and what he wanted we wanted him to have, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. Thank you very much for all your kindness, and for your promise.” + </p> + <p> + He would have liked to say much more, but he could not, under the + circumstances. He stammered a good-by and, with a question concerning Mrs. + Coffin's whereabouts, went out to join Captain Zeb. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” queried the latter anxiously. “How is it? What's up? What's the + next tack?” + </p> + <p> + “We'll go to the parsonage,” was the gloomy answer. “If anybody can see a + glimmer in this cussed muddle Keziah Coffin can.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah was on her knees in her room, beside a trunk, the same trunk she + had been packing the day of the minister's arrival in Trumet. She was + working frantically, sorting garments from a pile, rejecting some and + keeping others. She heard voices on the walk below and went down to admit + the callers. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Keziah?” asked Dr. Parker sharply, after a look at her + face. “You look as if you'd been through the war. Humph! I suppose you've + heard the news?” + </p> + <p> + Keziah brushed back the hair from her forehead. “Yes,” she answered + slowly. “I've heard it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's great news, and if it wasn't for—if things weren't as + they are, I'd be crowing hallelujahs this minute. Trumet has got a good + man safe and sound again, and the Lord knows it needs all of that kind it + can get.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But there's the other matter. I've been to see Grace. She didn't say + so, but it was easy enough to see; the man she promised to marry and + thought was dead, is alive. She's a girl of her word—she promised + him and she promised her dying uncle—and she'll marry him. And then + what will become of John Ellery? He'll go downhill so fast that a ship's + anchor wouldn't hold him. If he doesn't die I'll have to send him away + somewhere, and the Regular church will lose the minister we've fought so + hard for.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” concurred Zebedee, “and them blasted Danielses'll run the shebang + and the rest of us'll have to sing small, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “So we've come to you, Keziah,” went on the doctor. “Do you see any + salvation?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do.” + </p> + <p> + “You do? Where?” + </p> + <p> + “In Nat Hammond. If he knows Grace doesn't want to marry him, do you + suppose he'll hold her to her promise?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I'm not so sure. Men don't give up girls like that so easy. + I wouldn't—by George, I wouldn't! And she won't tell him the whole + truth, I'm afraid. She'll pretend to be glad—hang it! she IS glad—to + have him home again and—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course she's glad. Ain't we all glad and happy and thankful? We ought + to be. But”—she hesitated—“doctor, you leave this to me. So + far as John and Grace are concerned you needn't worry. I'll take it on + myself to see that they have each other, as the Almighty meant 'em to. + Leave it to me. Just leave it to me. I KNOW I can do it.” + </p> + <p> + She would not say more, nor tell on what grounds she based her optimism. + She would go back to the shanty that evening, she said, and stay until the + following afternoon. Grace would undoubtedly go to the old tavern to + prepare for the homecoming. Let Mrs. Higgins take her place as nurse. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to leave, myself,” she added, “for a little while; so + perhaps you'd better try to get somebody else to help the Higgins woman. + Don't ask me any questions, please don't, and be sure not to say a word to + anybody—most of all to Grace. Just do as I tell you and leave it to + me. And don't come and see me again until after—after he comes home. + Good-by, doctor. Good-by, Cap'n Zeb.” + </p> + <p> + She shook hands with each of them, a rather unusual proceeding as they + thought of it afterwards. Then they went away and left her. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” mused Parker, as they came out at the gate. “Humph! She seems + sure, doesn't she. And yet she doesn't act like herself. Did you notice + that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yup. I noticed it. But I expect Nat's droppin' out of the clouds shook + her up, same as it done the rest of us. Well, never mind. She's a bully + good, capable woman and what she says she'll do she gen'rally does. I'm + bettin' on her. By time! I feel better.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Elkanah Daniels and his friends were feeling better also, and they + were busy. Trumet had a new hero now. On Wednesday the Boston papers + printed excerpts from Captain Hammond's story, and these brief preliminary + accounts aroused the admiration of every citizen. It was proposed to give + him a reception. Elkanah was the moving spirit in the preparations. + Captain Nat, so they learned by telegraphing, would arrive on the noon + train Thursday. His was not to be a prosaic progress by stage all the way + from Sandwich. A special carriage, drawn by the Daniels span and escorted + by other vehicles, was to meet the coach at Bayport and bring him to + Trumet in triumphant procession. All this was to be a surprise, of course. + </p> + <p> + Wednesday afternoon the Daniels following was cheered by the tidings that + Grace Van Horne had left the beach and was at her old home, the Hammond + tavern. And Mrs. Poundberry reported her busy as a bee “gettin' things + ready.” This was encouraging and indicated that the minister had been + thrown over, as he deserved to be, and that Nat would find his fiancee + waiting and ready to fulfill her contract. “Reg'lar whirligig, that girl,” + sniffed Didama Rogers. “If she can't have one man she'll take the next, + and then switch back soon's the wind changes. However, most likely she + never was engaged to Mr. Ellery, anyhow. He's been out of his head and + might have said some fool things that let Dr. Parker and the rest b'lieve + he was in love with her. As for pickin' of him up and totin' him back to + the shanty that night, that wa'n't nothin' but common humanity. She + couldn't let him die in the middle of the lighthouse lane, could she?” + </p> + <p> + Thursday was a perfect day, and the reception committee was on hand and + waiting in front of the Bayport post office. The special carriage, the + span brushed and curried until their coats glistened in the sunshine, was + drawn up beside the platform. The horses had little flags fastened to + their bridles, and there were other and larger flags on each side of the + dashboard. Captain Daniels, imposing in his Sunday raiment, high-collared + coat, stock, silk hat and gold-headed cane, sat stiffly erect on the seat + in the rear. The other carriages were alongside, among them Captain + Zebedee Mayo's ancient chaise, the white horse sound asleep between the + shafts. Captain Zeb had not been invited to join the escort, but had + joined it without an invitation. + </p> + <p> + “I guess likely I'd better be on hand,” the captain confided to Dr. + Parker. “Maybe I can stop Elkanah from talkin' too much about—well, + about what we don't want him to talk about, and besides, I'm just as + anxious to give Nat a welcome home as the next feller. He's a brick and + we're all proud of him. By mighty! I'd like to have seen that craft he + built out of cocoanuts and churches—I would so.” + </p> + <p> + Kyan Pepper was there also, not yet fully recovered from the surprise + which Lavinia's gracious permission had given him. Abishai had been + leaning disconsolately over his front gate early that morning when Noah + Ellis, the lightkeeper, jogged down the lane. + </p> + <p> + “'Mornin', 'Bish,” hailed Noah, pulling up his horse. “What's the matter? + You look bluer'n a spiled mack'rel. What's the row? Breakfast disagree + with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Naw,” replied Kyan shortly. “Where you bound, all rigged up in your shore + duds?” + </p> + <p> + “Bound to Bayport, to see Nat Hammond land,” was the cheerful answer. “I + ain't had a day off I don't know when, and I thought I'd take one. Be + great doin's over there, they tell me. Elkanah's goin' to make a speech + and there's eighteen teams of folks goin'.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it. I wisht I was goin', too, but I never have no fun. Have to + stay to home and work and slave over them consarned tax papers. Sometimes + I wish there wa'n't no taxes.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I've wished that, myself, more'n once. Why don't you go, if you + want to? Climb right aboard here with me. Plenty of room.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? You mean that? By godfreys mighty! I'd like to.” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin, I mean it. Come ahead.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pepper sadly shook his head. “I guess likely I'd better not,” he + sighed. “Laviny might not like to have me leave her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, fiddlesticks! she won't mind. I'll take care of you. It's perfectly + safe. There ain't goin' to be no women around. Haw! haw! haw!” + </p> + <p> + He was still laughing at his own joke when through the slats of the closed + blinds shading the Pepper house parlor a shrill voice was heard speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead, 'Bishy dear,” called Lavinia. “Go ahead and go. A change of + air'll do you good.” + </p> + <p> + Kyan whirled and clutched at the gate. + </p> + <p> + “HEY?” he shouted in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Are you deef? Or is Mr. Ellis laughin' so hard that you can't hear? What + is it that's so funny, Mr. Ellis?” + </p> + <p> + The light-keeper shut off his laughter by a sudden and rather frightened + gulp. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothin', nothin', Miss Pepper. Nice day, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess so. I ain't had time to look at it yet. I have to work. I can't + let my wife do it for me, like some folks, and take 'days off.' What was + it you was laughin' at, Mr. Ellis?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', nothin' at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! They used to tell me there was only one kind of person who laughed + at nothin'. Well, 'Bish Pepper, what are you standin' there for? If you're + goin', come right into the house and change your clothes this minute.” + </p> + <p> + Kyan obeyed. Shortly he reappeared, clothed like a lily of the field, one + that had long since gone to seed. He clambered up beside Noah and they + drove off. + </p> + <p> + “Jerushy!” exclaimed the lightkeeper. “This is kind of unexpected, ain't + it? What's got into her to make her so accommodatin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Godfreys mighty!” was the dazed reply, “I don't know. This as fast as you + can drive? Hurry up, afore she changes her mind.” + </p> + <p> + So it happened that Mr. Pepper was in Bayport with the rest, awaiting the + stage which was bringing Trumet's latest celebrity from Sandwich. + </p> + <p> + “Here she comes!” shouted Ezra Simmons, the postmaster. “Right on time, + too.” + </p> + <p> + Sure enough! A cloud of dust in the distance, rising on the spring wind, + and the rattle of rapidly turning wheels. The reception committee prepared + for action. Captain Elkanah descended from the carriage and moved in + stately dignity to the front of the post-office platform. + </p> + <p> + “Hum—ha!” he barked, turning to his followers. “Be ready now. Give + him a good cheer, when I say the word. Let it be hearty—hearty, + yes.” + </p> + <p> + The stage, its four horses at a trot, swung up to the platform. + </p> + <p> + “Whoa!” roared the driver. + </p> + <p> + “Now!” ordered Elkanah. “One—two—Hurrah!” + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah!” shouted the committee, its uninvited guests and the accompanying + crowd of Bayport men and boys which had gathered to assist in the welcome. + “Hurrah!” + </p> + <p> + “Hooray!” yelled Kyan, a little behind, as usual. + </p> + <p> + A passenger or two peered from the coach window. The stage driver + ironically touched his cap. + </p> + <p> + “Thank ye,” he said. “Thank ye very much. I've been hopin' for this for a + long time, though I'd about given up expectin' it. I'm very much obliged. + Won't somebody please ask me to make a speech?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Elkanah frowned his disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “We are cheering Cap'n Nathaniel Hammond of Trumet,” he explained + haughtily. “We are here to meet him and escort him home.” + </p> + <p> + The driver sighed. “You don't say,” he said. “And I thought my merits had + been recognized at last. And 'twas all for Cap'n Hammond? Dear! dear!” + </p> + <p> + He winked at Simmons, who wanted to laugh, but did not dare. + </p> + <p> + “Come! come!” said Captain Elkanah. “Where is he? Where's Cap'n Hammond?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, I'll tell ye; I don't know where he is.” + </p> + <p> + “You DON'T? Isn't he with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he ain't. And he didn't come on the train, nuther. He WAS on it. The + conductor told me he see him and set along with him between stations as + fur as Cohasset Narrows. But after that he never see hide nor hair of him. + Oh, that's so! Here's the mail bag, Ezry.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Elkanah looked at the reception committee and it looked at him. + Here was a most disconcerting setback for all the plans. The committee, + after asking more, and fruitless questions, went into executive session. + </p> + <p> + Captain Zeb stepped beside the stage and put one foot on the wheel. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Thad,” he whispered, “is that all you know? Where did he go to?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't tell you, cap'n. The conductor says he see him afore they got to + Cohasset Narrows and not after. Naturally, we s'pose he got off there. + Pretty good joke on old Daniels, I call it. Serve him right, figgerin' to + take a passenger away from me. He, he!” + </p> + <p> + “But you do know more, now don't you? Tell a feller—come! I don't + like Elkanah any better'n you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” the driver's voice dropped still lower. “Well,” he whispered, “I + did hear this much, though don't you tell none of them: A chap I know was + on the train and he said he see Cap'n Nat get off the cars at the Cohasset + Narrows depot and there was a woman with him.” + </p> + <p> + “A woman? A WOMAN? What woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Blessed if I know! And he didn't nuther. So long! Git dap!” + </p> + <p> + The reception committee and its escort drove slowly back to Trumet. The + Daniels following was disgusted and disappointed. Captain Elkanah had + figured upon keeping Hammond under his own wing until he was safely + deposited at the old tavern. Grace was there and Elkanah meant that these + two should meet before any inkling of Ellery's story reached Nat's ears. + Incidentally, he could drop a few damaging hints concerning the minister's + character. To hurt Ellery all he could and prejudice Hammond against him—that + was the plan, and now it was frustrated. The captain had not put in an + appearance and no one knew where he was or when he would come home. + Obviously, there was nothing to do except give up the reception and await + further news from the missing man. + </p> + <p> + Some of those present wished to remain in Bayport until night. Another + train was due in Sandwich and, possibly, Nat might come on that. They + could telegraph and find out whether or not he did come, and if he did, + could send a carriage for him. But this suggestion was overruled. The + reception was off. + </p> + <p> + The homeward journey had some unpleasant incidents. Several Come-Outers + had driven over. Nat belonged to them, so they felt—he was the son + of their dead founder and leader—and they determined the Regulars + should not have him all to themselves. They had come to bid him welcome on + behalf of the worshipers at the chapel. Now they took advantage of the + general disappointment to make sarcastic and would-be-humorous remarks + loud enough for the majestic occupant of the decorated carriage to hear. + </p> + <p> + “Seems to me,” said Thoph Black, “that them flags ought to be ha'f mast. + That craft's in distress.” + </p> + <p> + “S-sh-h!” counciled his companion, another Come-Outer. “Don't be + irreverent. Look who's cruisin' under 'em. That's the King of Trumet. + Let's you and me go ahead and fire salutes, Thoph.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Elkanah wrathfully ordered the flags to be removed from the + horses' heads and from the dashboard. + </p> + <p> + As Noah Ellis and his passenger turned into the lighthouse lane another + vehicle turned out of it. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that?” queried Kyan. “Looked like one of the livery stable horses + to me.” + </p> + <p> + “'Twa'n't. 'Twas Thankful Payne's and that was her carriage, too. It's + gettin' so dark I couldn't see who was drivin' it, but 'twas a man, + anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + Kyan seemed to be pondering. “I wonder,” he said slowly, “I wonder if that + cousin of hers from Sandwich is here visitin'. That Caleb Pratt, seems to + me his name is.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', nothin'. I just wondered, that was all. That might explain why + she let me—” + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin'. Good night, Noah. I'm much obliged to you for takin' me over, + even if there wa'n't no reception.” + </p> + <p> + Trumet spent that evening wondering what had become of Nat Hammond. + Captain Zeb Mayo wondered most of all. Yet his wonderment was accompanied + by vague suspicions of the truth. And, at eleven o'clock, when the village + was in bed, a horse and buggy moved down the Turn-off and stopped before + the Hammond gate. A man alighted from the buggy and walked briskly up to + the side door. There he knocked and then whistled shrilly. + </p> + <p> + A window overhead was opened. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” asked a feminine voice. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be frightened, Gracie,” replied the man at the door. “It's me—Nat. + I've come home again.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH THE MINISTER RECEIVES A LETTER + </h3> + <p> + John Ellery was uneasy. Physically he was very much better, so much better + that he was permitted to sit up a while each day. But mentally he was + disturbed and excited, exactly the condition which the doctor said he must + not be in. Keziah and Grace had gone away and left him, and he could not + understand why. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Higgins, Ike's mother, was at the shanty and she did her best to + soothe and quiet him. She was a kind soul and capable, in her way, but she + could not answer his questions satisfactorily. + </p> + <p> + “Where are they?” he demanded. “Why did they go? Has anything happened? + When are they coming back?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell you just when, Mr. Ellery,” replied Mrs. Higgins. “Grace had + to go home for a—a day or so and Keziah had things to attend to at + the parsonage. Don't you fret yourself about them.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not fretting, but it does seem strange. I could understand why one + should go, perhaps, but not both. Didn't Gra—Miss Van Horne tell you + why she went?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, Mr. Ellery, don't let's worry about Gracie. She's a good girl + with lots of common sense and—” + </p> + <p> + “I know that. But that doesn't answer me. Why did she go?” + </p> + <p> + “Keziah hadn't been to the parsonage sence that day when you was fust took + sick, and I expect likely she felt that she'd ought to—” + </p> + <p> + “Please, Mrs. Higgins, tell me the truth. I'm not asking about Mrs. + Coffin. Didn't Miss Van Horne tell you her reason for leaving?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know the reason? You're keeping something from me. Did she say + when she would come back?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not exactly, but, of course—” + </p> + <p> + “I know you're keeping something from me. What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Happened? Land sakes! does anything ever happen in Trumet?” + </p> + <p> + “I think a good many things have happened lately. And the longer you keep + the truth from me the more I shall suspect.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ellery, you set still in that chair, or, when the doctor comes, he'll + put you to bed. I've got some cookin' to do and I can't set here gossipin' + no longer. You behave yourself and stop frettin'. I'm skipper here now—er—for + a while, anyhow—and you've got to take orders from me. There! now I + cal'late you're scared, ain't you?” + </p> + <p> + He did not seem greatly frightened, nor in awe of his new skipper. + Instead, he was evidently preparing to ask more questions. Mrs. Higgins + hurriedly fled to the living room and closed the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + The minister heard her rattling pans and dishes at a great rate. The noise + made him nervous and he wished she might be more quiet. He moved to the + chair nearest the window and looked out over the dunes and the wide + stretch of tumbling blue sea. The surf was rolling up the shore, the + mackerel gulls were swooping and dipping along the strand, the beach grass + was waving in the wind. A solitary fish boat was beating out past the spar + buoy. She was almost over the spot when the San Jose had first anchored. + </p> + <p> + The view was a familiar one. He had seen it in all weathers, during a + storm, at morning when the sun was rising, at evening when the moon came + up to tip the watery ridges with frosted silver. He had liked it, + tolerated it, hated it, and then, after she came, loved it. He had thought + it the most beautiful scene in all the world and one never to be + forgotten. The dingy old building, with its bare wooden walls, had been + first a horror, then a prison, and at last a palace of contentment. With + the two women, one a second mother to him, and the other dearest of all on + earth, he could have lived there forever. But now the old prison feeling + was coming back. He was tired of the view and of the mean little room. He + felt lonely and deserted and despairing. + </p> + <p> + His nerves were still weak and it was easy, in his childish condition, to + become despondent. He went over the whole situation and felt more and more + sure that his hopes had been false ones and that he had builded a fool's + paradise. After all, he remembered, she had given him no promise; she had + found him ill and delirious and had brought him there. She had been kind + and thoughtful and gracious, but that she would be to anyone, it was her + nature. And he had been content, weak as he was, to have her near him, + where he would see her and hear her speak. Her mere presence was so + wonderful that he had been satisfied with that and had not asked for more. + And now she had gone. Mrs. Higgins had said “for a day or two,” but that + was indefinite, and she had not said she would return when those two days + had passed. He was better now, almost well. Would she come back to him? + After all, conditions in the village had not changed. He was still pastor + of the Regular church and she was a Come-Outer. The man she had promised + to marry was dead—yes. But the other conditions were the same. And + Mrs. Higgins had refused to tell him the whole truth; he was certain of + that. She had run away when he questioned her. + </p> + <p> + He rose from the chair and started toward the living room. He would not be + put off again. He would be answered. His hand was on the latch of the door + when that door was opened. Dr. Parker came in. + </p> + <p> + The doctor was smiling broadly. His ruddy face was actually beaming. He + held out his hand, seized the minister's, and shook it. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Mr. Ellery,” he said. “It's a glorious day. Yes, sir, a + bully day. Hey? isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + Ellery's answer was a question. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor,” he said, “why have Mrs. Coffin and—and Miss Van Horne + gone? Has anything happened? I know something has, and you must tell me + what. Don't try to put me off or give me evasive answers. I want to know + why they have gone.” + </p> + <p> + Parker looked at him keenly. “Humph!” he grunted. “I'll have to get into + Mrs. Higgins's wig. I told her not to let you worry, and you have worried. + You're all of a shake.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind that. I asked you a question.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you did. Now, Mr. Ellery, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you + were a sensible man who would take care of his health, now that he'd got + the most of it back again. I've got news for you—good news—but + I'm not sure that I shall tell it to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Good news! Dr. Parker, if you've got news for me that is good, for + Heaven's sake tell it. I've been imagining everything bad that could + possibly happen. Tell me, quick. My health can stand that.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es, yes, I guess it can. They say joy doesn't kill, and that's one of + the few medical proverbs made by unmedical men that are true. You come + with me and sit down in that chair. Yes, you will. Sit down.” + </p> + <p> + He led his patient back to the chair by the window and forced him into it. + </p> + <p> + “There!” he said. “Now, Mr. Ellery, if you think you are a man, a sensible + man, who won't go to pieces like a ten-year-old youngster, I'll—I'll + let you sit here for a while.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “You sit still. No, I'm not going to tell you anything. You sit where you + are and maybe the news'll come to you. If you move it won't. Going to obey + orders? Good! I'll see you by and by, Mr. Ellery.” + </p> + <p> + He walked out of the room. It seemed to Ellery that he sat in that chair + for ten thousand years before the door again opened. And then— + </p> + <p> + —“Grace!” he cried. “O Grace! you—you've come back.” + </p> + <p> + She was blushing red, her face was radiant with quiet happiness, but her + eyes were moist. She crossed the room, bent over and kissed him on the + forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, John,” she said; “I've come back. Yes, dear, I've come back to—to + you.” + </p> + <p> + Outside the shanty, on the side farthest from the light and its group of + buildings, the doctor and Captain Nat Hammond were talking with Mrs. + Higgins. The latter was wildly excited and bubbling with joy. + </p> + <p> + “It's splendid!” she exclaimed. “It's almost too fine to believe. Now + we'll keep our minister, won't we?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why not,” observed the doctor, with quiet satisfaction. “Zeb + and I had the Daniels crowd licked to a shoestring and now they'll stay + licked. The parish committee is three to one for Mr. Ellery and the + congregation more than that. Keep him? You bet we'll keep him! And I'll + dance at his wedding—that is, unless he's got religious scruples + against it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Higgins turned to Captain Nat. + </p> + <p> + “It's kind of hard for you, Nat,” she said. “But it's awful noble and + self-sacrificin' and everybody'll say so. Of course there wouldn't be much + satisfaction in havin' a wife you knew cared more for another man. But + still it's awful noble of you to give her up.” + </p> + <p> + The captain looked at the doctor and laughed quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let my nobility weigh on your mind, Mrs. Higgins,” he said. “I'd + made up my mind to do this very thing afore ever I got back to Trumet. + That is, if Gracie was willin'. And when I found she was not only willin' + but joyful, I—well, I decided to offer up the sacrifice right off.” + </p> + <p> + “You did? You DID? Why, how you talk! I never heard of such a thing in my + born days.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I neither, not exactly. But there!” with a wink at Parker, “you see + I've been off amongst all them Kanaka women and how do you know but I've + fell in love?” + </p> + <p> + “Nat HAMMOND!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, I—What is it, Grace?” + </p> + <p> + She was standing in the doorway and beckoning to him. Her cheeks were + crimson, the breeze was tossing her hair about her forehead, and she made + a picture that even the practical, unromantic doctor appreciated. + </p> + <p> + “By George, Nat!” he muttered, “you've got more courage than I have. If + 'twas my job to give her up to somebody else I'd think twice, I'll bet.” + </p> + <p> + The captain went to meet her. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nat,” she whispered, “will you come in? He wants to see you.” + </p> + <p> + John Ellery was still seated in the chair by the window, but he no longer + looked like an invalid. There was no worry or care in his countenance now, + merely a wondrous joy and serene happiness. + </p> + <p> + He held out his hands and the captain shook them heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ellery,” he said, “as they used to say at the circus, 'Here we are + again.' And you and I have been doing all kinds of circus acrobatics since + we shook last, hey? I'm glad you're pretty nigh out of the sick bay—and + the doctor says you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain,” began Ellery. Hammond interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on!” he said. “Belay right there. If you and I are to cruise in the + same family—and that's what I hear is likely to happen—I + cal'late we'll heave overboard the cap'ns and Misters. My name's + 'Nathaniel'—'Nat' for short.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. And mine is 'John.' Captain—Nat, I mean—how can I + ever thank you?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank me? What do you want to thank me for? I only handed over somethin' + that wasn't mine in the first place and belonged to you all along. I + didn't know it, that was the only trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “But your promise to your father. I feel—” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't. I told dad that it was just as Grace said. She says she's + got a better man, or words to that effect. And—I don't know how you + feel about such things, John—but I b'lieve there's a broader outlook + up aloft than there is down here and that dad would want me to do just + what I have done. Don't worry about me. I'm doin' the right thing and I + know it. And don't pity me, neither. I made up my mind not to marry Grace—unless, + of course, she was set on it—months ago. I'm tickled to death to + know she's goin' to have as good a man as you are. She'll tell you so. + Grace! Hello! she's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I told her I wanted to talk with you alone, for a few minutes. Nat, + Grace tells me that Aunt Keziah was the one who—” + </p> + <p> + “She was. She met me at the Cohasset Narrows depot. I was settin' in the + car, lookin' out of the window at the sand and sniffin' the Cape air. By + the everlastin'! there ain't any air or sand like 'em anywheres else. I + feel as if I never wanted to see a palm tree again as long as I live. I'd + swap the whole of the South Pacific for one Trumet sandhill with a + huckleberry bush on it. Well, as I started to say, I was settin' there + lookin' out of the window when somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I + looked up and 'twas her. + </p> + <p> + “You could have blown me over with a fan. By the jumpin' Moses, you could! + You see, I'd been thinkin' about her—that is, I was—” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, turned red, coughed, and went on. + </p> + <p> + “I was surprised enough to see her, I tell you. Way up there at the + Narrows! I couldn't have said a word, anyway, and she never gave me a + chance. 'Nat,' she says, 'don't talk now. Come with me, quick, afore the + train starts.' + </p> + <p> + “Still I didn't say anything, nothin' sane anyhow. 'Keziah!' I managed to + stutter. 'KEZIAH!' + </p> + <p> + “'Come!' says she. 'Hurry! I want you to get off here. I've come here on + purpose to meet you. I must talk with you; it's important. You can go to + Trumet on the next train, to-night. But now I must talk with you. I MUST. + Won't you please come, Nat?' + </p> + <p> + “Well, I went. The engine bell was beginnin' to ring and we had to move + lively, I tell you. I swung her off the step just as the car begun to + move. After the smoke had faded away around the next bend I realized that + my hat had faded away along with it. Yes, sir! I'd left it on the seat. + Ha! ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed uproariously. Ellery laughed in sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “However, I wa'n't worryin' about hats, just then. All I wanted to do was + stand still, like a frozen image, and stare at her. You see, John, I + hadn't laid eyes on a friend, one of the real homemade kind, for more days + than I wanted to count; and here was one of 'em, one of the best, passed + out to me unexpected and ahead of time, like a surprise party present. So + I just pumped her hand up and down and stared. I didn't have any exclusive + mortgage on the starin' by no means, for the depot master and a dozen or + so loafers was lookin' at us with their mouths wide open. + </p> + <p> + “I guess she noticed it, for she says, 'Don't stay here, Nat. Come in the + waitin' room or somewheres where we can talk.' + </p> + <p> + “So into the waitin' room we went and come to anchor on the settee. Six or + eight of the loafers settled themselves handy to the door, so's they could + peek in occasionally. I remember I told one of them not to stretch his + neck that way 'cause he might never get it back into shape again and in + the gunnin' season that would be dangerous. 'Some nearsighted feller might + take you for a goose,' I says. Ho! ho! + </p> + <p> + “And then, John, we had our talk. Seems she left Trumet Wednesday + afternoon. Got the livery stable man to drive her as fur as Bayport, hired + another team there and come on to Sandwich. Stayed overnight there and + took the mornin' train which got to Cohasset Narrows just ahead of the one + I was comin' on. She'd been so afraid of bein' late, she said. She must + see me afore I got to Trumet. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she saw me and told me the whole yarn about you and Grace. She + tried to break it to me gently, so I wouldn't feel too bad. She knew it + would be a shock to me, she said. It was a shock, in a way, but as for + feelin' bad, I didn't. I think the world of Grace. I'd do anything she + wanted me to do; but most the way down on the train—yes, and long + afore that—I'd been dreadin' my comin' home on one account. I + dreaded tellin' her that, unless she was real set on it, she'd better not + marry me. + </p> + <p> + “You see, John, I've thought a lot sence I've been away. Had consider'ble + time to do it in. And the more I thought the less that promise to dad + seemed right. I'd have bet my sou-wester Gracie never cared for me in the + way a girl ought to care for a chap she's goin' to ship as pilot for the + rest of her days. And, as for me—well, I—I had my reasons for + not wantin' to marry her.” + </p> + <p> + He paused again, sighed, started to speak, and then sat silent, looking + out of the window. Ellery laid a hand on his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Nat,” said the minister, “you saved my life once, do you remember that? I + do, if you don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Saved your life? What are you talkin' about? Oh! that time on the flats? + That wasn't savin' your life, 'twas savin' your clothes from gettin' a + wettin'.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was more than that. And now I guess you've saved it again, you and + Grace between you. Yes, and Aunt Keziah. Bless her! to think of her going + way up there to meet you and help us!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. 'Twas like her, wasn't it? She said she knew I'd hear the yarn when + I got to Trumet, but she wanted me to hear it just as it was, and nobody + but she and Grace and you knew the whole truth about it. So she come. I'm + glad she did; not that I shouldn't have done the same, whoever told me, + but—” + </p> + <p> + “Nat, I want to tell you something. Something that only one other person + knows. Grace doesn't know it yet. Neither does Aunt Keziah—the whole + of it. And if she knew I told you even a part I'm afraid she would, as she + would say, 'skin me alive.' But I owe her—and you—more than I + could repay if I lived a thousand years. So I'm going to tell and take the + consequences.” + </p> + <p> + The captain looked at him. “Well!” he exclaimed. “What's comin' now? More + secrets? Blessed if this ain't gettin' more excitin' than the South Seas. + I used to think excitement in Trumet was scurcer than cream in poorhouse + coffee, but I'll have to change my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Nat, when—that morning after your father died and after you and + Grace had agreed to—to—” + </p> + <p> + “To do somethin' neither of us wanted to do? Yes, I know. Go ahead.” + </p> + <p> + “That morning Aunt Keziah came home to the parsonage and broke the news to + me. She did it as only she could do such a thing, kindly and pityingly and—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. That's Keziah.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Well, as you can imagine, I was almost crazy. I made a fool of + myself, I expect; refused to believe her, behaved disgracefully, and at + last, when I had to believe it, threatened to run away and leave my work + and Trumet forever, like a coward. She made me stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Did, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She showed me it was my duty to face the music. When I whimpered + about my troubles she told me her own story. Then I learned what trouble + was and what pluck was, too. She told me about her marriage and—excuse + me for speaking of what isn't my business; yet it is mine, in a way—she + told me about you.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Hammond did not answer. His good natured face clouded and he + shifted in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “She told me of you, Nat, all about you—and herself. And she told me + something else, which explains why she felt she must send you away, why + she thought your marriage to Grace would be a good thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. She told you that that darn scamp Anse Coffin was alive.” + </p> + <p> + The minister started violently. He gasped in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “You knew it? You KNEW it?” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + “I know it now. Have known it for over a year. My findin' it out was one + of the special Providences that's been helpin' along this last voyage of + mine. My second mate was a Hyannis man, name of Cahoon. One day, on that + pesky island, when we was eatin' dinner together, he says to me, 'Cap'n,' + he says, 'you're from Trumet, ain't you?' I owned up. 'Know anybody named + Coffin there?' says he. I owned up to that, too. 'Well,' he says, 'I met + her husband last trip I was in the Glory of the Wave.' I stared at him. + 'Met his ghost, you mean,' I says. 'He's been dead for years, and a good + thing, too. Fell overboard and, not bein' used to water, it killed him.' + </p> + <p> + “But he wouldn't have it so. 'I used to know Anse Coffin in New Bedford,' + he says. 'Knew him well's I know you. And when we was in port at Havre I + dropped in at a gin mill down by the water front and he come up and + touched me on the arm. I thought same as you, that he was dead, but he + wa'n't. He was three sheets in the wind and a reg'lar dock rat to look at, + but 'twas him sure enough. We had a long talk. He said he was comin' back + to Trumet some day. Had a wife there, he said. I told him, sarcastic, that + she'd be glad to see him. He laughed and said maybe not, but that she knew + he was alive and sent him money when he was hard up. Wanted me to promise + not to tell any Cape folks that I'd seen him, and I ain't till now.' + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can imagine how I felt when Cahoon spun me that yarn. First I + wouldn't b'lieve it and then I did. It explained things, just as you say, + John. I could see now why Keziah gave me my walkin' papers. I could see + how she'd been sacrificin' her life for that scum.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She wouldn't divorce him. She said she had taken him for better or + worse, and must stand by him. I tried to show her she was wrong, but it + was no use. She did say she would never live with him again.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say not. LIVE with him! By the everlastin'! if he ever comes + within reach of my hands then—there's times when good honest murder + is justifiable and righteous, and it'll be done. It'll be done, you hear + me!” + </p> + <p> + He looked as if he meant it. Ellery asked another question. + </p> + <p> + “Did you tell her—Aunt Keziah—when you met her at the + Narrows?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No. But I shall tell her when I see her again. She shan't spoil her life—a + woman like that! by the Lord! WHAT a woman!—for any such crazy + notion. I swore it when I heard the story and I've sworn it every day + since. That's what settled my mind about Grace. Keziah Coffin belongs to + me. She always has belonged to me, even though my own pig-headedness lost + her in the old days.” + </p> + <p> + “She cares for you, Nat. I know that. She as much as told me so.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, John. Thank you. Well, I can wait now. I can wait, for I've + got something sure to wait for. I tell you, Ellery, I ain't a church-goin' + man—not as dad was, anyway—but I truly believe that this thing + is goin' to come out right. God won't let that cussed rascal live much + longer. He won't! I know it. But if he does, if he lives a thousand years, + I'll take her from him.” + </p> + <p> + He was pacing the floor now, his face set like granite. Ellery rose, his + own face beaming. Here was his chance. At last he could pay to this man + and Keziah a part of the debt he owed. + </p> + <p> + Nat stopped in his stride. “Well!” he exclaimed. “I almost forgot, after + all. Keziah sent a note to you. I've got it in my pocket. She gave it to + me when she left me at Cohasset.” + </p> + <p> + “Left you? Why! didn't she come back with you on the night train?” + </p> + <p> + “No. That's funny, too, and I don't understand it yet. We was together all + the afternoon. 'I was feelin' so good at seein' her that I took her under + my wing and we cruised all over that town together. Got dinner at the + tavern and she went with me to buy myself a new hat, and all that. At + first she didn't seem to want to, but then, after I'd coaxed a while, she + did. She was lookin' pretty sad and worn out, when I first met her, I + thought; but she seemed to get over it and we had a fine time. It reminded + me of the days when I used to get home from a voyage and we were together. + Then, when 'twas time for the night train we went down to the depot. She + gave me this note and told me to hand it to you to-day. + </p> + <p> + “'Good-by, Nat,' she says. 'We've had a nice day, haven't we?' + </p> + <p> + “'We have, for a fact,' I says. 'But what are you sayin' good-by for?' + </p> + <p> + “'Because I'm not goin' to Trumet with you,' says she. 'I'm goin' to the + city. I've got some business to see to there. Good-by.' + </p> + <p> + “I was set back, with all my canvas flappin'. I told her I'd go to Boston + with her and we'd come home to Trumet together to-morrow, that's to-day. + But she said no. I must come here and ease your mind and Grace's. I must + do it. So at last I agreed to, sayin' I'd see her in a little while. She + went on the up train and I took the down one. Hired a team in Sandwich and + another in Bayport and got to the tavern about eleven. That's the yarn. + And here's your note. Maybe it tells where she's gone and why.” + </p> + <p> + The minister took the note and tore open the envelope. Within was a single + sheet of paper. He read a few lines, stopped, and uttered an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” asked the captain. + </p> + <p> + Ellery did not answer. He read the note through and then, without a word, + handed it to his friend. + </p> + <p> + The note was as follows: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR JOHN: + </p> + <p> + “I am going away, as I told you I would if he came. He is coming. Tuesday + I got a letter from him. It was written at Kingston, Jamaica, almost three + months ago. I can't think why I haven't got it sooner, but suppose it was + given to some one to mail and forgotten. In it he said he was tired of + going to sea and was coming home to me. I had money, he said, and we could + get along. He had shipped aboard a brig bound for Savannah, and from there + he was going to try for a berth on a Boston-bound vessel. So I am going + away and not coming back. I could not stand the disgrace and I could not + see him. You and Grace won't need me any more now. Don't worry about me. I + can always earn a living while I have my strength. Please don't worry. If + he comes tell him I have gone you do not know where. That will be true, + for you don't. I hope you will be very happy. I do hope so. Oh, John, you + don't know how I hate to do this, but I must. Don't tell Nat. He would do + something terrible to him if he came, and Nat knew. Just say I have been + called away and may be back some time. Perhaps I may. Love to you all. + Good-by. + </p> + <p> + “Yours truly, + </p> + <p> + “KEZIAH COFFIN.” + </p> + <p> + The captain stared at the note. Then he threw it to the floor and started + for the door. The minister sprang from his chair and called to him. + </p> + <p> + “Nat,” he cried. “Nat! Stop! where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + Hammond turned. + </p> + <p> + “Goin'?” he growled. “Goin'? I'm goin' to find her, first of all. Then I'm + comin' back to wait for him.” + </p> + <p> + “But you won't have to wait. He'll never come. He's dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead? DEAD? By the everlastin'! this has been too much for you, I ought + to have known it. I'll send the doctor here right off. I can't stay + myself. I've got to go. But—” + </p> + <p> + “Listen! listen to me! Ansel Coffin is dead, I tell you. I know it. I know + all about it. That was what I wanted to see you about. Did Keziah tell you + of the San Jose and the sailor who died of smallpox in this very building? + In that room there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. John, you—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not raving. It's the truth. That sailor was Ansel Coffin. I watched + with him and one night, the night before he died, he spoke Keziah's name. + He spoke of New Bedford and of Trumet and of her, over and over again. I + was sure who he was then, but I called in Ebenezer Capen, who used to know + Coffin in New Bedford. And he recognized him. Nat, as sure as you and I + are here this minute, Ansel Coffin, Aunt Keziah's husband, is buried in + the Trumet cemetery.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH MR. STONE WASHES HIS HANDS + </h3> + <p> + Mr. Abner Stone, of Stone & Barker, marine outfitters and ship + chandlers, with a place of business on Commercial Street in Boston, and a + bank account which commanded respect throughout the city, was feeling + rather irritable and out of sorts. Poor relations are always a nuisance. + They are forever expecting something, either money—in Mr. Stone's + case this particular expectation was usually fruitless—or employment + or influence or something. Mr. Stone was rich, he had become so by his own + ability and unaided effort. He was sure of that—often mentioned it, + with more or less modesty, in the speeches which he delivered to his + Sunday-school class and at the dinners of various societies to which he + belonged. He was a self-made man and was conscious that he had done a good + job. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, being self-made, he saw no particular reason why he should aid + in the making of others. If people were poor they ought to get over it. + Poverty was a disease and he was no doctor. He had been poor once himself, + and no one had helped him. “I helped myself,” he was wont to say, with + pride. Some of his rivals in business, repeating this remark, smiled and + added that he had been “helping himself” ever since. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Stone had “washed his hands” of his cousin, Keziah Coffin, or thought + he had. After her brother Solomon died she had written to him, asking him + to find her a position of some kind in Boston. “I don't want money, I + don't want charity,” wrote Keziah. “What I want is work. Can you get it + for me, Abner? I write to you because father used to tell of what you said + to him about gratitude and how you would never rest until you had done + something in return for what he did for you.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Ben Hall's kindness was the one thing Mr. Stone forgot when he + said no one had ever helped him. He disliked to be reminded of it. It was + a long while ago and the captain was dead. However, being reminded, he had + called upon a friend in the tailoring line and had obtained for Keziah the + place of sewing woman. She decided to become housekeeper at the Trumet + parsonage and so notified him. Then he washed his hands of her. + </p> + <p> + But now he was compelled to soil them again. Keziah had appeared at his + office, without warning, and demanded that he find her a position. + “Demanded” was the proper word. Certainly she had not begged. She seemed + to feel that her demand was right and proper, and his acceding to it the + least he could do. + </p> + <p> + “What a fine place you've got here, Abner!” she said, inspecting the + office and the store. “I declare it's finer than the one you had when you + first went into business, afore you failed. I wish father could have lived + to see it. He'd have realized that his judgment was good, even though his + investment wasn't.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Hall had invested largely in that first business, the one which + failed. Mr. Stone changed the subject. Later in the day he again sought + his friend, the tailor, and Keziah was installed in the loft of the + latter's Washington Street shop, beside the other women and girls who + sewed and sewed from seven in the morning until six at night. Mr. Stone + had left her there and come away, feeling that an unpleasant matter was + disposed of. He had made some inquiries as to where she intended staying, + even added a half-hearted invitation to dinner that evening at his home. + But she declined. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, Abner,” she said, “I'm goin' to find a boardin' place and + I'd just as soon nobody knew where I was stayin', for the present. And + there's one thing I want to ask you: don't tell a soul I am here. Not a + soul. If anyone should come askin' for me, don't give 'em any + satisfaction. I'll tell you why some day, perhaps. I can't now.” + </p> + <p> + This was what troubled Mr. Stone as he sat in his office. Why should this + woman wish to have her whereabouts kept a secret? There was a reason for + this, of course. Was it a respectable reason, or the other kind? If the + latter, his own name might be associated with the scandal. He wished, for + the fiftieth time, that there were no poor relations. + </p> + <p> + A boy came into the office. “There is some one here to see you, Mr. + Stone,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, sir. Looks like a seafaring man, a sea captain, I should + say—but he won't give his name. Says it's important and nobody but + you'll do.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! All right. Tell him to wait. I'll be out in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + Sea captains and ship owners were Stone & Barker's best customers. The + senior partner emerged from the office with a smile on his face. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said, extending his hand. “Glad to see you, Captain—er—” + </p> + <p> + “Hammond,” replied the visitor. “Same to you, Mr. Stone.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine weather for this time of year.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine enough, Mr. Stone.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Captain Hammond, what can we do for you? Going to sail soon?” + </p> + <p> + “Not right away. Just made port, less'n a week ago. Home looks good to me, + for a spell, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “So? Yes, I have no doubt. Let me see—where is your home, captain? I + should remember, of course, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know why you should. This is my first trip in your latitude, I + guess. My home's at Trumet.” + </p> + <p> + “Trumet?” Mr. Stone's tone changed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Trumet, down on the Cape. Ever been there? We think it's about as + good a place as there is.” + </p> + <p> + “Hu-u-m! Trumet? Well, Captain Hammond, you wished to see me, I + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Fact is, Mr. Stone, I want to ask you where I can find Mrs. Keziah + Coffin. She's a relation of yours, I b'lieve, and she's come to Boston + lately. Only yesterday or the day afore. Can you tell me where she is?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you wish to see her?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for reasons, personal ones. She's a friend of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. No, captain, I can't tell you where she is. Good morning.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Nat was greatly disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on there, just a minute,” he begged. “This is important, you + understand, Mr. Stone. I'm mighty anxious to find Kezi—Mrs. Coffin. + We thought, some of her friends and I, that most likely you'd know where + she was. Can't you give us any help at all? Hasn't she been here?” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Captain Hammond. You must excuse me, I'm busy.” + </p> + <p> + He went into the office and closed the door. Captain Nat rubbed his + forehead desperately. He had been almost sure that Abner Stone would put + him on Keziah's track. Grace had thought so, too. She remembered what the + housekeeper had told concerning her Boston cousin and how the latter had + found employment for her when she contemplated leaving Trumet, after her + brother's death. Grace believed that Keziah would go to him at once. + </p> + <p> + Nat walked to the door and stood there, trying to think what to do next. A + smart young person, wearing a conspicuous suit of clothes, aided and + abetted by a vivid waistcoat and a pair of youthful but promising side + whiskers, came briskly along the sidewalk and stopped in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir?” observed this person, with cheerful condescension. “Anything + I can do for you?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Nat turned his gaze upon the side whiskers and the waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “I say, is there anything I can do for you?” + </p> + <p> + The captain shook his head. “No-o,” he drawled dryly, “I'm afraid not, + son. I admit that don't seem scarcely possible, but I am afraid it's so.” + </p> + <p> + “Looking for something in our line, was you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know. What might be on your line—clothes?” + </p> + <p> + The bewhiskered one drew himself up. “I am connected with Stone & + Barker,” he said sharply. “And, seeing you standing in our doorway, I + thought possibly—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. Beg your pardon, I'm sure. No, I don't want to buy anything. I + come to see Mr. Stone on a personal matter.” + </p> + <p> + “He's busy, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “So he says.” + </p> + <p> + The young man smiled with serene satisfaction. “I'm not surprised,” he + observed complacently. “We ARE a busy house, Mr—er—” + </p> + <p> + “Hammond's my name. Are you Mr. Barker?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o, my name is Prince.” + </p> + <p> + “So? Silent partner in the firm, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o, not exactly.” Mr. Prince was slightly embarrassed. “No, I am a—a + salesman—at present. Was the matter you wished to see Mr. Stone + about a very private one?” + </p> + <p> + “Middlin'.'” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I asked because Mr. Stone is a busy man and we like to save him all + the—the—” + </p> + <p> + “Trouble you can, hey? That's nice of you, you must save him a lot, Mr—er—King, + was it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Prince.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure and sartin', Prince, of course. I knew 'twas connected with the + royal family. Well, Mr. Prince, I'm afraid even you can't help me nor him + out this time. I'm lookin' up a friend of mine, a widow lady from down the + Cape. She's a relation of Mr. Stone's, and she's come to Boston durin' the + last day or so. I thought likely he might know where she was, that's all. + That would be a little out of your latitude, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Her name wasn't Coffin, was it?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Nat started. “It certainly was,” he answered eagerly. “How'd you + know that?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Prince's complacence was superb. “Oh,” he answered with condescension, + “Mr. Stone trusts me with a good many of his personal affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think likely he would. But about Mrs. Coffin? You was goin' to + say?” + </p> + <p> + “She is with James Hallett & Co., the tailors, on Washington Street. + Mr. Stone found a place for her there, I believe. I—er—er—superintended + the carrying of her valise and—What?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', nothin'. Hum! Hallett & Co., tailors? What number Washin'ton + Street did you say?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Prince gave the number. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you a lot,” said Captain Nat, with fervor. “Good-by, Mr. Prince. + Hope the next time I come you'll be in the firm. Good day, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Good day. Nothing else I can do? And you won't wait for Mr. Stone? Very + good. Is there any message for him that you would like to leave?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” Nat had started to go, but now he paused and turned. There was a + grim twinkle in his eye. “Message?” he repeated. “Why, ye-es, I don't know + but there is. You just give Mr. Stone Cap'n Hammond's compliments and tell + him I'm lookin' forward to interviewin' him some time. Just tell him that, + will you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell him. Glad to have met you, Captain Hammond.” + </p> + <p> + The captain nodded solemnly. “Say, Mr. King,” he said, “you ain't half so + glad as I am.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Prince strutted into the store. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that chap you were talking with?” asked a fellow-clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a hayseed who wanted to see the old man. Poor relation, I guess. I + headed him off. Stone is always telling us that time is money, so I saved + both of 'em for him. He ought to thank me. Wouldn't be surprised if I got + the raise I've been asking for.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Prince did not get the raise, nor the thanks. But he was surprised. + </p> + <p> + In the workshop of Hallett & Co., Keziah sat sewing busily. The window + near her was closed, stuck fast, and through the dingy panes she could see + only roofs and chimneys. The other women and girls near her chatted and + laughed, but she was silent. She did not feel like talking, certainly not + like laughing. The garment she was at work on was a coat, a wedding coat, + so the foreman had told her, with a smile; therefore she must be very + particular. + </p> + <p> + She wondered idly whose coat it might be and who its future wearer was to + marry. This reminded her of the minister and Grace. They would be happy + now, her talk with Nat had assured her of that, and they, too, would be + married one of these days. But she would not attend the wedding. She + wondered what John had said when he read her note. He and Grace would be + sorry for her, of course; but there was nothing they could do to help. No + one could help her, no one. Perhaps by this time the man she had run away + from had reached Trumet and her secret was known. How Didama and the rest + would spread the tale! How Captain Elkanah and Annabel would sneer and + exult! They hated her because she was the minister's friend. And Nat, poor + fellow, what would he do? Well, at least he would understand now. + </p> + <p> + The narrow stairway leading up to the workshop ended in a little boxed-in + room where the finished garments were hung to await the final pressing. + From behind the closed door of this room came the sound of voices, + apparently in heated argument. One of these voices was that of Larry, the + errand boy. Larry was speaking shrilly and with emphasis. The other voice + was lower in key and the words were inaudible. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, you can't,” declared Larry. “You can't, I tell you. The boss + don't let nobody in there and—Hold on! Hold on!” + </p> + <p> + The other voice made a short but evidently earnest answer. Larry again + expostulated. The workers looked up from their sewing. The door opened and + Larry appeared, flushed and excited. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Mr. Upham?” he demanded. “Mr. Upham!” + </p> + <p> + Upham was the foreman of the workroom. At the moment he was downstairs in + conversation with the head of the house. A half dozen gave this + information. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter? Who is it?” asked several. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know who 'tis. It's a man and he's crazy, I think. I told him he + couldn't come in here, but he just keeps comin'. He wants to see somebody + named Coffin and there ain't no Coffins here.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah bent lower over the wedding coat. Her hand shook and she dropped + the needle. + </p> + <p> + “I told him we didn't keep coffins,” declared Larry. “This ain't no + undertaker's. Where's Mr. Upham?” + </p> + <p> + Keziah's nearest neighbor leaned toward her. + </p> + <p> + “I guess it's somebody to see you,” she said. “Your name is Coffin, ain't + it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. That is, it can't be anybody to see me. I don't want to see + anybody. Tell him so, whoever it is. I can't see anybody. I—NAT!” + </p> + <p> + He stood in the doorway, beckoning to her. + </p> + <p> + “Keziah,” he said, “come here. I want you. I'll tell you why in a minute. + Come!” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. In a measure she was relieved, for she had feared the man + at the door might be her husband. But she was greatly agitated and + troubled. Everyone in the place was looking at her. + </p> + <p> + “Nat,” she said, trying to speak firmly, “I can't see you now. I'm very + busy. Please go away.” + </p> + <p> + “Come!” + </p> + <p> + “I can't come. Go away. Please!” + </p> + <p> + “Keziah, I'm waitin'. And I'm goin' to wait if I stay here all night. + Come!” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed then. She could not have a scene there, before all those + strangers. She stepped past him into the little room. He followed and + closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “Nat,” she said, turning to him, “why did you come? How could you be so + cruel? I—” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted her, but not with words. The next moment his arms were + about her and she was pressed tight against the breast of his blue jacket. + </p> + <p> + “Keziah,” he whispered, “I've come to take you home. Home for good. No, + stay where you are and I'll tell you all about it. Praise be to God! we're + off the rocks at last. All that's left is to tow you into port, and, by + the everlastin', that's what I'm here for!” + </p> + <p> + When Upham came up the stairs after his long interview with “the boss,” he + found the door at the top closed. When he rattled the latch that door was + opened by a stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Are you Mr. Hallett?” asked Captain Nat briskly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm not. Mr. Hallett is in his office on the first floor. But what—” + </p> + <p> + “On the main deck, hey? Well, all right; we won't trouble him. You'll do + just as well; I judge you're one of the mates of this craft. You tell Mr. + Hallett that this lady here has decided not to cruise with him any longer. + No fault to find, you understand, but she's got a better berth. She's + goin' to ship along with me. Ain't that so, Keziah?” + </p> + <p> + Keziah, pale, trembling, scarcely realizing the situation even yet, did + not speak. But Captain Nat Hammond seemed to find his answer in her + silence. A few minutes later, her arm in his, they descended the gloomy, + dusty stairs, and emerged into the sunshine together. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon Mr. Abner Stone again “washed his hands” of his poor + relation—this time, as he indignantly declared, “for good and all.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <h3> + IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON PREACHES ONCE MORE + </h3> + <p> + Time has wrought many changes in Trumet. The packet long since ceased to + ply between the village and Boston, the stage has been superseded by the + locomotive, the old “square-riggers,” commanded by Cape Cod men, no longer + sail the seas. Along the main road the houses have changed hands. Didama + Rogers peers no more from her parlor window; that parlor is now profaned + by the frivolous and irreverent summer boarder. But the old residents love + to talk of the days that are gone and if you happen to catch Mr. Isaac + Higgins, now postmaster and a dignified member of the board of selectmen, + in a reminiscent mood he will very likely tell you of the meeting of the + parish committee called by its chairman, Elkanah Daniels, to oust the Rev. + John Ellery from the pulpit of the Regular church. + </p> + <p> + “I'll never forget,” says Mr. Higgins, “that parish committee meetin' if I + live a thousand year. I, and two or three other young shavers, was hid in + the little room off the vestry—the room where they kept the dishes + they used for church suppers—and we heard the whole business. Of + course nobody knew that Nat was goin' to marry Keziah then, but they did + know that he wa'n't goin' to marry Grace Van Horne, and had given her up + to the minister of his own accord. So Daniels's guns was spiked and he + didn't stand no chance at all. However, you'd never have guessed it to + look at him. He marched into that meetin' and up to the platform as stiff + and dignified as if he'd swallered a peck of starch. He called the meetin' + to order—'twas a full one, for all hands and the cook was there—and + then got up to speak. + </p> + <p> + “He opened fire right off. He raked John Ellery fore and aft. The parson, + he said, had disgraced the society and his sacred profession and should be + hove overboard immediate. 'Twas an open secret, he said. Everybody knew + how he, minister of a Reg'lar church, had been carryin' on with a + Come-Outer girl, meetin' her unbeknownst to anyone, and so on. As he got + warmed up on this subject he got more bitter and, though he didn't come + out open and say slanderous things, his hints was as nigh that as a pig's + snout is to his squeal. Even through the crack of the dish-closet door I + could see the bristles risin' on the back of Cap'n Zeb Mayo's neck. + </p> + <p> + “At last Cap'n Zeb couldn't stand it no longer. + </p> + <p> + “'Belay there!' he sings out, jumpin' to his feet. 'I want to ask you one + question, Elkanah Daniels: Are you tryin' to say somethin' against Grace + Van Horne's character?' + </p> + <p> + “Well, that was a sort of sticker, in a way, and I cal'late Daniels + realized it. He 'hum-ha'd' and barked a little and then give in that he + couldn't swear the Van Horne person's character wa'n't all right, but—” + </p> + <p> + “'Couldn't swear!' snorts Zeb. 'You better not try to, not when the + minister or Nat's around. Aw, belay! you want us to fire John Ellery out + of this society—the best minister it ever had or ever will have—because + he had the sense to get sweet on a good clean girl and the spunk to ask + her to marry him. And you're down on her because she's been brought up in + a Come-Outer family—at least, that's the reason you give out, though + some of us have suspicions 'tain't the real one. Why! she risked what she + thought was smallpox to keep him from dyin' that night she picked him up, + ravin' distracted, in the middle of the lighthouse lane, and if he hadn't + married her after that I, for one, would have been willin' to vote to give + him his walkin' papers, Come-Outer she may have been, but, by time, she's + got religion that's good enough for me and I'll be proud to see her the + wife of my minister. Don't let's have no more chin music. We know what you + want and what you called this meetin' for; now let's vote on it.' + </p> + <p> + “Three or four sung out 'Question' and 'Vote.' But Elkanah held up his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “'Gentlemen,' says he, 'before I ask for the vote I want to say just one + word. I've worshiped in this meetin' house ever sence I was a child. I was + christened in it; my father worshiped here afore me; I've presided over + the meetin's of this body for years. But I tell you now that if you vote + to keep that rascally hypocrite in your pulpit I shall resign from the + committee and from the society. It'll be like cuttin' off my right hand, + but I shall do it. Are you ready for the vote? Those in favor of retaining + the present minister of this parish will rise. Those opposed will remain + seated.' + </p> + <p> + “Every man on the floor stood up. Daniels himself was the only one that + stayed settin' down. + </p> + <p> + “'It is a vote,' says he, white as a sheet, and his voice trembling. + 'Gentlemen, I bid you good day.' + </p> + <p> + “He took up his hat and cane, give one look around the vestry, as if he + was sayin' good-by to it, and marched down the aisle as straight and + starchy as he'd come into it. Only, when he reached the door, he put up + one hand as if he was steadyin' himself. There was precious few in that + vestry that liked Elkanah Daniels, but I'm bettin' high there wa'n't a one + who didn't feel sorry for him then. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas quiet as could be for a minute or so after he'd gone. Then Cap'n + Zeb draws a big breath and flings up his hand. + </p> + <p> + “'Shipmates,' says he, 'this is the Almighty's house and we've got to do + it quiet, but I propose three whisperin' cheers for the Rev. John Ellery + and the lady that's goin' to be his wife.' + </p> + <p> + “So they give 'em—hearty, too, if they was whispered—and + that's all there is to that meetin' worth tellin' about.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Daniels and his daughter moved to Boston that summer. They never + came back to Trumet to live. Annabel remained single until after her + father's death; then she married a man very much younger and poorer than + she was. It was remarked by acquaintances of the couple that the + difference in age became less and less apparent as their married life + continued. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” observed Captain Zeb, summing up the situation, “he started about + ten year astern, but he'll beat her on the run into the cemetery, now you + mark my words. Annabel's temper's cal'lated to keep any average chap + drivin' on that course, bows under. There's a three-reef breeze blowin' + off her tongue, day and night.” + </p> + <p> + On a Sunday morning, a few weeks after the committee meeting, the Regular + church was crowded. John Ellery was to preach his first sermon since the + San Jose came ashore. Every member of the congregation was present. Even + Mrs. Prince, feeble but garrulous, was there. Gaius Winslow, having + delivered his brood of children at the church door, made a special trip in + his carryall to fetch the old lady. Captain Zebedee and Mrs. Mayo beamed + from their pew. Dr Parker and his wife smiled at them across the aisle. + Didama Rogers's new bonnet was a work of art and her neck threatened to + twist itself off as she turned to see each one who came in. + </p> + <p> + Lavinia Pepper sailed to the front. She was dressed in a new black alpaca + which rustled so very much like silk that nearsighted people might have + been deceived by it. With her was a man, apparently suffering from + strangulation because of the height and tightness of his collar. “It's + Caleb Pratt, from Sandwich,” whispered Didama. “Thankful Payne's relation, + you know. Have you heard what folks are sayin'? I guess it's true, because—Look + at Kyan! you'd think he was goin' to his own funeral.” + </p> + <p> + Abishai's expression was not cheerful, certainly. He followed Mr. Pratt + and his sister to the Pepper pew and subsided sadly in the corner next the + wall. Occasionally he was observed to wipe his forehead and once—it + was during the prayer—he groaned audibly. Lavinia's dig in the ribs + prevented his repeating the sound, but, judging by his looks, he continued + to groan in spirit. + </p> + <p> + There was a stir at the door. All heads swung in that direction—all + but Mr. Pepper's, that is. The minister and Grace were coming up the aisle + and behind them came Captain Nat Hammond and Keziah Coffin. Nat was + smiling and self-possessed. Never before in his life had he entered the + Regular meeting house as a worshiper, but he seemed to be bearing the + ordeal bravely. It was Grace's first visit to the church, also, and she + was plainly embarrassed. To be stared at by eighty-odd pairs of eyes, and + to catch whispered comments from the starers' tongues, is likely to + embarrass one. + </p> + <p> + Yet the comments were all friendly. + </p> + <p> + “I declare!” whispered Mrs. Prince, “I never see her look so pretty afore. + I knew she was the best lookin' girl in this town, but I never realized + she was SUCH a beauty. Well, there's one thing sartin'—we've got the + handsomest parson and parson's wife in THIS county, by about ten mile and + four rows of apple trees. And there's the other bride that's goin' to be. + I never see Keziah look so well, neither.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah did look well. Her parson had emerged triumphant from his battle + with disease and adverse fate and was more than ever the idol of his + congregation. He was to marry the girl of his choice—and hers. The + housekeeper's ears were still ringing with the thanks of John and Grace. + Both seemed to feel that to her, Keziah Coffin, more than anyone else, + they owed their great joy. Some of the things they said she would never + forget. And her own life, too, was freed forever of its burden, the secret + which had hung over her for so many years. Only a very few knew that + secret, and they would not disclose it. Toward the memory of the man + buried in the stranger's lot at the cemetery she felt almost kindly now. + While he lived she had feared and dreaded him, now she was beginning to + forgive. For he had paid his debt with his life, and with her, beside her, + was the other, the one whom she had loved, had given up, had mourned for, + and who was now to be hers always. No wonder Keziah looked well. She was + happy, and happiness is a wondrous beautifier. + </p> + <p> + The minister went up the stairs to the pulpit. He was still white and + thin, but his eyes were bright and his voice clear. He gave out the + opening hymn and the service began. + </p> + <p> + They said it was the finest sermon ever preached in that church, and + perhaps it was. When it was over, before the benediction was pronounced, + Ellery stepped out from behind the pulpit to the edge of the platform. He + looked over the friendly faces upturned to his and, for an instant, it + seemed that he could not trust himself to speak. + </p> + <p> + “My friends,” he said, “I cannot let you go without a personal word. I owe + you so much, all of you, that nothing I can say will convey to you my + feeling of gratitude and love for this congregation and this church. You + have stood by me all through. You trusted me and believed in me. I came to + Trumet a stranger. I have found here the truest friends a man could hope + to find—yes, and more than friends. If I live, and while I live, I + shall hope to prove by the best effort that is in me my realization of the + great debt I owe you and my desire to repay it, even though the payment + must, of necessity, be so inadequate. God bless you all—and thank + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Wa'n't it lovely!” gushed Didama. “And when he said that about true + friends he was lookin' straight at Gracie all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't seem to me so,” declared Gaius Winslow. “I thought he was lookin' + at Cap'n Hammond.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, that's queer,” put in Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife. “I would + have sworn he was looking at Keziah Coffin.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Zebedee grinned. “I cal'late you're all right,” he observed. “I + wouldn't wonder if he was lookin' at all of 'em.” + </p> + <p> + There was much hand shaking and congratulation and the church emptied + slowly. Among the last to leave were the Peppers and Mr. Pratt. Lavinia + took the minister aside. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ellery,” she simpered, “I've—that is, Caleb and me—will + prob'ly want you to—That is, we want you to be the one—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Pepper?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my sakes! you see—'Bishy dear, come here a minute, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + Kyan approached, the picture of desolation. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” he asked gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens to Betsy! Don't look so sour. A body'd think you was goin' to be + hung, to look at you. 'Bishy, you tell Mr. Ellery all about it, there's a + dear. He'll tell you, Mr. Ellery; and remember we count on you. Neither me + nor Caleb wont have nobody else.” + </p> + <p> + She seized Mr. Pratt by the arm and led him hastily away. Kyan looked + after them. + </p> + <p> + “Hung?” he muttered. “I wish, by godfreys mighty, I had the hangin' of + SOME folks! I'd put a tighter collar on 'em than they've got now, I bet + you!” + </p> + <p> + The minister's lips twitched. He knew what was coming. Hints of a + surprising nature had been circulating about Trumet. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Mr. Pepper?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Matter? Matter enough! You know what she's goin' to do? She's goin' to + marry THAT!” + </p> + <p> + The last word was emphasized by a furious gesticulation toward the back of + the gentleman from Sandwich. + </p> + <p> + “Who? Mr. Pratt? Is your sister to marry him? Indeed! I congratulate them + both—and you.” + </p> + <p> + “Me? What in tunket—I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery, for talkin' so in + the meetin' house—but what are you congratulatin' me for?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, because your sister is to have a good husband; at least people speak + highly of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” + </p> + <p> + “And because—well, Mr. Pepper, you have been quite confidential with + me; we have shared secrets, you know; and I thought possibly the new + arrangement might make it a bit more pleasant for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Pleasant? How?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose Mr. Pratt will take his bride home to Sandwich, and you, being + here alone, will be more free.” + </p> + <p> + “Free?” Kyan repeated the word wrathfully. “Free! I'll be about as free as + a settin' hen under a barrel, I will. Is a feller free when he's got two + pickin' at him instead of one? I thought I was goin' to have a little + peace and comfort; I thought that same as you, Mr. Ellery. I've had my + suspicions as to her and him for some time. That day when I cal'lated I'd + locked her up and come back to find she'd gone buggy ridin', I thought + 'twas queer. When she went to conference and left me alone I smelt a rat. + When she took to letter writin' the smell got stronger; until the last few + weeks I've been sartin of the game she was up to. And I never complained, + no sir! Some brothers would have ripped up the eternal foundations afore + they'd have let their sister break up their home and desert 'em for a + stiff-necked, bald-headed old shoe peddler like—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush! Mr. Pepper. You forget—” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't forget, nuther. Mr. Ellery, you don't know it all. When + Laviny come to me and told me what she was goin' to do, was I obstinate? + Did I stand on my rights as head of the family and tell her she couldn't + do it? No, sir-ee, I didn't! I was resigned. I says to her, 'Laviny,' I + says, 'I won't say that I shan't be turrible lonesome without you. I won't + say that I ain't sort of shocked and grieved at our partin' after all + these years. But what's my personal feelin's when I compare 'em with your + happiness? Nothin', nothin' at all!' I says. 'Bless you, Laviny,' says I. + 'When you goin' to go away?' And what do you s'pose she says to me? Why, + that she wa'n't goin' away at all. That—that Pratt thing has sold + out his shoe store up to Sandwich and is comin' here to live. Comin' to + live at our HOUSE, mind you, with her and with ME! ''Twill be so nice for + you, 'Bishy dear,' she says, 'to have a man in the house to keep you + comp'ny and look out for you when I ain't round.' Godfreys mighty!” + </p> + <p> + This portion of Kyan's disclosure was surprising, if the announcement of + his sister's engagement was not. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pratt is coming to Trumet?” the minister repeated. “What for? What is + he going to do here?” + </p> + <p> + “Keep shoe store, I s'pose likely. Laviny says there's a good openin' for + one in this town. I told her the best openin' I could think of for him was + the well and I hoped to the nation he'd fall into it. Then she went for me + like a dogfish after a herrin' and I never had a taste of vittles till I'd + took it all back and said I was glad he was goin' to live with us. Free! + Don't talk to me about freedom! Godfreys mighty!” + </p> + <p> + Ellery smothered his desire to laugh and expressed sympathy. Abishai + listened in sullen silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, turning to go, “I ain't goin' to stand it, if I can help + it. I've been doin' some thinkin' on my own account and there's two ways + of gettin' even. That Caleb critter is marryin' into our family 'cause he + knows I'm well off. I'll cheat him, by godfreys! I'll will every cent of + my fifteen hundred dollars to the poor or the heathen or somethin'. I + will, sure's taxes.” + </p> + <p> + The minister was obliged to laugh, then. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't do that,” he said. “From what I hear, Mr. Pratt is worth + several times fifteen hundred.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it; but he's so dum mean that 'twould break his heart to see even + ten cents gettin' away from him. However, that ain't my only plan. He and + Laviny ain't got any mortgage on the marryin' business. Other folks can do + it as well as them. What do you think of Hannah Poundberry?” + </p> + <p> + “What do I think of her? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what I mean. Just you keep that in your head, Mr. Ellery. You + remember that I asked you, as man to man, 'What do you think of Hannah + Poundberry?'—Yes, yes, Laviny, I'm a-comin'. They want me to ask you + to marry 'em,” he added. “I s'pose you'll have to. But say, Mr. Ellery, + when you do, just tell Pratt that your usual price for the job is ten + dollars. That'll spile his honeymoon for him, or I miss my guess.” + </p> + <p> + He turned away and moved sulkily toward his beckoning sister and her + escort; but wheeled once more to add, in a mysterious whisper, “Don't you + forget now, Mr. Ellery. Remember that question I put to you: 'What do you + think of'—Yes, yes, La-viny, I hear you!—of you know who?'” + </p> + <p> + That evening, at the parsonage, Keziah was clearing the table and Captain + Nat was helping her. A happy party of four had enjoyed the meal, John and + Mrs. Coffin acting as hosts and Grace and the captain being the invited + guests. Now the younger couple had gone over to the church, the bell of + which was ringing for evening service. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry up, Keziah,” urged Nat. “If you and me don't get decks cleared + pretty soon we'll be late for meetin', and I'd hate to do that, + considerin' I'm such a brand-new disciple, as you might say. What do we do + next, shorten sail? Like this, hey?” + </p> + <p> + He pulled the cloth from the table, sending the crumbs flying in all + directions, and proceeded to fold it, after a fashion. + </p> + <p> + “There!” he exclaimed with satisfaction; “there she is, canvas furled and + under bare poles. Now we can clear out, can't we? What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Keziah took the cloth from his hands and refolded it. + </p> + <p> + “Nat Hammond,” she said, laughing, “you may be a good sailor, but you're + an awful poor housekeeper. Look at the mess you've made of that floor.” + </p> + <p> + Nat looked at the scattered crumbs and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “By the everlastin'!” he observed, “I did make dirty weather on that tack, + didn't I? Cal'late I ain't much of a housekeeper, same as you say. Maybe + that's why I was so dreadful anxious to get a good one to cruise along + with me. Well, I've got her. I'm satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + He walked to the back door of the kitchen, threw it open, and stood + looking out. + </p> + <p> + “Keziah,” he said, “come here a minute.” + </p> + <p> + She came from the dining room and stood at his side. He put an arm about + her. + </p> + <p> + “Look off there,” he said, pointing with his free hand. “See that?” + </p> + <p> + The sun was just setting and all the west was gorgeous with crimson and + purple and yellow. The bay was spangled with fire, the high sand bluffs + along the shore looked like broken golden ingots. The fields and swamps + and salt meadows, rich in their spring glory of bud and new leaf, were + tinged with the ruddy glow. The Trumet roofs were bathed in it, the old + packet, asleep at her moorings by the breakwater, was silhouetted against + the radiance. The church bell had ceased to ring and there was not a + sound, except the low music of the distant surf. + </p> + <p> + “Look at it, Keziah,” urged Captain Nat. + </p> + <p> + “I'm lookin', Nat,” she answered. “It's beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't it? I love it, you know that, and I never thought I should be + anxious for the time to come when I must leave it. But I am. I want to + go.” + </p> + <p> + They were to be married in another month. It would be a double wedding, + for Grace and the minister were to be married at the same time. Then Nat + and his wife were to go to New York, where a new ship, just out of the + builders' hands, was to be ready for him. She was a fine one, this + successor to the Sea Mist. She had been building for more than a year and + when Captain Hammond returned, safe and sound, and with their money in his + possession, the owners decided at once that he should command the addition + to their fleet. She was to sail for Liverpool and Keziah was to be a + passenger. + </p> + <p> + “I can't hardly wait to get to sea,” went on Nat. “Think of it! No more + lonesome meals in the cabin, thinkin' about you and about home. No, sir! + you and home'll be right aboard with me. Think of the fun we'll have in + the foreign ports. London, and you and me goin' sightseein' through it! + And Havre and Gibraltar and Marseilles and Genoa and—and—by + and by, Calcutta and Hong Kong and Singapore. I've seen 'em all, of + course, but you haven't. I tell you, Keziah, that time when I first saw a + real hope of gettin' you, that time after I'd learned from John that that + big trouble of yours was out of the way forever, on my way up to Boston in + the cars I made myself a promise—I swore that if you did say yes to + me I'd do my best to make the rest of your life as smooth and pleasant as + the past so far had been rough. I ain't rich enough to give you what you + deserve, nowhere near; but I'll work hard and do my best, my girl—you + see.” + </p> + <p> + Keziah was looking out over the bay, her eyes brighter than the sunset. + Now she turned to look up into his face. + </p> + <p> + “Rich!” she repeated, with a little catch in her voice. “Rich! there never + was a woman in this world so rich as I am this minute. Or so happy, + either.” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEZIAH COFFIN *** + +***** This file should be named 2068-h.htm or 2068-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/2068/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/2068.txt b/2068.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..57840ec --- /dev/null +++ b/2068.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12572 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Keziah Coffin + +Author: Joseph C. Lincoln + +Release Date: May 13, 2006 [EBook #2068] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEZIAH COFFIN *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson + + + + + +KEZIAH COFFIN + +by Joseph C. Lincoln + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH HEARS OF TWO PROPOSALS AND THE BEGINNING OF A THIRD + +II.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH UNEARTHS A PROWLER + +III.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH ASSUMES A GUARDIANSHIP + +IV.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON DECIDES TO RUN IT BLINDFOLD + +V.-- IN WHICH THE PARSON CRUISES IN STRANGE WATERS + +VI.-- IN WHICH OLD FRIENDS MEET + +VII.-- IN WHICH CAPTAIN NAT PICKS UP A DERELICT + +VIII.-- IN WHICH THE PARSON AND MR. PEPPER DECLARE THEIR INDEPENDENCE + +IX.-- IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT + +X.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH'S TROUBLES MULTIPLY + +XI.-- IN WHICH CAPEN EBEN RECEIVES A CALLER + +XII.-- IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN MAKES PORT + +XIII.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH BREAKS THE NEWS + +XIV.-- IN WHICH THE SEA MIST SAILS + +XV.-- IN WHICH TRUMET TALKS OF CAPTAIN NAT + +XVI-- IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE + +XVII.-- IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED + +XVIII.--IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT + +XIX.-- IN WHICH A RECEPTION IS CALLED OFF + +XX.-- IN WHICH THE MINISTER RECEIVES A LETTER + +XXI.-- IN WHICH MR. STONE WASHES HIS HANDS + +XXII.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON PREACHES ONCE MORE + + + + +KEZIAH COFFIN + +by Joseph C. Lincoln + + + + +CHAPTER I + +IN WHICH KEZIAH HEARS TWO PROPOSALS AND THE BEGINNING OF A THIRD + + +Trumet in a fog; a fog blown in during the night by the wind from the +wide Atlantic. So wet and heavy that one might taste the salt in it. +So thick that houses along the main road were but dim shapes behind +its gray drapery, and only the gates and fences of the front yards +were plainly in evidence to the passers-by. The beach plum and bayberry +bushes on the dunes were spangled with beady drops. The pole on Cannon +Hill, where the beacon was hoisted when the packet from Boston dropped +anchor in the bay, was shiny and slippery. The new weathervane, a +gilded whale, presented to the "Regular" church by Captain Zebedee Mayo, +retired whaler, swam in a sea of cloud. The lichened eaves of the little +"Come-Outer" chapel dripped at sedate intervals. The brick walk leading +to the door of Captain Elkanah Daniels's fine residence held undignified +puddles in its hollows. And, through the damp stillness, the muttered +growl of the surf, three miles away at the foot of the sandy bluffs by +the lighthouse, sounded ominously. + +Directly opposite Captain Elkanah's front gate, on the other side of the +main road, stood the little story-and-a-half house, also the captain's +property, which for fourteen years had been tenanted by Mrs. Keziah +Coffin and her brother, Solomon Hall, the shoemaker. But Solomon had, +the month before, given up his fight with debt and illness and was +sleeping quietly in Trumet's most populous center, the graveyard. And +Keziah, left alone, had decided that the rent and living expenses were +more than her precarious earnings as a seamstress would warrant, and, +having bargained with the furniture dealer in Wellmouth for the sale of +her household effects, was now busy getting them ready for the morrow, +when the dealer's wagon was to call. She was going to Boston, where a +distant and condescending rich relative had interested himself to the +extent of finding her a place as sewing woman in a large tailoring +establishment. + +The fog hung like a wet blanket over the house and its small yard, where +a few venerable pear trees, too conservative in their old age to venture +a bud even though it was almost May, stood bare and forlorn. The day was +dismal. The dismantled dining room, its tables and chairs pushed into a +corner, and its faded ingrain carpet partially stripped from the floor, +was dismal, likewise. Considering all things, one might have expected +Keziah herself to be even more dismal. But, to all outward appearances, +she was not. A large portion of her thirty-nine years of life had been +passed under a wet blanket, so to speak, and she had not permitted +the depressing covering to shut out more sunshine than was absolutely +necessary. "If you can't get cream, you might as well learn to love your +sasser of skim milk," said practical Keziah. + +She was on her knees, her calico dress sleeves, patched and darned, but +absolutely clean, rolled back, uncovering a pair of plump, strong arms, +a saucer of tacks before her, and a tack hammer with a claw head in +her hand. She was taking up the carpet. Grace Van Horne, Captain Eben +Hammond's ward, who had called to see if there was anything she might do +to help, was removing towels, tablecloths, and the like from the drawers +in a tall "high-boy," folding them and placing them in an old and +battered trunk. The pair had been discussing the subject which all +Trumet had discussed for three weeks, namely, the "calling" to the +pastorate of the "Regular" church of the Rev. John Ellery, the young +divinity student, who was to take the place of old Parson Langley, +minister in the parish for over thirty years. Discussion in the village +had now reached a critical point, for the Reverend John was expected +by almost any coach. In those days, the days of the late fifties, the +railroad down the Cape extended only as far as Sandwich; passengers made +the rest of their journey by stage. Many came direct from the city by +the packet, the little schooner, but Mr. Ellery had written that he +should probably come on the coach. + +"They say he's very nice-looking," remarked Miss Van Horne soberly, +but with a MISCHIEVOUS glance under her dark lashes at Keziah. The lady +addressed paused long enough to transfer several tacks from the floor to +the saucer, and then made answer. + +"Humph!" she observed. "A good many years ago I saw a theater show up +to Boston. Don't be shocked; those circumstances we hear so much tell +of--the kind you can't control--have kept me from goin' to theaters +much, even if I wanted to. But I did see this entertainment, and a fool +one 'twas, too, all singin' instead of talkin'--op'ra, I believe they +called it. Well, as I started to say, one of the leadin' folks in it was +the Old Harry himself, and HE was pretty good-lookin'." + +Grace laughed, even though she had been somewhat shocked. + +"Why, Aunt Keziah!" she exclaimed--those who knew Keziah Coffin +best usually called her aunt, though real nephews and nieces she had +none--"why, Aunt Keziah! What do you mean by comparing the--the person +you just mentioned with a MINISTER!" + +"Oh, I wasn't comparin' 'em; I'll leave that for you Come-Outers to do. +Drat this carpet! Seems's if I never saw such long tacks; I do believe +whoever put 'em down drove 'em clean through the center of the earth and +let the Chinymen clinch 'em on t'other side. I haul up a chunk of the +cellar floor with every one. Ah, hum!" with a sigh, "I cal'late +they ain't any more anxious to leave home than I am. But, far's the +minister's concerned, didn't I hear of your Uncle Eben sayin' in prayer +meetin' only a fortni't or so ago that all hands who wa'n't Come-Outers +were own children to Satan? Mr. Ellery must take after his father some. +Surprisin', ain't it, what a family the old critter's got." + +The girl laughed again. For one brought up, since her seventh year, +in the strictest of Come-Outer families, she laughed a good deal. Many +Come-Outers considered it wicked to laugh. Yet Grace did it, and hers +was a laugh pleasant to hear and distinctly pleasant to see. It made her +prettier than ever, a fact which, if she was aware of it, should have +been an additional preventive, for to be pretty smacks of vanity. +Perhaps she wasn't aware of it. + +"What do you think Uncle Eben would say if he heard that?" she asked. + +"Say I took after my father, too, I presume likely. Does your uncle know +you come here to see me so often? And call me 'aunt' and all that?" + +"Of course he does. Aunt Keziah, you mustn't think Uncle Eben doesn't +see the good in people simply because they don't believe as he does. +He's as sweet and kind as--" + +"Who? Eben Hammond? Land sakes, child, don't I know it? Cap'n Eben's the +salt of the earth. I'm a Regular and always have been, but I'd be glad +if my own society was seasoned with a few like him. 'Twould taste better +to me of a Sunday." She paused, and then added quizzically: "What d'you +s'pose Cap'n Elkanah and the rest of our parish committee would say if +they heard THAT?" + +"Goodness knows! Still, I'm glad to hear you say it. And uncle says you +are as good a woman as ever lived. He thinks you're misled, of course, +but that some day you'll see the error of your ways." + +"Humph! I'll have to hurry up if I want to see 'em without spectacles. +See my errors! Land sakes! much as I can do to see the heads of these +tacks. Takin' up carpets is as hard a test of a body's eyesight as 'tis +of their religion." + +Her companion put down the tablecloth she was folding and looked +earnestly at the other woman. To an undiscerning eye the latter would +have looked much as she always did--plump and matronly, with brown hair +drawn back from the forehead and parted in the middle; keen brown eyes +with a humorous twinkle in them--this was the Keziah Coffin the later +generation of Trumet knew so well. + +But Grace Van Horne, who called her aunt and came to see her so +frequently, while her brother was alive and during the month following +his death, could see the changes which the month had wrought. She saw +the little wrinkles about the eyes and the lines of care about the +mouth, the tired look of the whole plucky, workaday New England figure. +She shook her head. + +"Religion!" she repeated. "I do believe, Aunt Keziah, that you've got +the very best religion of anybody I know. I don't care if you don't +belong to our church. When I see how patient you've been and how +cheerful through all your troubles, it--" + +Mrs. Coffin waved the hammer deprecatingly. "There! there!" she +interrupted. "I guess it's a good thing I'm goin' away. Here's you and I +praisin' up each other's beliefs, just as if that wasn't a crime here +in Trumet. Sometimes when I see how the two societies in this little +one-horse place row with each other, I declare if it doesn't look as if +they'd crossed out the first word of 'Love your neighbor' and wrote in +'Fight,' instead. Yet I'm a pretty good Regular, too, and when it comes +to whoopin' and carryin' on like the Come-Outers, I--Well! well! +never mind; don't begin to bristle up. I won't say another word about +religion. Let's pick the new minister to pieces. ANY kind of a Christian +can do that." + +But the new minister was destined to remain undissected that morning, +in that house at least. Grace was serious now and she voiced the matter +which had been uppermost in her mind since she left home. + +"Aunt Keziah," she said, "why do you go away? What makes you? Is it +absolutely necessary?" + +"Why do I go? Why, for the same reason that the feller that was hove +overboard left the ship--cause I can't stay. You've got to have vittles +and clothes, even in Trumet, and a place to put your head in nights. +Long's Sol was alive and could do his cobblin' we managed to get along +somehow. What I could earn sewin' helped, and we lived simple. But when +he was taken down and died, the doctor's bills and the undertaker's used +up what little money I had put by, and the sewin' alone wouldn't keep +a healthy canary in bird seed. Dear land knows I hate to leave the old +house I've lived in for fourteen years and the town I was born in, but +I've got to, for all I see. Thank mercy, I can pay Cap'n Elkanah his +last month's rent and go with a clear conscience. I won't owe anybody, +that's a comfort, and nobody will owe me; though I could stand that, I +guess," she added, prying at the carpet edge. + +"I don't care!" The girl's dark eyes flashed indignantly. "I think it's +too bad of Cap'n Elkanah to turn you out when--" + +"Don't talk that way. He ain't turnin' me out. He ain't lettin' houses +for his health and he'll need the money to buy his daughter's summer +rigs. She ain't had a new dress for a month, pretty near, and here's +a young and good-lookin' parson heavin' in sight. Maybe Cap'n Elkanah +would think a minister was high-toned enough even for Annabel to marry." + +"He's only twenty-three, they say," remarked Grace, a trifle +maliciously. "Perhaps she'll adopt him." + +Annabel was the only child of Captain Elkanah Daniels, who owned the +finest house in town. She was the belle of Trumet, and had been for a +good many years. + +Keziah laughed. + +"Well," she said, "anyhow I've got to go. Maybe I'll like Boston first +rate, you can't tell. Or maybe I won't. Ah, hum! 'twouldn't be the first +thing I've had to do that I didn't like." + +Her friend looked at her. + +"Aunt," she said, "I want to make a proposal to you, and you mustn't be +cross about it." + +"A proposal! Sakes alive! What'll I say? 'This is so sudden!' That's +what Becky Ryder, up to the west part of the town, said when Jim Baker, +the tin peddler, happened to ask her if she'd ever thought of gettin' +married. 'O James! this is so sudden!' says Becky. Jim said afterwards +that the suddenest thing about it was the way he cleared out of that +house. And he never called there afterwards." + +Grace smiled, but quickly grew grave. + +"Now, auntie," she said, "please listen. I'm in earnest. It seems to me +that you might do quite well at dressmaking here in town, if you had +a little--well, ready money to help you at the start. I've got a few +hundred dollars in the bank, presents from uncle, and my father's +insurance money. I should love to lend it to you, and I know uncle +would--" + +Mrs. Coffin interrupted her. + +"Cat's foot!" she exclaimed. "I hope I haven't got where I need to +borrow money yet a while. Thank you just as much, deary, but long's I've +got two hands and a mouth, I'll make the two keep t'other reasonably +full, I wouldn't wonder. No, I shan't think of it, so don't say another +word. NO." + +The negative was so decided that Grace was silenced. Her disappointment +showed in her face, however, and Keziah hastened to change the subject. + +"How do you know," she observed, "but what my goin' to Boston may be the +best thing that ever happened to me? You can't tell. No use despairin', +Annabel ain't given up hope yet; why should I? Hey? Ain't that somebody +comin'?" + +Her companion sprang to her feet and ran to the window. Then she broke +into a smothered laugh. + +"Why, it's Kyan Pepper!" she exclaimed. "He must be coming to see you, +Aunt Keziah. And he's got on his very best Sunday clothes. Gracious! I +must be going. I didn't know you expected callers." + +Keziah dropped the tack hammer and stood up. + +"Kyan!" she repeated. "What in the world is that old idiot comin' here +for? To talk about the minister, I s'pose. How on earth did Laviny ever +come to let him out alone?" + +Mr. Pepper, Mr. Abishai Pepper, locally called "Kyan" (Cayenne) Pepper +because of his red hair and thin red side whiskers, was one of Trumet's +"characters," and in his case the character was weak. He was born in the +village and, when a youngster, had, like every other boy of good family +in the community, cherished ambitions for a seafaring life. His sister, +Lavinia, ten years older than he, who, after the death of their parents, +had undertaken the job of "bringing up" her brother, did not sympathize +with these ambitions. Consequently, when Kyan ran away she followed him +to Boston, stalked aboard the vessel where he had shipped, and collared +him, literally and figuratively. One of the mates venturing to offer +objection, Lavinia turned upon him and gave him a piece of her mind, to +the immense delight of the crew and the loungers on the wharf. Then she +returned with the vagrant to Trumet. Old Captain Higgins, who skippered +the packet in those days, swore that Lavinia never stopped lecturing her +brother from the time they left Boston until they dropped anchor behind +the breakwater. + +"I give you my word that 'twas pretty nigh a stark calm, but there was +such a steady stream of language pourin' out of the Pepper stateroom +that the draught kept the sails filled all the way home," asserted +Captain Higgins. + +That was Kyan's sole venture, so far as sailoring was concerned, but he +ran away again when he was twenty-five. This time he returned of his +own accord, bringing a wife with him, one Evelyn Gott of Ostable. Evelyn +could talk a bit herself, and her first interview with Lavinia ended +with the latter's leaving the house in a rage, swearing never to set +foot in it again. This oath she broke the day of her sister-in-law's +funeral. Then she appeared, after the ceremony, her baggage on the wagon +with her. The bereaved one, who was sitting on the front stoop of his +dwelling with, so people say, a most resigned expression on his meek +countenance, looked up and saw her. + +"My land! Laviny," he exclaimed, turning pale. "Where'd you come from?" + +"Never mind WHERE I come from," observed his sister promptly. "You just +be thankful I've come. If ever a body needed some one to take care of +'em, it's you. You can tote my things right in," she added, turning to +her grinning driver, "and you, 'Bishy, go right in with 'em. The idea +of your settin' outside takin' it easy when your poor wife ain't been +buried more'n an hour!" + +"But--but--Laviny," protested poor Kyan, speaking the truth unwittingly, +"I couldn't take it easy AFORE she was buried, could I?" + +"Go right in," was the answer. "March!" + +Abishai marched, and had marched under his sister's orders ever since. +She kept house for him, and did it well, but her one fear was that some +female might again capture him, and she watched him with an eagle +eye. He was the town assessor and tax collector, but when he visited +dwellings containing single women or widows, Lavinia always accompanied +him, "to help him in his figgerin'," she said. + +Consequently, when he appeared, unchaperoned, on the walk leading to the +side door of the Coffin homestead, Keziah and her friend were surprised. + +"He's dressed to kill," whispered Grace, at the window. "Even his tall +hat; and in this fog! I do believe he's coming courting, Aunt Keziah." + +"Humph!" was the ungracious answer. "He's come to say good-by, I s'pose, +and to find out where I'm goin' and how much pay I'm goin' to get and if +my rent's settled, and a few other little things that ain't any of +his business. Laviny put him up to it, you see. She'll be along pretty +quick. Well, I'll fix him so he won't talk much. He can help us take +down that stovepipe. I said 'twas a job for a man, and a half one's +better than none--Why, how d'ye do, 'Bishy? Come right in. Pretty thick +outside, isn't it?" + +Mr. Pepper entered diffidently. + +"Er--er--how d'ye do, Keziah?" he stammered. "I thought I'd just run in +a minute and--" + +"Yes, yes. Glad to see you. Take off your hat. My sakes! it's pretty +wet. How did Laviny come to let you--I mean how'd you come to wear a +beaver such a mornin's this?" + +Kyan removed the silk hat and inspected its limp grandeur ruefully. + +"I--I--" he began. "Well, the fact is, I come out by myself. You see, +Laviny's gone up to Sarah B.'s to talk church doin's. I--I--well, I kind +of wanted to speak with you about somethin', Keziah, so--Oh! I didn't +see you, Gracie. Good mornin'." + +He didn't seem overjoyed to see Miss Van Horne, as it was. In fact, +he reddened perceptibly and backed toward the door. The girl, her eyes +twinkling, took up her jacket and hat. + +"Oh! I'm not going to stop, Mr. Pepper," she said. "I was only helping +Aunt Keziah a little, that's all. I must run on now." + +"Run on--nonsense!" declared Keziah decisively. "You're goin' to stay +right here and help us get that stovepipe down. And 'Bishy'll help, too. +Won't you, 'Bish?" + +The stovepipe was attached to the "air-tight" in the dining room. +It--the pipe--rose perpendicularly for a few feet and then extended +horizontally, over the high-boy, until it entered the wall. Kyan looked +at it and then at his "Sunday clothes." + +"Why, I'd be glad to, of course," he declared with dubious enthusiasm. +"But I don't know's I'll have time. Perhaps I'd better come later and do +it. Laviny, she--" + +"Oh, Laviny can spare you for a few minutes, I guess; 'specially as she +don't know you're out. Better take your coat off, hadn't you? Grace, +fetch one of those chairs for Ky--for 'Bishy to stand in." + +Grace obediently brought the chair. It happened to be the one with a +rickety leg, but its owner was helping the reluctant Abishai remove the +long-tailed blue coat which had been his wedding garment and had adorned +his person on occasions of ceremony ever since. She did not notice the +chair. + +"It's real good of you to offer to help," she said. "Grace and I didn't +hardly dast to try it alone. That pipe's been up so long that I wouldn't +wonder if 'twas chock-full of soot. If you're careful, though, I don't +believe you'll get any on you. Never mind the floor; I'm goin' to wash +that before I leave." + +Reluctantly, slowly, the unwilling Mr. Pepper suffered himself to be led +to the chair. He mounted it and gingerly took hold of the pipe. + +"Better loosen it at the stove hole first," advised Keziah. "What was it +you wanted to see me about, 'Bish?" + +"Oh, nothin', nothin'," was the hasty response. "Nothin' of any +account--that is to say--" + +He turned redder than ever and wrenched at the pipe. It loosened at its +lower end and the wires holding it in suspension shook. + +"I guess," observed the lady of the house, "that you'd better move that +chest of drawers out so's you can get behind it. Grace, you help me. +There! that's better. Now move your chair." + +Kyan stepped from the chair and moved the latter to a position between +the high-boy and the wall. Then he remounted and gripped the pipe in the +middle of its horizontal section. + +"Seems to stick in the chimney there, don't it?" queried Keziah. "Wiggle +it back and forth; that ought to loosen it. What was it you wanted to +say, 'Bish?" + +Apparently, Mr. Pepper had nothing to say. The crimson tide had reached +his ears, which, always noticeable because of their size and spread, +were now lit up like a schooner's sails at sunset. His hands trembled on +the pipe. + +"Nothin', nothin', I tell you," he faltered. "I--I just run in to say +how d'ye do, that's all." + +"Really, I think I'd better be going," said Grace, glancing from Kyan's +embarrassed face to that of the unsuspecting Mrs. Coffin. "I'm afraid +I'm in the way." + +"No, no!" shouted the occupant of the chair. "No, no, you ain't!" + +"But I'm afraid I am. And they'll be expecting me at home. Aunt Keziah, +I--" + +"Don't be in such a hurry," interrupted Keziah. "Does stick in the +chimney, don't it? Tell you what you can do, Grace; you can go in the +woodshed and fetch the hammer that's in the table drawer. Hurry up, +that's a good girl." + +Kyan protested that he did not need the hammer, but his protest was +unheeded. With one more glance at the couple, Grace departed from the +kitchen, biting her lips. She shut the door carefully behind her. Mr. +Pepper labored frantically with the pipe. + +"No use to shake it any more till you get the hammer," advised Keziah. +"Might's well talk while you're waitin'. What was it you wanted to tell +me?" + +Abishai drew one hand across his forehead, leaving a decorative smooch +of blacking on his perspiring countenance. He choked, swallowed, and +then, with a look at the closed door, seemed to reach a desperate +resolve. + +"Keziah," he whispered hurriedly, "you've known me quite a spell, ain't +you?" + +"Known you? Known you ever since you were born, pretty nigh. What of +it?" + +"Yes, yes. And I've known you, you know. Fact is, we've known each +other." + +"Hear the man! Land sakes! don't everybody in Trumet know everybody +else? What ARE you drivin' at?" + +"Keziah, you're a single woman." + +His companion let go of the chair, which she had been holding in place, +and stepped back. + +"I'm a single woman?" she repeated sharply. "What do you mean by that? +Did--did anybody say I wasn't?" + +"No, no! 'Course not. But you're a widow, so you BE single, you know, +and--" + +"Well? Did you think I was twins? Get down off there this minute. You've +gone crazy. I thought so when I saw that beaver. Either that or you've +been drinkin'. Grace! What DOES make her so long gettin' that hammer?" + +Finding the hammer did seem to take a long time. There was no sound from +the kitchen. Kyan, steadying himself with one hand on the pipe, waved +the other wildly. + +"S-s-sh! s-sh-h!" he hissed. "Hush! be still! Don't get her in here. +Keziah, you're single and so am I. You ain't got nobody to take care of +you and I ain't, neither--that is, I don't want to be took care of--I +mean, I've been took care of too much." + +Mrs. Coffin took another step in the direction of the kitchen. + +"He IS loony!" she exclaimed under her breath. "I--" + +"No, no! I ain't loony. I want to make a proposal to you. I want to see +if you won't marry me. I'm sick of Laviny. Let's you and me settle down +together. I could have some peace then. And I think a whole lot of you, +too," he added, apparently as an afterthought. + +Keziah's face was red now, and growing redder every instant. + +"Kyan Pepper!" she cried in amazed incredulity. "Kyan Pepper, do you--" + +"Hurry up!" pleaded Abishai, in agitated impatience. "Say yes quick. +She'll be back in a minute." + +"Say YES! Why, you--" + +"Don't stop to argue, Keziah. I've got 'most fifteen hundred dollars in +the bank. Laviny keeps the pass book in her bureau, but you could get it +from her. I own my house. I'm a man of good character. You're poor, +but I don't let that stand in the way. Anyhow, you're a first-rate +housekeeper. And I really do think an awful lot of you." + +Mrs. Coffin stepped no farther in the direction of the kitchen. Instead, +she strode toward the rickety chair and its occupant. Kyan grasped the +pipe with both hands. + +"You poor--miserable--impudent--" began the lady. + +"Why, Keziah, don't you WANT to?" He spoke as if the possibility of +a refusal had never entered his mind. "I cal'lated you'd be glad. +You wouldn't have to go away then, nor--My soul and body! some one's +knockin' at the door! AND THIS DUMMED PIPE'S FETCHED LOOSE!" + +The last sentence was a smothered shriek. Keziah heeded not. Neither +did she heed the knock at the door. Her hands were opening and closing +convulsively. + +"Be glad!" she repeated. "Glad to marry a good-for-nothin' sand-peep +like you! You sassy--GET down off that chair and out of this house! Get +down this minute!" + +"I can't! This stovepipe's loose, I tell you! Be reason'ble, Keziah. +Do--don't you touch me! I'll fall if you do. Pl-e-ase, Keziah!--O Lordy! +I knew it. LAVINY!" + +The door opened. On the threshold, arms akimbo and lips set tight, stood +Lavinia Pepper. Her brother's knees gave way; in their collapse they +struck the chair back; the rickety leg wabbled. Kyan grasped at the pipe +to save himself and, the next moment, chair, sections of stovepipe, and +Mr. Pepper disappeared with a mighty crash behind the high-boy. A cloud +of soot arose and obscured the view. + +Keziah, too indignant even to laugh, glared at the wreck. In the doorway +of the kitchen Grace Van Horne, hammer in hand, leaned against the jamb, +her handkerchief at her mouth and tears in her eyes. Lavinia, majestic +and rigid, dominated the scene. From behind the high-boy came coughs, +sneezes, and emphatic ejaculations. + +Miss Pepper was the first to speak. + +"Abishai Pepper," she commanded, "come out of that this minute." + +Her answer was a tremendous sneeze. Then from the dusky cloud by the +wall sounded a voice feebly protesting. + +"Now, Laviny," began poor Kyan, "I never in my life--" + +"Do you hear me? Come out of that!" + +There was a sound of scrambling. More soot floated in the air. Then +around the corner of the high-boy appeared Mr. Pepper, crawling on his +hands and knees. His hair was streaked with black; his shirt front and +collar and shirt sleeves were spotted and smeared with black; and from +his blackened cheeks his red whiskers flamed like the last glowing +embers in a fire-scarred ruin. + +"Laviny," he panted, "I never was so surprised and upsot in all my life +afore." + +This was too much for Grace. She collapsed in a chair and laughed +hysterically. Even the wrathful Keziah smiled. But Lavinia did not +smile. For that matter, neither did her brother. + +"Hum!" sneered Miss Pepper. "Upsot! Yes, I see you're upsot. Get up, and +try to look as much like a Christian as you can!" + +Kyan rose from his knees to his feet and rubbed his back. He glanced +reproachfully at Grace, then fearfully at his sister. + +"I was just tryin' to help Keziah take down her stovepipe," he +explained. "You see, she didn't have no man to--" + +"Yes, I see. Well, I judge you got it down. Now you go out to the sink +and wash your face. Heavens and earth! Look at them clothes!" + +"I do hope you didn't hurt yourself, Abishai," said the sympathetic +Keziah. Then, as remembrance of what had led to the upset came to her, +she added: "Though I will say 'twas your own fault and nobody else's." + +Lavinia whirled on her. + +"His own fault, was it?" she repeated, her voice shrill and trembling. +"Thank you very much, marm. I cal'late 'twas his own fault comin' +here, too, wa'n't it? Nobody led him on, I s'pose. Nobody put him up to +riggin' out in his best bib and tucker and sneakin' here the minute I +was out of the house. No, nobody did! Of COURSE not!" + +"No, nobody did," said Keziah briskly. "And you may know what you're +hintin' at, but I don't." + +"Dear me! Ain't we innocent! We've got plenty of money, WE have. +Widowers with property ain't no attraction to US. Everybody knows +that--oh, yes! And they never talk of such a thing--oh, no! Folks don't +say that--that--Well," with a snarl in the direction of the kitchen, +"are you anywheres nigh clean yet? Get your coat and hat on and come +home with me." + +She jerked her brother into the blue coat, jammed the tall hat down upon +his head, and, seizing him by the arm, stalked to the door. + +"Good day, marm," she said. "I do hope the next widower you get to take +down your stovepipe--yes, indeed! ha! ha!--I hope you'll have better +luck with him. Though I don't know who 'twould be; there ain't no more +idiots in town that I know of. Good day, and thank you kindly for your +attentions to our family." + +She pulled the door open and was on the step; but Mrs. Coffin did not +intend to let her go in just that way. + +"Laviny Pepper," she declared, her eyes snapping, "I don't know what +you're talkin' about, but if you dare to mean that I want any of your +money, or your brother's money, you're mistaken--'cause I don't. And I +don't want your brother either--Lord help him, poor thing! And I tell +you right now that there's nobody that does; though some kind-hearted +folks have said 'twould be a Christian act to poison him, so's to put +him out of his misery. There! Good mornin' to you." + +She slammed the door. Lavinia was speechless. As for her brother, but +one remark of his reached Grace, who was watching from the window. + +"Laviny," pleaded Kyan, "just let me explain." + +At nine o'clock that night he was still "explaining." + +Keziah turned from the door she had closed behind her visitor. + +"Well!" she ejaculated. "WELL!" + +Her friend did not look at her. She was still gazing out of the window. +Occasionally she seemed to choke. + +Keziah eyed her suspiciously. + +"Humph!" she mused. "'Twas funny, wasn't it?" + +"Oh, dreadfully!" was the hurried answer. + +"Yes. Seems to me you took an awful long time findin' that hammer." + +"It was away back in the drawer. I didn't see it at first." + +"Hum! Grace Van Horne, if I thought you heard what that--that THING said +to me, I'd--I'd--Good land of mercy! somebody ELSE is comin'." + +Steps, measured, dignified steps, sounded on the walk. From without came +a "Hum--ha!" a portentous combination of cough and grunt. Grace dodged +back from the window and hastily began donning her hat and jacket. + +"It's Cap'n Elkanah," she whispered. "I must go. This seems to be your +busy morning, Aunt Keziah. I"--here she choked again--"really, I didn't +know you were so popular." + +Keziah opened the door. Captain Elkanah Daniels, prosperous, pompous, +and unbending, crossed the threshold. Richest man in the village, +retired shipowner, pillar of the Regular church and leading member of +its parish committee, Captain Elkanah looked the part. He removed +his hat, cleared his throat behind his black stock, and spoke with +impressive deliberation. + +"Good morning, Keziah. Ah--er--morning, Grace." Even in the tone given +to a perfunctory salutation like this, the captain differentiated +between Regular and Come-Outer. "Keziah, I--hum, ha!--rather expected to +find you alone." + +"I was just going, Cap'n Daniels," explained the girl. The captain bowed +and continued. + +"Keziah," he said, "Keziah, I came to see you on a somewhat important +matter. I have a proposal I wish to make you." + +He must have been surprised at the effect of his words. Keziah's face +was a picture, a crimson picture of paralyzed amazement. As for Miss Van +Horne, that young lady gave vent to what her friend described afterwards +as a "squeal," and bolted out of the door and into the grateful +seclusion of the fog. + + +CHAPTER II + +IN WHICH KEZIAH UNEARTHS A PROWLER + + +The fog was cruel to the gossips of Trumet that day. Mrs. Didama Rogers, +who lived all alone, except for the society of three cats, a canary, +and a white poodle named "Bunch," in the little house next to Captain +Elkanah's establishment, never entirely recovered from the chagrin +and disappointment caused by that provoking mist. When one habitually +hurries through the morning's household duties in order to sit by the +front window and note each passer-by, with various fascinating surmises +as to his or her errand and the reasons for it, it is discouraging to be +able to see only one's own front fence and a scant ten feet of sidewalk. +And then to learn afterwards of a dozen most exciting events, each +distinctly out of the ordinary, which might have been used as excuses +for two dozen calls and as many sensations! As Captain Zeb Mayo, the +irreverent ex-whaler, put it, "That fog shook Didama's faith in the +judgment of Providence. 'Tain't the 'all wise,' but the 'all seein'' +kind she talks about in meetin' now." + +The fog prevented Mrs. Rogers's noting the entrance of Mr. Pepper at the +Coffin front gate. Also his exit, under sisterly arrest. It shut from +her view the majestic approach of Captain Elkanah Daniels and Grace's +flight, her face dimpled with smiles and breaking into laughter +at frequent intervals. For a young lady, supposed to be a devout +Come-Outer, to hurry along the main road, a handkerchief at her mouth +and her eyes sparkling with fun, was a circumstance calculated to +furnish material for enjoyable scandal. And Didama missed it. + +Other happenings she missed, also. Not knowing of Captain Daniels's call +upon Keziah, she was deprived of the pleasure of wonder at the length of +his stay. She did not see him, in company with Mrs. Coffin, go down +the road in the opposite direction from that taken by Grace. Nor their +return and parting at the gate, two hours later. She did not see--but +there! she saw nothing, absolutely nothing--except the scraggy spruce +tree in her tiny front yard and the lonely ten feet of walk bordering +it. No one traversed that section of walk except old Mrs. Tinker, who +was collecting subscriptions for new hymn books for the Come-Outer +chapel. And Didama was particularly anxious NOT to see her. + +The dismal day dragged on. The silver-leaf trees dripped, the hedges +were shining with moisture. Through the stillness the distant surf along +the "ocean side" of the Cape growled and moaned and the fog bell at the +lighthouse clanged miserably. Along the walk opposite Didama's--the +more popular side of the road--shadowy figures passed at long intervals, +children going to and from school, people on errands to the store, and +the like. It was three o'clock in the afternoon before a visitor came +again to the Coffin front gate, entered the yard and rapped at the side +door. + +Keziah opened the door. + +"Halloa!" she exclaimed. "Back, are you? I begun to think you'd been +scared away for good." + +Grace laughed as she entered. + +"Well, auntie," she said, "I don't wonder you thought I was scared. +Truly, I didn't think it was proper for me to stay. First Kyan and then +Cap'n Elkanah, and both of them expressing their wishes to see you alone +so--er--pointedly. I thought it was time for me to go. Surely, you give +me credit for a little delicacy." + +Keziah eyed her grimly. + +"Humph!" she sniffed. "If you'd been a little less delicate about +fetchin' that hammer, we might have been spared at least one smash-up. I +don't s'pose Laviny'll ever speak to me again. Oh, dear! I guess likely +I'll never get the memory of that--that Kyan thing out of my mind. I +never was so set back in my born days. Yes, you can laugh!" + +She laughed herself as she said it. As for Grace, it was sometime before +that young lady became coherent. + +"He DID look so funny!" she gasped. "Hopping up and down on that shaky +chair and holding on to that pipe and--and--O Aunt Keziah, if you could +have seen your face when I opened that door!" + +"Yes; well, I will say you was sometime gettin' it open. And then, on +top of the whole fool business, in parades Elkanah Daniels and--" + +She paused. Her companion looked delightedly expectant. + +"Yes," she cried eagerly. "Then Cap'n Elkanah came and the very first +thing he said was--I almost laughed in his face." + +"Almost! Humph! that's no exaggeration. The way you put out of that door +was a caution." + +"Yes, but what did the cap'n mean? Is it a secret? Ahem! shall I +congratulate you, auntie?" + +"Grace Van Horne! there's born fools enough in this town without your +tryin' to be one. You know 'twa'n't THAT. Though what 'twas was surprise +enough, I will say," she added. "Grace, I ain't goin' away to-morrow." + +"You're not? Oh, splendid! Has the cap'n decided to let you stay here?" + +"I guess his decidin' wouldn't influence me, if twas stayin' in his +house he meant. The only way I could live here would be on his charity, +and that would be as poor fodder as sawdust hasty puddin', even if I +was fond of charity, which I ain't. He said to me--Well, you take your +things off and I'll tell you about it. You can stay a little while, +can't you?" + +"Yes, I was going to stay all the afternoon and for supper, if you'd let +me. I knew you had so much to do and I wanted to help. I told uncle and +he said certainly I ought to come. He said he should try to see you and +say good-by before you left tomorrow." + +"You don't say! And me a Regular! Well, I'm much obliged, though I guess +your Uncle Eben won't see me to-morrow--nor speak to me again, when he +knows what I AM going to do. Grace, I ain't goin' to leave Trumet, not +for the present, anyhow. I've got a way of earnin' my livin' right here. +I'm goin' to keep house for the new minister." + +The girl turned, her hat in her hand. + +"Oh!" she cried in utter astonishment. + +Keziah nodded. "Yes," she affirmed. "That was what Elkanah's proposal +amounted to. Ha! ha! Deary me! When he said 'proposal,' I own up for +a minute I didn't know WHAT was comin'. After Kyan I was prepared +for 'most anything. But he told me that Lurany Phelps, who the parish +committee had counted on to keep house for Mr. Ellery, had sent word her +sister was sick and couldn't be left, and that somebody must be hired +right off 'cause the minister's expected by day after to-morrow's coach. +And they'd gone over every likely candidate in town till it simmered +down to Mehitable Burgess. And Cap'n Zeb Mayo spoke right up in the +committee meetin' and gave out that if Mehitable kept house for Mr. +Ellery he, for one, wouldn't come to church. Said he didn't want to hear +sermons that was inspired by HER cookin'. Seems she cooked for the Mayos +one week when Mrs. Mayo had gone to Boston, and Cap'n Zeb declares his +dreams that week was somethin' awful. 'And I'm a man with no nerves and +mighty little imagination,' he says. 'Land knows what effect a dose of +Mehitable's biscuits might have on a MINISTER.' + +"And so," continued Keziah, "they decided Mehitable wouldn't do, and +finally somebody thought of me. I have a notion 'twas Zeb, although +Cap'n Elkanah did his best to make me think 'twas himself. And the cap'n +was made a delegate to come and see me about it. Come he did, and we +settled it. I went down to the parsonage with him before dinner and +looked the place over. There's an awful lot of sweepin' and dustin' to +be done afore it's fit for a body to live in. I did think that when I'd +finished with this house I could swear off on that kind of dissipation +for a while, but I guess, judgin' by the looks of that parsonage, what +I've done so far is only practice." She paused, glanced keenly at her +friend and asked: "Why! what's the matter? You don't act nigh so glad as +I thought you'd be." + +Grace said of course she was glad; but she looked troubled, +nevertheless. + +"I can hardly make it seem possible," she said. "Is it really +settled--your salary and everything? And what will you do about your +position in Boston?" + +"Oh, I'll write Cousin Abner and tell him. Lord love you, HE won't care. +He'll feel that he did his duty in gettin' me the Boston chance and if I +don't take it 'tain't his fault. HIS conscience'll be clear. Land sakes! +if I could clean house as easy as some folks clear their consciences I +wouldn't have a backache this minute. Yes, the wages are agreed on, too. +And totin' them around won't make my back ache any worse, either," she +added drily. + +Grace extended her hand. + +"Well, Aunt Keziah," she said, "I'm ever and ever so glad for you. +I know you didn't want to leave Trumet and I'm sure everyone will be +delighted when they learn that you're going to stay." + +"Humph! that includes Laviny Pepper, of course. I cal'late Laviny's +delight won't keep her up nights. But I guess I can stand it if she can. +Now, Grace, what is it? You AIN'T real pleased? Why not?" + +The girl hesitated. + +"Auntie," she said, "I'm selfish, I guess. I'm glad for your sake; you +mustn't think I'm not. But I almost wish you were going to do something +else. You are going to live in the Regular parsonage and keep house +for, of all persons, a Regular minister. Why, so far as my seeing you is +concerned, you might as well be in China. You know Uncle Eben." + +Keziah nodded understandingly. + +"Yes," she said, "I know him. Eben Hammond thinks that parsonage is +the presence chamber of the Evil One, I presume likely. But, Grace, you +mustn't blame me, and if you don't call I'll know why and I shan't blame +you. We'll see each other once in a while; I'll take care of that. And, +deary, I HAD to do it--I just had to. If you knew what a load had been +took off my mind by this, you'd sympathize with me and understand. I've +been happier in Trumet than I ever was anywhere else, though I've seen +some dark times here, too. I was born here; my folks used to live here. +My brother Sol lived and died here. His death was a heavy trouble to +me, but the heaviest came to me when I was somewheres else and--well, +somehow I've had a feelin' that, if there was any real joys ever planned +out for me while I'm on this earth, they'd come to me here. I don't know +when they'll come. There's times when I can't believe they ever will +come, but--There! there! everybody has to bear burdens in this life, I +cal'late. It's a vale of tears, 'cordin' to you Come-Outer folks, though +I've never seen much good in wearin' a long face and a crape bathin' +suit on that account. Hey? What are you listenin' to?" + +"I thought I heard a carriage stop, that was all." + +Mrs. Coffin went to the window and peered into the fog. + +"Can't see anything," she said. "'Tain't anybody for here, that's sure. +I guess likely 'twas Cap'n Elkanah. He and Annabel were goin' to drive +over to Denboro this afternoon. She had some trimmin' to buy. Takes more +than fog to separate Annabel Daniels from dressmakin'. Well, there's a +little more packin' to do; then I thought I'd go down to that parsonage +and take a whack at the cobwebs. I never saw so many in my born days. +You'd think all the spiders from here to Ostable had been holdin' camp +meetin' in that shut-up house." + +The packing took about an hour. When it was finished, the carpet rolled +up, and the last piece of linen placed in the old trunk, Keziah turned +to her guest. + +"Now, Gracie," she said, "I feel as though I ought to go to the +parsonage. I can't do much more'n look at the cobwebs to-night, but +to-morrow those spiders had better put on their ascension robes. The +end of the world's comin' for them, even though it missed fire for the +Millerites when they had their doin's a few years ago. You can stay +here and wait, if 'twon't be too lonesome. We'll have supper when I get +back." + +Grace looked tempted. + +"I've a good mind to go with you," she said. "I want to be with you as +much as I can, and HE isn't there yet. I'm afraid uncle might not like +it, but--" + +"Sho! Come along. Eben Hammond may be a chronic sufferer from acute +Come-Outiveness, but he ain't a ninny. Nobody'll see you, anyway. This +fog's like charity, it'll cover a heap of sins. Do come right along. +Wait till I get on my things." + +She threw a shawl over her shoulders, draped a white knitted "cloud" +over her head, and took from a nail a key, attached by a strong cord to +a block of wood eight inches long. + +"Elkanah left the key with me," she observed. "No danger of losin' it, +is there. Might as well lose a lumber yard. Old Parson Langley tied it +up this way, so he wouldn't miss his moorin's, I presume likely. The +poor old thing was so nearsighted and absent-minded along toward the +last that they say he used to hire Noah Myrick's boy to come in and look +him over every Sunday mornin' before church, so's to be sure he hadn't +got his wig on stern foremost. That's the way Zeb Mayo tells the yarn, +anyhow." + +They left the house and came out into the wet mist. Then, turning to +the right, in the direction which Trumet, with unconscious irony, calls +"downtown," they climbed the long slope where the main road mounts the +outlying ridge of Cannon Hill, passed Captain Mayo's big house--the +finest in Trumet, with the exception of the Daniels mansion--and +descended into the hollow beyond. Here, at the corner where the +"Lighthouse Lane" begins its winding way over the rolling knolls and +dunes to the light and the fish shanties on the "ocean side," stood +the plain, straight-up-and-down meeting house of the Regular society. +Directly opposite was the little parsonage, also very straight up and +down. Both were painted white with green blinds. This statement is +superfluous to those who remember Cape architecture at this period; +practically every building from Sandwich to Provincetown was white and +green. + +They entered the yard, through the gap in the white fence, and went +around the house, past the dripping evergreens and the bare, wet lilac +bushes, to the side door, the lock of which Keziah's key fitted. There +was a lock on the front door, of course, but no one thought of meddling +with that. That door had been opened but once during the late pastor's +thirty-year tenantry. On the occasion of his funeral the mourners came +and went, as was proper, by that solemn portal. + +Mrs. Coffin thrust the key into the keyhole of the side door and essayed +to turn it. + +"Humph!" she muttered, twisting to no purpose; "I don't see why--This +must be the right key, because--Well, I declare, if it ain't unlocked +already! That's some of Cap'n Elkanah's doin's. For a critter as fussy +and particular about some things, he's careless enough about others. +Mercy we ain't had any tramps around here lately. Come in." + +She led the way into the dining room of the parsonage. Two of the blinds +shading the windows of that apartment had been opened when she and +Captain Daniels made their visit, and the dim gray light made the room +more lonesome and forsaken in appearance than a deeper gloom could +possibly have done. The black walnut extension table in the center, +closed to its smallest dimensions because Parson Langley had eaten alone +for so many years; the black walnut chairs set back against the wall at +regular intervals; the rag carpet and braided mats--homemade donations +from the ladies of the parish--on the green painted floor; the dolorous +pictures on the walls; "Death of Washington," "Stoning of Stephen," and +a still more deadly "fruit piece" committed in oils years ago by a now +deceased boat painter; a black walnut sideboard with some blue-and-white +crockery upon it; a gilt-framed mirror with another outrage in oils +emphasizing its upper half; dust over everything and the cobwebs +mentioned by Keziah draping the corners of the ceiling; this was the +dining room of the Regular parsonage as Grace saw it upon this, her +first visit. The dust and cobwebs were, in her eyes, the only novelties, +however. Otherwise, the room was like many others in Trumet, and, if +there had been one or two paintings of ships, would have been typical of +the better class. + +"Phew!" exclaimed Keziah, sniffing disgustedly. "Musty and shut up +enough, ain't it? Down here in the dampness, and 'specially in the +spring, it don't take any time for a house to get musty if it ain't +aired out regular. Mr. Langley died only three months ago, but we've +been candidatin' ever since and the candidates have been boarded round. +There's been enough of 'em, too; we're awful hard to suit, I guess. +That's it. Do open some more blinds and a window. Fresh air don't hurt +anybody--unless it's spiders," with a glare at the loathed cobwebs. + +The blinds and a window being opened, more light entered the room. Grace +glanced about it curiously. + +"So this is going to be your new home now, Aunt Keziah," she observed. +"How queer that seems." + +"Um--h'm. Does seem queer, don't it? Must seem queer to you to be so +near the headquarters of everything your uncle thinks is wicked. Smell +of brimstone any, does it?" she asked with a smile. + +"No, I haven't noticed it. You've got a lot of cleaning to do. I wish I +could help. Look at the mud on the floor." + +Keziah looked. + +"Mud?" she exclaimed. "Why, so 'tis! How in the world did that come +here? Wet feet, sure's you're born. Man's foot, too. Cap'n Elkanah's, +I guess likely; though the prints don't look hardly big enough for his. +Elkanah's convinced that he's a great man and his boots bear him out +in it, don't they? Those marks don't look broad enough for his +understandin', but I guess he made 'em; nobody else could. Here's the +settin' room." + +She threw open another door. A room gloomy with black walnut and +fragrant with camphor was dimly visible. + +"Cheerful's a tomb, ain't it?" was Mrs. Coffin's comment. "Well, we'll +get some light and air in here pretty soon. Here's the front hall and +there's the front stairs. The parlor's off to the left. We won't bother +with that yet a while. This little place in here is what Mr. Langley +used to call his 'study.' Halloa! how this door sticks!" + +The door did stick, and no amount of tugging could get it open, though +Grace added her efforts to those of Keziah. + +"'Tain't locked," commented Mrs. Coffin, "cause there ain't any lock on +it. I guess it's just swelled and stuck from the damp. Though it's odd, +I don't remember--Oh, well! never mind. Let's sweeten up this settin' +room a little. Open a window or two in here. We'll have to hurry if we +want to do anything before it gets dark. I'm goin' into the kitchen to +get a broom." + +She hurried out, returning in a moment or two with a broom and a most +disgusted expression. + +"How's a body goin' to sweep with that?" she demanded, exhibiting the +frayed utensil, the business end of which was worn to a stub. "More +like a shovel, enough sight. Well, there's pretty nigh dust enough for +a shovel, so maybe this'll take off the top layers. S'pose I'll ever get +this house fit for Mr. Ellery to live in before he comes? I wonder if +he's a particular man?" + +Grace, who was struggling with a refractory window, paused for breath. + +"I'm sure I don't know," she replied. "I've never seen him." + +"Nor I either. Sol was so bad the Sunday he preached that I couldn't go +to meetin'. They say his sermon was fine; all about those who go down to +the sea in ships. That's what got the parish committee, I guess; they're +all old salts. I wonder if he's as fine-lookin' as they say?" + +Miss Van Horne tossed her head. She was resting, prior to making another +assault on the window. + +"I don't know," she said. "And I'm sure I don't care. I don't like +good-looking ministers." + +"Deary me! You're different from most females in this town, then. And +you spoke of his good looks yourself this very mornin'. Why don't you +like the good-lookin' ones?" + +"Oh, because they're always conceited and patronizing and superior--and +spoiled. I can just imagine this Mr. Ellery of yours strutting about in +sewing circle or sociables, with Annabel and Georgianna Lothrop and the +rest simpering and gushing and getting in his way: 'O Mr. Ellery, I did +so enjoy that sermon of yours Sunday!' and 'O Mr. Ellery, it was SO good +of you to come this afternoon!' Pooh! I'm glad I'm a Come-Outer. Not +that I would simper over him if I wasn't. He couldn't patronize me--not +more than once, at any rate." + +Keziah was greatly amused. + +"Sakes alive!" she chuckled. "You're awfully high and mighty, seems to +me. And changeable since mornin'. You was willin' enough to talk about +him then. Now, Gracie, you mustn't take a spite against poor Mr. Ellery +just because I've got to keep house for him. 'Tain't his fault; he don't +even know it yet." + +"I don't care. I know he'll be a conceited little snippet and I shall +hate the sight of him. There! there! Auntie, you mustn't mind me. I +told you I was a selfish pig. But don't you ask me to LIKE this precious +minister of yours, because I shan't do it. He has no business to come +and separate me from the best friend I've got. I'd tell him so if he was +here--What was that?" + +Both women looked at each other with startled faces. They listened +intently. + +"Why, wa'n't that funny!" whispered Keziah. "I thought I heard--" + +"You DID hear. So did I. What do you suppose--" + +"S-s-s-h-h! It sounded from the front room somewhere. And yet there +can't be anybody in there, because--My soul! there 'tis again. I'm goin' +to find out." + +She grasped the stubby broom by the handle and moved determinedly toward +the front hall. Grace seized her by the arm. + +"Don't you do it, auntie!" she whispered frantically. "Don't you DO it! +It may be a tramp." + +"I don't care. Whoever or whatever it is, it has no business in this +house, and I'll make that plain in a hurry. Just like as not it's a cat +got in when Elkanah was here this forenoon. Don't be scared, Grace. Come +right along." + +The girl came along, but not with enthusiasm. They tiptoed through the +dark, narrow hall and peered into the parlor. This apartment was dim and +still and gloomy, as all proper parlors should be, but there was no sign +of life. + +"Humph!" sniffed Keziah. "It might have been upstairs, but it didn't +sound so. What did it sound like to you?" + +"Like a footstep at first; and then like something falling--and +rustling. Oh, what is the matter?" + +Mrs. Coffin was glancing back down the hall with a strange expression on +her face. Her grip upon the broom handle tightened. + +"What IS it?" pleaded the girl in an agonized whisper. + +"Grace," was the low reply, "I've just remembered somethin'. That study +door isn't stuck from the damp, because--well, because I remember now +that it was open this mornin'." + +Before her companion could fully grasp the import of this paralyzing +fact, Keziah strode down the hall and seized the knob of the study door. + +"Whoever you are in there," she commanded sternly, "open this door and +come out this minute. Do you hear? I'm orderin' you to come out." + +There was an instant of silence; then a voice from within made answer, a +man's voice, and its tone indicated embarrassment. + +"Madam," it said, "I--I am--I will be out in another minute. If you will +just be patient--" + +Grace interrupted with a smothered shriek. Keziah brandished the broom. + +"Patient!" she repeated sharply. "Well, I like that! What do you mean +by--Open that door! Grace, run out and get the--the constable." + +This command was delivered entirely for effect. The office of constable +in Trumet is, generally speaking, a purely honorary one. Its occupant +had just departed for a week's cruise as mate of a mackerel schooner. +However, the effect was instantaneous. From behind the door came sounds +of hurry and commotion. + +"Don't get the police on my account, please," said the voice. "If you +will be patient until I get this--I'm just as anxious to come out as you +can be to have me. Of all the ridiculous--" + +"Come out then!" snapped Keziah. "Come out! If you're so everlastin' +anxious, then come out. Patience! Of all the cheek! Why don't you come +out NOW?" + +The answer was brisk and to the point. Evidently, the unknown's stock of +the virtue which he demanded of others was diminishing. + +"Well, to be frank, since you insist," snapped the voice, "I'm not fully +dressed." + +This was a staggerer. For once Keziah did not have a reply ready. +She looked at Grace and the latter at her. Then, without words, they +retreated to the sitting room. + +"Shall--shall I go for help?" whispered the girl. "Hadn't we better +leave him here and--He doesn't sound like a tramp, does he. What DO you +suppose--" + +"I hope you won't be alarmed," continued the voice, broken by panting +pauses, as if the speaker was struggling into a garment. "I know this +must seem strange. You see, I came on the coach as far as Bayport +and then we lost a wheel in a rut. There was a--oh, dear! where IS +that--this is supremely idiotic!--I was saying there happened to be a +man coming this way with a buggy and he offered to help me along. He was +on his way to Wellmouth. So I left my trunk to come later and took my +valise. It rained on the way and I was wet through. I stopped at Captain +Daniels's house and the girl said he had gone with his daughter to the +next town, but that they were to stop here at the parsonage on their +way. So--there! that's right, at last!--so I came, hoping to find them. +The door was open and I came in. The captain and his daughter were not +here, but, as I was pretty wet, I thought I would seize the opportunity +to change my clothes. I had some dry--er--things in my valise and +I--well, then you came, you see, and--I assure you I--well, it was the +most embarrassing--I'm coming now." + +The door opened. The two in the sitting room huddled close together, +Keziah holding the broom like a battle-ax, ready for whatsoever might +develop. From the dimness of the tightly shuttered study stepped the +owner of the voice, a stranger, a young man, his hair rumpled, his +tie disarranged, and the buttons of his waistcoat filling the wrong +buttonholes. Despite this evidence of a hasty toilet in semidarkness, he +was not unprepossessing. Incidentally, he was blushing furiously. + +"I'm--I'm sure I beg your pardon, ladies," he stammered. "I scarcely +know what to say to you. I--" + +His eyes becoming accustomed to the light in the sitting room, he was +now able to see his captors more clearly. He looked at Keziah, then at +Miss Van Horne, and another wave of blushes passed from his collar up +into the roots of his hair. Grace blushed, too, though, as she perfectly +well knew, there was no reason why she should. + +Mrs. Coffin did not blush. This young fellow, although evidently not a +tramp or a burglar, had caused her some moments of distinct uneasiness, +and she resented the fact. + +"Well," she observed rather tartly, "I'm sorry you don't know what to +say, but perhaps you might begin by telling us who you are and what you +mean by makin' a--er--dressin' room of a house that don't belong to +you, just because you happened to find the door unlocked. After that +you might explain why you didn't speak up when we first come, instead +of keepin' so mighty quiet. That looks kind of suspicious to me, I must +say." + +The stranger's answer was prompt enough now. It was evident he resented +the suspicion. + +"I didn't speak," he said, "because you took me by surprise and I +wasn't, as I explained--er--presentable. Besides, I was afraid of +frightening you. I assure you I hurried as fast as I could, quietly, and +when you began to talk"--his expression changed and there was a twitch +at the corner of his mouth--"I tried to hurry still faster, hoping you +might not hear me and I could make my appearance--or my escape--sooner. +As for entering the house--well, I considered it, in a way, my house; at +least, I knew I should live in it for a time, and--" + +"Live in it?" repeated Keziah. "LIVE in it? Why! mercy on us! you don't +mean to say you're--" + +She stopped to look at Grace. That young lady was looking at her with +an expression which, as it expressed so very much, is beyond ordinary +powers of description. + +"My name is Ellery," said the stranger. "I am the minister--the new +minister of the Regular society." + +Then even Keziah blushed. + + +CHAPTER III + +IN WHICH KEZIAH ASSUMES A GUARDIANSHIP + + +Didama would have given her eyeteeth--and, for that matter, the entire +upper set--to have been present in that parsonage sitting room when the +Rev. John Ellery made his appearance. But the fates were against Didama +that day and it was months afterwards before she, or any of what +Captain Zeb Mayo called the "Trumet Daily Advertisers," picked up a hint +concerning it. Keziah and Grace, acquainted with the possibilities of +these volunteer news gatherers, were silent, and the Reverend John, +being in some respects a discreet young man with a brand-new ministerial +dignity to sustain, refrained from boasting of the sensation he had +caused. He thought of it very often, usually at most inconvenient times, +and when, by all the requirements of his high calling, his thought +should have been busy with different and much less worldly matters. + +"I declare!" said Mrs. Thankful Payne, after the new minister's first +call at her residence, a week after his arrival at Trumet, "if Mr. +Ellery ain't the most sympathetic man. I was readin' out loud to him +the poem my cousin Huldy B.--her that married Hannibal Ellis over to +Denboro--made up when my second husband was lost to sea, and I'd just +got to the p'int in the ninth verse where it says: + + 'The cruel billows crash and roar, + And the frail craft is tempest-tossed, + But the bold mariner thinks not of life, but says, + "It is the fust schooner ever I lost."' + +And 'twas, too, and the last, poor thing! Well, I just got fur as this +when I looked up and there was the minister lookin' out of the window +and his face was just as red, and he kept scowlin' and bitin' his +lips. I do believe he was all but sheddin' tears. Sympathy like that I +appreciate." + +As a matter of fact, Mr. Ellery had just seen Grace Van Horne pass that +window. She had not seen him, but for the moment he was back in that +disgusting study, making a frenzied toilet in the dusk and obliged to +overhear remarks pointedly personal to himself. + +Grace left the parsonage soon after the supposed tramp disclosed +his identity. Her farewells were hurried and she firmly refused Mrs. +Coffin's not too-insistent appeal to return to the house "up street" +and have supper. She said she was glad to meet Mr. Ellery. The young +minister affirmed his delight in meeting her. Then she disappeared in +the misty twilight and John Ellery surreptitiously wiped his perspiring +forehead with his cuff, having in his late desire for the primal +necessities forgotten such a trifling incidental as a handkerchief. + +"Well, Mr. Ellery," observed Keziah, turning to her guest, or employer, +or incumbrance--at present she was more inclined to consider him the +latter--"well, Mr. Ellery, this has been kind of unexpected for all +hands, ain't it? If I'd known you was comin' to-day, I'd have done my +best to have things ready, but Cap'n Elkanah said not before day after +to-morrow and--but there, what's the use of talkin' that way? I didn't +know I was goin' to keep house for you till this very forenoon. Mercy +me, what a day this has been!" + +The minister smiled rather one-sidedly. + +"It's been something of a day for me," he admitted. "I am ahead of time +and I've made a lot of trouble, I'm afraid. But yesterday afternoon I +was ready and, to tell the truth, I was eager to come and see my new +home and get at my work. So I started on the morning train. Then the +stage broke down and I began to think I was stranded at Bayport. +But this kind-hearted chap from Wellmouth--I believe that's where he +lived--happened to pull up to watch us wrestling with the smashed wheel, +and when he found I was in a hurry to get to Trumet, offered to give me +a lift. His name was--was Bird. No, that wasn't it, but it was something +like Bird, or some kind of a bird." + +"Bird?" repeated Keziah thoughtfully. "There's no Birds that I know of +in Wellmouth. Hum! Hey? 'Twa'n't Sparrow, was it?" + +"That was it--Sparrow." + +"Good land! Emulous Sparrow. Run consider'ble to whiskers and tongue, +didn't he?" + +"Why, yes; he did wear a beard. As for tongue--well, he was +conversational, if that's what you mean." + +"That's what I mean. If you rode twelve mile with Emulous, you must have +had an earache for the last six. Did he ask a question or two about your +personal affairs, here and there between times?" + +Mr. Ellery laughed. + +"Yes, one or two, between times," he admitted. + +"I shan't die of surprise. Did you tell him who you was?" + +"No-o, to be honest, I didn't. He was so very anxious to find out, +that--well, I dodged. I think he believed I was going to visit Captain +Daniels." + +"Good enough! If I was governor of this state I wouldn't send any +Thanksgivin' proclamations down this way. I'd just write Em Peters and +Didama Rogers and a couple more like them and save myself the trouble. +They'd have all I wanted to proclaim spread from one end of the county +to the other in less'n a day, and a peck or two of extrys pitched in +for good measure. I'm awful glad you didn't tell Emulous you was the +minister. You see, Trumet's Trumet, and, considerin' everything, maybe +it's just as well nobody knows about your bein' shut up in that study. +Not but what 'twas all right, you know, but--" + +"I understand. I'm not proud of it. Still, some one may have seen me +come here." + +"No, no, they didn't. This fog is as thick as Injun-meal puddin'. Nobody +saw you." + +"Well," with some hesitation, "the young lady who was here with you--" + +"Oh, Grace Van Horne! She's all right. She won't tell. She ain't that +kind." + +"Van Horne? That doesn't sound like a New England name." + +"'Tisn't. Her folks come from Jersey somewheres. But she was adopted +by old Cap'n Hammond, who keeps the tavern down on the bay shore by the +packet wharf, and she's lived in Trumet since she was six years old. Her +father was Teunis Van Horne, and he was mate on Cap'n Eben's coastin' +schooner and was drowned off Hatteras. Eben was saved just by the skin +of his teeth and got a broken hip and religion while it happened. His +hip's better except that he's some lame; but his religion's been more +and more feverish ever since. He's one of the head Come-Outers, and +built their chapel with his own money. You mustn't think I'm speakin' +lightly of religion, nor of Cap'n Eben, either. He's a dear good soul as +ever was, but he is the narrowest kind of Come-Outer. His creed is +just about as wide as the chapel door, and that's as narrow as the way +leadin' to salvation; it IS the way, too, so the Come-Outers think." + +"What are Come-Outers? Some new sect?" + +"Sakes alive! Haven't you heard of Come-Outers? Cat's foot! Well, you'll +hear of 'em often enough from now on. They're folks who used to go to +our church, the Regular, but left because the services was too worldly, +with organs and choir singin', and the road to paradise too easy. No +need for me to tell you any more. You'll learn." + +Mr. Ellery was interested. He had been in Trumet but once before, on the +occasion when he preached his trial sermon, and of that memorable +visit remembered little except the sermon itself, the pews filled +with captains and their families, and the awe-inspiring personality of +Captain Elkanah Daniels, who had been his host. To a young man, the ink +upon his diploma from the theological school still fresh, a trial sermon +is a weighty matter, and the preaching of it weightier still. He had +rehearsed it over and over in private, had delivered it almost through +clinched teeth, and had returned to his room in the Boston boarding +house with the conviction that it was an utter failure. Captain Elkanah +and the gracious Miss Annabel, his daughter, had been kind enough to +express gratification, and their praise alone saved him from despair. +Then, to his amazement, the call had come. Of casual conversation at the +church and about the Daniels's table he could recall nothing. So there +was another religious organization in town and that made up of seceders +from his own church. He was surprised. + +"Er--this Miss Van Horne?" he asked. "Is she a--Come-Outer?" + +Mrs. Coffin nodded. + +"Yes," she said. "She's one. Couldn't be anything else and live with her +Uncle Eben, as she calls him." + +The minister experienced a curious feeling of disappointment and +chagrin. This young person, already predisposed to regard a clergyman of +his denomination with disapproval, had seen him for the first time under +most humiliating circumstances. And he should never have the opportunity +to regain her favor, or his own self-respect, by his efforts in the +pulpit. No matter how well he might preach she would never hear him. + +"Has this Captain Hammond no children of his own?" he asked. + +Keziah's answer was short for her. + +"Yes," she said. "One." + +"Ah! another daughter?" + +"No, a son. Name's Nathaniel, and he's a sea captain. He's on his way +from Surinam to New York now. They expect him to make port most any +time, I believe. Now, Mr. Ellery, I s'pose we've got to arrange for your +supper and stayin' overnight; and with this house the way 'tis and all, +I don't see--" + +But the minister was still interested in the Hammond household. + +"This Nathaniel Hammond?" he asked. "You don't seem enthusiastic over +him. Is he a black sheep?" + +This reply also was short, but emphatic. + +"No," said Keziah. "He's a fine man." + +Then she resumed her semisoliloquy concerning her companion's +entertainment. + +"I guess," she said, "that the best thing for you to do will be to go to +Cap'n Elkanah's. They'll be real glad to see you, I know, and you'll +be in time for supper, for Elkanah and Annabel have been to Denboro and +they'll be late home. They can keep you overnight, too, for it's a big +house with lots of rooms. Then, after breakfast to-morrow you come right +here. I'll have things somewhere near shipshape by then, I guess, though +the cleanin'll have to be mainly a lick and a promise until I can really +get at it. Your trunk'll be here on the coach, I s'pose, and that'll be +through early in the forenoon. Get on your hat and coat and I'll go with +you to Elkanah's." + +The young man demurred a little at thrusting himself upon the +hospitality of the Daniels's home, but Keziah assured him that his +unexpected coming would cause no trouble. So he entered the now dark +study and came out wearing his coat and carrying his hat and valise in +his hand. + +"I'm sure I'm ever so much obliged to you," he said. "And, as we are +going to be more or less together--or at least I guess as much from what +you say--would you mind if I suggest a mutual introduction. I'm John +Ellery; you know that already. And you--" + +Keziah stopped short on her way to the door. + +"Well, I declare!" she exclaimed. "If I ain't the very worst! Fact is, +you dropped in so ahead of time and in such a irregular sort of way, +that I never once thought of introducin' anybody; and I'm sure Grace +didn't. I'm Keziah Coffin, and Cap'n Elkanah and I signed articles, so +to speak, this mornin', and I'm goin' to keep house for you." + +She explained the reason upsetting the former arrangement by which +Lurania Phelps was to have had the position. + +"So I'm to keep house for you," she concluded. Adding: "For a spell, +anyhow." + +"Why do you say that?" asked the minister. + +"Well, you might not like me. You may be particular, you know." + +"I think I can run that risk." + +"Yes; well, you can't tell. Or I might not like you. You see, I'm pretty +particular myself," she added with a laugh. + +At the Daniels's door Keziah turned her new charge over to Matilda Snow, +the hired girl. It was an indication of the family's social position +that they kept "hired help." This was unusual in Trumet in those days, +even among the well to do. + +"Good night," said the young man, extending his hand. "Good night, +Miss--or is it Mrs.--Coffin?" + +"Mrs. Good night." + +"She's a widow," explained Matilda. "Husband died 'fore she come back +here to live. Guess he didn't amount to much; she never mentions his +name." + +"There was one thing I meant to tell her," mused the minister, +hesitating on the threshold. "I meant to tell her not to attempt any +cleaning up at the parsonage to-night. To-morrow will do just as well." + +"Heavens to Betsy!" sniffed the "hired help," speaking from the depths +of personal conviction, "nobody but a born fool would clean house in the +night, 'specially after the cleanin' she's been doin' at her own place. +I guess you needn't worry." + +So Mr. Ellery did not worry. And yet, until three o'clock of the +following morning, the dull light of a whale-oil lantern illuminated the +rooms of the parsonage as Keziah scrubbed and swept and washed, giving +to the musty place the "lick and promise" she had prophesied. If the +spiders had prepared those ascension robes, they could have used them +that night. + +After breakfast the wagons belonging to the Wellmouth furniture dealer +drove in at the gate of the little house opposite Captain Elkanah's, and +Keziah saw, with a feeling of homesickness which she hid beneath smiles +and a rattle of conversation, the worn household treasures which had +been hers, and her brother's before her, carried away out of her life. +Then her trunks were loaded on the tailboards of the wagons, to be left +at the parsonage, and with a sigh and a quick brush of her hand across +her eyes, she locked the door for the last time and walked briskly down +the road. Soon afterwards John Ellery, under the eminently respectable +escort of Captain Elkanah and Miss Annabel, emerged from the Daniels's +gate and followed her. Mrs. Didama Rogers, thankful for a clear +atmosphere and an unobstructed view, saw them pass and recognized the +stranger. And, within a quarter of an hour, she, arrayed in a hurried +calling costume, was spreading the news along the main road. The "Trumet +Daily Advertiser" had, so to speak, issued an extra. + +Thus the new minister came to Trumet and thus Keziah Coffin became his +housekeeper. She entered upon her duties with the whole-hearted energy +peculiar to her. She was used to hard work, and, as she would have said, +felt lonesome without it. She cleaned that parsonage from top to bottom. +Every blind was thrown open and the spring sunshine poured in upon the +braided mats and the rag carpets. Dust flew in clouds for the first +day or two, but it flew out of windows and doors and was not allowed to +settle within. The old black walnut furniture glistened with oil. The +mirrors and the crockery sparkled from baths of hot water and soap. Even +St. Stephen, in the engravings on the dining-room wall, was forced to a +martyrdom of the fullest publicity, because the spots and smears on the +glass covering his sufferings were violently removed. In the sleeping +rooms upstairs the feather beds were beaten and aired, the sheets and +blankets and patchwork comforters exposed to the light, and the window +curtains dragged down and left to flap on the clothesline. The smell of +musty dampness disappeared from the dining room and the wholesome odors +of outdoors and of good things cooking took its place. + +Keziah, in the midst of her labors, found time to coach her employer +and companion in Trumet ways, and particularly in the ways which Trumet +expected its clergymen to travel. On the morning following his first +night in the parsonage, he expressed himself as feeling the need of +exercise. He thought he should take a walk. + +"Well," said his housekeeper from her station opposite him at the +breakfast table, "if I was you I wouldn't take too long a one. You'd +better be back here by ten, anyhow. Where was you thinkin' of goin'?" + +Mr. Ellery had no particular destination in mind. He would like to see +something of the village and, perhaps, if she could give him the names +of a few of his parishioners, he might make a few calls. Keziah shook +her head. + +"Gracious goodness!" she exclaimed. "I wouldn't advise you to do that. +You ain't been here long enough to make forenoon calls. If you should +catch some of the women in this town with aprons and calico on, they'd +never forgive you in this world. Wait till afternoon; they'll be +expectin' you then and they'll be rigged out in their best bibs and +tuckers. S'pose you found Annabel Daniels with her hair done up in +curl papers; what do you think would happen? Mornin's are no time +for ministers' calls. Even old Mr. Langley never made calls in the +forenoon--and he'd been here thirty-odd years." + +"All right, you know best. Much obliged for the advice. Then I'll simply +take my walk and leave the calls until later." + +"I'd be back by ten, though. Folks'll begin callin' on you by that +time." + +"They will? Doesn't the rule work both ways?" + +"Not with new ministers it don't. Cat's foot! You don't s'pose Didama +Rogers and Laviny Pepper and their kind'll wait any longer'n they can +help afore they come to see what you look like, do you?" + +"Well, they must have seen me when I preached here before. I remember--" + +"Mercy on us! that was in meetin'. Meetin's diff'rent. All they could +say to you then was how much they liked your sermon. They say that to +every minister that comes, no matter how they may pick him to pieces +afterwards. But here they can ask you questions; about how you came to +come here and what you think of it far's you've got, and what your views +are on certain points in the creed. Likewise, who your folks were and +whether they was well off, and a few things like that. Then they'll want +to see what kind of clothes you wear and--" + +"Whew!" Ellery whistled. "You're unfolding a pleasant prospect for me, I +must say. Am I supposed to be catechized on all of my private affairs?" + +"Of course! A minister hasn't got any private affairs; he's a public +character. There!" she laughed, as she poured the coffee, "I mustn't +discourage you. But don't you see that every mother's son--and, for that +matter, every daughter and children's child unto the third and fourth +generation--feel that, so long as they pay pew rent or put a cent in the +collection, they own a share in you. And we always keep a watch on our +investments down this way. That's the Yankee shrewdness you read so much +about, I guess." + +The minister absently played with his spoon. + +"I'm afraid you're a cynic," he said. + +"No, no, I ain't. Though sometimes, considerin' everything, I feel as +though I had excuse enough if I wanted to belong to that tribe. But +you're young. You mustn't mind my sayin' that; if you was old, of +course, I wouldn't talk about ages. But you are young and this is your +first church. So you must start right. I'm no cynic, bless you. I've got +trust in human nature left--most kinds of human nature. If I hadn't, I'd +have more money, I s'pose. Perhaps you've noticed that those who trust a +good deal are usually poor. It's all right, Mr. Ellery; you go and take +your walk. And I'll walk into that pantry closet. It'll be a good deal +like walkin' into the Slough of Despond, but Christian came out on the +other side and I guess likely I will, if the supply of soapsuds holds +out." + +When, promptly at ten o'clock, the minister returned from his walk, +he found Mrs. Rogers waiting in the sitting room. It is a prime +qualification of an alert reporter to be first on the scene of +sensation. Didama was seldom beaten. Mr. Ellery's catechism began. +Before it was over Keziah opened the door to admit Miss Pepper and +her brother. "Kyan" was nervous and embarrassed in the housekeeper's +presence. Lavinia was a glacier, moving majestically and freezing as it +moved. Keziah, however, was not even touched by the frost; she greeted +the pair cordially, and begged them to "take off their things." + +It was dinner time before the catechizers departed. The catechized came +to the table with an impaired appetite. He looked troubled. + +"Don't let it worry you, Mr. Ellery," observed Keziah calmly. "I think +I can satisfy you. Honest and true, I ain't half as bad as you might +think." + +The minister looked more troubled than before; also surprised. + +"Why, Mrs. Coffin!" he cried. "Could you hear--" + +"No, no! I couldn't hear nothin' in that closet except my own opinion +on dirt and dust. But if I was as deaf as the man that set on the +powder keg and dropped his pipe ashes into it, it wouldn't have made any +difference. The man said after they picked him up that they needn't have +been so rough, he'd have moved without bein' pushed if they'd have made +signs they wanted to use the keg. And if I was out in the next lot I'd +have known what you was listenin' to in that sittin' room. They hinted +that they were real sorry for you, but 'twasn't any of THEIR doin's. The +parish committee, bein' just men, was apt to make mistakes in certain +matters. Of course everything MIGHT be well enough, and if you wa'n't +TOO particular about cookin' and so on, why--Anyhow, you mustn't think +that THEY were criticisin'. 'Twas only that they took an interest +and--That was about it, wasn't it?" + +"Mrs. Coffin, I--I hope you don't think I paid any attention to their +remarks--of that kind, I mean. Honestly, I did my best to stop them. I +said--" + +"Man alive! I'm not worried. Why should you be? We were talkin' about +trust just now--or I was. Well, you and I'll have to take each other on +trust for a while, until we see whether we're goin' to suit. If you see +anything that I'm goin' wrong in, I wish you'd tell me. And I'll do the +same by you, if that's agreeable. You'll hear a lot of things said about +me, but if they're very bad I give you my word they ain't true. And, to +be real frank, I'll probably hear some about you, which I'll take for +what they're worth and considerin' who said 'em. That's a good wholesome +agreement, I think, for both of us. What do you think?" + +John Ellery said, with emphasis, that he thought well of it. He began to +realize that this woman, with her blunt common sense, was likely to be +a pilot worth having in the difficult waters which he must navigate as +skipper of the Regular church in Trumet. Also, he began to realize that, +as such a skipper, he was most inexperienced. And Captain Daniels +had spoken highly--condescendingly but highly--of his housekeeper's +qualifications and personality. So the agreement was ratified, with +relief on his part. + +The first Sunday came and with it the first sermon. He read that sermon +to Keziah on Saturday evening and she approved of it as a whole, though +she criticised some of its details. + +"Don't be afraid to put in plenty of salt," she said. "Where you've +got the Christian life and spirit written down as bein' like a quiet, +peaceful home, free from all distrust, and like that, why don't you +change it to a good safe anchorage, where the soul can ride forever +without fear of breakers or no'theasters or the dangers besettin' the +mariner on a lee shore. They'll understand that; it gets right home to +'em. There's scarcely a man or a woman in your congregation that ain't +been out of sight of land for weeks on a stretch." + +The breakfast hour on Sunday would be at nine o'clock, instead of seven, +as on week days, she told him. + +"Trumet lays to bed Sunday mornin's," she explained. "It's almost a part +of its religion, as you might say, and lived up to more conscientious +than some other parts, I'm afraid. Six days shalt thou labor and wear +comfort'ble clothes; and on the seventh you must be lazy and dress up. +Likewise you must have baked beans Saturday for supper, as we're havin' +'em, and more beans with fish balls next mornin'. That is, if you want +to be orthodox." + +The service began at eleven o'clock. At half past ten the sexton, +old Mr. Jubal Knowles, rang the "first bell," a clanging five-minute +reminder. Twenty minutes later he began on the second and final call. +Mr. Ellery was ready--and nervous--before the first bell had finished +ringing. But Keziah, entering the sitting room dressed in black alpaca +and carrying the hymn book with her name in gilt letters on the cover, +forbade his leaving the parsonage thus early. + +"I shall go pretty soon," she said, "but you mustn't. The minister ain't +expected until the last bell's 'most done. Parson Langley used to wait +until the Winslows went in. Gaius Winslow is a widower man who lives up +to the west end of the town and he's got nine children, all boys. You'll +know 'em because they always drive down to meetin' in one carryall with +a white horse. Gaius is as punctual as a boardin'-house dinner. The +old parson used to wait until the last Winslow had toddled up the +meetin'-house steps and then he'd come out of this side door with +his sermon in his hand. It's a pretty good rule to remember and saves +watchin' the clock. Besides, it's what we've been used to, and that goes +a good ways with some folks. Good-by, Mr. Ellery. You'll see me in the +third pew from the back, on the right side, wishin' you luck just as +hard as I can." + +So, as in couples or family groups, afoot or in all sorts of vehicles, +the members of Trumet's Regular society came to the church to hear their +new minister, that functionary peeped under the parlor window shade of +the parsonage and waited, fidgetting and apprehensive, for the +Winslows. They arrived at last, and were not hard to recognize, for ten +individuals packed into one carriage are hard to overlook anywhere. As +Gaius, with the youngest in his arms, passed in at the church door, John +Ellery passed out of the parsonage gate. The last bell clanged its final +stroke, the vibrations ceased, the rustle of skirts and the sounds of +decorous coughing subsided and were succeeded by the dry rattle of the +hymn-book pages, the organ, presented by Captain Elkanah and played by +his daughter, uttered its preliminary groan, the service began. + +Outside the spring breeze stirred the budding silver-leafs, the distant +breakers grumbled, the crows in the pines near Captain Eben Hammond's +tavern cawed ribald answers to the screaming gulls perched along the top +of the breakwater. And seated on one of the hard benches of the little +Come-Outer chapel, Grace Van Horne heard her "Uncle Eben," who, as +usual, was conducting the meeting, speak of "them who, in purple and +fine linen, with organs and trumpets and vain shows, are gathered +elsewhere in this community to hear a hired priest make a mock of the +gospel." (A-MEN!) + +But John Ellery, the "hired priest," knew nothing of this. He did know, +however, that he was the center of interest for his own congregation, +the people among whom he had been called to labor. Their praise or +criticism meant everything to him; therefore he preached for dear life. + +And Keziah Coffin, in the third pew from the back, watched him intently, +her mind working in sympathetic unison with his. She was not one to +be greatly influenced by first impressions, but she had been favorably +impressed by this young fellow, and had already begun to feel that sense +of guardianship and personal responsibility which, later on, was to make +Captain Zebedee Mayo nickname the minister "Keziah's Parson." + +The sermon was a success. + + +CHAPTER IV + +IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON DECIDES TO RUN IT BLINDFOLD + + +On Monday afternoon the minister made a few calls. Keziah made out a +short list for him to follow, a "sort of chart of the main channel," she +called it, "with the safe ports marked and the shoals and risky places +labeled dangerous." + +"You see," she said, "Trumet ain't a course you can navigate with your +eyes shut. We divide ourselves into about four sets--aristocrats, poor +relations, town folks, and scum. The aristocrats are the big bugs like +Cap'n Elkanah and the other well-off sea captains, afloat or ashore. +They 'most all go to the Regular church and the parish committee is +steered by 'em. The poor relations are mainly widows and such, whose +husbands died or were lost at sea. Most of them are Regulars. The town +folks are those that stay ashore and keep store or run salt works or +somethin'. And the scum work around on odd jobs or go fishin'. So, if +you really want to be safe, you must call on the aristocrats first, +after that on the poor relations, and so on down. You won't be bothered +with scum much; they're mainly Come-Outers." + +Ellery took the list from her hand and looked it over. + +"Hum!" he said musingly. "Am I supposed to recognize these--er--class +distinctions?" + +"Yes. That is, not in meetin' or sewin' circle or anything like that, or +not out and out and open anywhere. But you want to cultivate a sort of +different handshake and how-dy-do for each set, so's to speak. Gush all +you want to over an aristocrat. Be thankful for advice and always SO +glad to see 'em. With the poor relations you can ease up on the gush and +maybe condescend some. Town folks expect condescension and superiority; +give it to 'em. When it comes to scum, why--well, any short kind of a +bow and a 'Mornin' 'll do for them. 'Course the Lord, in His infinite +mercy, made 'em, same as He did potato bugs, but it's necessary to keep +both bugs and them down to their proper place." + +She delivered this in the intervals between trips to the kitchen with +the dinner dishes. The minister listened with a troubled expression on +his face. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "I guess I'm dull. There was a Scotch professor +at college and the fellows used to say his bump of humor was a dent. +Maybe mine isn't much better. Are you joking?" + +Keziah stacked the cups and saucers. + +"I ain't jokin'," she declared. "I've been a poor relation in this +village for a good while and my brother was a shoemaker and on the upper +fringe of the town-folk class. My humor bump would have to stick up like +Cannon Hill afore I could see any joke in that." + +"But you're not seriously advising me to treat a rich man differently +from a poor one?" + +"Not openly different--no. But if you want to steer a perfectly SAFE +course, one that'll keep deep water under your keel the whole voyage, +why, there's your chart." + +Mr. Ellery promptly tore the "chart" into small pieces. + +"I'm going out," he said. "I shall be back by supper time." + +Mrs. Coffin eyed him grimly. + +"Goin' to run it blindfold, are you?" she asked. + +"Yes, I am." + +Her grimness disappeared and she smiled. + +"I'll have your supper ready for you," she said. "Bring back a good +appetite." + +The young man hesitated on the threshold. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he demanded, "would YOU have called only on the +aristocrats at first?" + +She shook her head, smiling still. + +"No," she replied, "not me. I've always taken risks. But I didn't +know but you might be a safe sailor. It saves a lot of trouble in this +world." + +"How about the next?" + +"Oh, well, perhaps even the scum may count for somethin' over there." +She turned to face him and her smile vanished. "Go on, Mr. Ellery," she +said. "Go and call where you please. Far be it from me that I should +tell you to do anything else. I suppose likely you hope some day to be +a great preacher. I hope you will. But I'd enough sight rather you was a +good man than the very greatest. No reason why you can't be both. There +was a preacher over in Galilee once, so you told us yesterday, who was +just good. 'Twa'n't till years afterwards that the crowd came to realize +that he was great, too. And, if I recollect right, he chummed in with +publicans and sinners. I'm glad you tore up that fool paper of mine. I +hoped you might when I gave it to you. Now you run along, and I'll wash +dishes. If cleanliness is next to godliness, then a parson ought to eat +out of clean plates." + +As a matter of fact, the minister's calls were in the nature of a +compromise, although an unintentional one. He dropped in on Zebedee +Mayo, owner of the big house on the slope of the hill. Captain Zeb took +him up into what he called his "cupoler," the observatory on the top of +the house, and showed him Trumet spread out like a map. The main road +was north and south, winding and twisting its rutted, sandy way. Along +it were clustered the principal houses and shops, shaded by silver-leaf +poplars, a few elms, and some willows and spruces. Each tree bent +slightly away from the northeast, the direction from which blew the +heavy winter gales. Beyond the main road were green slopes and pastures, +with swamps in the hollows, swamps which were to be cranberry bogs in +the days to come. Then the lower road, with more houses, and, farther +on, the beach, the flats--partially uncovered because it was high +tide--and the bay. + +Behind the Mayo house was the crest of Cannon Hill, more hills, pastures +and swamps, scattered houses and pine groves. Then began the tumbled, +humped waste of sand dunes, and, over their ragged fringes of beach plum +and bayberry bushes, the deep blue of the wide Atlantic. The lighthouse +was a white dot and the fish shanties a blotch of brown. Along the inner +edge of the blue were scars of dancing white, the flashing teeth of +hungry shoals which had torn to pieces and swallowed many a good ship. +And, far out, dotted and sprinkled along the horizon, were sails. + +"See?" said Captain Zeb, puffing still from the exertion of climbing +the ladder to the "cupoler," for he was distinctly "fleshy." "See? The +beacon's up. Packet come in this mornin'. There she is. See her down +there by the breakwater?" + +Sure enough, the empty barrel, painted red, was hoisted to the top of +its pole on the crest of Cannon Hill. And, looking down at the bay and +following the direction of the stubby pointing finger, Ellery saw a +little schooner, with her sails lowered, lying, slightly on her side, +in a shallow pool near a long ridge of piled stones--the breakwater. A +small wharf made out from the shore and black figures moved briskly upon +it. Carts were alongside the schooner and there more dots were busy. + +"Eben's pennant's flyin'," said Captain Zeb. "He always sets colors +when the packet's in. Keeps packet tavern, Eben does. That's it, that +old-fashioned, gambrel-roofed house on the rise by the wharf. Call it +'Saints' Rest,' they do now, 'cause Eben's so mighty religious." + +The minister saw the long, rambling house, with one lonely, twisted tree +in its yard, a flag flying from a pole beside it. So that was where +the Hammonds lived. And where the girl lived who was certain he was a +"conceited snippet." Whatever he might be in reality he hoped it was not +that. "Snippet" was not in his dictionary, but he didn't like the sound +of it. + +"Who owns the packet?" he asked, to make conversation. + +"Zach Foster. Married Freewill Doane's daughter over to Harniss. She's +dead now." + +"A good sailor, is he?" + +Captain Zeb spat in supreme disgust. + +"Good farmer!" he snorted. "Zach took over the packet for a debt when +the chap that used to run her died. His dad, old man Foster, raised +garden truck at the same time mine went to sea. Both of us took after +our fathers, I guess. Anyhow, my wife says that when I die 'twill be of +salt water on the brain, and I'm sure Zach's head is part cabbage. Been +better for him if he'd stuck to his garden. However, I s'pose he does +his best." + +"They say angels can do no more." + +"Um-m. Well, Zach'll be an angel pretty soon if he keeps on cruisin' +with that old hooker as she is. 'Bijah Perry, he's mate and the only +good seaman aboard, tells me that most of the riggin's rotten and the +main topmast ain't sound, by a good deal. The old man's put off havin' +her overhauled for two reasons, one that repairs cost money, and t'other +that puttin' off is the main sheet of his gospel. When there's no rain +the roof don't leak and long's it don't blow too hard 'most any kind of +gear'll hold. That's philosophy--cabbage philosophy." + +Ellery decided that he should like Captain Zeb, although it was evident +that the old whaler had decided opinions of his own which he did not +hesitate to express. He judged that the Mayos were of the so-called +aristocracy, but undoubtedly unique specimens. He visited four more +households that afternoon. The last call was at Mrs. Thankful Payne's, +and while there, listening to the wonderful "poem," he saw Miss Van +Horne pass the window, as has already been told. He came home to a Cape +Cod supper of scalloped clams, hot biscuits, and baked Indian pudding, +and Keziah greeted him with a cheery smile which made him feel that it +WAS home. His summary disposal of the "chart" had evidently raised him +in his housekeeper's estimation. She did not ask a single question as to +where he had been. + +Next day he had a taste of Trumet's real aristocracy, the genuine +article. Captain Elkanah Daniels and his daughter made their first +formal call. The captain was majestic in high hat, fur-collared cape, +tailed coat, and carrying a gold-headed cane. Miss Annabel wore her +newest gown and bonnet and rustled as she walked. They entered the +sitting room and the lady glanced superciliously about the apartment. + +"Hum--ha!" barked Captain Elkanah. "Ahem! Mr. Ellery, I trust you're +being made comfortable. The parish committee are--hum--ah--anxious that +you should be. Yes?" + +The minister said that he was very comfortable indeed. + +"It isn't what you've been used to, we know," observed Miss Annabel. +"Mr. Langley, our former pastor, was a sweet old gentleman, but he was +old-fashioned and his tastes were queer, especially in art. Have you +noticed that 'fruit piece' in the dining room? Isn't it too ridiculous?" + +Ellery admitted that the fruit piece was rather funny; but no doubt it +had been a gift and so + +--"Yes, indeed. I guess it was a present, fast enough. Nobody would buy +such a thing. It seems strange to pa and me that, although so many of +our people have been abroad, they have such strange ideas of art. Do you +remember the beautiful marbles in the palaces at Florence, Mr. Ellery? +Of course you've seen them?" + +The minister was obliged to admit that he had never been abroad. + +"Oh, is that so? I've been so many times with pa that it seems almost +as if everybody was as familiar with Yurrup as I am. You remember what I +said about the marbles, pa?" + +Her parent nodded. + +"Hum--ha! Oh, yes, yes," he said. "That was when I was in the +fruit-carrying trade and made a voyage to Valenchy." + +"Valencia, pa," corrected Annabel. "And Valencia is in Spain." + +"I know it. But we went to Leghorn afterwards. I sailed to Cronstadt for +some years regular. Cronstadt is in Rooshy, Mr. Ellery." + +"Russia, pa," snapped his daughter. Then she changed the subject to +church and parish affairs. They spoke of the sewing circle and the +reading society and the Friday-evening meetings. + +"The Come-Outers are so vexed with us," tittered Miss Annabel, "that +they won't even hold prayer meeting on the same night as ours. They have +theirs on Thursday nights and it's as good as a play to hear them shout +and sing and carry on. You'll enjoy the Come-Outers, Mr. Ellery. They're +a perfect delight." + +And as they rose to go Captain Elkanah asked: + +"Is there anything you'd like done about the parsonage, Mr. Ellery? +If so, it shall be done immejitly. How are you satisfied with your +housekeeper?" + +"Very well, indeed, Captain Daniels," was the prompt reply. + +"She's a character, isn't she?" giggled Annabel. "She was born here +in Trumet, but went away to New Bedford when she was young and grew up +there. Her maiden name was Hall, but while she was away she married a +man named Ansel Coffin. They didn't live together very long and weren't +happy, I guess. I don't know whose fault it was, nobody knows much +of anything about it, for that's the one thing she won't talk about. +Anyhow, the Coffin man was lost to sea, and after a while she came back +to keep house for her brother Solomon. She's an awful odd stick, but +she's a good cook, I believe; though I'm afraid you won't get the meals +people such as ourselves, who've been so much in the city, are used to." + +Ellery thought of the meals at his city boarding house and shuddered. He +was an orphan and had boarded for years. Incidentally, he had worked his +way through college. Captain Elkanah cleared his throat. + +"Keziah," he commanded. "Hum--ha! Keziah, come in here a minute." + +Keziah came in response to the call, her sewing in her hand. The +renovation of the parsonage had so far progressed that she could now +find time for a little sewing, after the dinner dishes were done. + +"Keziah," said the captain pompously, "we expect you to look out for Mr. +Ellery in every respect. The parish committee expects that--yes." + +"I'll try," said Mrs. Coffin shortly. + +"Yes. Well, that's all. You can go. We must be going, too, Mr. +Ellery. Please consider our house at your disposal any time. Be +neighborly--hum--ha!--be neighborly." + +"Yes," purred Annabel. "DO come and see us often. Congenial society is +very scarce in Trumet, for me especially. We can read together. Are you +fond of Moore, Mr. Ellery? I just dote on him." + +The last "hum--ha" was partially drowned by the click of the gate. +Keziah closed the dining-room door. + +"Mrs. Coffin," said the minister, "I shan't trouble the parish +committee. Be sure of that. I'm perfectly satisfied." + +Keziah sat down in the rocker and her needle moved very briskly for a +moment. Then she said, without looking up: + +"That's good. I own up I like to hear you say it. And I am glad there +are some things I do like about this new place of mine. Because--well, +because there's likely to be others that I shan't like at all." + +On Friday evening the minister conducted his first prayer meeting. +Before it, and afterwards, he heard a good deal concerning the +Come-Outers. He learned that Captain Eben Hammond had preached against +him in the chapel on Sunday. Most of his own parishioners seemed to +think it a good joke. + +"Stir 'em up, Mr. Ellery," counseled Lavinia Pepper. "Stir 'em up! Don't +be afraid to answer em from the pulpit and set 'em where they belong. +Ignorant, bigoted things!" + +Others gave similar counsel. The result was that the young man became +still more interested in these people who seemed to hate him and all he +stood for so profoundly. He wished he might hear their side of the case +and judge it for himself. It may as well be acknowledged now that John +Ellery had a habit of wishing to judge for himself. This is not always a +politic habit in a country minister. + +The sun of the following Thursday morning rose behind a curtain of fog +as dense as that of the day upon which Ellery arrived. A flat calm in +the forenoon, the wind changed about three o'clock and, beginning with +a sharp and sudden squall from the northwest, blew hard and steady. Yet +the fog still cloaked everything and refused to be blown away. + +"There's rain astern," observed Captain Zeb, with the air of authority +which belongs to seafaring men when speaking of the weather. "We'll get +a hard, driving rain afore mornin', you see. Then, if she still holds +from the northwest'ard, it'll fair off fine." + +"Goin' out in this, Mr. Ellery!" exclaimed Keziah, in amazement, as the +minister put on his hat and coat about seven that evening. "Sakes alive! +you won't be able to see the way to the gate. It's as dark as a nigger's +pocket and thicker than young ones in a poor man's family, as my father +used to say. You'll be wet through. Where in the world are you bound for +THIS night?" + +The minister equivocated. He said he had been in the house all day and +felt like a walk. + +"Well, take an umbrella, then," was the housekeeper's advice. "You'll +need it before you get back, I cal'late." + +It was dark enough and thick enough, in all conscience. The main road +was a black, wet void, through which gleams from lighted windows were +but vague, yellow blotches. The umbrella was useful in the same way +that a blind man's cane is useful, in feeling the way. The two or +three stragglers who met the minister carried lanterns. One of these +stragglers was Mr. Pepper. Kyan was astonished. + +"Well, I snum!" cried Kyan, raising the lantern. "If 'tain't Mr. Ellery. +Where you bound this kind of night?" + +Before the minister could answer, a stately figure appeared and joined +the pair. Lavinia, of course. + +"Well, Mr. Ellery," she said. "Ain't you lost, out in this fog? Anybody +sick?" + +No, no one was sick. + +"That's a mercy. Goin' callin', be you?" + +"No." + +"Hum! Queer weather for a walk, I call it. Won't be many out to-night, +except Come-Outers goin' to holler their lungs loose at prayer meetin'. +He, he! You ain't turned Come-Outer, have you, Mr. Ellery? You've headed +right for the chapel." + +Ellery's reply was hurried and a bit confused. He said good night and +went on. + +"Laviny," whispered the shocked Kyan, "do you think that was +a--er--polite thing to say to a parson? That about his turnin' +Come-Outer? He didn't make much answer, seemed to me. You don't think he +was mad, do ye?" + +"I don't care if he was," snorted Miss Pepper. "He could tell a body +where he was goin' then. Nobody can snub me, minister or not. I think +he's kind of stuck-up, if you want to know, and if he is, he'll get took +down in a hurry. Come along, don't stand there with your mouth open like +a flytrap. I'd like to know what he was up to. I've a precious good mind +to follow him; would if 'twa'n't so much trouble." + +She didn't. Yet, if she had, she would have deemed the trouble worth +while. For John Ellery stumbled on through the mist till he reached the +"Corners" where the store was located and the roads forked. There, he +turned to the right, into the way called locally "Hammond's Turn-off." +A short distance down the "Turn-off" stood a small, brown-shingled +building, its windows alight. Opposite its door, on the other side of +the road, grew a spreading hornbeam tree surrounded by a cluster of +swamp blackberry bushes. In the black shadow of the hornbeam Mr. Ellery +stood still. He was debating in his mind a question: should he or should +he not enter that building? + +As he stood there, groups of people emerged from the fog and darkness +and passed in at the door. Some of them he had seen during his fortnight +in Trumet. Others were strangers to him. A lantern danced and wabbled up +the "Turn-off" from the direction of the bay shore and the packet wharf. +It drew near, and he saw that it was carried by an old man with long +white hair and chin beard, who walked with a slight limp. Beside him was +a thin woman wearing a black poke bonnet and a shawl. In the rear of +the pair came another woman, a young woman, judging by the way she was +dressed and her lithe, vigorous step. The trio halted on the platform of +the building. The old man blew out the lantern. Then he threw the door +open and a stream of yellow light poured over the group. + +The young woman was Grace Van Horne. The minister recognized her at +once. Undoubtedly, the old man with the limp was her guardian, Captain +Eben Hammond, who, by common report, had spoken of him, Ellery, as a +"hired priest." + +The door closed. A few moments thereafter the sound of a squeaky +melodeon came from within the building. It wailed and quavered and +groaned. Then, with a suddenness that was startling, came the first +verse of a hymn, sung with tremendous enthusiasm: + + "Oh, who shall answer when the Lord shall call + His ransomed sinners home?" + +The hallelujah chorus was still ringing when the watcher across the +street stepped out from the shadow of the hornbeam. Without a pause he +strode over to the platform. Another moment and the door had shut behind +him. + +The minister of the Trumet Regular church had entered the Come-Outer +chapel to attend a Come-Outer prayer meeting! + + +CHAPTER V + +IN WHICH THE PARSON CRUISES IN STRANGE WATERS + + +The Come-Outer chapel was as bare inside, almost, as it was without. +Bare wooden walls, a beamed ceiling, a raised platform at one end with +a table and chairs and the melodeon upon it, rows of wooden settees for +the congregation--that was all. As the minister entered, the worshipers +were standing up to sing. Three or four sputtering oil lamps but dimly +illumined the place and made recognition uncertain. + +The second verse of the hymn was just beginning as Ellery came in. Most +of the forty or more grown people in the chapel were too busy wrestling +with the tune to turn and look at him. A child here and there in the +back row twisted a curious neck but twisted back again as parental +fingers tugged at its ear. The minister tiptoed to a dark corner and +took his stand in front of a vacant settee. + +The man whom Ellery had decided must be Captain Eben Hammond was +standing on the low platform beside the table. A quaint figure, +patriarchal with its flowing white hair and beard, puritanical with its +set, smooth-shaven lips and tufted brows. Captain Eben held an open hymn +book back in one hand and beat time with the other. He wore brass-bowed +spectacles well down toward the tip of his nose. Swinging a heavy, +stubby finger and singing in a high, quavering voice of no particular +register, he led off the third verse: + + "Oh, who shall weep when the roll is called + And who shall shout for joy?" + +The melodeon and the hymn book were in accord as to the tune, but +Captain Eben and the various members of the congregation seemed to have +a desire to improvise. They sang with spirit, however, and the rhythmic +pat of feet grew louder and louder. Here and there men and women were +swaying and rocking their bodies in time to the music. The chorus for +each verse was louder than the one preceding it. + +Another hymn was given out and sung. And another and still another. The +windows rattled. The patting grew to a steady "thump! thump!" Momentary +pauses between lines were punctuated by hallelujahs and amens. Standing +directly in front of the minister was a six-foot, raw-boned individual +whose clothes smelled strongly of fish, and whose hands, each swung +at the end of an exposed five inches of hairy red wrist, looked like +flippers. At the end of the third hymn this personage sprang straight up +into the air, cracked the heels of a pair of red cowhide boots together, +and whooped: "Glory be! Send the PAOWER!" in a voice like the screech +of a northeast gale. Mr. Ellery, whom this gymnastic feat had taken by +surprise, jumped in sympathy, although not as high. + +The singing over, the worshipers sat down. Captain Eben took a +figured handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. The thin, +nearsighted young woman who had been humped over the keyboard of the +melodeon, straightened up. The worshipers relaxed a little and began to +look about. + +Then the captain adjusted his spectacles and opened a Bible, which he +took from the table beside him. Clearing his throat, he announced that +he would read from the Word, tenth chapter of Jeremiah: + +"'Thus saith the Lord. Learn not the way of the heathen, and be not +dismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed at them. + +"'For the customs of the people are vain: for one cutteth a tree out of +the forest, the work of the hands of the workmen, with the ax.'" + +He read in a measured singsong, stopping occasionally to hold the book +in a better light and peering at the fine print through his spectacles. +And as he read, there was a sudden rustle on one of the back benches. A +child had turned, stared, and pulled at its mother's sleeve. The rustle +grew and spread. + +Captain Eben drawled on to the twentieth verse: + +"'My tabernacle is spoiled and all my cords are broken: my children are +gone forth from me, and they are not: there is none to stretch forth my +tent any more, and to set up my curtains! + +"'For the pastors are become brutish and have not sought the Lord: +therefore they shall not prosper, and--'" + +"A-MEN!" + +The shout came from the second bench from the front, where Ezekiel +Bassett, clam digger and fervent religionist, was always to be found on +meeting nights. Ezekiel was the father of Susannah B. Bassett, "Sukey +B." for short, who played the melodeon. He had been, by successive +seizures, a Seventh Day Baptist, a Second Adventist, a Millerite, a +Regular, and was now the most energetic of Come-Outers. Later he was to +become a Spiritualist and preside at table-tipping seances. + +Ezekiel's amen was so sudden and emphatic that it startled the reader +into looking up. Instead of the faces of his congregation, he found +himself treated to a view of their back hair. Nearly every head +was turned toward the rear corner of the room, there was a buzz of +whispering and, in front, many men and women were standing up to look. +Captain Eben was scandalized. + +"Well!" he exclaimed. "Is this a prayer meetin' or--or--what? Brethren +and sisters, I must say--" + +Ezekiel Bassett stepped forward and whispered in his ear. The +captain's expression of righteous indignation changed to one of blank +astonishment. He, too, gazed at the dark corner. Then his lips tightened +and he rapped smartly on the table. + +"Brethren and sisters," he thundered, in the voice which, of old, had +enforced obedience aboard his coasting schooner, "remember this is the +house of the Lord. Be reverent!" + +He waited until every eye had swung about to meet his. Then he regarded +his abashed but excited hearers with a steady and prolonged stare. + +"My friends," he said, "let us bow in prayer." + +John Ellery could have repeated that prayer, almost word for word, years +after that night. The captain prayed for the few here gathered together: +Let them be steadfast. Let them be constant in the way. The path they +were treading might be narrow and beset with thorns, but it was the path +leading to glory. + +"Scoffers may sneer," he declared, his voice rising; "they may make a +mock of us, they may even come into Thy presence to laugh at us, but +theirs is the laugh that turns to groanin'. O Lord, strengthen us +to-night to speak what's in our hearts, without fear." ("A-men!") "To +prophesy in Thy name! To bid the mockers and them that dare--dare to +profane this sanctuary be careful. Hired singers and trumpets and vain +shows we have not" ("Thank the Lord! Amen!"), "but the true faith and +the joy of it we do have." ("Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Glory!") + +And so on, his remarks becoming more personal and ever pointing like +a compass needle to the occupant of that seat in the corner. The +minister's determination to attend a Come-Outer meeting, though it had +reached the sticking point only a half hour before, was the result of +considerable deliberation. He had argued with himself and had made up +his mind to find out for himself just what these people did. He was +finding out, certainly. His motives were good and he had come with no +desire to scoff, but, for the life of him, he could not help feeling +like a criminal. Incidentally, it provoked him to feel that way. + +"O Lord," prayed Captain Hammond, the perspiration in beads on his +forehead, "Thou hast said that the pastors become brutish and have not +sought Thee and that they shan't prosper. Help us tonight to labor with +this one that he may see his error and repent in sackcloth and ashes." + +They sang once more, a hymn that prophesied woe to the unbeliever. +Then Ezekiel Bassett rose to "testify." The testimony was mainly to the +effect that he was happy because he had fled to the ark of safety while +there was yet time. + +"I found out," he shouted, "that fancy music and--ah--and--ah--sot +sermons and fine duds and suchlike wa'n't goin' to do ME no good. +I needed somethin' else. I needed good times in my religion" +("Hallelujah!") "and I've found 'em right here. Yes, sir! right here. +And I say this out loud," turning to glare at the intruder, "and I don't +care who comes to poke fun at me for sayin' it." ("Amen!") + +A sharp-nosed female followed Mr. Bassett. She spoke with evident +feeling and in a voice that trembled and shook when her emotion carried +it aloft. SHE'D had enough of high-toned religion. Yes, and of them that +upheld it. When her brother Simeon was took bad with phthisic, "wheezin' +like a busted bellerses" and 'twas "up and down, trot, trot, trot," to +fetch and carry for him day in and night out, did the folks from the +Reg'lar church help her? She guessed NOT. The only one that came nigh +her was Laviny Pepper, and she came only to gas and gabble and find out +things that wa'n't none of her business. What help she got was from +a Come-Outer, from Eben Hammond, bless his good soul! ("Amen!") That +phthisic settled her for Reg'larism. Yes, and for them that preached it, +too. So there! + +Captain Eben called for more testimony. But the testifiers were, to use +the old minstrel joke, backward in coming forward that evening. At an +ordinary meeting, by this time, the shouts and enthusiasm would have +been at their height and half a dozen Come-Outers on their feet at once, +relating their experiences and proclaiming their happiness. But tonight +there was a damper; the presence of the leader of the opposition cast a +shadow over the gathering. Only the bravest attempted speech. The others +sat silent, showing their resentment and contempt by frowning glances +over their shoulders and portentous nods one to the other. + +"Come, brethren," commanded the captain sharply; "we are waitin' to hear +you. Are you afraid? If your faith is real, nothin' nor nobody should +keep you from cryin' it out loud. Now, if ever, is the accepted time. +Speak up for the spirit that's in you." + +An elderly man, grave and quiet, arose and said a few words, dignified +and solemn words of prayer and thankfulness for the comfort this little +society of true believers had been to him. Ellery realized that here +was another sort of Come-Outer, one of the Hammond type. Evidently, they +were not all like Ezekiel and the shrill-voiced woman. + +Then, from the settee in front of him, rose the lengthy and fishy person +with the cowhide boots and enormous hands. His name was Josiah Badger +and he was, according to Trumet's estimate, "a little mite lackin' in +his top riggin'." He stuttered, and this infirmity became more and more +apparent as he grew eloquent. + +"I--I ain't afraid," he proclaimed. "They can call me a C-C-Come-Outer +all they want to. I--I don't care if they do. Let 'em, I say; l-let 'em! +They can p-p-poke their fun and p-p-p-pup-pup-poke it, but I tell 'em +to h-heave ahead and p-pup-pup-POKE. When I used to g-go to their old +Reg'lar meetin' house, all I done was to go to sleep. But I don't go +to sleep here, glory hallelujah! No, sir! There's too much b-b-blessed +noise and we have too g-good times to g-go to sleep here. That old +K-Kyan Pepper called me t-town f-fool t'other day. T-tut-town fool's +what he called me. Says I to him, says I: 'You-you-y-you ain't got spunk +enough to be a fool,' I says, 'unless Laviny says you c-can be. You old +Reg'lar p-p-pepper shaker, you!" + +By this time tee-hees from the children and chuckles from some of the +older members interfered with Mr. Badger's fervent but jerky discourse. +Captain Eben struck the table smartly. + +"Silence!" he thundered. "Silence! Brother Badger, I beg your pardon for +'em. Go on!" + +But Josiah's train of thought had evidently been derailed by the +interruption. + +"I--I--I cal'late that's about all," he stammered and sat down. + +The captain looked over the meeting. + +"I'm ashamed," he said, "ashamed of the behavior of some of us in the +Lord's house. This has been a failure, this service of ours. We have +kept still when we should have justified our faith, and allowed the +presence of a stranger to interfere with our duty to the Almighty. And +I will say," he added, his voice rising and trembling with indignation, +"to him who came here uninvited and broke up this meetin', that it would +be well for him to remember the words of Scriptur', 'Woe unto ye, false +prophets and workers of iniquity.' Let him remember what the Divine +wisdom put into my head to read to-night: 'The pastors have become +brutish and have not sought the Lord; therefore they shall not +prosper.'" + +"Amen!" "Amen!" "Amen!" "So be it!" The cries came from all parts of the +little room. They ceased abruptly, for John Ellery was on his feet. + +"Captain Hammond," he said, "I realize that I have no right to speak in +this building, but I must say one word. My coming here to-night may have +been a mistake; I'm inclined to think it was. But I came not, as you +seem to infer, to sneer or to scoff; certainly I had no wish to disturb +your service. I came because I had heard repeatedly, since my arrival +in this town, of this society and its meetings. I had heard, too, that +there seemed to be a feeling of antagonism, almost hatred, against me +among you here. I couldn't see why. Most of you have, I believe, been at +one time members of the church where I preach. I wished to find out for +myself how much of truth there was in the stories I had heard and to +see if a better feeling between the two societies might not be brought +about. Those were my reasons for coming here to-night. As for my being +a false prophet and a worker of iniquity"--he smiled--"well, there is +another verse of Scripture I would call to your attention: 'Judge not, +that ye be not judged.'" + +He sat down. There was silence for a moment and then a buzz of +whispering. Captain Eben, who had heard him with a face of iron +hardness, rapped the table. + +"We will sing in closin'," he said, "the forty-second hymn. After which +the benediction will be pronounced." + +The Regular minister left the Come-Outers' meeting with the unpleasant +conviction that he had blundered badly. His visit, instead of tending +toward better understanding and more cordial relationship, had +been regarded as an intrusion. He had been provoked into a public +justification, and now he was quite sure that he would have been more +politic to remain silent. He realized that the evening's performance +would cause a sensation and be talked about all over town. The +Come-Outers would glory in their leader's denunciation of him, and his +own people would perhaps feel that it served him right. If he had only +told Mrs. Coffin of what he intended to do. Yet he had not told her +because he meant to do it anyhow. Altogether it was a rather humiliating +business. + +So that old bigot was the Van Horne girl's "uncle." It hardly seemed +possible that she, who appeared so refined and ladylike when he met her +at the parsonage, should be a member of that curious company. When +he rose to speak he had seen her in the front row, beside the thin, +middle-aged female who had entered the chapel with Captain Hammond and +with her. She was looking at him intently. The lamp over the speaker's +table had shone full on her face and the picture remained in his memory. +He saw her eyes and the wavy shadows of her hair on her forehead. + +He stepped off the platform, across the road, out of the way of +homeward-bound Come-Outers, and stood there, thinking. The fog was +as heavy and wet as ever; in fact, it was almost a rain. The wind +was blowing hard from the northwest. The congregation dispersed in +chattering groups, their lanterns dipping and swinging like fireflies. +The chatter dealt entirely with one subject--himself. He heard his name +mentioned at least twenty times. Out of the gusty, dripping blackness +came Mr. Badger's voice. + +"By time!" crowed Josiah, "he was took down a few p-p-pup-pegs, wa'n't +he! My! how Eben did g-gi-gi-give it to him. He looked toler'ble white +under the gills when he riz up to heave out his s-s-sus-sassy talk. And +foolish, too. I cal'late I won't be the only town fuf-fuf-fool from now +on. He! he!" + +The noises died away in the distance. Within the chapel the tramp +of heavy boots sounded as the lights were blown out, one by one. The +minister frowned, sighed, and turned homeward. It is not pleasant to be +called a fool, even by a recognized member of the fraternity. + +He had taken but a few steps when there was a rustle in the wet grass +behind him. + +"Mr. Ellery," whispered a voice, "Mr. Ellery, may I speak to you just a +moment?" + +He wheeled in surprise. + +"Why! why, Miss Van Horne!" he exclaimed. "Is it you?" + +"Mr. Ellery," she began, speaking hurriedly and in a low voice, "I--I +felt that I must say a word to you before--" + +She paused and glanced back at the chapel. Ezekiel Bassett, the janitor, +having extinguished the last lamp, had emerged from the door and was +locking up. In another moment he clumped past them in the middle of the +road, the circle of light from his lantern just missing them as they +stood in the grass at the side under the hornbeam and blackberry bushes. +He was alone; Sukey B. had gone on before, other and younger masculine +escort having been providentially provided. + +Mr. Bassett was out of hearing before Grace finished her sentence. The +minister was silent, waiting and wondering. + +"I felt," she said, "that I must see you and--explain. I am SO sorry you +came here to-night. Oh, I wish you hadn't. What made you do it?" + +"I came," began Ellery, somewhat stiffly, "because I--well, because I +thought it might be a good thing to do. As I said--" + +"Yes, I know. But it wasn't. It was so--so--" + +"So foolish. Thank you, I'm aware of it. I've heard myself called a +fool already since I left your church. Not that I needed to hear it. I +realize the fact." + +There was a bitterness in his tone, unmistakable. And a little laugh +from his companion did not tend to soothe his feelings. + +"Thank you," he said. "Perhaps it is funny. I did not find it so. Good +evening." + +This was priggish, but it must be borne in mind that John Ellery was +very, very fresh from the theological school, where young divines are +taught to take themselves seriously. He was ashamed of himself as soon +as he said it, which proved that his case was not beyond hope. + +The girl detained him as he was turning away. + +"I wasn't laughing at that," she said. "I know who called you that--that +name. It was Josiah Badger, and he really is one, you know. I was +thinking of his testimony in meeting and how he called Ky--Abishai--a +pepper shaker. That was ridiculous enough, but it reminded me of +something else about Mr. Pepper, and I HAD to laugh. It wasn't at you, +truly." + +So the minister begged her pardon; also he remained where he was, and +heard the drops from the tree patter hollow on his hat. + +"I came after you," went on Grace rapidly and with nervous haste, +"because I felt that you ought not to misjudge my uncle for what he said +to-night. He wouldn't have hurt your feelings for the world. He is a +good man and does good to everybody. If you only knew the good he does +do, you wouldn't--you wouldn't DARE think hardly of him." + +She stamped her foot in the wet grass as she said it. She was evidently +in earnest. But Ellery was not in the mood to be greatly impressed +by Eben Hammond's charity or innate goodness. The old tavern keeper's +references to himself were too fresh in his mind. "False prophet" and +"worker of iniquity!" + +"I'm not judging your uncle," he declared. "It seemed to me that the +boot was on the other leg." + +"I know, but you do judge him, and you mustn't. You see, he thought +you had come to make fun of him--and us. Some of the Regular people do, +people who aren't fit to tie his shoes. And so he spoke against you. +He'll be sorry when he thinks it over. That's what I came to tell you. I +ask your pardon for--for him." + +"Why--why, that's all right. I think I understood--" + +"I'm not asking it because he's a Come-Outer and you're a Regular +minister. He isn't ashamed of his religion. Neither am I. I'm a +Come-Outer, too." + +"Yes. I--I supposed you were." + +"Yes, I am. There, good night, Mr. Ellery. All I ask is that you don't +think too hardly of uncle. He didn't mean it." + +She turned away now, and it was the minister who detained her. + +"I've been thinking," he said slowly, for in his present state of mind +it was a hard thing to say, "that perhaps I ought to apologize, too. +I'm afraid I did disturb your service and I'm sorry. I meant well, +but--What's that? Rain?" + +There was no doubt about it; it was rain and plenty of it. It came in +a swooping downpour that beat upon the trees and bushes and roared upon +the roof of the chapel. The minister hurriedly raised his umbrella. + +"Here!" he cried, "let me--Miss Van Horne! Where are you?" + +The answer came from a short distance down the "Turn-off." + +"Good night," called the girl. "I must run." + +Evidently, she WAS running. Therefore the young man ran after her. He +caught up with her in a moment, in spite of some stumbles over the rough +road. + +"Here!" he commanded, "you must take the umbrella. Really, you must. You +haven't one and you'll be wet through." + +She pushed the umbrella aside. + +"No, no," she answered. "I don't need it; I'm used to wet weather; truly +I am. And I don't care for this hat; it's an old one. You have a long +way to go and I haven't. Please, Mr. Ellery, I can't take it." + +"Very well," was the sternly self-sacrificing reply, "then I shall +certainly go with you." + +"But I don't wish you to." + +"I can't help that. I'm not going to let you go unprotected through +this flood. Especially as you might have been at home before this if you +hadn't stopped to speak with me." + +"But you mustn't." + +"I shall." + +Here was the irresistible force and the immovable object. They stood +stock still in the middle of the road, while the rain drops jumped as +they struck the umbrella top. The immovable object, being feminine, +voiced the unexpected. + +"All right," she said; "then I suppose I shall have to take it." + +"What?" + +"The umbrella. I'm sorry, and you'll get dreadfully wet, but it's your +own fault." + +He could feel her hand near his own on the handle. He did not relinquish +his grasp. + +"No," he said. "I think, on the whole, that that is unreasonable. I +SHOULD get wet and, though I don't mind it when it is necessary, I--" + +"Well?" rather sharply, "what are you going to do?" + +"Go with you as far as your gate. I'm sorry, if my company is +distasteful, but--" + +He did not finish the sentence, thinking, it may be, that she might +finish it for him. But she was silent, merely removing her hand from the +handle. She took a step forward; he followed, holding the umbrella above +her head. They plashed on, without speaking, through the rapidly forming +puddles. + +Presently she stumbled and he caught her arm to prevent her falling. To +his surprise he felt that arm shake in his grasp. + +"Why, Miss Van Horne!" he exclaimed in great concern, "are you crying? +I beg your pardon. Of course I wouldn't think of going another step with +you. I didn't mean to trouble you. I only--If you will please take this +umbrella--" + +Again he tried to transfer the umbrella and again she pushed it away. + +"I--I'm not crying," she gasped; "but--oh, dear! this is SO funny!" + +Mr. Ellery gazed blankly at her through the rain-streaked dark. This was +the most astonishing young person he had met in his twenty-three years +of worldly experience. + +"Funny!" he repeated. "Well, perhaps it is. Our ideas of fun seem to +differ. I--" + +"Oh, but it IS so funny. You don't understand. What do you think your +congregation would say if they knew you had been to a Come-Outers' +meeting and then insisted on seeing a Come-Outer girl home?" + +John Ellery swallowed hard. A vision of Captain Elkanah Daniels and the +stately Miss Annabel rose before his mind's eye. He hadn't thought of +his congregation in connection with this impromptu rescue of a damsel in +distress. + +"Ha, ha!" he laughed mournfully. "I guess it is rather funny, after +all." + +"It certainly is. Now will you leave me and go back to your parsonage?" + +"Not unless you take the umbrella." + +"Very well. It is a beautiful evening for a walk, don't you think so? +Mr. Ellery, I'm afraid we shan't have you with us in Trumet very long." + +"Why not?" + +"Oh, because you're so very, very original. Are your sermons that way, +too? Captain Elkanah doesn't like his ministers to be too original." + +The minister set his teeth. At that moment he felt an intense desire +to bid the Daniels family mind their own business. Then another thought +struck him. + +"Possibly your Uncle Eben might be somewhat--er--surprised if he +knew you were with me. Perhaps he might have something to say on the +subject." + +"I guess he would. We shall know very soon. I ran away and left him with +Mrs. Poundberry, our housekeeper. He doesn't know where I am. I wonder +he hasn't turned back to look for me before this. We shall probably meet +him at any moment." + +She seemed to enjoy the prospect of the meeting. Ellery wondered what on +earth he should say to Captain Hammond--that is, provided he was allowed +to say anything. + +Suddenly a heavier gust of rain and wind beat upon them. The minister +struggled with the umbrella. The gust passed and with it the fog. An +instant before it had been all about them, shutting them within inky +walls. Now it was not. Through the rain he could see the shadowy +silhouettes of bushes at the road side. Fifty yards away the lighted +windows of the Hammond tavern gleamed yellow. Farther on, over a ragged, +moving fringe of grass and weeds, was a black flat expanse--the bay. And +a little way out upon that expanse twinkled the lights of a vessel. A +chain rattled. Voices shouting exultingly came to their ears. + +"Why!" exclaimed Grace in excited wonder, "it's the packet! She was due +this morning, but we didn't expect her in till to-morrow. How did she +find her way in the fog? I must tell uncle." + +She started to run toward the house. The minister would have followed +with the umbrella, but she stopped him. + +"No, Mr. Ellery," she urged earnestly. "No, please don't. I'm all right +now. Thank you. Good night." + +A few steps farther on she turned. + +"I hope Cap'n Elkanah won't know," she whispered, the laugh returning to +her voice. "Good night." + +Ellery stood still in the rain and watched her. He saw her pass the +lighted windows and open a door. Into the yellow radiance she flashed +and disappeared. A minute more and the bulky form of Eben Hammond, +lantern in hand, a sou'wester on his head and his shoulders working +themselves into an oilskin coat, burst out of the door and hurriedly +limped down toward the shore. On the threshold, framed in light, stood +his ward, gazing after him. And the minister gazed at her. + +From the bay came the sound of oars in row-locks. A boat was approaching +the wharf. And suddenly from the boat came a hail. + +"Halloo! Ahoy, dad! Is that you?" + +There was an answering shout from the wharf; a shout of joy. Then +a rattle of oars and a clamor of talk. And Grace still stood in the +doorway, waiting. + +The lantern bobbed up the slope. As it reached the tavern gateway, the +minister saw that it was now carried by a tall, active man, who walked +with a seaman's stride and roll. Captain Eben was close beside him, +talking excitedly. + +They entered the yard. + +"Grace! Grace!" screamed Captain Eben. "Gracie, girl, look who's come! +Look!" + +The tall man ran forward. + +"Hi, Grace!" he cried in a deep, hearty voice. "Is that you? Ain't you +got a word for your old messmate?" + +The girl stepped out into the rain. + +"Why! why, NAT!" she cried. + +The big man picked her up bodily in his arms and carried her into the +house. Captain Eben followed and the door closed. + +John Ellery picked his way homeward through the puddles and the pouring +rain. + +He found Keziah in the sitting room, seated by the table, evidently +writing a letter. She looked tired and grave--for her. + +"Well!" she exclaimed as he entered. "I guess you're soppin' now, sartin +sure. There's a light in your room. Take off your wet things and throw +'em down to me, and I'll dry 'em in the kitchen. Better leave your boots +here now and stand that umbrella in the sink. The kettle's on the stove; +you'd better have somethin' hot--ginger tea or somethin'. I told you not +to go out such a night as this. Where in the world have you been?" + +The minister said he would tell her all about it in the morning. Just +now he thought he had better go up and take off his wet clothes. He +declined the ginger tea, and, after removing his boots, went upstairs to +his room. + +Keziah dipped her pen in the ink and went on with her letter. + +"I inclose ten dollars," she wrote. "It is all I can send you now. More +than I ought to afford. Goodness knows why I send anything. You don't +deserve it. But while I live and you do I can't--" + +The minister called from the landing. + +"Here is my coat," he said. "The cuffs and lower part of the sleeves are +pretty wet. By the way, the packet came in to-night. They didn't expect +her so soon on account of the fog. There was a passenger aboard whom I +think must be that Nathaniel Hammond you told me of." + +Keziah's pen stopped. The wet coat struck the hall floor with a soft +thump. The tick of the clock sounded loud in the room. A sheet of +wind-driven rain lashed the windows. + +"Did you hear?" called the minister. "I said that Nathaniel Hammond, +Captain Eben's son, came on the packet. I didn't meet him, but I'm sure +it was he. Er--Mrs. Coffin, are you there? Do you hear me?" + +The housekeeper laid the pen down beside the unfinished letter. + +"Yes," she said, "I hear you. Good night." + +For minutes she sat there, leaning back in her chair and staring at the +wall. Then she rose, went into the hall, picked up the coat, and took it +out into the kitchen, where she hung it on the clotheshorse by the cook +stove. After a while she returned to the table and took up the pen. Her +face in the lamplight looked more tired and grave than ever. + +It was a long time before John Ellery fell asleep. He had much to think +of--of the morrow, of the talk his rash visit to the chapel would cause, +of the explanation he must make to Captain Elkanah and the rest. But the +picture that was before his closed eyes as he lay there was neither of +Captain Elkanah nor the parish committee; it was that of a girl, with +dark hair and a slim, graceful figure, standing in a lighted doorway and +peering out into the rain. + + +CHAPTER VI + +IN WHICH OLD FRIENDS MEET + + +When Ellery came down to breakfast the rain was over, the wind had +gone down, and the morning sunshine was pouring in at the dining-room +windows. Outside the lilacs were in bud, the bluebirds were singing, and +there was a sniff of real spring in the air. The storm was at an end and +yet the young minister was conscious of a troublesome feeling that, for +him, it was just beginning. + +However, he had determined while dressing to make a clean breast of it +to his housekeeper--a nominally clean breast, that is. There were some +things he would not tell her, some that he would not speak of to anyone, +the picture in the doorway for instance. True, it was only a picture +and of no moment, but it was pleasant to remember. One of the very few +pleasant things connected with the previous evening. + +So, as they sat opposite each other at the table, he began his +confession. The muffins scorched in the oven and the coffeepot boiled +over as he told his story, for Keziah was too much interested to think +of trifles. Interested and astounded, for, since Come-Outers had been +Come-Outers and the split in the society took place, no Regular minister +had crossed the threshold of a seceder's dwelling, much less attended +their services and walked home with a member of their congregation. She +knew what this amazing procedure was likely to mean, if her parson did +not. + +"Well!" she exclaimed when the recital was finished. "Well!" + +"I--I'm afraid I was too hasty," observed Mr. Ellery thoughtfully. +"Perhaps it would have been wiser not to have done it." + +"Perhaps 'twould. Yes, I wouldn't wonder a mite." + +"It will be talked about some, I suppose. Don't you think so?" + +"Some, yes." + +"I'm afraid some of my own people may think it queer." + +"Queer! Say, Mr. Ellery, you remind me of a half-breed Portugee +feller--half Portugee and a half Indian--that went to sea with my +father, back in the old days. He hardly ever spoke a word, mainly +grunted and made signs. One day he and another fo'mast hand went aloft +in a calm to do somethin' to the tops'l. The half-breed--they called him +Billy Peter and he always called himself that--was out on the end of +the yard, with his foot on the rope underneath, I forget the name of it, +when the tarred twine he had for a shoe string caught. Tryin' to get +it loose it broke sudden, his shoe pulled off, he lost his balance and +fell. He grabbed at the yard, saved himself for a second, fell again, +grabbed the next yard, then a rope and so on down, grabbin' and pullin' +all the way. First his shoe hit the deck, then his sheath knife, then +a piece of rope, and finally himself, landin' right on top of the Irish +cook who was goin' aft from the galley with father's dinner. + +"There was the greatest racket you ever heard, pans fallin', dishes +smashin', men yellin', and the cook swearin'. Father run on deck, +thinkin' the ship was dismasted. He found the cook and Billy Peter +sittin' in the middle of the mess, lookin' at each other. Neither was +hurt a mite. The mates and the crew, part of 'em, was standin' starin' +at the pair. + +"'For Heaven sakes!' says father; 'what happened?' + +"The half-breed looked up and rubbed his head. 'Ugh!' says he, 'Billy +Peter bust his shoe string.' + +"The cook, his name was O'Neill, looked at him disgusted. 'Well, +begorra!' says he, 'Billy Peter, you don't exaggerate none, do ye! It's +a good thing BOTH of 'em didn't bust or we'd have foundered.' + +"You remind me of Billy Peter, Mr. Ellery, you don't exaggerate. Queer? +Some folks think your goin' to that meetin' last night QUEER? At this +moment one half of Trumet is talkin' about it and runnin' out to tell +the other half. I guess I'd better hurry up with this breakfast. We're +goin' to have callers." + +Strange to say, however, this prophecy of early morning visitors did +not prove true. Nine o'clock, then ten, and no visitor came to the +parsonage. Mrs. Coffin affirmed that she did not understand it. Where +was Didama? Where Lavinia Pepper? Had the "Trumet Daily Advertiser" +suspended publication? + +At half past ten the gate slammed. Keziah peered from the window. + +"Humph!" she ejaculated. "Here comes Elkanah and he's got storm signals +set, by the looks. He's comin' after you, Mr. Ellery." + +"Very well," was the calm reply; "let him come." + +"What are you goin' to say to him?" + +"Nothing, except that I did what I considered right at the time. Show +him into the study, Mrs. Coffin, please." + +Captain Daniels marched to the dining-room door, his gold-headed cane +marking time like a drumbeat. He nodded curtly to Keziah, who answered +the knock, and stepped across the threshold. + +"Hum--ha!" he barked. "Is the minister--hum--ha! is Mr. Ellery in?" + +"Yes, he's in." + +"Tell him I want to see him." + +The housekeeper announced the visitor. + +"He's as sour as a skimmin' of last week's milk," she whispered. "Don't +be afraid of him, though." + +"Oh, I'm not. Show him in." + +"All right. Say, Mr. Ellery, it's none of my business, but I wouldn't +say anything about your seein' Grace home. That's none of HIS business, +either, or anybody else's." + +The head of the parish committee stalked into the study and the +door closed behind him. A rumble of voices in animated conversation +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 +more. Her lips twitched and her eyes sparkled. + +"Hum!" she said again. "They say you can tell the Old Scratch by his +footprints, even if you can't smell the sulphur. Anyhow, you can tell +a Hammond by the size of his boots. Come out from behind that door this +minute. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?" + +The owner of the boot stepped forth from behind the door and seized her +by both hands. + +"Halloo, Keziah!" he cried joyfully. "My, but it's good to see you." + +"Halloo, Nat!" said Keziah heartily. "It's kind of good to see you, +too." + +The rest of him was in keeping with his boots. He was big and +broad-shouldered and bearded. His face, above the beard, was tanned to a +deep reddish brown, and the corners of his eyes were marked with dozens +of tiny wrinkles. He was dressed in blue cloth and wore a wide-brimmed, +soft felt hat. He entered the kitchen and tossed the hat into a corner. + +"Well!" he exclaimed. "Why don't you act surprised to see a feller? Here +I've been cruisin' from the Horn to Barnegat and back again, and you +act as if I'd just dropped in to fetch the cup of molasses I borrowed +yesterday. What do you mean by it?" + +"Oh, I heard you'd made port." + +"Did, hey? That's Trumet, sure pop. You ain't the only one. I sneaked +off acrost lots so's to dodge the gang of neighbors that I knew would +be sailin' into our yard, the whole fleet loaded to the gunwale with +questions. Wanted to see you first, Keziah." + +"Yes. So, instead of callin' like a Christian, you crept up the back way +and threw cranberries at me. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?" + +"Not a mite." He took a handful of the frostbitten berries from his +coat pocket and inspected them lovingly. "Ain't they fine?" he asked, +crunching two or three between his teeth. "I picked 'em up as I came +along. I tell you, that's the home taste, all right." + +"Don't eat those frozen things. They'll give you your never-get-over." + +"What? Cape Cod cranberries! Never in the world. I'd rather eat sand +down here than the finest mug my steward can cook. Tell you what I'll +do, though; I'll swear off on the cranberries if you'll give me a +four-inch slice of that pie I saw you put in the oven. Dried-apple, I'll +bet my sou'wester. Think you might ask a feller to sit down. Ain't you +glad to see me?" + +Mrs. Coffin pulled forward one of the kitchen chairs. He seated himself +on it and it groaned under his weight. + +"Whew!" he whistled. "Never made to stand rough weather, was it? Well, +AIN'T you glad?" + +Keziah looked at him gravely. + +"You know I'm glad, Nat," she said. + +"So? I hoped you would be, but I did want to hear you say it. Now you +come to anchor yourself and let's have a talk. I've been countin' on it +ever since we set tops'ls off Surinam." + +The housekeeper took the other chair. + +"How are you--" she began. He stopped her. + +"S-shh!" he interrupted. "Don't say anything for a minute. Let me look +at you. Just as clean and wholesome and good-lookin' as ever. They don't +make girls like that anywhere else but down on this old sand bar. Not a +day older, by the jumpin'--" + +She held up her hand. + +"Hush, Nat," she protested; "don't talk foolish. Girl? Not a day older? +Why, if feelin's count for anything, I'm as old as Methusaleh. Haven't I +had enough to make me old?" + +He was grave immediately. + +"I beg your pardon, Keziah," he said. "I'm a dough head, that's a fact. +I hadn't forgot about Sol, but I was so glad to be home again and to see +dad and Grace and the old town and you that everything else flew out of +my mind. Poor Sol! I liked him." + +"He liked you, too. No wonder, considerin' what you did to--" + +"Belay! Never mind that. Poor chap! Well, he's rid of his sufferin's at +last. Tell me about it, if you can without bringin' all the trouble back +too plain." + +So she told him of her brother's sickness and death, of having to give +up the old home, and, finally, of her acceptance of the housekeeper's +position. He listened, at first with sympathy and then with suppressed +indignation. + +"By the jumpin' Moses!" he exclaimed. "And Elkanah was goin' to turn you +out of house and home. The mean, pompous old--" + +"Hush! hush! he's in there with Mr. Ellery." + +"Who? Elkanah?" + +"Yes; they're in the study." + +"By the jumpin'--Let me talk to him for a few minutes. I'LL tell him +what's good for his health. You just listen." + +He rose from the chair, but she made him sit down again. + +"No, no," she protested. "He wasn't to blame. He had to have his rent +and I didn't feel that I could afford to keep up a whole house, just for +myself. And, besides, I ought to be thankful to him, I suppose. He got +me this place." + +"He did?" + +"Yes, he did. I rather guess Zeb Mayo or somebody may have suggested it +to him first, but--" + +"Humph! I rather guess so, too." + +"Well, you can't always tell. Sometimes when you really get inside of a +person you find a generous streak that--" + +"Not in a Daniels. Anybody that got inside of Elkanah would find nothin' +but Elkanah there, and 'twould be crowded at that. So he's talkin' to +the new parson, hey? Bossin' him, too, I'll bet." + +"I ain't so sure. Mr. Ellery's young, but he's got a mind of his own." + +Captain Hammond chuckled and slapped his knee. + +"Ho, ho!" he laughed. "I've been hearin' somethin' about that mind. Went +to the chapel last night, I understand, and he and dad had a set-to. Oh, +I heard about it! Wish I might have been there." + +"How does your father act about it?" + +"'Bout the way a red-hot stove acts when you spill water on it; every +time he thinks of the minister he sizzles. Ho, ho! I do wish I could +have been there." + +"What does Grace say?" + +"Oh, she doesn't say much. I wouldn't wonder if she felt the way I do, +though we both keep quiet. I'll tell you, between ourselves and the +ship's pump, that I sort of glory in the young chap's spunk." + +"Good! So do I. I like him." + +"See here, Keziah! I'm gettin' frightened. You ain't settin' your cap to +be a parson's wife, are you? Because--" + +"Don't be silly. I might adopt him, but that's all, I guess." + +Her friend leaned forward. + +"Keziah," he said earnestly, "there's no sense in your slavin' yourself +to death here. I can think of a good deal pleasanter berth than that. +Pleasanter for me, anyhow, and I'd do my best to make it pleasant for +you. You've only got to say the word and--No? Well, then all I can do is +hope through another voyage." + +"Please don't, Nat. You know." + +"No, I don't know." + +"Well, perhaps you don't. But I know. I like you, Nat. I count on you as +the straightest, truest friend I've got; and I want to keep on countin' +on you just that way. Mayn't I?" + +"'Course you can, Keziah. But--" + +"Then don't say another word, please." + +He sighed and looked out at the open door. The kitchen clock ticked loud +in the silence. + +"All right," he said at last. "All right, but I'm goin' to keep on +hopin'." + +"You mustn't, Nat." + +"Keziah, when you set your foot down you're pretty stubborn; but I've +got somethin' of a foot myself. You remember you said so a few minutes +ago. Hi, hum! Well, speakin' of dad reminds me that I'm kind of worried +about him." + +"You are? Why? Isn't he well?" + +"Pretty well, but he ain't strong, and he gets too excited over things +like last night's foolishness. Grace tells me that the doctor says he +must be careful or he'll drop off sudden some of these days. He had a +shock five or six years ago, a little one, and I've been anxious about +him ever since. I've got to go to New York off and on for the next +month; after that I hope to be home for a spell and I can keep an eye on +him. Keziah, if you'll listen I'll whisper somethin' to you--religion's +a good thing and so's a mustard plaster, but both of 'em can be put on +too strong. Dad is just a little mite crazy on Come-Outers, I'm afraid." + +"Oh, no, I guess not! You mustn't worry. How did Grace look to you?" + +"Like the harbor light on a stormy night. She's a brick, that girl, and +gets prettier every minute. Wonder to me some of the young chaps down +here don't carry her off by main strength. She'll make somebody a good +wife." + +"Um-hm. Have--have you ever thought of her that way yourself?" + +"Keziah!" + +"Well, don't get mad. I think a lot of Grace, and I don't know anyone +I'd rather see you marry." + +"I do. Keziah, that's enough of that. Are you and dad in partnership to +get me spliced and out of the way? He was at me this mornin' along the +same line. Don't say anything like that again, even in fun. YOU know +why." + +"All right, all right. Now tell me about yourself. Have you had a good +voyage? How do you like your owners? How did Zach Foster ever get the +packet in through yesterday's fog?" + +"Voyage was all right. Some rugged weather on the trip out, but homeward +bound we slid along like a slush bucket on a greased plank. Owners +are all right. Good people as ever I sailed for. As for Zach and the +packet--Ho, ho!" + +He laughed, rocking back and forth on the chair, which creaked in +sympathy. + +"What's the joke?" demanded the housekeeper. "Don't do that! That chair +wasn't made for elephants to use." + +"Hey? 'Tis pretty weak in the knees, ain't it? Dad would say 'twas a +piece with the creed of those that owned it. I--What's that? Somebody's +comin'. I'm goin' to clear out. I don't want to be put through my +catechism yet a while." + +"No, you mustn't go. I want you to meet Mr. Ellery. You sit out on +the wash bench by the back door till I get rid of whoever 'tis that's +comin'. Scoot!" + +Nat "scooted," stopping to snatch up his hat as he ran. Keziah went into +the dining room and admitted Captain Zebedee Mayo, who was panting from +the exertion of his walk. + +"Whew!" puffed Captain Zeb, mopping his forehead. "How be you, Keziah? +What? You ain't all alone! Thought you'd have a cabin full of gab +machines by this time. Have they been and gone?" + +"No, they haven't been. I--My land, my pie!" + +She rushed into the kitchen and snatched the pastry from the oven. Her +new caller followed her. + +"So they ain't been, hey?" he said. "That's queer." + +"Elkanah's here. He's in there with the minister now." + +"He is? Givin' the young feller Hail Columby, I cal'late. Well, now, +he shan't. He, he! When they told me how the minister passed old +hop-and-go-fetch-it what was due him at the chapel last night I riz up +and hoorayed till my wife shut the windows. She said the neighbors all +thought I was loony, anyhow, and I needn't prove it to 'em. He, he! But +Elkanah ain't got any funny bone. He's as solemn as a stuffed owl, and +he'll--Well, I'm goin' to put MY oar in. I'm parish committee, too, I +cal'late, and I've got somethin' to say, even if I wa'n't christened +Daniels. Here goes!" + +He headed for the study, but before he crossed the threshold of the +kitchen Ellery and his visitor came out into the dining room. Captain +Elkanah's face was flushed, and he fidgeted. The minister looked +determined but calm. + +"Ahoy there, Elkanah!" hailed Zebedee cheerfully. "'Mornin', Mr. Ellery. +Been havin' officers' counsel, have you?" + +"Good morning, Captain Mayo," said the minister. + +"'Mornin', Zebedee," grunted Elkanah. "I have--hum--ha!--been +discussing the regrettable affair of last night with Mr. Ellery. I have +tried--hum--ha! to show him that respectable people of our society don't +associate with Come-Outers, and that for a Regular minister to go to +their meetings is something neither the congregation nor the parish +committee approves of. No--er--hum--ha! no!" + +"And I explained to Captain Daniels," observed the minister, "that I +went there for what seemed to me good reasons, and, as they did seem to +me good at the time, I'm not ashamed of having gone. It was an honest +mistake on my part and I may make more." + +"But the society--" began Elkanah. Captain Zeb interrupted him. + +"Don't worry about the society, Mr. Ellery," he said with emphasis. "Nor +about the parish committee, either. Great fishhooks! the most of us are +tickled to death over what you said to Eben Hammond. We think it's a +mighty good joke. YOU didn't know, of course, and what you did was done +innocent. He! he! he! Did you lay him out, hey?" + +"Zebedee," began Captain Daniels, "I must say I can't see anything to +laugh at." + +"You never could, Elkanah. I remember that time when you and me and some +of the fellers home from sea went out sailin' and the boom knocked you +overboard with your Sunday clothes on. Lordy, how the rest of us did +holler! but you never cracked a smile. If you'd seen yourself when we +hauled you in! whiskers runnin' salt water; beaver hat lookin' like a +drownded kitten--" + +"There! There! Never mind that. I think you'll find a good many of the +society feel as I do, shocked and--hum--ha!--sorry. I'm surprised they +haven't been here to say so." + +"I expected them," remarked the minister. + +"So did I," chimed in Captain Zeb. "But I cal'late to know why they +ain't been. They're all too busy crowin' over the way Nat Hammond +fetched the packet home last night. WHAT? You ain't heard? Great +fishhooks! it's the best thing ever--" + +"I've heard about it," snapped Elkanah impatiently. "Mr. Ellery, I'm +glad you realize that your action was a mistake and I will take pains to +have that immejitly made plain to--" + +"YOU ain't heard, Keziah, have you?" broke in Zebedee. "Nor you, Mr. +Ellery? Well, I must tell you. Here's where I gain a lap on Didama +Rogers. Seems the Deborah S.--that's the packet's name, Mr. Ellery--she +hauled out of Boston night afore last on the ebb, with a fair wind and +sky clear as a bell. But they hadn't much more'n got outside of Minot's +'fore the fog shut down, thicker'n gruel for a sick rich man. The wind +held till 'long toward mornin'; then she flattened to a dead calm. 'Bije +Perry, the mate, he spun the yarn to me, and he said 'twas thick and +flat as ever he see and kept gettin' no better fast. + +"They drifted along till noon time and then they was somewheres out in +the bay, but that's about all you could say. Zach, he was stewin' and +sputterin' like a pair of fried eels, and Lafayette Gage and Emulous +Peters--they're Denboro folks, Mr. Ellery, and about sixteen p'ints +t'other side of no account--they was the only passengers aboard except +Nat Hammond, and they put in their time playin' high low jack in the +cabin. The lookout was for'ard tootin' a tin horn and his bellerin' +was the most excitin' thing goin' on. After dinner--corned beef and +cabbage--trust Zach for that, though it's next door to cannibalism to +put cabbage in HIS mouth--after dinner all hands was on deck when Nat +says: 'Hush!' he says. 'Don't I hear somethin'?' + +"They listened, and then they all heard it--all 'cept Zach, who's deef +in his larboard ear. + +"'Stand by!' roars Nat. 'It's a squall, dead astern and comin' abilin'! +I'll take her, 'Bije. You look out for them tops'ls.' + +"So Nat grabs the wheel and 'Bije tears for'ard and sends the two +fo'mast hands aloft on the jump. Zach was skipper, but all he done was +race around and holler and trip over his own feet. Oh, he's a prize +sailor, he is! Don't talk to me about them Fosters! I--" + +"Nobody is talkin' about 'em but you, Zeb," observed Keziah drily. "Go +on. How about the squall?" + +"It hit 'em 'fore they got even one tops'l clewed down. That one, the +foretops'l 'twas, split to rags. The main tops'l was set, and when the +squall struck, the rotten old topmast went by the board 'Kerrash-o!' +'Course splinters flew like all possessed, and one of 'em, about a foot +long, sailed past Nat's head, where he stood heavin' his whole weight on +the wheel, and lit right on the binnacle, smashin' it to matches. + +"They say Nat never paid the least attention, no more'n if the chunk of +wood had been a June bug buzzin' past. He just held that wheel hard down +and that saved the packet. She come around and put her nose dead in +the wind just in time. As 'twas, 'Bije says there was a second when the +water by her lee rail looked right underneath him as he hung onto the +deck with finger nails and teeth. + +"Well, there they was, afloat, but with their upper riggin' gone and +the compass smashed flat. A howlin' no'thwester blowin' and fog thick as +ever. Zach was a whimperin', fidgetin' old woman, Lafayette and Emulous +was prayin' in the scuppers--and that ain't an exercise they're used to, +neither--and even 'Bije was mighty shook up and worried--he says he was +himself. But Nat Hammond was as cool and refreshin' as the bottom of my +well up home. + +"'Better clear away that mess aloft, hadn't you?' he says to the +skipper. + +"Zach said he guessed so; he wa'n't sure of nothin'. However, they +cleared it away, and incidentally 'Bije yanked the prayer meetin' out +of the scuppers and set 'em to work. Then Nat suggests gettin' the spare +compass and, lo and behold you! there wa'n't any. Compasses cost money +and money's made to keep, so Zach thinks. + +"So there they was. Wind was fair, or ought to be, but 'twas blowin' +hard and so thick you couldn't hardly see the jib boom. Zach he wanted +to anchor, then he didn't, then he did, and so on. Nobody paid much +attention to him. + +"'What'll we do, Nat?' says 'Bije. He knew who was the real seaman +aboard. + +"'Keep her as she is, dead afore it, if you ask me, says Nat. 'Guess +we'll hit the broadside of the cape somewheres if this gale holds.' + +"So they kept her as she was. And it got to be night and they knew +they'd ought to be 'most onto the edge of the flats off here, if their +reck'nin' was nigh right. They hove the lead and got five fathom. No +flats about that. + +"Zach was for anchorin' again. 'What do you think, Nat?' asks 'Bije. + +"'Anchor, of course, if you want to,' Nat says. 'You're runnin' this +craft. I'm only passenger.' + +"'But what do you THINK?' whines Zach. 'Can't you tell us what you do +think?' + +"'Well, if 'twas me, I wouldn't anchor till I had to. Prob'ly 'twill +fair off to-morrow, but if it shouldn't, we might have to lay out here +all day. Anyhow, we'd have to wait for a full tide.' + +"'I'm afraid we're off the course,' says 'Bije, else we'd been acrost +the bar by this time.' + +"'Well,' Nat tells him, 'if we are off the course and too far inshore, +we would have made the bar--the Bayport bar--if not the Trumet one. And +if we're off the course and too far out, we'd ought to have deeper water +than five fathom, hadn't we? 'Course I'm not sure, but--What's that, +lands-man?' + +"'Three and a half, sir,' says the feller with the lead. That showed +they was edgin' in somewheres. Nat he sniffed, for all the world like a +dog catchin' a scent, so 'Bije declares. + +"'I can smell home,' he says. + +"Three fathom the lead give 'em, then two and a half, then a scant two. +They was drawin' six feet. Zach couldn't stand it. + +"'I'm goin' to anchor,' he squeals, frantic. 'I believe we're plumb over +to Wellmouth and drivin' right onto Horsefoot Shoal.' + +"'It's either that or the bar,' chimes in 'Bije. 'And whichever 'tis, we +can't anchor in the middle of it.' + +"'But what'll we do?' shouts Zach. 'Can't nobody say somethin' to DO?' + +"'Tell you I smell home,' says Nat, calm and chipper, 'and I'd know that +smell if I met it in Jericho. Ha! there she deepens again. That was the +bar and we're over it.' + +"The wind had gone down to a stiff sailin' breeze, and the old Debby S. +slapped along afore it. Sometimes there was twelve foot under her keel +and sometimes eight or nine. Once 'twas only seven and a half. Zach and +'Bije both looked at each other, but Nat only smiled. + +"'Oh, you can laugh!' hollers Zach. ''Tain't your vessel you're runnin' +into danger. YOU aint paid out your good money--' + +"Nat never answered; but he stopped smilin'. + +"And all to once the water deepened. Hammond swung her up into the wind. + +"'NOW you can anchor,' says he. + +"'And 'bout time, too, I guess,' says 'Bije. 'I cal'late the skipper's +right. This IS Horsefoot and we're right between the shoals. Yes, sir, +and I hear breakers. Lively there!' + +"They hove over the mudhook and dropped the sails. Nat shook his head. + +"'Breakers or not,' says he, 'I tell you I've smelt home for the last +half hour. Now, by the jumpin' Moses, I can TASTE it!' + +"And inside of a couple of shakes come the rain. It poured for a while +and then the fog cleared. Right acrost their bows was Trumet, with the +town clock strikin' ten. Over the flat place between the hills they +could see the light on the ocean side. And they was anchored right +in the deep hole inside the breakwater, as sure as I'm knee high to a +marlin spike! + +"'Bije just stared at Hammond with his mouth open. + +"'Nat,' says he, 'you're a seaman, if I do say it. I thought I was a +pretty good bay pilot, but I can't steer a vessel without a compass +through a night as black as Pharaoh's Egypt, and in a thick fog besides, +and land her square on top of her moorin's. If my hat wa'n't sloshin' +around thirty mile astern, I snum if I wouldn't take it off to you this +minute!' + +"'Nat,' stammers Zach, 'I must say I--' + +"Nat snapped him shut like a tobacco box. 'You needn't,' says he. 'But +I'll say this to you, Zach Foster. When I undertake to handle a vessel +I handle her best I know how, and the fact that I don't own her makes no +difference to me. You just put that down somewheres so you won't forget +it.' + +"And this mornin'," crowed Captain Zebedee, concluding his long yarn, +"after that, mind you, that lubber Zach Foster is around town tellin' +folks that his schooner had been over the course so often she COULDN'T +get lost. She found her way home herself. WHAT do you think of that?" + +The two members of the parish committee left the parsonage soon after +Captain Mayo had finished his story. Elkanah had listened with growing +irritation and impatience. Zebedee lingered a moment behind his +companions. + +"Don't you fret yourself about what happened last night, Mr. Ellery," +he whispered. "It'll be all right. 'Course nobody'd want you to keep up +chummin' in with Come-Outers, but what you said to old Eben'll square +you this time. So long." + +The minister shut the door behind his departing guests. Then he went out +into the kitchen, whither the housekeeper had preceded him. He found her +standing on the back step, looking across the fields. The wash bench was +untenanted. + +"Hum!" mused Ellery thoughtfully, "that was a good story of Captain +Mayo's. This man Hammond must be a fine chap. I should like to meet +him." + +Keziah still looked away over the fields. She did not wish her employer +to see her face--just then. + +"I thought you would meet him," she said. "He was here a little while +ago and I asked him to wait. I guess Zeb's yarn was too much for him; he +doesn't like to be praised." + +"So? Was he here? At the Regular parsonage? I'm surprised." + +"He and I have known each other for a long while." + +"Well, I'm sorry he's gone. I think I should like him." + +Keziah turned from the door. + +"I know you would," she said. + + +CHAPTER VII + +IN WHICH CAPTAIN NAT PICKS UP A DERELICT + + +It is probable that John Ellery never fully realized the debt of +gratitude he owed to the fog and the squall and to Captain Nat Hammond. +Trumet, always hungry for a sensation, would have thoroughly enjoyed +arguing and quarreling over the minister's visit to Come-Outer meeting, +and, during the fracas, Keziah's parson might have been more or less +battered. But Captain Nat's brilliant piloting of the old packet was +a bit of seamanship which every man and woman on that foam-bordered +stretch of sand could understand and appreciate, and the minister's +indiscretion was all but forgotten in consequence. The "Daily +Advertisers" gloated over it, of course, and Captain Elkanah brought it +up at the meeting of the parish committee, but there Captain Zeb Mayo +championed the young man's course and proclaimed that, fur's he was +concerned, he was for Mr. Ellery more'n ever. "A young greenhorn +with the spunk to cruise single-handed right into the middle of the +Come-Outer school and give an old bull whale like Eben the gaff is the +man for my money," declared Zebedee. Most of his fellow-committee agreed +with him. "Not guilty, but don't do it again," was the general verdict. + +As for the Come-Outers, they professed to believe that their leader had +much the best of the encounter, so they were satisfied. There was a +note of triumph and exultation in the "testimony" given on the following +Thursday night, and Captain Eben divided his own discourse between +thankfulness for his son's safe return and glorification at the +discomfiture of the false prophets. Practically, then, the result of +Ellery's peace overture was an increased bitterness in the feeling +between the two societies and a polishing of weapons on both sides. + +Keziah watched anxiously for a hint concerning her parson's walk in the +rain with Grace, but she heard nothing, so congratulated herself that +the secret had been kept. Ellery did not again mention it to her, nor +she to him. A fortnight later he preached his great sermon on "The +Voyage of Life," and its reference to gales and calms and lee shores and +breakers made a hit. His popularity took a big jump. + +He met Nat Hammond during that fortnight. The first meeting was +accompanied by unusual circumstances, which might have been serious, but +were actually only funny. + +The tide at Trumet, on the bay side, goes out for a long way, leaving +uncovered a mile and a half of flats, bare and sandy, or carpeted with +seaweed. Between these flats are the channels, varying at low water from +two to four feet in depth, but deepening rapidly as the tide flows. + +The flats fascinated the young minister, as they have many another +visitor to the Cape, before or since. On cloudy days they lowered with +a dull, leaden luster and the weed-grown portions were like the dark +squares on a checkerboard, while the deep water beyond the outer bar was +steely gray and angry. When the sun shone and the wind blew clear from +the northwest the whole expanse flashed into fire and color, sapphire +blue, emerald green, topaz yellow, dotted with white shells and ablaze +with diamond sparkles where the reflected light leaped from the flint +crystals of the wet, coarse sand. + +The best time to visit the flats--tide serving, of course--is the early +morning at sunrise. Then there is an inspiration in the wide expanse, a +snap and tang and joy in the air. Ellery had made up his mind to take a +before-breakfast tramp to the outer bar and so arose at five, tucked a +borrowed pair of fisherman's boots beneath his arm, and, without saying +anything to his housekeeper, walked down the lawn behind the parsonage, +climbed the rail fence, and "cut across lots" to the pine grove on the +bluff. There he removed his shoes, put on the boots, wallowed through +the mealy yellow sand forming the slope of the bluff, and came out on +the white beach and the inner edge of the flats. Then he plashed on, +bound out to where the fish weirs stood, like webby fences, in the +distance. + +It was a wonderful walk on a wonderful day. The minister enjoyed every +minute of it. Out here he could forget the petty trials of life, the +Didamas and Elkanahs. The wind blew his hat off and dropped it in a +shallow channel, but he splashed to the rescue and laughed aloud as he +fished it out. It was not much wetter than it had been that night of +the rain, when he tried to lend his umbrella and didn't succeed. This +reflection caused him to halt in his walk and look backward toward the +shore. The brown roof of the old tavern was blushing red in the first +rays of the sun. + +A cart, drawn by a plodding horse and with a single individual on its +high seat, was moving out from behind the breakwater. Some fisherman +driving out his weir, probably. + +The sand of the outer bar was dimpled and mottled like watered silk by +the action of the waves. It sloped gradually down to meet the miniature +breakers that rolled over and slid in ripples along its edge. Ellery +wandered up and down, picking up shells and sea clams, and peering +through the nets of the nearest weir at the "horsefoot crabs" and squid +and flounders imprisoned in the pound. There were a few bluefish there, +also, and a small school of mackerel. + +The minister had been on the bar a considerable time before he began to +think of returning to the shore. He was hungry, but was enjoying himself +too well to mind. The flats were all his that morning. Only the cart and +its driver were in sight and they were half a mile off. He looked at +his watch, sighed, and reluctantly started to walk toward the town; he +mustn't keep Mrs. Coffin's breakfast waiting TOO long. + +The first channel he came to was considerably deeper than when he forded +it on the way out. He noticed this, but only vaguely. The next, however, +was so deep that the water splashed in at the top of one of his boots. +He did notice that, because though he was not wearing his best clothes, +he was not anxious to wet his "other ones." The extent of his wardrobe +was in keeping with the size of his salary. + +And the third channel was so wide and deep that he saw at once it could +not be forded, unless he was willing to plunge above his waist. This +was provoking. Now he realized that he had waited too long. The tide had +been flowing for almost an hour; it had flowed fast and, as he should +have remembered, having been told, the principal channels were eight +feet deep before the highest flats were covered. + +He hurried along the edge, looking for a shallower place, but found +none. At last he reached the point of the flat he was on and saw, to +his dismay, that here was the deepest spot yet, a hole, scoured out by a +current like a mill race. Turning, he saw, creeping rapidly and steadily +together over the flat behind him, two lines of foam, one from each +channel. His retreat was cut off. + +He was in for a wetting, that was sure. However, there was no help for +it, so he waded in. The water filled his boots there, it gurgled about +his hips, and beyond, as he could see, it seemed to grow deeper and +deeper. The current was surprisingly strong; he found it difficult to +keep his footing in the soft sand. It looked as though he must swim for +it, and to swim in that tide would be no joke. + +Then, from behind him, came a hail. He turned and saw moving toward him +through the shallow water now covering the flat beyond the next channel, +the cart he had seen leave the shore by the packet wharf, and, later, on +the outer bar. The horse was jogging along, miniature geysers spouting +beneath its hoofs. The driver waved to him. + +"Hold on, mate," he called. "Belay there. Stay where you are. I'll be +alongside in a shake. Git dap, January!" + +Ellery waded back to meet this welcome arrival. The horse plunged into +the next channel, surged through it, and emerged dripping. The driver +pulled the animal into a walk. + +"Say," he cried, "I'm cruisin' your way; better get aboard, hadn't you? +There's kind of a heavy dew this mornin'. Whoa, Bill!" + +"Bill" or "January" stopped with apparent willingness. The driver leaned +down and extended a hand. The minister took it and was pulled up to the +seat. + +"Whew!" he panted. "I'm much obliged to you. I guess you saved me from a +ducking, if nothing worse." + +"Yes," was the answer, "I wouldn't wonder if I did. This ain't Saturday +night and 'twould be against Trumet principles to take a bath any other +time. All taut, are you? Good enough! then we'll get under way." He +flapped the reins and added, "G'long, Julius Caesar!" + +The horse, a sturdy, sedate beast to whom all names seemed to be alike, +picked up his feet and pounded them down again. Showers of spray flew +about the heads of the pair on the seat. + +"I ain't so sure about that duckin'," commented the rescuer. "Hum! I +guess likely we'll be out of soundin's if we tackle that sink hole you +was undertakin' to navigate. Let's try it a little further down." + +Ellery looked his companion over. + +"Well," he observed with a smile, "from what I've heard of you, Captain +Hammond, I rather guess you could navigate almost any water in this +locality and in all sorts of weather." + +The driver turned in surprise. + +"So?" he exclaimed. "You know me, do you? That's funny. I was tryin' to +locate you, but I ain't been able to. You ain't a Trumetite I'll bet on +that." + +"Yes, I am." + +"Tut! tut! tut! you don't tell me. Say, shipmate, you hurt my pride. I +did think there wa'n't a soul that ever trod sand in this village that I +couldn't name on sight, and give the port they hailed from and the names +of their owners. But you've got me on my beam ends. And yet you knew +ME." + +"Of course I did. Everybody knows the man that brought the packet home." + +Nat Hammond sniffed impatiently. + +"Um--hm!" he grunted. "I cal'late everybody does, and knows a lot more +about that foolishness than I do myself. If ever a craft was steered +by guess and by godfrey, 'twas that old hooker of Zach's t'other night. +Well--Humph! here's another piece of pilotin' that bids fair to be a +mighty sight harder. Heave ahead, Hannibal! hope you've got your web +feet with you." + +They had moved along the edge of the flat a short distance and now +turned into the channel. The horse was wading above its knees; soon the +water reached its belly and began to flow into the body of the cart. + +"Pick up your feet, shipmate," commanded Nat. "You may get rheumatiz if +you don't. This'll be a treat for those sea clams back in that bucket +amidships. They'll think I've repented and have decided to turn 'em +loose again. They don't know how long I've been countin' on a sea-clam +pie. I'll fetch those clams ashore if I have to lug 'em with my teeth. +Steady, all hands! we're off the ways." + +The cart was afloat. The horse, finding wading more difficult than +swimming, began to swim. + +"Now I'm skipper again, sure enough," remarked Hammond. "Ain't gettin' +seasick, are you?" + +The minister laughed. + +"No," he said. + +"Good! she keeps on a fairly even keel, considerin' her build. THERE +she strikes! That'll do, January; you needn't try for a record voyage. +Walkin's more in your line than playin' steamboat. We're over the worst +of it now. Say! you and I didn't head for port any too soon, did we?" + +"No, I should say not. I ought to have known better than to wait out +there so long. I've been warned about this tide. I--" + +"S-sh-sh! YOU ought to have known better! What do you think of me? Born +and brought up within sight and smell of this salt puddle and let myself +in for a scrape like this! But it was so mighty fine off there on the +bar I couldn't bear to leave it. I always said that goin' to sea on +land would be the ideal way, and now I've tried it. But you took bigger +chances than I did. Are you a good swimmer?" + +"Not too good. I hardly know what might have happened if you hadn't--" + +"S-sh-sh! that's all right. Always glad to pick up a derelict, may be a +chance for salvage, you know. Here's the last channel and it's an easy +one. There! now it's plain sailin' for dry ground." + +The old horse, breathing heavily from his exertions, trotted over the +stretch of yet uncovered flats and soon mounted the slope of the beach. +The minister prepared to alight. + +"Captain Hammond," he said, "you haven't asked me my name." + +"No, I seldom do more'n once. There have been times when I'D just as +soon cruise without too big letters alongside my figurehead." + +"Well, my name is Ellery." + +"Hey? WHAT? Oh, ho! ho! ho!" + +He rocked back and forth on the seat. The minister's feelings were a bit +hurt, though he tried not to show it. + +"You mustn't mind my laughin'," explained Nat, still chuckling. "It +ain't at you. It's just because I was wonderin' what you'd look like if +I should meet you and now--Ho! ho! You see, Mr. Ellery, I've heard of +you, same as you said you'd heard of me." + +Ellery smiled, but not too broadly. + +"Yes," he admitted, "I imagined you had." + +"Yes, seems to me dad mentioned your name once or twice. As much as +that, anyhow. Wonder what he'd say if he knew his son had been takin' +you for a mornin' ride?" + +"Probably that it would have been much better to have left me where you +found me." + +The captain's jolly face grew serious. + +"No, no!" he protested. "Not so bad as that. Dad wouldn't drown anybody, +not even a Regular minister. He's a pretty square-built old craft, even +though his spiritual chart may be laid out different from yours--and +mine." + +"From yours? Why, I supposed--" + +"Yes, I know. Well, WHEN I go to meetin', I generally go to the chapel +to please father. But when it comes right down to a confession of faith, +I'm pretty broad in the beam. Maybe I'd be too broad even for you, Mr. +Ellery." + +The minister, who had jumped to the ground, looked up. + +"Captain Hammond," he said, "I'm very glad indeed that I met you. Not +alone because you helped me out of a bad scrape; I realize how bad it +might have been and that--" + +"Shsh! shh! Nothin' at all. Don't be foolish." + +"But I'm glad, too, because I've heard so many good things about you +that I was sure you must be worth knowing. I hope you won't believe I +went to your father's meeting with any--" + +"No, no! Jumpin' Moses, man! I don't find fault with you for that. I +understand, I guess." + +"Well, if you don't mind the fact that I am what I am, I'd like to shake +hands with you." + +Nat reached down a big brown hand. + +"Same here," he said. "Always glad to shake with a chap as well +recommended as you are. Yes, indeed, I mean it. You see, you've got a +friend that's a friend of mine, and when she guarantees a man to be A. +B., I'll ship him without any more questions." + +"Well, then, good-by. I hope we shall meet again and often. And I +certainly thank you for--" + +"That's all right. Maybe you'll fish ME out of the drink some day; you +never can tell. So long! Git dap, Gen'ral Scott!" + +He drove off up the beach, but before he turned the corner of the +nearest dune he called back over his shoulder: + +"Say, Mr. Ellery, if you think of it you might give my regards +to--to--er--the lady that's keepin' house for you." + +Breakfast had waited nearly an hour when the minister reached home. +Keziah, also, was waiting and evidently much relieved at his safe +arrival. + +"Sakes alive!" she exclaimed, as she met him at the back door. "Where in +the world have you been, Mr. Ellery? Soakin' wet again, too!" + +Ellery replied that he had been for a walk out to the bar. He sat down +on the step to remove the borrowed boots. A small rivulet of salt water +poured from each as he pulled them off. + +"For a walk! A swim, you mean. How could you get in up to your waist if +you just walked? Did you fall down?" + +"No, not exactly. But I waited too long and the tide headed me off." + +"Mercy on us! you mustn't take chances on that tide. If you'd told me +you was goin', I'd have warned you to hurry back." + +"Oh, I've been warned often enough. It was my own fault, as usual. I'm +not sure that I don't need a guardian." + +"Humph! well, I ain't sure either. Was the channels very deep?" + +"Deep enough. The fact is, that I might have got into serious trouble if +I hadn't been picked up." + +He told briefly the story of his morning's adventure. The housekeeper +listened with growing excitement. + +"Heavens to Betsy!" she interrupted. "Was the channel you planned to +swim the one at the end of the flat by the longest weir leader?" + +"Yes." + +"My soul! there's been two men drowned in that very place at half tide. +And they were good swimmers. After this I shan't dare let you out of my +sight." + +"So? Was it as risky as that? Why, Captain Hammond didn't tell me so. I +must owe him more even than I thought." + +"Yes, I guess you do. He wouldn't tell you, though; that ain't his way. +Deary me! for what we've received let us be thankful. And that reminds +me that biscuits ought to be et when they're first made, not after +they've been dried up on the back of the stove forever and ever amen. +Go on and change those wet things of yours and then we'll eat. Tryin' to +swim the main channel on the flood! My soul and body!" + +"Captain Nat sent his regards to you, Mrs. Coffin," said the minister, +moving toward the stairs. + +"Did, hey?" was the housekeeper's reply. "Want to know!" + + +CHAPTER VIII + +IN WHICH THE PARSON AND MR. PEPPER DECLARE THEIR INDEPENDENCE + + +That afternoon, when dinner was over, the Reverend John decided to make +a few duty calls. The first of these he determined should be on the +Peppers. Lavinia and her brother had called at the Parsonage several +times, but as yet he had not paid them a visit. It was not a ceremony +to which he looked forward with delight, but it must be performed. +Miss Pepper had hinted several times, at sewing circle and after prayer +meeting, of "partiality" and "only stoppin' in where they had fancy +curtains up to the windows." So, as it could not be put off longer, +without causing trouble, he determined to go through with it. + +The Pepper house was situated just off the main road on the lane leading +over the dunes to the ocean and the light. It was a small building, its +white paint dingy and storm beaten, and its little fenced-in front +yard dotted thickly with clumps of silver-leaf saplings. A sign, nailed +crookedly on a post, informed those seeking such information that within +was to be found "Abishai G. W. Pepper, Tax Collector, Assessor, Boots +and Shoes Repaired." And beneath this was fastened a shingle with the +chalked notice, "Salt Hay for sale." + +The boot and shoe portion of the first sign was a relic of other days. +Kyan had been a cobbler once, but it is discouraging to wait three +or four weeks while the pair of boots one has left to be resoled are +forgotten in a corner. Captain Zeb Mayo's pointed comment, "I want my +shoe leather to wear while I'm alive, not to be laid out in after I die +of old age," expressed the general feeling of the village and explained +why custom had left Mr. Pepper and flown to the more enterprising +shoemaker at "The Corners." The tax collectorship might have followed +it, but here Lavinia kept her brother up to the mark. She went with +him on his rounds and it gave her opportunity to visit, and afterwards +comment upon, every family in town. + +The minister walked up the dusty lane, lifted the Pepper gate and swung +it back on its one hinge, shooed away the three or four languid and +discouraged-looking fowls that were taking a sun bath on the clam-shell +walk, and knocked at the front door. No one coming in answer to the +knock, he tried again. Then he discovered a rusty bell pull and gave it +a sharp tug. The knob came off in his hand and he hurriedly thrust it +back again into its place. Evidently, that bell was solely for ornament. + +He came to the conclusion that no one was at home and felt a guilty +sense of relief in consequence. But his conscience would not let him +depart without another try, so he clenched his fist and gave the cracked +door panel a series of tremendous thumps. A thin black cat, which had +evidently been asleep beneath the step, burst from its concealment and +fled in frantic terror. Then from somewhere in the rear of the house +came the sound of a human voice. + +"Hi!" it called faintly. "Whoever you be, don't bust that door down. +Come round here." + +Ellery walked around the corner of the building. The voice came again. + +"Say!" it wailed, "why don't you answer? Be you comin'? If you're a +peddler, you needn't." + +"I'm not a peddler," was the minister's amused reply. + +"Oh, ain't ye? All right. Come along, then." + +Ellery "came along" as far as the angle where the ell joined the main +body of the house. So far as he could see every door and window was +closed and there were no signs of life. However, he stepped to the door, +a green-painted affair of boards, and ventured another knock. + +"Don't start that poundin' again!" protested the voice. "Come round to +t'other side where I be." + +So around went the Reverend John, smiling broadly. But even on "t'other +side" there was no one to be seen. And no door, for that matter. + +"Why!" exclaimed the voice, "if 'tain't Mr. Ellery! How d'ye do? Glad to +see you, Mr. Ellery. Fine day, ain't it? Here I be at this window." + +Sure enough; one of the windows on this side of the house was raised +about six inches at the bottom, the shade was up, and peering beneath +the sash the minister discerned the expressive features of Abishai +Pepper--or as much of those features as the size of the opening +permitted to be seen. + +"Oh!" exclaimed the visitor, "is that you, Mr. Pepper? Well, I'm glad to +see you, at last. You are rather hard to see, even now." + +Kyan was plainly embarrassed. He stammered as he answered. + +"Yes," he agreed, "I--I shouldn't wonder if I be. How be you? Pretty +smart?" + +"Yes, thank you. I'm well." + +"Er--er--come to call, did you?" + +"Why, yes, that was my intention." + +"Hum! Er--er--Laviny, she's gone over to Thankful Payne's. She heard +that Thankful's cousin up to Middleboro had died--passed away, I +mean--and she thought she'd run over and find out if Thankful was willed +anything. She said she'd be back pretty soon." + +"Very well. Then, as she won't be gone long, perhaps I'll come in and +wait." + +He was moving away toward the corner when a shout from beneath the +window sash brought him to a halt. + +"Hi!" called Abishai. "Hi, Mr. Ellery! don't go to that door. 'Tain't no +use; it's locked." + +"Locked? Well, you can unlock it, can't you?" + +"No, not very well. That is, I--Mr. Ellery, come back here, won't ye? I +don't want anybody to hear." + +The house of the nearest neighbor being several hundred yards away, +the likelihood of being overheard was improbable; but the minister came +back, nevertheless. + +"You see, Mr. Ellery," stammered Kyan, "I--I'd like to have you come in +fust rate, but--er--Laviny she's got the key." + +Ellery was surprised. + +"She has!" he exclaimed. + +"Um--hm, she's got it. She took it with her." + +"But there are other doors. She didn't take them all, did she?" + +"No--o, but--Well, the fact is, Mr. Ellery, I--I--I'm locked in." + +"Locked in?" + +"Yes, locked in this room. She--she--Oh, consarn it all, Mr. Ellery, +she's locked me in this room a-purpose, so's I won't get out and go +somewheres without her knowin' it." + +"What?" + +"Um--h'm; that's what she's done. Did you ever hear of anything like +that in your born days?" + +This surprising disclosure was funny enough, but the tone of grieved +indignation in which Mr. Pepper told of his imprisonment was funnier +still. The minister coughed violently and looked the other way. + +"She done it a-purpose," continued Kyan, in a burst of confidence. "She +had me put one of them new-fangled spring locks on the door of this room +t'other day, 'cause she said she was afraid of tramps and wanted some +place to shut herself up in if one of em come. And--and after dinner +to-day she sent me in here for somethin' and then slammed the door on +me. Said she cal'lated I'd stay put till she got back from Thankful's. +She knew mighty well I couldn't get out of the window, 'cause it won't +open no further'n 'tis now. I wa'n't never so provoked in my life. +'Tain't no way to treat your own brother, lockin' him up like a young +one; now, is it?" + +Ellery's reply was not made immediately. He had heard numerous stories +concerning this odd household, some of which seemed too absurd for +belief. But this performance was more ridiculous than anything he had +heard. + +"'Tain't right, is it, Mr. Ellery?" demanded Kyan. + +"Why," answered the caller chokingly, "I--I--it is rather unusual, +that's a fact. May I ask what you've done to--" + +"Done? I ain't done nothin'. She's so darned scared some other woman'll +get my money that--you see, a month or so ago I--I--well, she thought +I done somethin', or was plannin' to do somethin' that--Keziah Coffin +never told you anything about me, did she?" + +"No, indeed. What could Mrs. Coffin tell me about you?" + +"All right. Nothin', nothin'. Only if she did, tain't so. But I ain't +goin' to stand it no more, Mr. Ellery. Bein' shut up in a darned +old--excuse my swearin', I didn't mean to, though I got reason enough, +land knows--bein' shut up in a room full of trunks and odds and ends is +goin' too fur. I never want to smell old clothes ag'in long's I live. +Would you stand it if you was me, Mr. Ellery?" + +"Why, of course I mustn't interfere in your family matters, Mr. Pepper. +Perhaps I'd better call some other time. Good afternoon." + +"Hold on! hold on! you ain't answered me yet. You're a minister and I +go to your meetin' house. Tell me what you'd do if you was me. Would you +stand it?" + +Ellery laughed aloud. + +"No," he said, "I suppose I shouldn't." + +"I bet you wouldn't! What would you do?" + +"I don't know. You're of age, Mr. Pepper, and you must decide for +yourself. I think I should declare my independence. Really, I must go. +I--" + +"Don't be in such a hurry. I want advice. I need it. And, so fur's +DECLARIN' goes, that don't do me no good. She can declare more things in +a minute than I can think of in a week. Tongue! I never heard--No, no! +Never mind the declarin'. What would you DO? S'posin' you wanted to go +outdoor without havin' her tagged to your coat tails, how'd you stop the +taggin'?" + +The absurdity of the affair was too much for the visitor. He roared a +"Ha, ha!" that caused Abishai to wave a warning hand beneath the sash. + +"Ss-h-h! sshh!" he hissed. "Folks'll hear ye, and I'd be so ashamed if +they did that I wouldn't dast to show my head. Can't show much of it, +anyhow, just now. By gum! I'll do somethin' desperate. I--I dunno as I +won't pizen her. I--" + +"Hush! hush! you mustn't talk that way. I'm afraid you must be very +fascinating, Mr. Pepper. If your sister is so very fearful of your +meeting other women, it must be because she has good reason to fear." + +"Stop your foolishness! Oh!--I--I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery. That +ain't no way to talk to a minister. But I'm goin' to go out when I want +to if I bust a hole through the clapboards. I AIN'T fascinatin'. You ask +any woman--except her--if I be, and see what they say. What'll I DO?" + +"Ha, ha! I don't know, I'm sure. You might lock HER up, I suppose, just +for a change." + +"Hey!" There was a sound from behind the pane as if the imprisoned one +had slapped his knee. "By gum! I never thought of that. Would you now, +Mr. Ellery? Would you? Sshh! sshh! somebody's comin'. Maybe it's her. +Run around to the door, Mr. Ellery, quick. And don't tell her I've seen +you, for mercy sakes! Don't now, will ye? Please! Run!" + +The minister did not run, but he walked briskly around the corner. +Sure enough, Lavinia was there, just unlocking the door. She expressed +herself as very glad to see the caller, ushered him into the sitting +room and disappeared, returning in another moment with her brother, whom +she unblushingly said had been taking a nap. Abishai did not contradict +her; instead, he merely looked apprehensively at the minister. + +The call was a short one. Lavinia did seven eighths of the talking and +Ellery the rest. Kyan was silent. When the visit was over, Miss Pepper +escorted her guest to the door and bade him a voluble good-by. Over +her shoulder the minister saw Kyan making frantic signs to him; +he interpreted the signals as a request for secrecy concerning the +interview by the window. + +Several times during the remainder of that week he surprised his +housekeeper by suddenly laughing aloud when there was, apparently, +nothing to laugh at. He explained these outbursts by saying that he +had thought of something funny. Keziah suggested that it must be mighty +funny to make him laugh in the middle of sermon writing. + +"I've heard sermons that were funny," she said, "though they wasn't +intended to be; but what I've heard of yours ain't that kind. I wish +you'd let me in on the joke. I haven't been feelin' like laughin' for +the last fortni't." + +She had been rather grave and preoccupied, for her, of late. Bustling +and busy she always was, never sitting down to "rest," as she called it, +without a lap full of sewing. The minister's clothes were mended and his +socks darned as they had not been since his mother's day. And with +him, at meal times, or after supper in the sitting room, she was always +cheerful and good-humored. But he had heard her sigh at her work, and +once, when she thought herself unobserved, he saw her wipe her eyes with +her apron. + +"No, no," she protested, when he asked if anything had gone wrong. "I'm +all right. Got a little cold or somethin', I guess, that's all." + +She would not give any other explanation and absolutely refused to see +the doctor. Ellery did not press the matter. He believed the "cold" to +be but an excuse and wondered what the real trouble might be. It seemed +to him to date from the evening of his chapel experience. + +He told no one, not even her, of Kyan's confidential disclosure, and, +after some speculation as to whether or not there might be a sequel, put +the whole ludicrous affair out of his mind. He worked hard in his study +and at his pastoral duties, and was conscious of a pleasant feeling that +he was gaining his people's confidence and esteem. + +A week from the following Sunday he dined in state at the Daniels's +table. Captain Elkanah was gracious and condescending. Annabel was more +than that. She was dressed in her newest gown and was so very gushing +and affable that the minister felt rather embarrassed. When, after the +meal was over, Captain Elkanah excused himself and went upstairs for +his Sabbath nap, the embarrassment redoubled. Miss Annabel spoke very +confidentially of her loneliness, without "congenial society," of +how VERY much she did enjoy Mr. Ellery's intellectual sermons, and +especially what a treat it had been to have him as a guest. + +"You must dine here every Sunday," she said. "It will be no trouble at +all, and if you say no, I shall feel that it is because you don't want +to see me--FATHER and me, of course, I mean." + +The minister didn't accept this pressing invitation; on the other +hand, he could not refuse it absolutely. He did not like Miss Daniels +overmuch, but she was the daughter of his leading parishioner and she +and her parent did seem to like him. So he dodged the issue and said she +was very kind. + +He left the big house as soon as he could without giving offense, and +started back toward the parsonage. But the afternoon was so fine and the +early summer air so delightful that he changed his mind and, jumping the +fence at the foot of Cannon Hill, set off across the fields toward the +bluffs and the bay shore. + +The sun was low in the west as he entered the grove of pines on the +bluff. The red light between the boughs made brilliant carpet patterns +on the thick pine needles and the smell was balsamy and sweet. Between +the tree trunks he caught glimpses of the flats, now partially covered, +and they reminded him of his narrow escape and of Nat Hammond, his +rescuer. He had met the captain twice since then, once at the store and +again on the main road, and had chatted with him. He liked him immensely +and wished he might count him as an intimate friend. But intimacy +between a Regular clergyman and the son of the leader of the Come-Outers +was out of the question. Partisans on both sides would shriek at the +idea. + +Thinking of the Hammond family reminded him of another member of it. Not +that he needed to be reminded; he had thought of her often enough since +she ran away from him in the rain that night. And the picture in the +doorway was not one that he could forget--or wanted to. If she were +not a Come-Outer, he could meet her occasionally and they might become +friends. She was a disconcerting young person, who lacked proper respect +for one of his profession and laughed when she shouldn't--but she was +interesting, he admitted that. + +And then he saw her. She was standing just at the outer edge of the +grove, leaning against a tree and looking toward the sunset. She wore a +simple white dress and her hat hung upon her shoulders by its ribbons. +The rosy light edged the white gown with pink and the fringes of her +dark hair were crinkly lines of fire. Her face was grave, almost sad. + +John Ellery stood still, with one foot uplifted for a step. The girl +looked out over the water and he looked at her. Then a crow, one of +several whirling above the pines, spied the intruder and screamed a +warning. The minister was startled and stepped back. A dead limb beneath +his foot cracked sharply. Grace turned and saw him. + +"Oh!" she cried. "Who is it?" + +Ellery emerged from the shadow. + +"Don't be frightened, Miss Van Horne," he said. "It is--er--I." + +This statement was neither brilliant nor original; even as an +identification it lacked considerable. + +"I?" repeated the girl. "Who? Oh! Why--" + +The minister came forward. + +"Good afternoon, Miss Van Horne," he stammered. "I'm afraid I frightened +you." + +She was looking at him with a queer expression, almost as if she +scarcely believed him real. + +"I hope--" he began again. She interrupted him. + +"No," she said confusedly, "you didn't frighten me. I was a little +startled when I saw you there behind me. It seemed so odd, because I was +just thinking--No, I wasn't frightened. What is there to be frightened +of--in Trumet?" + +He had extended his hand, but partially withdrew it, not sure how even +such a perfunctory act of friendliness might be received. She saved him +embarrassment by frankly offering her own. + +"Not much, that's a fact," he said, in answer to her question. He +would have liked to ask what she had been thinking that made his sudden +appearance seem so odd. + +"You came to see the sunset, I suppose?" she said hurriedly, as if to +head off a question. "So did I. It is a beautiful evening for a walk, +isn't it?" + +She had said precisely the same thing on that other evening, when they +stood in the middle of "Hammond's Turn-off" in the driving rain. He +remembered it, and so, evidently, did she, for she colored slightly and +smiled. + +"I mean it this time," she said. "I'm glad you didn't get cold from your +wetting the other day." + +"Oh! I wasn't very wet. You wouldn't let me lend you the umbrella, so I +had that to protect me on the way home." + +"Not then; I meant the other morning when Nat--Cap'n Hammond--met you +out on the flats. He said you were wading the main channel and it was +over your boots." + +"Over my boots! Is that all he said? Over my head would be the plain +truth. To cross it I should have had to swim and, if what I've heard +since is true, I doubt if I could swim that channel. Captain Hammond +helped me out of a bad scrape." + +"Oh, no! I guess not. He said you were cruising without a pilot and he +towed you into port; that's the way he expressed it." + +"It was worse than that, a good deal worse. It might have been my last +cruise. I'm pretty certain that I owe the captain my life." + +She looked at him uncomprehendingly. + +"Your life?" she repeated. + +"I believe it. That part of the channel I proposed swimming was exactly +where two men have been drowned, so people say. I'm not a very strong +swimmer, and they were. So, you see." + +Grace cried out in astonishment. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed. Then pointing toward the bay, she asked: "Out +there, by the end of that leader, was it?" + +"Yes, that was it." + +She drew a long breath. Then, after a moment: + +"And Nat spoke as if it was all a joke," she said. + +"No doubt he did. From what I hear of your brother, he generally refers +to his own plucky, capable actions as jokes. Other people call them +something else." + +She did not answer, but continued to gaze at the half-submerged +"leader," with the pine bough tied at its landward end to mark the edge +of deep water, and the tide foaming through its lath gratings. + +"Your brother--" went on the minister. + +"He isn't my brother," she interrupted absently. "I wish he was." + +She sighed as she uttered the last sentence. + +"No, of course he isn't your real brother; I forgot. But he must seem +like one." + +"Yes," rather doubtfully. + +"You must be proud of him." + +"I am." There was nothing doubtful this time. + +"Well, he saved me from drowning. I'm almost certain of that." + +"I'm so glad." + +She seemed to mean it. He looked at her. + +"Thank you," he said drily. "I'm rather glad myself." + +"Oh! I didn't mean it exactly that way. Of course I'm glad you weren't +drowned, but I'm especially glad that--that one of our family saved you. +Now you won't believe that Come-Outers are all bad." + +"I never believed it." + +She shook her head. + +"Oh, yes, you did," she affirmed stubbornly. "You've heard nothing good +of us since you came here. Don't tell fibs, Mr. Ellery." + +"But I assure you--" + +"Nonsense! Does--well, does Cap'n Daniels, or his daughter, say anything +good of us? Be honest, do they?" + +"I hardly think--that is, I shouldn't call their opinions unprejudiced. +And, Miss Van Horne, perhaps the prejudice isn't all on one side. What +did your uncle say about Cap'n Nat's meeting me the other day?" + +"Uncle Eben doesn't know. Nat didn't tell anyone but me. He doesn't +boast. And uncle would be glad he helped you. As I told you before, Mr. +Ellery, I'm not ashamed of my uncle. He has been so good to me that I +never can repay him, never! When my own father was drowned he took me +in, a little orphan that would probably have been sent to a home, and +no father could be kinder or more indulgent than he has been. Anything +I asked for I got, and at last I learned not to ask for too much. No +self-denial on his part was too great, if he could please me. When he +needed money most he said nothing to me, but insisted that I should be +educated. I didn't know until afterwards of the self-sacrifice my four +years at the Middleboro Academy meant to him." + +The minister had listened eagerly to this defense of the man whom he had +been led to consider his arch enemy. It was given with spirit and the +girl's head was uplifted and her eyes flashed as she spoke. Ellery's +next remark was uttered without premeditation. Really, he was thinking +aloud. + +"So you went away to school?" he mused. "That is why--" + +"That is why I don't say 'never done nothin'' and 'be you' and +'hain't neither.' Yes, thank you, that's why. I don't wonder you were +surprised." + +The young man blushed. + +"You misunderstand me," he protested. "I didn't mean--" + +"Oh! yes, you did. Not precisely that, perhaps, but pretty near it. I +suppose you expected me to speak like Josiah Badger or Kyan Pepper. I +try not to. And I try not to say 'immejitly,' too," she added, with a +mischievous twinkle. + +Ellery recognized the "immejitly" quotation and laughed. + +"I never heard but one person say that," he observed. "And he isn't a +Come-Outer." + +"No, he isn't. Well, this lesson in English can't be very interesting +to you, Mr. Ellery, and I must go. But I'm very glad Nat helped you the +other day and that you realize the sort of man he is. And I'm glad I +have had the opportunity to tell you more about Uncle Eben. I owe him +so much that I ought to be glad--yes, glad and proud and happy, too, to +gratify his least wish. I must! I know I must, no matter how I--What +am I talking about? Yes, Mr. Ellery, I'm glad if I have helped you to +understand my uncle better and why I love and respect him. If you knew +him as I do, you would respect him, too. Good-by." + +She was going, but the minister had something to say. He stepped forward +and walked beside her. + +"Just a minute, please," he urged. "Miss Van Horne, I do understand. I +do respect your uncle. We have a mutual friend, you and I, and through +her I have come to understand many things." + +Grace turned and looked at him. + +"A mutual friend?" she repeated. "Oh! I know. Mrs. Coffin?" + +"Yes; Mrs. Coffin. She's a good woman and a wise one." + +"She's a dear! Do you like her, too?" + +"Indeed, I do." + +"Has she told you about me--about uncle, I mean?" + +"Yes. Why, she told me--" + +He began to enumerate some of the things Keziah had told concerning the +Hammond family. They were all good things, and he couldn't help seeing +that the recital pleased her. So he went on to tell how his housekeeper +had helped him, of her advice, of her many acts of kindness, of what +he owed to her. The girl listened eagerly, asking questions, nodding +confirmation, and, in her delight at hearing Keziah praised, quite +forgetting her previous eagerness to end the interview. And, as he +talked, he looked at her, at the red light on her hair, the shine of +her eyes, like phosphorus in the curl of a wave at night, at her long +lashes, and-- + +--"Yes," said Miss Van Horne, "you were saying--" + +The minister awoke with a guilty start. He realized that his sentence +had broken off in the middle. + +"Why! why--er--yes," he stammered. "I was saying that--that I don't know +what I should have done without Mrs. Coffin. She's a treasure. Frankly, +she is the only real friend I have found in Trumet." + +"I know. I feel the same way about her. She means so much to me. I love +her more than anyone else in the world, except uncle, of course--and +Nat. I miss her very much since--since--" + +"Since I came, you mean. I'm sorry. I wish--I hate to think I am the +cause which separates you two. It isn't my fault, as you know." + +"Oh! I know that." + +"Yes, and I object to having others choose my friends for me, people +who, because of a fanatical prejudice, stand in the way of--If it wasn't +for that, you might call and see Mrs. Coffin, just as you used to do." + +Grace shook her head. They had moved on to the bend of the bluff, beyond +the fringe of pines, and were now standing at the very edge of the high +bank. + +"If it wasn't for that, you would come," asserted the minister. + +"Yes, I suppose so. I should like to come. I miss my talks with Aunt +Keziah more than you can imagine--now especially. But, somehow, what we +want to do most seems to be what we mustn't, and what we don't like is +our duty." + +She said this without looking at him, and the expression on her face was +the same sad, grave one he had noticed when he first saw her standing +alone by the pine. + +"Why don't you come?" he persisted. + +"I can't, of course. You know I can't." + +"Why not? If my company is objectionable I can go away when you come. If +you dislike me I--" + +"You know I don't dislike you personally." + +"I'm awfully glad of that." + +"But it's impossible. Uncle respects and is fond of Aunt Keziah, but he +wouldn't hear of my visiting the parsonage." + +"But don't you think your uncle might be persuaded? I'm sure he +misunderstands me, just as I should him if it weren't for Mrs. +Coffin--and what you've said. Don't you think if I called on him and he +knew me better it might help matters? I'll do it gladly. I will!" + +"No, no. He wouldn't listen. And think of your own congregation." + +"Confound my congregation!" + +"Why, Mr. Ellery!" + +She looked at him in amazement; then her lips began to curl. + +"Why, Mr. Ellery!" she repeated. + +The minister turned very red and drew his hand across his forehead. + +"I--I don't mean that exactly," he stammered. "But I'm not a child. I +have the right to exercise a man's discretion. My parish committee must +understand that. They shall! If I choose to see you--Look out!" + +She was close to the overhanging edge of the bluff and the sod upon +which she stood was bending beneath her feet. He sprang forward, caught +her about the waist, and pulled her back. The sod broke and rattled down +the sandy slope. She would have had a slight tumble, nothing worse, had +she gone with it. There was no danger; and yet the minister was very +white as he released her. + +She, too, was pale for a moment, and then crimson. + +"Thank you," she gasped. "I--I must go. It is late. I didn't realize how +late it was. I--I must go." + +He did not answer, though he tried to. + +"I must go," she said hurriedly, speaking at random. "Good afternoon. +Good-by. I hope you will enjoy your walk." + +"I have enjoyed it." His answer was unstudied but emphatic. She +recognized the emphasis. + +"Will you come to see Mrs. Coffin?" he asked. + +"No, no. You know I can't. Good-by. The sunset is beautiful, isn't it?" + +"Beautiful, indeed." + +"Yes. I--I think the sunsets from this point are the finest I have ever +seen. I come here every Sunday afternoon to see them." + +This remark was given merely to cover embarrassment, but it had an +unexpected effect. + +"You DO?" cried the minister. The next moment he was alone. Grace Van +Horne had vanished in the gloom of the pine thickets. + +It was a strange John Ellery who walked slowly back along the path, one +that Keziah herself would not have recognized, to say nothing of +Captain Elkanah and the parish committee. The dignified parson, with +the dignified walk and calm, untroubled brow, was gone, and here was +an absent-minded young fellow who stumbled blindly along, tripping over +roots and dead limbs, and caring nothing, apparently, for the damage to +his Sunday boots and trousers which might result from the stumbles. He +saw nothing real, and heard nothing, not even the excited person who, +hidden behind the bayberry bush, hailed him as he passed. It was not +until this person rushed forth and seized him by the arm that he came +back to the unimportant affairs of this material earth. + +"Why! Why, Mr. Pepper!" he gasped. "Are you here? What do you want?" + +"Am I here?" panted Kyan. "Ain't I been here for the last twenty minutes +waitin' to get a chance at you? Ain't I been chasin' you from Dan +to Beersheby all this dummed--excuse me--afternoon? Oh, my godfreys +mighty!" + +"Why, what's the matter?" + +"Matter? Matter enough! It's all your fault. You got me into the mess, +now you git me out of it." + +Usually, when Abishai addressed his clergyman, it was in a tone of +humble respect far different from his present frantic assault. The +Reverend John was astounded. + +"What IS the trouble, Mr. Pepper?" he demanded. "Behave yourself, man. +What IS it?" + +"You--you made me do it," gurgled Kyan. "Yes, sir, 'twas you put me up +to it. When you was at our house t'other day, after Laviny locked me up, +you told me the way to get square was to lock her up, too. And I done +it! Yes, sir, I done it when she got back from meetin' this noon. I +run off and left her locked in. And--and"--he wailed, wringing his +hands--"I--I ain't dast to go home sence. WHAT'll I do?" + + +CHAPTER IX + +IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT + + +The hysterical Mr. Pepper doubtless expected his clergyman to be almost +as much upset as he was by the news of his action. But John Ellery was +provokingly calm. As a matter of fact he scarcely grasped the purport of +the little man's disjointed story. He had been wandering in dreamland, +his head among the clouds, and the explosion of Keziah's bomb disturbed, +but did not clear the air. + +"What will you do?" he repeated. "Why--er--I don't know, I'm sure." + +Kyan was staggered. + +"You don't know?" he shouted. "YOU don't? Then who does, for the land +sakes? Didn't you tell me to lock her up? Didn't I do it 'CAUSE you told +me? Didn't--didn't--" + +He seemed to be on the verge of apoplexy. Also he had raised his +voice to a yell. The minister seized him by the arm and shook him into +silence. + +"Hush! hush!" he commanded. "Wait a minute. Let me understand this +thing. Some one is locked up, you say. Who is it? Where--" + +"WHO is it? Ain't I tellin' you. It's Laviny. She went into that spare +room where I was t'other day and I slammed the spring lock to on her. +Then I grabbed the key and run. That was afore three this afternoon; now +it's 'most night and I ain't dast to go home. What'll she say when I +let her out? I got to let her out, ain't I? She can't starve to death in +there, can she? And YOU told me to do it! YOU did! Oh--" + +The apoplectic attack was once more imminent. + +"Stop it, Mr. Pepper," ordered Ellery. "I don't remember telling you +to lock your sister up, though--Why, yes, I may have said something or +other, as a joke, but I didn't expect you would seriously consider doing +such a thing. Ha, ha! This is the most idiotic piece of business that I +ever--" + +"Be you laughin'?" demanded the shocked Abishai. "LAUGHIN'? Why, my +godfreys mighty! Idiotic? Well, who's the idiot? 'Tain't me! I'D never +have thought of such a fool trick. But you said--" + +"Hush! Let me think. Have you told anybody?" + +"TOLD anybody! I guess NOT. And nobody'll never know if they wait for me +to tell 'em." + +"Well, then, I don't see why you can't go home and--hum--I don't like +to advise your telling a lie, but you might let her infer that it was an +accident. OR, if you really mean to be your own master, you can tell her +you did it purposely and will do it again if she ever tries the trick on +you." + +"I tell her that! I tell her! O Mr. Ellery, DON'T talk so. You don't +know Laviny; she ain't like most women. If I should tell her that +she'd--I don't know's she wouldn't take and horsewhip me. Or commit +suicide. She's said she would afore now if--if--" + +"Nonsense! She won't do that, you needn't worry." He burst into another +laugh, but checked himself, as he saw the look of absolute distress on +poor Kyan's face. + +"Never mind, Mr. Pepper," he said. "We'll think of some plan to smooth +matters over. I'll go home with you now and we'll let her out together." + +"Will you, Mr. Ellery? Will you, honest? Say, by godfreys mighty, I'd +get down on my knees and thank you this minute if--if I wa'n't in such a +hurry. Come right on; come quick!" + +It was a silent procession of two that wended its way out of the pines +and across the fields, by the brook and the pond, where the evening +mists were rising and the frogs chanting their good-night song, +through the gathering twilight shades, across the main road and up the +lighthouse lane. Kyan, his mind filled with fearful forebodings, was +busily trying to think of a reasonable excuse for the "accidental" +imprisonment of his sister. John Ellery was thinking, also, but his +thoughts were not of the Peppers. + +The little house was dark and still as they approached it. No welcoming +light in the dining-room windows, no open door, no shrill voice +demanding to know where the wandering brother had been "all this +everlastin' time." Even the hens had gone to roost. Abishai groaned. + +"Oh, dear!" he wailed. "I'm scart to death. Where is she? You don't +cal'late she's done it, do ye?" + +"Done it? Done what?" + +"Done the suicidin'. She said she would if--O Laviny!" + +"Hush! Be quiet. She's all right. She's in the room where you left her, +of course. She couldn't get out, could she? You've got the key. Come +in." + +They entered the house. The dining room was dark and quiet. So was the +sitting room. The clock ticked, solemn and slow. Kyan clutched at his +companion's arm. + +"I don't hear her," he whispered. "You don't s'pose she HAS done it? +Godfreys mighty!" + +The gloom and mystery were having their effect, even on Mr. Ellery's +nerves. His answer also was given in a tense whisper, but with some +irritation. + +"Hush!" he murmured. "Let go of my wrist. You've pinched it black and +blue. Which room did you leave her in? Show me at once." + +Kyan's trembling knees managed to carry him to the little hall leading +from the sitting room toward the ell at the side of the house. This hall +was almost pitch black. The minister felt his guide's chin whisker brush +his ear as the following sentence was literally breathed into it: + +"Here--here 'tis," panted Kyan. "Here's the door. I don't hear nothin', +do you? Listen!" + +They listened. Not a sound, save the dismal tick of the clock in the +room they had left. Ellery knocked on the door. + +"Miss Pepper," he said; "Miss Pepper, are you there?" + +Kyan caught his breath. No answer. + +"Miss Pepper," repeated the minister. "Miss Pepper!" + +Silence, absolute. Abishai could stand it no longer. He groaned and +collapsed on his knees. + +"She has!" he moaned. "She's done it and there ain't nothin' in there +but her remains. Oh, my soul!" + +Ellery, now rather frightened himself, shook him violently. + +"Be quiet, you idiot!" he commanded. "We must go in. Give me the key." + +After repeated orders and accompanying shakings, Kyan produced a key. +The minister snatched it from his trembling fingers, felt for the +keyhole and threw the door open. The little room was almost as dark as +the hall and quite as still. There was a distinct smell of old clothes +and camphor. + +"A match," demanded Ellery. "Quick!" + +"I ain't got none," quavered Mr. Pepper. "They're all in the box in the +settin' room. Oh, my godfreys mighty! What'll I do? What undertaker'll I +have? Solon Tripp's the reg'lar one, but Laviny and he had a row and +she said she'd come back and ha'nt me if I ever let him touch her +rema--Where you goin'? DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!" + +The minister was going after a match, and said so. In a moment he +returned with several. One of these he lit. The brimstone sputtered, +burned blue and fragrant, then burst into a yellow flame. + +The little room was empty. + +John Ellery drew a breath of relief. Then he laughed. + +"Humph!" he exclaimed. "She's gone." + +"GONE? Why, she ain't nuther! Where could she go?" + +"I don't know, but she has gone--somewhere. At any rate, she's not +here." + +Kyan rose to his feet. His alarm had changed to paralyzed astonishment. + +"How could she go?" he repeated. "That window won't open more'n six +inches. Laviny ain't what you'd call fleshy, but she never could squeeze +through that in this world. And I locked the door, 'cause I heard the +click. I--I--I--do you b'lieve in spirits, Mr. Ellery?" + +"Nonsense! Come into the sitting room, light a lamp, and let's talk it +over." + +The lamp was found and lighted at last. Its radiance brightened the +dingy sitting room. + +"Do you b'lieve in spirits?" repeated Kyan. "I've heard yarns about +folks bein' spirited away, but I never took much stock in 'em. And," +he added with conviction, "'twould take a pretty husky spirit to handle +Laviny if she had her mad up. She--Hush! hear that!" + +The sound of wheels was heard in the lane by the front gate. A vehicle +stopped. Then some one called a hurried good night. Mr. Pepper's fear +returned. + +"It's her!" he cried. "She's been ahuntin' for me. NOW I'll get it! +You stand by me, Mr. Ellery. You got to. You said you would. But how on +earth did she get--" + +The minister motioned him to silence. + +"I'll stand by you," he whispered. "Don't speak. Leave it to me." + +A step sounded on the back step. The dining-room door was hurriedly +thrown open. + +"'Bishy," called Miss Pepper eagerly. "'Bish, where are you?" + +"Here--here I be, Laviny," faltered Kyan. + +His sister appeared on the threshold. She was dressed in her Sunday +best, flowered poke bonnet, mitts, imitation India shawl, rustling black +bombazine gown. She looked at Mr. Pepper then at the minister. + +"O Mr. Ellery!" she exclaimed, "be you here?" + +The Reverend John admitted his presence. Miss Pepper's demeanor +surprised him. She did not seem angry; indeed, she acted embarrassed and +confused, as if she, and not her brother, were the guilty party. + +"I'm afraid I'm awful late, 'Bishy," she said. "Have you had your +supper?" + +Kyan was too perturbed to venture a reply. The sword above his head was +quivering on its single hair and he was preparing to dodge the fall. But +it did not fall. + +"You haven't had any supper, have you?" purred Miss Pepper pityingly. +"It's too bad. You poor thing! you must be awful hungry." + +She moved across the room and kissed him. Abishai, who had prepared +himself for a different sort of greeting, clutched his chair with both +hands. He looked as if he might faint. The minister gazed open-mouthed. + +"I'm awful sorry, Mr. Ellery," gushed Lavinia, removing the bonnet. "You +see, I was invited out to ride this afternoon and--and--I went." + +She glanced at her brother, reddened--yes, almost blushed--and +continued. + +"You know, 'Bishy," she said "Thankful Payne's cousin's home avisitin' +her. He come about that cousin's will--the other cousin that's just +died. He's a reel nice man--her live cousin is--keeps a shoe store up +to Sandwich, and I used to know him years ago. When I was over to +Thankful's t'other day, him and me had quite a talk. We got speakin' of +what nice drives there was around Trumet and--and--er--well, he asked me +if I wouldn't like to go to ride next Sunday afternoon--that's to-day. +And a ride bein' a good deal of a treat to me, I said I would. Thankful +was goin', too, but--er--er--she couldn't very well. So Caleb--that's +his name, you remember, 'Bishy--he come round with his horse and team +about ha'f past three and we started. But I'd no IDEE 'twas so late. +I--I--meant to tell you I was goin', 'Bish, but I forgot." + +Kyan had listened to this recital, or explanation, or apology, with a +curious succession of expressions passing over his face. He swallowed +two or three times, but did not interrupt. + +"I'm so sorry I kept you waitin' supper," gushed Lavinia. "I'll get you +a good one now. Oh, well, deary me! I must be gettin' absent-minded. I +ain't asked you where you've been all the afternoon." + +Abishai's eyes turned beseechingly toward his promised backer. Ellery +could not resist that mute appeal. + +"Your brother has been with me for some time, Miss Pepper," he +volunteered. + +"Oh, has he? Ain't that nice! He couldn't have been in better comp'ny, +I'm sure. But oh, say, 'Bishy! I ain't told you how nigh I come to not +gettin' out at all. Just afore Mr. Payne come, I was in that spare room +and--you remember I put a spring lock on that door?" + +It was here at last. The long-dreaded explosion was imminent. Kyan's +chin shook. He braced himself for the blow. The minister prepared to +come to the rescue. + +"Yes," went on Lavinia. "I--I put a lock on that door so's I--I could +shut the room up when I wanted to. Well, when I was in there this +afternoon the wind blew the door shut and--Hey?" + +"I--I never said nothin'," panted Kyan. + +"Yes, it blew to, the lock clicked, and there I was. If I hadn't had the +other key in my pocket I don't know's I wouldn't have been in there yet. +That would have been a pretty mess, wouldn't it! He! he! he!" + +She laughed shrilly. The minister looked at her, then at her brother, +and he, too, burst into a shout of laughter. Kyan did not laugh; yet his +grip upon the chair relaxed, and over his countenance was spreading a +look of relief, of hope and peace, like a clear sunrise after a stormy +night. + +"Well, I must go and get supper," declared Lavinia. "You'll forgive me +for leavin' you so, won't you, 'Bishy?" + +Mr. Pepper sighed. + +"Yes," he said slowly. "I'll forgive you, Laviny." + +"I knew you would. I hope you ain't been too lonesome. Did you miss me? +Was you worried?" + +"Hey? Yes, I--I missed you consider'ble. I WAS gettin' sort of worried. +I didn't s'pose you'd go off to ride with--with a feller and leave me +all alone. But I forgive you." He stopped, drew his hand across his +forehead, and then added, "I s'pose I hadn't ought to complain. Maybe +I'd better get used to it; I guess likely this is only the beginnin'." + +Lavinia blushed furiously. + +"Why, 'Bish!" she exclaimed. "How you do talk! Ain't he awful, Mr. +Ellery?" + +The Reverend John did not answer. He could not trust himself to speak +just then. When he did it was to announce that he must be getting toward +home. No, he couldn't stay for supper. + +Miss Pepper went into the kitchen, and Abishai saw the visitor to the +door. Ellery extended his hand and Kyan shook it with enthusiasm. + +"Wa'n't it fine?" he whispered. "Talk about your miracles! Godfreys +mighty! Say, Mr. Ellery, don't you ever tell a soul how it really was, +will you?" + +"No, of course not." + +"No, I know you won't. You won't tell on me and I won't tell on you. +That's a trade, hey?" + +The minister stopped in the middle of his step. + +"What?" he said, turning. + +Mr. Pepper merely smiled, winked, and shut the door. John Ellery +reflected much during his homeward walk. + + +The summer in Trumet drowsed on, as Trumet summers did in those days, +when there were no boarders from the city, no automobiles or telephones +or "antique" collectors. In June the Sunday school had its annual +picnic. On the morning of the Fourth of July some desperate spirits +among the younger set climbed in at the church window and rang the bell, +in spite of the warning threats of the selectmen, who had gone on record +as prepared to prosecute all disturbers of the peace to the "full extent +of the law." One of the leading citizens, his name was Daniels, awoke to +find the sleigh, which had been stored in his carriage house, hoisted to +the roof of his barn, and a section of his front fence tastefully draped +about it like a garland. The widow Rogers noticed groups of people +looking up at her house and laughing. Coming out to see what they were +laughing at, she was provoked beyond measure to find a sign over the +front door, announcing "Man Wanted Imediate. Inquire Within." The door +of the Come-Outer chapel was nailed fast and Captain Zeb Mayo's old +white horse wandered loose along the main road ringed with painted black +stripes like a zebra. Captain Zeb was an angry man, for he venerated +that horse. + +The storm caused by these outbreaks subsided and Trumet settled into +its jog trot. The stages rattled through daily, the packet came and went +every little while, occasionally a captain returned home from a long +voyage, and another left for one equally long. Old Mrs. Prince, up at +the west end of the town, was very anxious concerning her son, whose +ship was overdue at Calcutta and had not been heard from. The minister +went often to see her and tried to console, but what consolation is +there when one's only child and sole support is nobody knows where, +drowned and dead perhaps, perhaps a castaway on a desert island, or +adrift with a desperate crew in an open boat? And Mrs. Prince would say, +over and over again: + +"Yes, yes, Mr. Ellery. Thank you. I'm sure you mean to encourage me, but +oh, you don't know the things that happen to seafarin' men. I do. I went +to sea with my husband for fourteen year. He died on a voyage and they +buried him over the vessel's side. I can't even go to his grave. The sea +got him, and now if it's taken my Eddie--" + +The young clergyman came away from these calls feeling very young, +indeed, and woefully inadequate. What DID he know of the great sorrows +of life? + +The Sunday dinners with the Daniels family were almost regular weekly +functions now. He dodged them when he could, but he could not do so +often without telling an absolute lie, and this he would not do. And, +regularly, when the solemn meal was eaten, Captain Elkanah went upstairs +for his nap and the Reverend John was left alone with Annabel. Miss +Daniels did her best to be entertaining, was, in fact, embarrassingly +confidential and cordial. It was hard work to get away, and yet, somehow +or other, at the stroke of four, the minister always said good-by and +took his departure. + +"What is your hurry, Mr. Ellery?" begged Annabel on one occasion when +the reading of Moore's poems had been interrupted in the middle by the +guest's sudden rising and reaching for his hat. "I don't see why you +always go so early. It's so every time you're here. Do you call at any +other house on Sunday afternoons?" + +"No," was the prompt reply. "Oh, no." + +"Then why can't you stay? You know I--that is, pa and I--would LOVE to +have you." + +"Thank you. Thank you. You're very kind. But I really must go. Good +afternoon, Miss Daniels." + +"Mrs. Rogers said she saw you going across the fields after you left +here last Sunday. Did you go for a walk?" + +"Er--er--yes, I did." + +"I wish you had mentioned it. I love to walk, and there are SO few +people that I find congenial company. Are you going for a walk now?" + +"Why, no--er--not exactly." + +"I'm sorry. GOOD-by. Will you come again next Sunday? Of COURSE you +will. You know how dreadfully disappointed I--we--shall be if you +don't." + +"Thank you, Miss Daniels. I enjoyed the dinner very much. Good +afternoon." + +He hurried down the path. Annabel watched him go. Then she did an odd +thing. She passed through the sitting room, entered the front hall, went +up the stairs, tiptoed by the door of her father's room, and then up +another flight to the attic. From here a steep set of steps led to the +cupola on the roof. In that cupola was a spyglass. + +Annabel opened a window a few inches, took the spyglass from its rack, +adjusted it, laid it on the sill of the open window and knelt, the glass +at her eye. The floor of the cupola was very dusty and she was wearing +her newest and best gown, but she did not seem to mind. + +Through the glass she saw the long slope of Cannon Hill, with the beacon +at the top and Captain Mayo's house near it. The main road was deserted +save for one figure, that of her late caller. He was mounting the hill +in long strides. + +She watched him gain the crest and pass over it out of sight. Then she +shifted the glass so that it pointed toward the spot beyond the curve +of the hill, where the top of a thick group of silver-leafs hid the +parsonage. Above the tree tops glistened the white steeple of the +Regular church. If the minister went straight home she could not see +him. But under those silver-leafs was the beginning of the short cut +across the fields where Didama had seen Mr. Ellery walking on the +previous Sunday. + +So Annabel watched and waited. Five minutes, then ten. He must have +reached the clump of trees before this, yet she could not see him. +Evidently, he had gone straight home. She drew a breath of relief. + +Then, being in a happier frame of mind, and the afternoon clear and +beautiful, she moved the glass along the horizon, watching the distant +white specks across the bay on the Wellmouth bluffs--houses and +buildings they were--the water, the shore, the fish weirs, the pine +groves. She became interested in a sloop, beating into Wellmouth harbor, +and watched that. After a time she heard, in the house below, her father +shouting her name. + +She gave the glass one more comprehensive sweep preparatory to closing +it and going downstairs. As she did this a moving speck came into view +and vanished. + +Slowly she moved the big end of the spyglass back along the arc it had +traveled. She found the speck and watched it. It was a man, striding +across the meadow land, a half mile beyond the parsonage, and hurrying +in the direction of the beach. She saw him climb a high dune, jump a +fence, cross another field and finally vanish in the grove of pines on +the edge of the bluff by the shore. + +The man was John Ellery, the minister. Evidently, he had not gone home, +nor had he taken the short cut. Instead he had walked downtown a long +way and THEN turned in to cross the fields and work his way back. + +Annabel put down the glass and, heedless of her father's calls, sat +thinking. The minister had deliberately deceived her. More than that, he +had gone to considerable trouble to avoid observation. Why had he done +it? Had he done the same thing on other Sunday afternoons? Was there +any real reason why he insisted on leaving the house regularly at four +o'clock? + +Annabel did not know. Her eyes snapped and her sharp features looked +sharper yet as she descended the steps to the attic. She did not know; +but she intended to find out. + + +CHAPTER X + +IN WHICH KEZIAH'S TROUBLES MULTIPLY + + +Keziah was getting worried about her parson. Not concerning his +popularity with his congregation. She had long since ceased to worry +about that. The young minister's place in his people's regard was now +assured, the attendance was increasing, and the Regular church was +now on a firmer footing, financially and socially, than it had been +in years. Even Mrs. Rogers and Lavinia Pepper had ceased to criticise, +except as pertained to unimportant incidentals, and were now among the +loudest of the praise chanters. And as Captain Zeb Mayo said: "When +Didama and Laviny stops fault-findin', the millennium's so nigh port a +feller ought to be overhaulin' his saint uniform." + +But what worried Mrs. Coffin was John Ellery's personal appearance and +behavior. He had grown perceptibly thinner during the past month, his +manner was distrait, and, worst of all in the housekeeper's eyes, his +appetite had fallen off. She tried all sorts of tempting dishes, but the +result was discouraging. + +"What!" she exclaimed. "Don't want but one piece of huckleberry pie? +Why, a week ago you ate three and looked kind of disappointed 'cause the +dish was empty. What is the matter? Are you sick?" + +"No, Mrs. Coffin," replied the Reverend John. "No, I'm not sick. I just +don't feel hungry, that's all." + +"Hum! Well, I've usually noticed that when a healthy man don't feel +hungry at dinner time, 'specially in the huckleberry season, his +healthiness is pretty shaky. What does ail you, Mr. Ellery? Got +somethin' on your mind? If you have, I'd heave it overboard. Or you +might unload it onto me and let me prescribe. I've had consider'ble +experience in that kind of doctorin'." + +But the answer was unsatisfactory. Mr. Ellery laughed, changed the +subject, and wandered out into the garden, where Keziah saw him, shortly +afterwards, intently regarding nothing in particular with a rapt stare. +She watched him for a few moments and then, with a puzzled shake of +the head, returned to her work. She believed that he was troubled about +something and was herself troubled in consequence. + +His absent-mindedness was most acute on Sunday evenings, before prayer +meeting, and after he had returned from the afternoon at Captain +Elkanah's. + +"Say, Mr. Ellery," she said, on one of these Sunday evenings, "do you +know, it seems to me that Elkanah's meals must go to your head. Don't +have any of his granddad's New England rum, do you? They tell me he's +got some of that down cellar that he doles out occasional to his +very particular friends. That's the common yarn around town, though I +couldn't swear 'twas gospel." + +The minister smiled and denied acquaintanceship with the New England +beverage. + +"Humph! Then it must be the other thing. You ain't in love, are you?" + +The young man started, colored, and was plainly embarrassed. + +"In love?" he repeated. "In love, Mrs. Coffin?" + +"Yes, in love. Annabel hasn't landed a male at last, has she? She's a +line over the side for a long time." + +The hearty laugh with which this was received settled the question of +Annabel's success. Keziah was relieved. + +"Well, I'm glad of that," she said. "I ain't got any grudge against +Annabel, but neither have I got one against you. Another man in that +family would have an easy time in one way, he wouldn't have to do any +thinkin' for himself--Elkanah and his daughter would do all that was +necessary. So you're not in love. Then I don't know what does ail you. +I'll say this, though, for a body that ain't in love you certainly stay +with the Danielses a long time. You went there right after meetin' this +noon and now it's seven o'clock and you've just got home. And 'twas the +same last Sunday and the one before. Been there all the time, have you?" + +She knew he had not, because she had seen him pass the parsonage, on +the opposite side of the road, two hours before. But she was curious to +learn what his reply would be. It was noncommittal. + +"No," he said slowly. "Not all the time. I--er--went for a short walk." + +Before she could inquire concerning that walk he had entered the study +and closed the door after him. + +During the week which followed this particular conversation he was more +absent-minded than ever. There were evenings when he spoke scarcely a +word, but sat silent in his chair, while Keziah, looking up from her +mending, watched him and guessed and wondered. After he had gone to his +room for the night, she would hear him pacing the floor, back and forth, +back and forth. She asked no more questions, however; minding her own +business was a specialty of Keziah's, and it was a rare quality in +Trumet. + +Sunday was a cloudy, warm day, "muggy," so Captain Zeb described it. +After the morning service Mr. Ellery, as usual, went home with Captain +Daniels and Annabel. Keziah returned to the parsonage, ate a lonely +dinner, washed the dishes, and sat down to read a library book. She +read for an hour and then, finding it difficult to keep her mind on the +story, gave it up, closed the book and, rising, walked to the window. +But the misty, hot loneliness of the afternoon, was neither interesting +nor cheerful, so she turned away and went upstairs to her own room. Her +trunk was in one corner of this room and she unlocked it, taking from +a compartment of the tray a rosewood writing case, inlaid with +mother-of-pearl, a present from her father, who had brought it home from +sea when she was a girl. + +From the case she took a packet of letters and a daguerreotype. The +latter was the portrait of a young man, in high-collared coat, stock, +and fancy waistcoat. His hair, worn long over the ears, was smooth with +a shine that suggested oil, and in his shirt front was a large pin, +which might possibly have been mistaken by a credulous observer for a +diamond. Mrs. Coffin looked at the daguerreotype, sighed, shuddered, and +laid it aside. Then she opened the packet of letters. Selecting one from +the top of the pile, she read it slowly. And, as she read, she sighed +again. + +She did not hear the back door of the parsonage open and close softly. +Nor did she hear the cautious footsteps in the rooms below. What aroused +her from her reading was her own name, spoken at the foot of the stairs. + +"Keziah! Keziah, are you there?" + +She started, sprang up, and ran out into the hall, the letter still in +her hand. + +"Who is it?" she asked sharply. "Mr. Ellery, is that you?" + +"No," was the answer. "It's me--Nat. Are you busy, Keziah? I want to see +you for a minute." + +The housekeeper hurriedly thrust the letter into her waist. + +"I'll be right down, Nat," she answered. "I'm comin'." + +He was in the sitting room when she entered. He was wearing his Sunday +suit of blue and his soft felt hat was on the center table. She held out +her hand and he shook it heartily. + +"Well!" she observed, smiling, "I declare if I don't believe you've got +the tiptoe habit. This is the second time you've sneaked into the house +and scared me 'most to death. I asked you before if you wa'n't ashamed +of yourself and now I ask it again." + +Before he could reply she caught a glimpse of his face. + +"What is it?" she asked. "What is the matter? Is anybody sick? Is your +father--" + +"No, he's all right. That is, he's as well as he has been lately, though +that isn't sayin' much." + +"Is Grace--" + +"No, she's all right, too, I guess. Been sort of quiet and sorrowful +for the last few weeks--or I've seemed to notice that she has--but +I cal'late it's nothin' serious. I wouldn't wonder if the same thing +that's troublin' her is what ails me." + +"But what is it? Why don't you tell me?" + +"I'm goin' to tell you, Keziah. That's what I come here for. I--" + +"Sit down, can't you? Don't stand up there like a lighthouse, shuttin' +out the whole broadside of the room. You are the BIGGEST thing!" + +Captain Hammond selected the most substantial chair in the apartment and +sat down upon it. He looked at his friend and shook his head. + +"No use, Keziah," he said. "If I was as deep down in the blues as the +bottom of the Whale Deep, a look at that face of yours would pull me to +the top again. You're a good woman!" + +"Thanks! When I have spare time on my hands I'll practice tryin' to +believe that. But what is the trouble, Nat? Out with it." + +"Well, Keziah, it's trouble enough. Dad and I have had a fallin' out." + +Mrs. Coffin's mouth and eyes opened. + +"What?" she cried, in utter astonishment. + +"Yes. It's true. We had what was next door to a real quarrel after +dinner to-day. It would have been a real one if I hadn't walked off and +left him. He's as set as the rock of Gibraltar, and--" + +"And your foundations ain't given to slippin' much. Nat Hammond, I'm +surprised at you! What was it all about? Religion?" + +"No, not a sliver of religion in it. If 'twas that, I could dodge, or +haul down my colors, if I had to. But it's somethin' worse, enough sight +worse. Somethin' I can't do--even for dad--and won't either. Keziah, +he's dead set on my marryin' Grace. Says if I don't he'll know that +I don't really care a tin nickel for him, or for his wishes, or what +becomes of the girl after he's gone." + +"Nat!" + +"It's a fact. You see, dad realizes, better'n I thought he did, that his +health is pretty shaky and that he is likely to founder 'most any time. +He says that don't worry him; if he knew Grace and I were provided for +he'd slip his cable with a clean manifest. But the dream of his life, he +says, has been that we should marry. And he wants to see it done." + +Keziah was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly: + +"And Grace herself? How does she feel about it? Has he spoken to her?" + +"I don't know. I guess likely he has. Perhaps that's why she's been so +sort of mournful lately. But never mind whether he has or not; I won't +do it and I told him so. He got red hot in a jiffy. I was ungrateful and +stubborn and all sorts of things. And I, bein' a Hammond, with some of +the Hammond balkiness in me, I set my foot down as hard as his. And we +had it until--until--well, until I saw him stagger and tremble so that I +actually got scared and feared he was goin' to keel over where he stood. + +"'Why can't you?' he kept sayin'. 'But WHY can't you? Ain't she a girl +anyone would be proud to have for a wife?' 'Course there was no answer +to that but yes. Then back he comes again with 'Then why can't you?' At +last, bein' frightened, as I said, that he might have another shock or +somethin', I said I'd think it over and come away and left him. And I +come straight to you. Keziah, what shall I do? What can you say to help +me?" + +Keziah was silent. She was looking, not at her companion, but at the +carpet center of one of the braided rugs on the floor. Her face was very +grave and the lines about her mouth seemed to deepen. Her hands, clasped +in her lap, tightened one upon the other. But her voice was calm when, +at last, she spoke. + +"Nat," she said, "there's only one thing I can say. And that's what your +father said: Why can't you?" + +The captain sprang from his chair. + +"What?" he cried incredulously. "What are you sayin'?" + +"Just what your father said, Nat. Why can't you marry Grace? She's a +dear, good girl and--" + +"That be--keelhauled! Keziah Coffin, you sit there and ask me why I +can't marry her! YOU do?" + +"Yes, Nat." + +"Keziah, you're crazy! Don't talk to me like that. We're not jokin' now. +You know why I can't marry her, nor anyone else in this round world but +you." + +"Nat, I can't marry you." + +"I know, I know. You're always sayin' that. But you don't mean it. You +can't mean it. Why, you and me have been picked out for each other by +the Almighty, Keziah. I swear I believe just that. We went together when +we were boy and girl, to parties and such. We was promised when I first +went to sea. If it hadn't been for that fool row we had--and 'twas all +my fault and I know it--you never would have let that da--that miserable +Anse Coffin come near you. And when 'twas too late and you'd married +him, the mean, drunken, cruel--" + +"Hush, Nat! hush! Stop it!" + +"He was, and you know he was. Yes, and worse besides. Runnin' off and +leavin' a wife like you to--Oh, my God! when I think I might have been +your husband to look out for you and take care of you! That you +might have been with me on board my ships. That, when I come down the +companion on stormy nights I might have found you there to comfort me +and--O Keziah! we aren't young any more. What's the use of foolin'? I +want you. I'm goin' to have you. Coffin is dead these ten years. When I +heard he was drowned off there in Singapore, all I could say was: 'Serve +him right!' And I say it now. I come home then more determined to get +you. Say yes, and let's be happy. Do!" + +"I can't, Nat." + +"Why not? For Heaven sakes! why not? Don't you care for me? You've let +me think--well, at any rate, I have thought you did. You used to. Don't +you?" + +"Nat, I--I care for you more than anybody else on earth. But I can't +marry you. Oh, don't keep askin' it! Please don't. I can't marry you, +Nat. No!" + +"Well, not now, maybe. Not this month, or even this year, perhaps, but +some day--" + +"No, Nat. You must listen. There's no use of this goin' on any longer. I +mean it. I can't marry you." + +"You won't, you mean." + +"Well, if you wish to think so. Then I won't." + +"But by and by--" + +"No, not by and by. Never, Nat. Never." + +He drew his hand across his forehead. + +"Never!" he repeated, more to himself than to her. + +"Never. Yes, Nat." + +"Then, by the everlastin'! I'll do somethin'--" + +"No, no, you won't. Nat Hammond, I know you. You're a great big, +brave-hearted, sensible man. You won't be foolish. You'll do--yes, I +think you'd better do just what your father asks you to do. Marry Grace, +if she wants you and will have you. She'll make you a good wife; you'll +learn to care for her, and I know she'll have the best husband that a +girl could hope for. And you and I will be friends, just as we've always +been, and--" + +"Keziah, stop that! Stop it, do you hear! I don't want to listen to such +stuff. I tell you I'm past soft soap, and I didn't think you'd give it +to me." + +"Nat!" + +"Oh, yes, 'Nat'! A lot you care for 'Nat'! Not a reason on God's +footstool why you won't have me--except one, and that one that you don't +want me." + +"Please, Nat! I can hardly believe this is you. This trouble with your +father has upset you. You don't mean what you say. You're not talkin' +like yourself and--" + +"Stop it, I tell you. I don't feel like myself. I banked on you, Keziah. +I've lived for you. And now--O Keziah, take it back! Give me a little +hope, just enough to keep my head above water." + +"I'd like to, Nat. I only wish I could. But 'twouldn't be any use. I +can't do it." + +He snatched his hat from the table and strode to the door. Turning, he +looked at her. + +"All right," he said chokingly. "All right. Good-by." + +His steps sounded on the oilcloth of the kitchen. Then the back door +slammed. He was gone. + +Keziah started, as if the slam of the door had been an electric shock. +During the interview she had been pale and grave but outwardly calm. Now +she sank wearily down in the chair from which she had risen and her +head dropped forward upon her arms on the table. The letter she had been +reading before Captain Nat's arrival fell from her waist to the floor +and lay there, its badly spelled and blotted lines showing black +and fateful against the white paper. And she cried, tears of utter +loneliness and despair. + +The clouds thickened as the afternoon passed. The setting sun was +hidden behind them; over the horizon of ocean and bay the fog banks were +rolling in tumbled, crumpled masses. The shadows in the lonely sitting +room deepened. There came a knock at the dining-room door. + +Keziah sprang from her chair, smoothed her hair, hastily wiped her eyes, +picked up the dropped letter and went to admit the visitor, whoever he +or she might be. She was glad of the shadows, they prevented her face +from being seen too plainly. + +"Good afternoon," she said, opening the door. "Oh! it's you, is it?" + +"Yes," admitted Abishai Pepper, standing on the stone step, and shifting +uneasily from one foot to the other. "Yes, Keziah, it's--it's me, thank +you." + +"Don't mention it. Well, is Laviny with you?" + +"No--o, she ain't. She--she didn't come." + +"Hum! Did she know you was comin'?" + +"No--o, I don't cal'late she did." + +"I see. Well, what do you want?" + +Mrs. Coffin's welcome was not too cordial. She had laughed many times +over Abishai's proposal of marriage, but she had never quite forgiven +him for making her ridiculous on that occasion. Incidentally, she did +not feel like laughing. + +"What do you want?" she repeated. + +Kyan was plainly nervous. + +"I only wanted to see Mr. Ellery," he announced. "It's all right, +Keziah. You needn't be afraid." + +"Afraid! What on earth should I be afraid of?" + +"Why--why, I didn't know but you might be afraid I was goin' to--to talk +about what we talked about when I--I talked to you that day up at--" + +"There! that'll do. It ain't me that would have reason to be afraid if +THAT was what you come for. What do you want? Don't stand there dancin' +a jig." + +"I only wanted to see Mr. Ellery." + +"He's out. Good day." + +"But I won't keep him but a minute." + +"He's out, I tell you. Do you want to leave a message?" + +"No--o. No, I guess not." + +"Was it important?" + +"Oh! I don't know. Kind of, maybe. I wanted to ask his advice about +somethin'. It's a secret. Only him and me know about it. Good-by." + +"Shall I tell him you'll call again? Or ask him to come up to your +house?" + +Mr. Pepper, who had started to go, now hurried back to the steps. + +"No, no," he protested, in alarm. "Don't you tell him that. I wouldn't +have him come there for no money. Why, Laviny, she--" + +"Oh, Laviny isn't in the secret, then?" Keziah smiled in spite of +herself. + +"Not exactly. That is, not much. Don't you tell her I come here, will +you? I'll find Mr. Ellery. I know where he is." + +"I wouldn't go to the Danielses', if I was you. Elkanah might not like +to have you chasin' after his visitors." + +"Oh, the minister ain't at the Danielses', not as late's this, he ain't. +I know where he is." + +"You do?" The housekeeper looked at him keenly. + +"Yes, sir, I do. I know where he goes Sunday afternoons--and why he +goes, too. Mr. Ellery and me's good friends. We understand each other." + +"Look here, Kyan Pepper! What are you talkin' about?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. Good day." + +"Stop! Stand still! Come in the house here. I want you to." + +"No, no, Keziah. Really, I'd love to, but I can't stop." + +"Come in, I tell you." + +Reluctantly, but lacking the strength of mind to refuse, Mr. Pepper +entered the dining room. Then Mrs. Coffin turned upon him. + +"What do you mean," she demanded, "by throwin' out hints that the +minister and you are in some sort of secret? How dare you go round +tellin' people such yarns as that?" + +"They ain't yarns. And I never told nobody afore, anyhow. I got to move +along. I'll--" + +"Stay where you are. I guess I'll run right up and ask your sister about +this. Perhaps she might--" + +"Ss-sh! ss-sh! don't talk that way, Keziah. Don't! Laviny don't know +what I mean. Don't go askin' HER things." + +"But you said--" + +"I just said I knew where Mr. Ellery goes every Sunday afternoon. He +don't know anybody knows, but I do. That's all there is to it. I shan't +tell. So--" + +"Tell? Do you mean there's somethin' Mr. Ellery wouldn't want told? +Don't you dare--I WILL see Laviny!" + +"No, no, no, no! 'Tain't nothin' much. I just know where he goes after +he leaves Elkanah's and who he goes to meet. I--Lordy! I hadn't ought to +said that! I--Keziah Coffin, don't you ever tell I told you. I've said +more'n I meant to. If it comes out there'd be the biggest row in the +church that ever was. And I'd be responsible! I would! I'd have to go +on the witness stand and then Laviny'd find out how I--Oh, oh, oh! what +SHALL I do?" + +The poor frightened creature's "jig" had, by this time, become a +distracted fandango. But the housekeeper had no mercy on him. She was +beginning to fear for her parson and, for the time, everything else, her +own trouble and the recent interview with Nat, was pushed aside. + +"What is it?" she persisted. "WHAT would bring on the row in the church? +WHO does Mr. Ellery meet? Out with it! What do you mean?" + +"I mean that the minister meets that Van Horne girl every Sunday +afternoon after he leaves Elkanah's. There, now! It's out, and I don't +give a darn if they hang me for it." + +Keziah turned white. She seized Mr. Pepper by the lapel of his Sunday +coat and shook him. + +"Grace Van Horne!" she cried. "Mr. Ellery meets Grace Van Horne on +Sunday afternoons? Where?" + +"Down in them pines back of Peters's pastur', on the aidge of the +bank over the beach. He's met her there every Sunday for the last six +weeks--longer, for what I know. I've watched 'em." + +"You HAVE? YOU have! You've dared to spy on--I think you're lyin' to me. +I don't believe it." + +"I ain't lyin'! It's so. I'll bet you anything they're there now, +walkin' up and down and talkin'. What would I want to lie for? You come +with me this minute and I'll show 'em to you." + +In the desire to prove his veracity he was on his way to the door. But +Keziah stepped in front of him. + +"'Bish Pepper," she said slowly and fiercely, shaking a forefinger in +his face, "you go straight home and stay there. Don't you breathe a word +to a livin' soul of what you say you've seen. Don't you even think it, +or--or dream it. If you do I'll--I'll march straight to Laviny and tell +her that you asked me to marry you. I will, as sure as you're shakin' in +front of me this minute. Now you swear to me to keep still. Swear!" + +"How--HOW'll I swear?" begged Kyan. "What do you say when you swear? +I'll say it, Keziah! I'll say anything! I'll--" + +"All right. Then mind you remember. Now clear out quick. I want to +think. I MUST think. GO! Get out of my sight!" + +Kyan went, glad to escape, but frightened to the soul of him. Keziah +watched him until he turned from the main road into the lighthouse lane. +Then, certain that he really was going straight home, she re-entered +the parsonage and sat down in the nearest chair. For ten minutes she sat +there, striving to grasp the situation. Then she rose and, putting on +her bonnet and shawl, locked the dining-room door, and went out through +the kitchen. On the step she looked cautiously back to see if any of the +neighbors were at their windows. But this was Sunday, the one day when +Trumet people sat in their front parlors. The coast was clear. She +hurried through the back yard, and down the path leading across the +fields. She was going to the pine grove by the shore, going to find out +for herself if Kyan's astonishing story was true. + +For if it was true, if the Rev. John Ellery was meeting clandestinely +the adopted daughter of Eben Hammond, it meant--what might it not mean, +in Trumet? If he had fallen in love with a Come-Outer, with Grace Van +Horne of all people, if he should dare think of marrying her, it would +mean the utter wreck of his career as a Regular clergyman. His own +society would turn him out instantly. All sorts of things would be said, +lies and scandal would be invented and believed. His character would be +riddled by the Trumet gossips and the papers would publish the result +broadcast. + +And Grace! If she loved a Regular minister, what would happen to her? +Captain Eben would turn her from his door, that was certain. Although +he idolized the girl, Keziah knew that he would never countenance such +a marriage. And if Nat stood by Grace, as he would be almost sure to do, +the breach between father and son would widen beyond healing. If it were +merely a matter of personal selection, Mrs. Coffin would rather have +seen her parson marry Grace than anyone else on earth. As it was, such +a match must not be. It meant ruin for both. She must prevent the affair +going further. She must break off the intimacy. She must save those two +young people from making a mistake which would--She wrung her hands as +she thought of it. Of her own sorrow and trouble she characteristically +thought nothing now. Sacrifice of self was a part of Keziah's nature. + +The pines were a deep-green blotch against the cloudy sky and the gloomy +waters of the bay. She skirted the outlying clumps of bayberry and beach +plum bushes and entered the grove. The pine needles made a soft carpet +which deadened her footfalls, and the shadows beneath the boughs were +thick and black. She tiptoed on until she reached the clearing by the +brink of the bluff. No one was in sight. She drew a breath of relief. +Kyan might be mistaken, after all. + +Then she heard low voices. As she crouched at the edge of the grove, two +figures passed slowly across the clearing, along the bush-bordered path +and into the shrubbery beyond. John Ellery was walking with Grace +Van Horne. He was holding her hand in his and they were talking very +earnestly. + +Keziah did not follow. What would have been the use? This was not the +time to speak. She KNEW now and she knew, also, that the responsibility +was hers. She must go home at once, go home to be alone and to think. +She tiptoed back through the grove and across the fields. + +Yet, if she had waited, she might have seen something else which would +have been, at least, interesting. She had scarcely reached the outer +edge of the grove when another figure passed stealthily along that +narrow path by the bluff edge. A female figure treading very carefully, +rising to peer over the bushes at the minister and Grace. The figure of +Miss Annabel Daniels, the "belle" of Trumet. And Annabel's face was not +pleasant to look upon. + + +CHAPTER XI + +IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN RECEIVES A CALLER + + +At the edge of the bluff, just where the pines and the bayberry bushes +were thickest, where the narrow, crooked little footpath dipped over the +rise and down to the pasture land and the salt meadow, John Ellery +and Grace had halted in their walk. It was full tide and the miniature +breakers plashed amid the seaweed on the beach. The mist was drifting in +over the bay and the gulls were calling sleepily from their perch along +the breakwater. A night hawk swooped and circled above the tall "feather +grass" by the margin of the creek. The minister's face was pale, but set +and determined, and he was speaking rapidly. + +"I can't help it," he said. "I can't help it. I have made up my mind and +nothing can change it, nothing but you. It rests with you. If you say +yes, then nothing else matters. Will you say it?" + +He was holding both her hands now, and though she tried to withdraw +them, he would not let her. + +"Will you?" he pleaded. + +"I can't," she answered brokenly. "I can't. Think of your church and of +your people. What would they say if--" + +"I don't care what they say." + +"Oh! yes, you do. Not now, perhaps, but later you will. You don't know +Trumet as I know it. No, it's impossible." + +"I tell you there is only one impossible thing. That is that I give you +up. I won't do it. I CAN'T do it! Grace, this is life and death for me. +My church--" + +He paused in spite of himself. His church, his first church! He had +accepted the call with pride and a determination to do his best, the +very best that was in him, for the society and for the people whom he +was to lead. Some of those people he had learned to love; many of them, +he felt sure, loved him. His success, his popularity, the growth of the +organization and the praise which had come to him because of it, all +these had meant, and still meant, very much to him. No wonder he paused, +but the pause was momentary. + +"My church," he went on, "is my work and I like it. I believe I've done +some good here and I hope to do more. But no church shall say whom I +shall marry. If you care for me, Grace, as I think and hope you do, +we'll face the church and the town together, and they will respect us +for it." + +She shook her head. + +"Some of them might respect you," she said. "They would say you had been +led into this by me and were not so much to blame. But I--" + +"They shall respect my wife," he interrupted, snapping his teeth +together, "or I'll know the reason why." + +She smiled mournfully. + +"I think they'll tell you the reason," she answered. "No, John, no! +we mustn't think of it. You can see we mustn't. This has all been a +mistake, a dreadful mistake, and I am to blame for it." + +"The only mistake has been our meeting in this way. We should have met +openly; I realize it, and have felt it for sometime. It was my fault, +not yours. I was afraid, I guess. But I'll not be a coward any longer. +Come, dear, let's not be afraid another day. Only say you'll marry me +and I'll proclaim it openly, to-night--Yes, from the pulpit, if you say +so." + +She hesitated and he took courage from her hesitation. + +"Say it," he pleaded. "You WILL say it?" + +"I can't! I can't! My uncle--" + +"Your uncle shall hear it from me. We'll go to him together. I'll tell +him myself. He worships you." + +"Yes, I know. He does worship me. That's why I am sure he had rather see +me dead than married to you, a Regular, and a Regular minister." + +"I don't believe it. He can't be so unreasonable. If he is, then you +shouldn't humor such bigotry." + +"He has been my father for years, and a dear, kind father." + +"I know. That's why I'm so certain we can make him understand. Come, +dear! come! Why should you consider everyone else? Consider your own +happiness. Consider mine." + +She looked at him. + +"I am considering yours," she said. "That is what I consider most of +all. And, as for uncle, I know--I KNOW he would never consent. His heart +is set on something else. Nat--" + +"Nat? Are you considering him, too? Is HE to stand between us? What +right has he to say--" + +"Hush! hush! He hasn't said anything. But--but he and uncle have +quarreled, just a little. I didn't tell you, but they have. And I think +I know the reason. Nat is Uncle Eben's idol. If the quarrel should grow +more serious, I believe it would break his heart. I couldn't bear to be +the cause of that; I should never forgive myself." + +"You the cause? How could you be the cause of a quarrel between those +two? Grace, think of me." + +Here was the selfishness of man and the unselfishness of woman answered. + +"John," she said, "it is of you I am thinking. Everything else +could--might be overcome, perhaps. But I must think of your future and +your life. I MUST. That is why--" + +He did not wait to hear more. He seized her in his arms and kissed her. + +"Then you DO care!" he cried joyfully. "You will marry me?" + +For an instant she lay quiet in his embrace, receiving, if not +responding to his caresses. Then she gently but firmly freed herself. He +saw that there were tears in her eyes. + +"Grace," he urged, "don't--don't hesitate any longer. You were meant to +be my wife. We were brought together for just that. I know it. Come." + +She was crying softly. + +"Won't you?" he begged. + +"I don't know," she sobbed. "Oh, I don't know! I must think--I MUST! +Wait, please wait, John. Perhaps by to-morrow I can answer. I'll +try--I'll try. Don't ask me again, now. Let me think. Oh, do!" + +Doubtless he would have asked her again. He looked as if he meant to. +But just then, drifting through the twilight and the mist, came the +sound of a bell, the bell of the Regular church, ringing for the Sunday +evening meeting. They both heard it. + +"Oh!" exclaimed Grace, "that is your bell. You will be late. You must +go, and so must I. Good night." + +She started down the path. He hesitated, then ran after her. + +"To-morrow?" he questioned eagerly. "Tomorrow, then, you'll say that you +will?" + +"Oh, perhaps, perhaps! I mustn't promise. Good night." + +It was after seven when Grace reached the old tavern. The housekeeper, +Mrs. Poundberry, was anxiously awaiting her. She wore her bonnet and +Sunday gown and was evidently ready to go out. + +"Land sakes alive!" she sputtered. "Where in the name of goodness have +you been to? I was gettin' scairt. Didn't know but you'd run off and got +married, or sunthin' dreadful." + +Grace was thankful that the cloudy twilight made it impossible to see +her face distinctly. The housekeeper rattled on without waiting for an +answer. + +"Supper's on the table and the kittle's abilin'. You better eat in a +hurry, 'cause it's meetin' time now. Your uncle, he started ten minutes +ago. I'm agoin' right along, too, but I ain't goin' to meetin'; I'm +agoin' up to Betsy E.'s to stay all night. She's got a spine in her +back, as the feller said, and ain't feelin' good, so I told her I'd come +and stay a little spell. S'pose you can get along to-morrow without me?" + +"Betsy E." was Mrs. Poundberry's second cousin, an elderly spinster +living alone in a little house near the salt works. Grace assured her +questioner that she could attend to the house and the meals during the +following day, longer if the troublesome "spine" needed company. Mrs. +Poundberry sighed, groaned, and shook her head. + +"I shan't stay no longer," she affirmed; "not if Betsy's all over +spines, like one of them Mexican cactus plants. No, marm, my place is +right here and I know it. Your Uncle Eben's mighty feeble and peaked +lately. He ain't long for this world, I'm afraid. You'd ought to be +awful good to him, Gracie." + +"I know it," was the hurried reply. "Where's Nat?" + +"I don't know. Can't keep track of HIM. Might's well try to put your +finger on a flea. He's here to-day and gone yesterday, as the Scriptur' +says. He ate a little mite of supper, but not much, and then off he +puts. Says he's goin' to walk the fog out'n his head. I told him, s' I, +'You'll walk a plaguey sight more in than you do out, THIS night,' +but he went just the same. He was dreadful kind of dumpy and blue this +evenin'. Seemed to be sort of soggy in his mind. And why he never went +to meetin' with his dad and why his dad never asked him TO go is more'n +I can tell. Land of livin', how I do gabble! My grandmarm used to say +my tongue was loose at both ends and hung in the middle, and I guess she +wa'n't fur off the course. Good-by. Take care of yourself. You can put +what's left of that mock mince pie on the top shelf in the butt'ry and +you'd better heave a dish towel or sunthin' over it to keep the ants +out. There's more ants in this house than there is dollars, a good +sight. Betsy B., she's got a plan for keepin' of 'em out by puttin' +sassers of brimstone round the shelves, but I told her, s' I, 'THEM ants +don't care for no brimstone. They're used to it. Sometimes I b'lieve +they're sent by the everlastin' father of brimstone,' and she--" + +She had reached the gate by this time, and Grace shut off the flow of +conversation by closing the door. Then she took a candle from the row +on the dining-room mantel, lighted it, and went up to her own room. +Standing before the old-fashioned bureau with its little oval mirror, +she hastily arranged her hair. She did not wish to go to the prayer +meeting at the chapel, but she felt that she must. The Come-Outer +gatherings, with their noisy singing and shouting, had grown more and +more repugnant to her. + +And to-night, of all nights! How could she meet those people who had +known her since she was a child, who boasted of her as one of their +staunchest adherents, who believed in her and trusted her? How could she +meet them and talk with them, knowing what she knew and realizing that +they, too, would know it on the morrow? But her uncle would miss her and +be worried about her if she did not come. She could not bear to trouble +him now; she never loved him so dearly, was never so anxious to humor +his every wish as on this, perhaps the last evening they would spend +together. For, though she would not yet admit it, even to herself, her +decision was made, had really been made the first time John Ellery asked +her weeks before. Only the thought of what might happen to him if she +consented had caused her to hesitate so long. + +She blew out the candle and came out into the hall at the head of the +stairs. She was about to descend when she heard voices. The door of the +dining room opened and closed. She felt certain that Nat had returned +and wondered who was with him. Then she heard her uncle's voice, +speaking sharply and with unwonted sternness. + +"I don't know what 'tis you want to see me about," said Captain Eben. +"You say it's important; well, it's got to be to keep me from my +meetin'. I ought to be on the Lord's business this minute and nothin' +worldly's goin' to keep me from servin' Him. So speak quick. What is +it?" + +The voice that answered was one that Grace recognized, though she +had never before heard in it the note of agitation and undignified +excitement. There were no ponderous pauses and "Hum--ha's" now. + +"Don't be a fool, Hammond!" it said. "And don't stand there preaching. +Lock that door! Get a lamp! Are you sure there's nobody but us in the +house?" + +Captain Elkanah Daniels! Captain Elkanah visiting a Come-Outer! and +the leader of the Come-Outers!! Grace caught her breath. What in the +world--She started to descend and then a thought flashed to her mind. +She stopped short. + +"I ain't the fool, Elkanah," she heard her uncle retort sternly. "The +fools are them who are deef to the call from on high. My foot was on the +threshold of His house when you led me astray. It's never halted there +afore. I warn you--" + +"Hush! Shut up! Can't you forget that--that Come-Outer circus of yours +for a minute?" + +"Elkanah Daniels, I'll have no blasphemy here. Another word like that +and--" + +"WILL you be still and hear me? The Lord's business! I guess you'll +think it's the Lord's business when you understand what I'm going to +tell you! The Lord's business! The devil's business, you better say! +Will you lock that door?" + +"My church is waitin' for me and--" + +"Let it wait. What's a parcel of yelling Come-Outers compared to the +decency of this town? Stop! Shut up! Eben Hammond, I tell you that your +precious church--yes and mine, the Regular church of Trumet--will go to +rack and ruin if you and me don't pull together this night." + +"And I tell you, Elkanah Daniels, I'll have no blasphemy here. That +little sanctuary up the road is founded on a rock and neither you +nor any of your Phariseein' priest-worshipin' crew can shake it. The +Almighty'll protect His own. As for the Reg'lar church, that's no +concern of mine." + +"But I tell you 'tis your concern. Or if the church isn't, your own +family is." + +"My--my family?" + +"Yes, your own family. Huh! that makes you listen, don't it?" + +There was an instant of silence. Grace, crouching on the stairs, noticed +the change in her uncle's voice as he answered. + +"My own family?" he repeated slowly. "My own--And the Reg'lar +church--What do you mean? Has Nat--" + +"No, he ain't. But that cussed girl of yours--" + +"Stop!" Eben's shout rang through the house. The listener heard it, +rose, and then sank slowly to her knees. + +"Stop!" shouted Captain Hammond. "Elkanah Daniels, for your own sake +now, be careful. If you dast to say a word, another word like that, +I'll--" + +"If I dast! The hussy! But there's no use talkin' to you. You're as +crazy as a Bedlamite. Either that, or you're in the game with her. If +you are, I warn you--" + +"Stop! What game? What do you mean? Gracie! My Grace! What is it? For +mercy sakes, Elkanah--" + +"Humph! I wondered if I couldn't get some sense into you, finally. Lock +that door!" + +"I will! I will! But Elkanah--" + +"Lock it! Give me the key!" + +The click of the lock sounded sharply. + +"Where's the lamp?" demanded Daniels. "And the matches? Don't stand +there shaking." + +A smell of sulphur floated out into the hall. Then the sickly glow of +the "fluid" lamp shone through the doorway. + +"What ails you?" asked Elkanah. "Are you struck dumb? Now go and see if +there's anybody else in the house." + +"But--but there ain't. I know there ain't. Hannah's gone and Gracie's at +meetin' by this time." + +"She? Humph! Well, maybe she's at meeting and maybe she isn't. Maybe +she's over in Peters's pines, hugging and kissing that man she's met +there every Sunday for I don't know how long--Here! let go, you old +fool! Let go, I tell you!" + +A chair fell to the floor with a bang. There was the sound of hard +breathing and rapid footsteps. + +"Let go!" panted Daniels. "Are you crazy? Take your hands off me!" + +"You liar!" snarled Captain Eben. "You low-lived liar! By the Almighty, +Elkanah Daniels! I'll--You take that back or I'll choke the everlastin' +soul out of you. I will--" + +"Let go, you lunatic! You'll kill yourself. Listen! I'm not lying. It's +the truth. She's met a man, I tell you. Been meeting him for months, I +guess. There! now will you listen?" + +The footsteps had ceased, but the heavy breathing continued. + +"A man!" gasped Eben. "A man! Gracie! It's a--Who is he? What's his +name?" + +"His name's John Ellery, and he's minister of the Regular church in this +town; that's who he is! Here! hold up! Good Lord! are you dying? Hold +up!" + +The girl on the stairs sprang to her feet. Her head was reeling and she +could scarcely stand, but she blindly began the descent. She must go to +her uncle. She must. But Captain Daniels's voice caused her to halt once +more. + +"There! there!" it said in a tone of relief. "That's better. Set still +now. Be quiet, that's it. Shall I get some water?" + +"No, no! let me be. Just let me be. I ain't what I used to be and +this--I'm all right, I tell you. Grace! And--and--What was it you just +said? I--I don't b'lieve I heard it right." + +"I said that daughter of yours, or niece, or whatever she is, this Grace +Van Horne, has been meeting young Ellery, our minister, in Peters's +grove. Been meeting him and walking with him, and kissing him, and--" + +"It's a lie! It ain't so, Elkanah! Prove it or--It--it CAN'T be so, can +it? Please--" + +"It is so. She's met him in those pines every Sunday afternoon for a +long time. She was seen there with him this afternoon." + +"Who--who saw her?" + +"Never mind. The one that did'll never tell--unless it's necessary. +They're fixing to be married, and--" + +"MARRIED! She marry a Reg'lar minister! Oh--" + +"Hush! Listen! They ain't married yet. We can stop 'em, you and I, if we +get right to work. It isn't too late. Will you help?" + +"Will I--I--Go on! tell me more." + +"We can stop 'em. I know it would be a good catch for her, the sneaking, +designing--Well, never mind. But it can't be. It shan't be. You've got +to tell her so, Hammond. We folks of the Regular church have pride in +our society; we won't have it disgraced. And we have been proud of our +minister, the young, rattle-headed fool! We'll save him if we can. If +we can't"--the speaker's teeth grated--"then we'll send him to eternal +smash or die trying." + +"But I can't believe it's true. It's a mistake; some other girl and not +Gracie. Why, she don't even know him. She wouldn't--But she HAS been out +every Sunday afternoon for weeks. If it SHOULD be!" + +"It is. I tell you it is. Don't waste time rolling your eyes and talking +stuff. We've got to work and you've got to work first. I don't know +whether you're only making believe or not. I realize that 'twould be +a good thing for your girl to marry a promising young chap like him, +but--Hush! let me go on. I tell you, Hammond, it can't be. We won't let +her. I won't let her. I'm a man of influence in this town, and outside +of it, too. I'm head of the parish committee and a member of the +National Regular Society. I can't reach your precious ward, maybe, but I +can reach the fellow she's after, and if he marries her, I'll drive 'em +both to the poorhouse. + +"Here's where you come in, Hammond. It may be she does really care for +him. Or maybe she's after position and money. Well, you talk to her. You +tell her that if she keeps on going with him, if she doesn't break off +this damnable business now, tomorrow, I'll ruin John Ellery as sure as +I'm a living man. He'll be ruined in Trumet, anyhow. He'll be thrown out +by the parish committee. I'm not sure that his church people won't +tar and feather him. Marrying a low-down Come-Outer hussy! As if there +wa'n't decent girls of good families he might have had! But losing this +church won't be the only thing that'll happen to him. The committee'll +see that he doesn't get another one. I'll use my influence and have him +thrown out of the Regular ministry. Think I can't? What sort of yarns +do you suppose will be told about him and her, meeting the way they did? +Won't the county papers print some fine tales? Won't the Boston ones +enjoy such a scandal? I tell you, Eben Hammond, that young chap's name +will be dragged so deep in the mud it'll never get clean again." + +He stopped for breath. His companion was silent. After a moment, he +continued: + +"You tell her that, Hammond," he went on. "If she really cares for him, +it'll be enough. She won't let him ruin his life. And I'll keep quiet +till I hear from you. If she's sensible and really decent, then she can +give him his clearance papers without his knowing why she did it and +everything will be a secret and kept so. Nobody else'll ever know. If +she won't do that, then you tell me and I'll have a session with HIM. +If THAT'S no good, then out he goes and she with him; and it's ruination +for both of 'em, reputations and all. Why am I doing this? I'll tell +you. I like him. He isn't orthodox enough to suit me, but I have liked +him mighty well. And Annab--Humph! that's neither here nor there. What +I'm fighting for is the Trumet Regular church. That's MY church and +I'll have no dirty scandal with Come-Outers dragging it down. Now you +understand. Will you tell her what I've said?" + +The chair creaked. Evidently, Captain Eben was rising slowly to his +feet. + +"Well?" repeated Elkanah. + +"Elkanah Daniels," said Eben slowly, his voice shaking from nervous +exhaustion and weakness, but with a fine ring of determination in every +word, "Elkanah Daniels, you listen to me. I've heard you through. If +your yarn is true, then my heart is broke, and I wish I might have died +afore I heard it. But I didn't die and I have heard it. Now listen to +me. I love that girl of mine better'n the whole wide world and yet +I'd ruther see her dead afore me than married to a Reg'lar minister. +Disgrace to HIM! Disgrace to your miser'ble church! What about the +disgrace to MINE? And the disgrace to HER? Ruin to your minister! Ruin +to my girl here and hereafter is what I'm thinkin' of; that and my +people who worship God with me. I'll talk to Grace. I'll talk to +her. But not of what'll happen to him or you--or any of your cantin', +lip-servin' crew. I'll tell her to choose between him and me. And if she +chooses him, I'll send her out of that door. I'll do my duty and read +her out of my congregation. And I'll know she's gone to everlastin' +hell, and that's worse'n the poorhouse. That's all to-night, Elkanah. +Now you better go." + +"Humph! Well, I declare! you ARE a bigoted--" + +"Stop it! I've kept my hands off you so fur, because I'm the Lord's +servant. But I'm fightin' hard to keep down my old salt-water temper. +You go! There's the door." + +"All right, all right! I don't care what you say, so long as it's said +so as to stop her from getting him--and said soon." + +"It'll be said to-night. Now go! My people are waitin' at the chapel." + +"You're not going to that prayer meeting after THIS?" + +"Where else should I go? 'Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy +laden.' And--and"--his voice broke--"He knows that I AM heavy laden. +Lord! Lord! do help me, for this is more'n I can bear alone." + +The lock turned; the door opened and closed. Grace, clinging to the +balusters, heard Captain Hammond cross the room, slowly and feebly. +She heard him enter the sitting room. Then she heard nothing more, +not another sound, though the minutes dragged on and on, endlessly, +eternally, and each with a message, a sentence repeated over and over +again in her brain. "If she really cares for him, she won't let him ruin +his life." + +By and by, pale, but more composed, and with her mind made up, she came +down into the hall. Drawing a long breath, she turned into the sitting +room to face her uncle. By the light shining through the dining-room +door she saw him on his knees by the haircloth sofa. She spoke his name. +He did not answer nor look up. Alarmed, she touched him on the shoulder. +At her touch his arm slid from the couch and he fell gently over upon +his side on the carpet. + + +CHAPTER XII + +IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN MAKES PORT + + +Half past eight. In the vestry of the Regular church John Ellery was +conducting his prayer meeting. The attendance was as large as usual. +Three seats, however, were vacant, and along the settees people were +wondering where Captain Elkanah Daniels and his daughter might be. They +had not missed a service for many a day. And where was Keziah Coffin? + +At the Come-Outer chapel the testifying and singing were in full blast. +But Ezekiel Bassett was leading, for Captain Eben Hammond had not +made his appearance. Neither had Grace Van Horne, for that matter, but +Captain Eben's absence was the most astonishing. + +"Somethin's the matter," whispered Josiah Badger to his right-hand +neighbor. "Somethin's wrong d-d-d-down to the tavern, sartin' sure. +I'm goin' down there just soon's meetin's over and f-f-f-find out. +Eben wouldn't no more miss leadin' his meetin' from choice than I'd go +without a meal's v-v-vi-vittles. Somethin's happened and I'm goin' to +know what 'tis. You'll go along with me, won't ye, Lot?" + +The answer was an affirmative. In fact, almost every worshiper in that +chapel had determined to visit the Hammond tavern as soon as the service +was at an end. + + +In the Regular parsonage Keziah sat alone by the sitting-room table. +Prayer meeting and supper she had forgotten entirely. The minister +had not come home for his evening meal, and food was furthest from the +housekeeper's thoughts. What should she do? What ought she to do? How +could she avert the disaster so certain to overwhelm those two young +people the moment their secret became known? + +It was in vain that she tried to encourage herself with the hope that +Kyan had exaggerated--that the meetings in the grove had not been as +frequent as he said they were, or that they had been merely casual. +She knew better. She had seen the pair together and the look in John +Ellery's eyes. No, the mischief was done, they loved each other; or, at +least, he loved her. There was the great trouble. + +Keziah, in spite of her worldly common sense, was an idealist at heart. +Love matches she believed in thoroughly. If the man had not been a +Regular minister, or if he had been a minister in any other town than +narrow, gossiping, squabbling Trumet, where families were divided on +"religious" grounds, neighbors did not speak because their creeds were +different, and even after death were buried in cemeteries three miles +apart; if the girl had been other than the ward of bigoted old Eben +Hammond--then, though they were poor as poverty itself, Keziah would +have joined their hands and rejoiced. Even as it was, she was strongly +tempted to do it. Her sense of right and her every inclination urged her +toward that course. "Face the world together and fight it out," that +was the advice she would like to give them. But no, the battle was too +uneven. The odds were too great. They must not think of marriage, for +the present, and they must cease to meet. Perhaps some day--she tried to +comfort herself with the thought--perhaps some day, years afterwards and +under different circumstances, they might. + +--With Ellery she felt certain she could accomplish nothing by argument +or persuasion. She knew him well enough by this time to realize that, if +his mind was made up, all Trumet and all creation could not change it. +He would keep on his course, and, if wrecked, would go down with colors +set and helm lashed. But Grace, perhaps she did not fully realize the +situation. She might be made to see, to listen to reason. And, perhaps, +it was possible--perhaps, on her part, matters were not as serious. The +minister had not acted like a triumphant lover, assured of success; +he had seemed, now that she thought of it, more like a pleader, a +supplicant. Perhaps, if she could see Grace and talk plainly with the +girl, it might not be too late. She determined to try that very night. + +She rose and again donned her bonnet and shawl. She was about to blow +out the lamp when she heard rapid footsteps, the sound of some one +running along the sidewalk in front of the house. As she listened, the +footsteps sounded on the path. Whoever the runner was he was coming to +the parsonage. She stepped to the door and opened it. + +The runner was a boy, Maria Higgins's boy Isaac, whose widowed mother +lived down by the shore. He did the chores at the Hammond tavern. His +freckled face was dripping with perspiration and he puffed and blew like +a stranded whale. + +"What's the matter, Ike?" demanded Keziah. "What is it?" + +"Have ye--have ye," panted Ike, "have ye seen the doctor anywheres, Mis +Coffin?" + +"Who? Dr. Parker? Have I seen--what in the world are you comin' HERE +after the doctor for?" + +"'Cause--'cause I didn't know where else to come. I been to his house +and he ain't to home. Nobody ain't to home. His wife, Mis Parker, she's +gone up to Boston yes'day on the coach, and--and it's all dark and the +house door's open and the shay's gone, so--" + +"Who's sick? Who wants him?" + +"And--and--all the rest of the houses round here was shut up 'cause +everybody's to meetin'. I peeked in at the meetin' house and he ain't +there, and I see your light and--" + +"Who's sick? Tell me that, won't you?" + +"Cap'n Eben. He's awful sick. I cal'late he's goin' to die, and Gracie, +she--" + +"Cap'n Eben? Eben Hammond! Dyin'? What are you talkin' about?" + +"Huh! huh!" puffed the messenger impatiently. "Didn't I tell ye? Cap'n +Eben's adyin'. I seen him. All white and still and--and awful. And +Gracie, she's all alone and--" + +"Alone? Where's Nat?" + +"She don't know. He ain't to home. But I got to find Dr. Parker." + +"Hold on! Stop! I'll tell you where the doctor is most likely. Up to +Mrs. Prince's. She's been poorly and he's prob'ly been called there. +Run! run fast as ever you can and get him and I'll go to Grace this +minute. The poor thing! Have you told anybody else?" + +"No, no! ain't seen nobody but you to tell. They was prayin' over to +meetin', and the fellers that waits outside to keep comp'ny with the +girls ain't got there yet. And I never met nobody. And 'twas so blasted +dark I fell down four times and tore my best pants and--" + +"S-sh-sh! Listen to me! Don't tell anybody. Not a soul but the doctor. +Half this town'll be runnin' to find out if you do, and that poor girl +must be distracted already. I'll go to her. You get Dr. Parker and tell +him to hurry." + +"I'll tell him; don't you fret." + +He was gone, running harder than ever. A moment later Keziah followed +him, running also. + +It was a misty, black night, and Trumet sidewalks were uneven and hard +to navigate. But she stumbled on, up the main road to the Corners, down +the "Turn-off," past the chapel of the Come-Outers, from the open window +of which sounded the drone of a high, nasal voice. Josiah Badger was +"testifying," and Keziah caught a fragment of the testimony as she +hurried by. + +"I says to 'em, says I, I says to 'em, 'I don't care about your smart +mum-mum-minister and what fine sermons he preaches. Let him BE smart,' I +says. Says I, 'Smartness won't g-g-g-git ye into heaven.' ("Amen!") 'No, +sirree! it takes more'n that. I've seen smart folks afore and they got +c-c-cuk-catched up with sooner or later. Pride goes ahead of a tumble, +I've heard tell, and--" + +This was all that Keziah heard of Mr. Badger's testimony, for, as she +ran on, a rattle of wheels and the thud of hoofs came from behind her. +Then a rocking chaise, drawn by a galloping horse, shot by. Dr. Parker's +carriage, she was sure. The Higgins boy must have met the doctor and +delivered his message. + +The horse and chaise were standing by the front gate of the tavern as +she pantingly drew near it. The side door of the house was ajar and she +opened it softly and entered. The dining room was empty. There was a +light on the sitting-room table and low voices came from the little +bedroom adjoining. Then, from the bedroom, emerged Dr. Parker and Grace +Van Horne. The girl was white and there were dark circles under her +eyes. The doctor was very grave. + +Keziah stepped forward and held out both hands. Grace looked, recognized +her, and with a cry ran toward her. Keziah took her in her arms and +soothed her as if she were a child. + +"There! there! deary," she said, stroking her hair. "There! there! +deary, don't take it so hard. Poor thing! you're worn out. If I'd only +known sooner." + +"O Aunt Keziah!" sobbed the girl. "I'm so glad you've come. It was so +good of you." + +"Good! Land of mercy! If I hadn't come, I'd have been worse than the +beasts that perish. Don't cry, don't. How is he now? Some better?" + +She looked at the doctor as she asked it. He shook his head +emphatically. + +"Well, well, dear," went on Mrs. Coffin hurriedly. "He will be pretty +soon, we'll hope. You mustn't give up the ship, you know. Now you go and +lay down somewheres and I'll get my things off and see what there is to +do. Some good strong tea might be good for all hands, I guess likely. +Where's Hannah Poundberry?" + +"She's gone to her cousin's to stay all night. I suppose I ought to send +for her, but I--" + +"No, no, you hadn't. Might's well send for a poll parrot, the critter +would be just as much good and talk less. I'll look out for things, me +and the doctor. Where's--where's Nat?" + +"He came in just after I sent the boy for the doctor. He's in there +with--with him," indicating the bedroom. "Poor Nat!" + +Keziah looked longingly toward the door. + +"Yes," she said slowly. "Poor fellow, it's an awful shock to him. He and +his father are--But there! you lay down on that lounge." + +"I can't lie down. I can't do anything but think. Oh, what a dreadful +day this has been! And I thought it was going to be such a happy one!" + +"Yes, yes, deary, I know." + +Grace raised her head. + +"You know?" she repeated, looking up into the housekeeper's face. + +"I mean I know it's been a dreadful day," explained Keziah quickly. +"Yes, indeed it has," with a sigh. "But there! our moanin' over it don't +cheer it up any. Will you lay down? No? Well, then, SET down, there's a +good girl." + +Grace, protesting that she couldn't sit down, she couldn't leave uncle, +and there were so many things to do, was at last persuaded by Keziah and +the doctor to rest for a few moments in the big rocker. Then Mrs. Coffin +went into the kitchen to prepare the tea. As she went, she beckoned to +Dr. Parker, who joined her a moment later. + +"Well, doctor?" she asked anxiously. + +The stout, gray-haired old physician--he had practiced in Trumet for +nearly thirty years--shook his head. + +"Not a single chance," he whispered. "He may possibly live till morning, +but I doubt if he lasts an hour. It's his heart. I've expected it at +any time. Ever since he had that shock, I've been at him to take things +easy; but you might as well talk to a graven image. That Come-Outer +foolishness is what really killed him, though just what brought on this +attack I can't make out. Grace says she found him lying on the floor by +the sofa. He was unconscious then. I'm rather worried about her. She was +very near to fainting when I got here." + +"No wonder. All alone in this ark of a house and nobody to help or to +send. Lucky she found that Ike Higgins. Say, I wonder if the young +one's around here now? If he is, he must stand at the gate and scare off +Come-Outers. The whole chapel, mates, crew, and cabin boy, 'll be down +here soon's meetin's over to see what kept Eben. And they mustn't get +in." + +"I should say not. I'll hunt up Ike. If a Come-Outer gets into this +house to-night I'll eat him, that's all." + +"Some of 'em would give you dyspepsy, I guess. Yes, Grace, I'll be there +in a jiffy." + +The doctor left the house to find young Higgins and post him at the +gate. The boy, who had been listening under the window, was proud of his +new responsibility. + +"I'll fix 'em, doctor," he declared. "I only hope old Zeke Bassett +comes. He lammed me with a horsewhip t'other day, 'cause I was ridin' +behind his ox cart. If he tried to git by me, I'll bounce a rock off'n +his Sunday hat." + +"Doctor," whispered Keziah from the kitchen window. "Doctor, come quick. +Nat wants you." + +Captain Nat was standing at the door of the bedroom. His face was drawn +and he had seemingly grown years older since noon. + +"He's come to himself, doc," he whispered. "He don't remember how it +happened or anything. And he wants us all. Why! why, Keziah! are you +here?" + +"Yes, Nat. I've been here a little while." + +He looked at her steadily and his eyes brightened just a trifle. + +"Did you come to see me?" he asked. "Was it about what I said this--" + +"No, no, Nat; no. I heard the news and that Grace was alone; so I come +right down." + +He nodded wearily. + +"You can come in, too," he said. "I know dad likes you and I guess--Wait +a minute; I'll ask him." He stepped back into the bedroom. "Yes," he +nodded, returning, "you come, too. He wants you." + +The little room, Captain Eben's own, was more like a skipper's cabin +than a chamber on land. A narrow, single bed, a plain washstand, a +battered, painted bureau and a single chair--these made up the list of +furniture. Two pictures, both of schooners under full sail, hung on the +walls. Beside them hung a ship's barometer, a sextant, and a clock that +struck the "bells," instead of the hours as the landsman understands +them. In the corner stood the captain's big boots and his oilskins hung +above them. His Sunday cane was there also. And on the bureau was a +worn, heavy Bible. + +Dr. Parker brushed by the others and bent over the bed. + +"Well, cap'n," he said cheerily, "how's she headed? How are you feeling +now?" + +The old face on the pillow smiled feebly. + +"She's headed for home, I guess, doc," said Captain Eben. "Bound for +home, and the harbor light broad abeam, I cal'late." + +"Oh, no! you'll make a good many voyages yet." + +"Not in this hulk, I won't, doctor. I hope I'll have a new command +pretty soon. I'm trustin' in my owners and I guess they'll do the fair +thing by me. Halloo, Gracie, girl! Well, your old uncle's on his beam +ends, ain't he?" + +Grace glanced fearfully at his face. When he spoke her name she shrank +back, as if she feared what he might say. But he only smiled as, with +the tears streaming down her face, she bent over and kissed him. + +"There! there!" he protested. "You mustn't cry. What are you cryin' +about me for? We know, you and me, who's been lookin' out for us and +keepin' us on the course all these years. We ain't got anything to cry +for. You just keep on bein' a 'good girl, Gracie, and goin' to the right +church and--I s'pose Ezekiel'll lead in meetin' now," he added. "I do +wish he was a stronger man." + +The doctor, whose fingers had been upon the old man's wrist, looked up +at Nat significantly. + +"There, dad," said the latter, "don't you worry about Zeke Bassett, nor +anything else. You just lay in dry dock and let Parker here overhaul +your runnin' riggin' and get you fit for sea. That's what you've got to +do." + +"I'm fit and ready for the sea I'm goin' to sail," was the answer. His +eyes wandered from his son to Mrs. Coffin. For an instant he seemed +puzzled. Then he said: + +"'Evenin', Keziah. I don't know why you're here, but--" + +"I heard that Grace was alone and that you was sick, Eben. So I come +right down, to help if I could." + +"Thank ye. You're a good-hearted woman, Keziah, even though you +ain't seen the true light yet. And you're housekeeper for that hired +priest--a--a--" He paused, and a troubled look came over his face. + +"What is it, dad?" asked Nat. + +"I--I--Where's Gracie? She's here, ain't she?" + +"Yes, uncle, I'm here. Here I am," said the girl. His fingers groped for +her hand and seized it. + +"Yes, yes, you're here," murmured Captain Eben. "I--I--for a minute or +so, I--I had an awful dream about you, Gracie. I dreamed--Never mind. +Doc, answer me this now, true and honest, man to man: Can you keep me +here for just a little spell longer? Can you? Try! Ten minutes, say. Can +you?" + +"Of course I can. Cap'n Hammond, what are you--" + +"I know. That's all right. But I ain't a young one to be petted and lied +to. I'm a man. I've sailed ships. I've been on blue water. I'm goin' to +make port pretty soon, and I know it, but I want to get my decks clear +fust, if I can. Gracie, stand still. Nat, run alongside where I can see +you plainer. Keziah, you and the doctor stay where you be. I want you to +witness this." + +"Cap'n," protested Dr. Parker, "if I were you I wouldn't--" + +"Belay! Silence there, for'ard! Nat, you're my boy, ain't you? You set +some store by the old man, hey?" + +"I--I guess I do, dad." + +"Yes, I guess you do, too. You've been a pretty good boy; stubborn +and pig-headed sometimes, but, take you by and large, pretty good. And +Gracie, you've been a mighty good girl. Never done nothin' I wouldn't +like, nothin' mean nor underhand nor--" + +"Hush, uncle! Hush! Please hush!" + +"Well, you ain't; so why should I hush? In this--this dream I had, seems +'sif you--seems as if a man come to me and said that you was--It WAS a +dream, wa'n't it?" + +He tried to rise. Nat and the doctor started forward. Grace shrank back. + +"Of course it was, cap'n," said the doctor briskly. "Now you mustn't +fret yourself in this way. Just lie still and--" + +"Belay, I tell you. Yes, I guess 'twas a dream. It had to be, but 'twas +so sort of real that I--How long have I been this way?" + +"Oh, a little while! Now just--" + +"Hush! Don't pull your hand away, Gracie. Nat, give me yours. That's it. +Now I put them two hands together. See, doctor? See, Keziah?" + +"He's wandering. We must stop this," muttered Parker. Mrs. Coffin, who +began to comprehend what was coming, looked fearfully at Nat and the +girl. + +"No, I ain't wanderin', neither," declared the old Come-Outer fretfully. +"I'm sane as ever I was and if you try to stop me I'll--Gracie, your +Uncle Eben's v'yage is 'most over. He's almost to his moorin's and +they're waitin' for him on the pier. I--I won't be long now. Just a +little while, Lord! Give me just a little while to get my house in +order. Gracie, I don't want to go till I know you'll be looked out for. +I've spoke to Nat about this, but I ain't said much to you. Seems if I +hadn't, anyhow; I ain't real sartin; my head's all full of bells ringin' +and--and things." + +"Don't, uncle, don't!" pleaded Grace. "Don't worry about me. Think of +yourself, please." + +"S-sh-sh! Don't put me off. Just listen. I want you to marry my boy, +after I'm gone. I want you to say you will--say it now, so's I can hear +it. Will you, Gracie?" + +Grace would have withdrawn her hand, but he would not let her. He clung +to it and to that of his son with all his failing strength. + +"Will you, Gracie?" he begged. "It's the last thing I'm goin' to ask of +you. I've tried to be sort of good to you, in my way, and--" + +"Don't, don't!" she sobbed. "Let me think a minute, uncle, dear. Oh, do +let me think!" + +"I ain't got time, Gracie. You'll have to say it now, or else--All +right, then, think; but think quick." + +Grace was thinking. "If she really cares for him, she won't let him ruin +his life." That was what Captain Elkanah had said. And here was a way to +save him from ruin. + +"Won't you say it for me, Gracie?" pleaded Captain Eben. She hesitated +no longer. + +"Yes, uncle," she answered through tears, "if Nat wants me he can have +me." + +Keziah clasped her hands. Captain Eben's face lit up with a great joy. + +"Thank the Almighty!" he exclaimed. "Lord, I do thank you. Nat, boy, +you're consider'ble older than she is and you'll have to plan for her. +You be a good husband to her all her days, won't ye? Why, what are you +waitin' for? Why don't you answer me?" + +Nat groaned aloud. + +"A minute, dad," he stammered. "Just give me a minute, for Heaven sakes! +Keziah--" + +"Keziah!" repeated Eben. "Keziah? What are you talkin' to HER for? She +knows there couldn't be no better match in the world. You do know it, +don't ye, Keziah?" + +"Yes," said Keziah slowly. "I guess--I guess you're right, Eben." + +"Keziah Coffin," cried Nat Hammond, "do you tell me to marry Grace?" + +"Yes, Nat, I--I think your father's right." + +"Then--then--what difference does--All right, dad. Just as Grace says." + +"Thank God!" cried Captain Eben. "Doctor, you and Mrs. Coffin are +witnesses to this. There! now my decks are clear and I'd better get +ready to land. Gracie, girl, the Good Book's over there on the bureau. +Read me a chapter, won't you?" + +An hour later Keziah sat alone in the dining room. She had stolen away +when the reading began. Dr. Parker, walking very softly, came to her and +laid his hand on her shoulder. + +"He's gone," he said simply. + + +CHAPTER XIII + +IN WHICH KEZIAH BREAKS THE NEWS + + +It was nearly five o'clock, gray dawn of what was to be a clear, +beautiful summer morning, when Keziah softly lifted the latch and +entered the parsonage. All night she had been busy at the Hammond +tavern. Busy with the doctor and the undertaker, who had been called +from his bed by young Higgins; busy with Grace, soothing her, comforting +her as best she could, and petting her as a mother might pet a +stricken child. The poor girl was on the verge of prostration, and from +hysterical spasms of sobs and weeping passed to stretches of silent, +dry-eyed agony which were harder to witness and much more to be feared. + +"It is all my fault," she repeated over and over again. "All my fault! I +killed him! I killed him, Aunt Keziah! What shall I do? Oh, why couldn't +I have died instead? It would have been so much better, better for +everybody." + +"Ss-sh! ss-sh! deary," murmured the older woman. "Don't talk so; you +mustn't talk so. Your uncle was ready to go. He's been ready for ever so +long, and those of us who knew how feeble he was expected it any time. +'Twa'n't your fault at all and he'd say so if he was here now." + +"No, he wouldn't. He'd say just as I do, that I was to blame. You don't +know, Aunt Keziah. Nobody knows but me." + +"Maybe I do, Gracie, dear; maybe I do. Maybe I understand better'n you +think I do. And it's all been for the best. You'll think so, too, one +of these days. It seems hard now; it is awful hard, you poor thing, but +it's all for the best, I'm sure. Best for everyone. It's a mercy he went +sudden and rational, same as he did. The doctor says that, if he hadn't, +he'd have been helpless and bedridden and, maybe, out of his head for +another year. He couldn't have lived longer'n that, at the most." + +"But you DON'T know, Aunt Keziah! You don't know what I--I AM to blame. +I'll never forgive myself. And I'll never be happy again." + +"Yes, you will. You'll come, some day, to think it was best and right, +for you and--and for others. I know you think you'll never get over it, +but you will. Somehow or other you will, same as the rest of us have +had to do. The Lord tries us mighty hard sometimes, but He gives us the +strength to bear it. There! there! don't, deary, don't." + +Dr. Parker was very anxious. + +"She must rest," he told Mrs. Coffin. "She must, or her brain will give +way. I'm going to give her something to make her sleep and you must get +her to take it." + +So Keziah tried and, at last, Grace did take the drug. In a little while +she was sleeping, uneasily and with moans and sobbings, but sleeping, +nevertheless. + +"Now it's your turn, Keziah," said the doctor. "You go home now and +rest, yourself. We don't need you any more just now." + +"Where's--where's Cap'n Nat?" asked Keziah. + +"He's in there with his father. He bears it well, although he is mighty +cut up. Poor chap, he seems to feel that he is to blame, somehow. Says +Cap'n Eben and he had disagreed about something or other and he fears +that hastened the old man's death. Nonsense, of course. It was bound to +come and I told him so. 'Twas those blasted Come-Outers who really did +it, although I shan't say so to anyone but you. I'm glad Nat and the +girl have agreed to cruise together. It's a mighty good arrangement. She +couldn't have a better man to look out for her and he couldn't have a +better wife. I suppose I'm at liberty to tell people of the engagement, +hey?" + +"Yes. Yes, I don't see any reason why not. Yes--I guess likely you'd +better tell 'em." + +"All right. Now you go home. You've had a hard night, like the rest of +us." + +How hard he had no idea. And Keziah, as she wearily entered the +parsonage, realized that the morning would be perhaps the hardest +of all. For upon her rested the responsibility of seeing that the +minister's secret was kept. And she, and no other, must break the news +to him. + +The dining room was dark and gloomy. She lighted the lamp. Then she +heard a door open and Ellery's voice, as he called down the stairs. + +"Who is it?" he demanded. "Mrs. Coffin?" + +She was startled. "Yes," she said softly, after a moment. "Yes, Mr. +Ellery, it's me. What are you doin' awake at such an hour's this?" + +"Yes, I'm awake. I couldn't sleep well to-night, somehow. Too much +to think of, I imagine. But where have you been? Why weren't you at +meeting? And where--Why, it's almost morning!" + +She did not answer at once. The temptation was to say nothing now, to +put off the trying scene as long as possible. + +"It's morning," repeated the minister. "Are you sick? Has anything +happened?" + +"Yes," she answered slowly, "somethin' has happened. Are you dressed? +Could you come down?" + +He replied that he would be down in a moment. When he came he found +her standing by the table waiting for him. The look of her face in the +lamplight shocked him. + +"Why, Mrs. Coffin!" he exclaimed. "What IS it? You look as if you had +been through some dreadful experience." + +"Maybe I have," she replied. "Maybe I have. Experiences like that come +to us all in this life, to old folks and young, and we have to bear 'em +like men and women. That's the test we're put to, Mr. Ellery, and the +way we come through the fire proves the stuff we're made of. Sorrows and +disappointments and heartbreaks and sicknesses and death--" + +She paused on the word. He interrupted her. + +"Death?" he repeated. "Death? Is some one dead, some one I know? Mrs. +Coffin, what is it you are trying to tell me?" + +Her heart went out to him. She held out both her hands. + +"You poor boy," she cried, "I'm trying to tell you one of the hardest +things a body can tell. Yes, some one is dead, but that ain't all. Eben +Hammond, poor soul, is out of his troubles and gone." + +"Eben Hammond! Captain Eben? Dead! Why, why--" + +"Yes, Eben's gone. He was took down sudden and died about ten o'clock +last night. I was there and--" + +"Captain Eben dead! Why, he was as well as--as--She said--Oh, I must go! +I must go at once!" + +He was on his way to the door, but she held it shut. + +"No," she said gravely, "you mustn't go. You mustn't go, Mr. Ellery. +That's the one thing you mustn't do." + +"You don't understand. By and by I can tell you why I must be there, but +now--" + +"I do understand. I understand it all. Lord help us! if I'd only +understood sooner, how much of this might have been spared. Why DIDN'T +you tell me?" + +"Mrs. Coffin--" + +"John--you won't mind my callin' you John. I'm old enough, pretty nigh, +to be your mother, and I've come to feel almost as if I was. John, +you've got to stay here with me. You can't go to that house. You can't +go to her." + +"Mrs. Coffin, what are you saying? Do you know--Have you--" + +"Yes, I know all about it. I know about the meetin's in the pines and +all. Oh, why didn't you trust me and tell me? If you had, all would have +been SO much better!" + +He looked at her in utter amazement. The blood rushed to his face. + +"You know THAT?" he whispered. + +"Yes, I know." + +"Did she tell--" + +"No, nobody told. That is, only a little. I got a hint and I suspicioned +somethin' afore. The rest I saw with my own eyes." + +He was now white, but his jaw shot forward and his teeth closed. + +"If you do know," he said, "you must realize that my place is with her. +Now, when she is in trouble--" + +"Would you want to make that trouble greater? More than she could bear?" + +"I think I might help her to bear it. Mrs. Coffin, you have been my +truest friend, but one, in Trumet. You HAVE been like a mother to me. +But I have thought this out to the end and I shall go through with it. +It is my affair--and hers. If my own mother were alive and spoke as you +do, I should still go through with it. It is right, it is my life. I'm +not ashamed of anything I've done. I'm proud. I'm proud of her. And +humble only when I think how unworthy I am to be her husband. I suppose +you are fearful of what my congregation will say. Well, I've thought of +that, too, and thought it through. Whatever they say and whatever they +do will make no difference. Do you suppose I will let THEM keep me from +her? Please open that door." + +He was very tragic and handsome--and young, as he stood there. The tears +overflowed the housekeeper's eyes as she looked at him. If her own love +story had not been broken off at its beginning, if she had not thrown +her life away, she might have had a son like that. She would have given +all that the years had in store for her, given it gladly, to have been +able to open the door and bid him go. But she was firm. + +"It ain't the congregation, John," she said. "Nor Trumet, nor your +ministry. That means more'n you think it does, now; but it ain't that. +You mustn't go to her because--well, because she don't want you to." + +"Doesn't want me? I know better." He laughed in supreme scorn. + +"She doesn't want you, John. She wouldn't see you if you went. She would +send you away again, sure, sartin sure. She would. And if you didn't +go when she sent you, you wouldn't be the man I hope you are. John, you +mustn't see Grace again. She ain't yours. She belongs to some one else." + +"Some one else!" He repeated the words in a whisper. "Some one ELSE? +Why, Mrs. Coffin, you must be crazy! If you expect me to--" + +"Hush! hush! I ain't crazy, though there's times when I wonder I ain't. +John, you and Grace have known each other for a few months, that's +all. You've been attracted to her because she was pretty and educated +and--and sweet; and she's liked you because you were about the only +young person who could understand her and--and all that. And so you've +been meetin' and have come to believe--you have, anyway--that 'twas +somethin' more than likin'. But you neither of you have stopped to think +that a marriage between you two was as impossible as anything could be. +And, besides, there's another man. A man she's known all her life and +loved and respected--" + +"Stop, Mrs. Coffin! stop this wicked nonsense. I won't hear it." + +"John, Grace Van Horne is goin' to marry Cap'n Nat Hammond. There! +that's the livin' truth." + +In his absolute confidence and faith he had again started for the door. +Now he wheeled and stared at her. She nodded solemnly. + +"It's the truth," she repeated. "She and Nat are promised to each other. +Cap'n Eben, on his deathbed, asked Dr. Parker and me to be witnesses to +the engagement. Now you see why you mustn't go nigh her again." + +He did not answer. Instead, he stood silently staring. She stepped +forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. + +"Set down, John," she said. "Set down and let me tell you about it. Yes, +yes, you must. If I tell you, you'll understand better. There! there! +don't you interrupt me yet and don't you look that way. Do set down." + +She led him over to the rocking-chair and gently forced him into it. +He obeyed, although with no apparent realization of what he was doing. +Still with her hand on his shoulder she went on speaking. She told him +of her visit to the Hammond tavern, saying nothing of Mr. Pepper's +call nor of her own experience in the grove. She told of Captain Eben's +seizure, of what the doctor said, and of the old Come-Outer's return to +consciousness. Then she described the scene in the sick room and how Nat +and Grace had plighted troth. He listened, at first stunned and stolid, +then with growing impatience. + +"So you see," she said. "It's settled; they're engaged, and Dr. Parker +will tell everybody of the engagement this very mornin'. It wa'n't any +great surprise to me. Those two have been brought up together; 'twas the +natural thing that was almost bound to happen. Eben's heart was set on +it for years. And she'll have a good husband, John, that I know. And +she'll do her best to make him happy. He's a good man and--" + +The minister sprang to his feet. + +"A good man!" he cried furiously. "A good man! One who will make use of +a dying father to drive a girl into--Stand aside, Mrs. Coffin!" + +"John, you mustn't speak that way of Nat Hammond. He ain't the kind to +drive a girl against her will. And Grace is not one to be driven." + +"Are you blind? Can't you see? Why, only yesterday, she--Do you think I +shall permit such a wicked crime as that to--" + +"Ss-sh! No, it ain't wicked, it's right. Right and best for everybody, +for her especial. Yesterday she might have forgot for a minute. But +think, just think what would have happened if she cared for you." + +"But she does! I know she does. Mrs. Coffin, stand away from that door." + +"No, John; if you go out of that door now, to go to her, you'll have to +go by main strength. You shan't wreck yourself and that girl if I can +help it. Be a man." + +The pair looked at each other. Keziah was determined, but so, evidently, +was he. She realized, with a sinking heart, that her words had made +absolutely no impression. He did not attempt to pass, but he slowly +shook his head. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "perhaps you believe you're doing right. I +hope--yes, I'll give you credit for that belief. But I KNOW I am right +and I shall go to her. Such a--a BARGAIN as that you have just told me +of is no more to be regarded than--" + +"John, I beg you--" + +"NO." + +"Then go. Go this minute and break her heart and ruin her life and spoil +her good name in this village where she's lived since she was eight +years old. Go! be selfish. I suppose that's part of a man's make-up. Go! +Never mind her. Go!" + +"I do 'mind' her, as you call it. I AM thinking of her." + +"No, you're not. It's yourself." + +"If it was myself--and God knows it is the only happiness on earth for +me--if it was only myself, and I really thought she wished me to stay +away, I'd stay, I'd stay, though I'd pray to die before this hour was +over." + +"I know, I know. I've prayed to die myself afore now, but I'm here yet; +and so will you be. We can't die so easy." + +"But I know--" + +"Do you suppose SHE would come to YOU if she knew it would be your +ruin?" + +He hesitated. The last time they met, ages before--no, only the previous +afternoon--she had told him it was his happiness and his future only +that she thought of. He choked and drew his hand across his eyes. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "you tell me it will be her ruin. YOU tell me +so. You SAY she doesn't want me. I tell you that the only thing that +will keep me from her is hearing that from her own lips. When she tells +me to leave her I will, and not before." + +"She'll tell you, John; she'll tell you. I know you must despise me, +pretty nigh. I cal'late you think I'm a worldly old woman, carin' +nothin' for your feelin's. Maybe I've talked pretty hard in the last few +minutes, but I haven't meant to be hard. To be honest, I didn't think +you'd listen to me. I expected you'd insist on seein' her yourself. +Well, then, go and see her, if you must, though what will come of it +can only be more trouble, for you run the risk of folks knowin' it and +beginnin' to wonder. And I know Grace. She's made up her mind and won't +change it. But I do ask you this: I ask you not to go now. Wait a little +while, do. I left her asleep, worn out by what she's been through and +under the effects of the doctor's sleepin' medicine. He said she must +rest or he was afraid her brain would give out. For her sake, then, +wait a little. Then, if you don't hear from her, maybe I can arrange a +meetin' place where you can see her without anyone's knowin' it. I'll +try. But do wait a little while, for her sake, won't you?" + +At last he was listening and hesitating. + +"Won't you?" begged Keziah. + +"Yes," he answered slowly. "I'll wait. I'll wait until noon, somehow, +if I can. I'll try. But not a minute later. Not one. You don't know what +you're asking, Mrs. Coffin." + +"Yes, I do. I know well. And I thank you for her sake." + +But he did not have to wait until noon. At six o'clock, through the +dew-soaked grass of the yard, came the Higgins boy. For the first time +in his short life he had been awake all night and he moved slowly. + +The housekeeper opened the door. Ike held up an envelope, clutched in a +grimy hand. + +"It's for you, Mrs. Keziah," he said. "Gracie, she sent it. There ain't +no answer." + +Keziah took the letter. "How is she? And how's Nat?" she asked. + +"They're doin' pretty well, so ma says. Ma's there now and they've sent +for Hannah Poundberry. Gee!" he added, yawning, "I ain't slept a wink. +Been on the jump, now I tell ye. Didn't none of them Come-Outers git in, +not one. I sent 'em on the home tack abilin'. You ought to hear me give +old Zeke Bassett Hail Columby! Gosh! I was just ahopin' HE'D come." + +Mrs. Coffin closed the door and tore open the envelope. Within +was another addressed, in Grace's handwriting, to Mr. Ellery. The +housekeeper entered the study, handed it to him and turned away. + +The minister, who had been pacing the floor, seized the note eagerly. +It was written in pencil and by a hand that had trembled much. Yet there +was no indecision in the written words. + + +"Dear John," wrote Grace. "I presume Aunt Keziah has told you of uncle's +death and of my promise to Nat. It is true. I am going to marry him. I +am sure this is right and for the best. Our friendship was a mistake and +you must not see me again. Please don't try. + +"GRACE VAN HORNE." + + +Beneath was another paragraph. + + +"Don't worry about me. I shall be happy, I am sure. And I shall hope +that you may be. I shall pray for that." + + +The note fell to the floor with a rustle that sounded loud in the +stillness. Then Keziah heard the minister's step. She turned. He was +moving slowly across the room. + +"John," she cried anxiously, "you poor boy!" + +He answered without looking back. + +"I'm--going--up--to--my--room," he said, a pause between each word. "I +want to be alone awhile, Mrs. Coffin." + +Wearily Keziah set about preparing breakfast. Not that she expected the +meal would be eaten, but it gave her something to do and occupied her +mind. The sun had risen and the light streamed in at the parsonage +windows. The breeze blew fresh and cool from the ocean. It was a +magnificent morning. + +She called to him that breakfast was ready, but he did not answer. She +could eat nothing herself, and, when the table was cleared, prepared +to do the week's washing, for Monday is always washday in Trumet. Noon +came, dinner time, but still he did not come down. At last Keziah could +stand it no longer. She determined to go to him. She climbed the steep +stairs and rapped on the door of his room. + +"Yes?" she heard him say. + +"It's me," was the reply. "Mr. Ellery, can I come in? I know you want +to be alone, but I don't think you'd ought to be, too much. I'd like to +talk with you a few minutes; may I?" + +A moment passed before he told her to enter. He was sitting in a chair +by the window, dressed just as he had been when she returned from the +tavern. She looked sharply at his face as it was turned toward her. His +eyes were dry and in them was an expression so hopeless and dreary that +the tears started to her own. + +"John," she said, "I couldn't bear to think of your facin' it alone up +here. I just had to come." + +He smiled, and the smile was as hopeless as the look in his eyes. + +"Face it?" he repeated. "Well, Mrs. Coffin, I must face it, I suppose. +I've been facing it ever since--since I knew. And I find it no easier." + +"John, what are you goin' to do?" + +He shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "Go away somewhere, first +of all, I guess. Go somewhere and--and try to live it down. I can't, of +course, but I must try." + +"Go away? Leave Trumet and your church and your congregation?" + +"Did you suppose I could stay here?" + +"I hoped you would." + +"And see the same people and the same places? And do the same things? +See--see HER! Did you"--he moved impatiently--"did you expect me to +attend the wedding?" + +She put out her hand. "I know it'll be hard," she said, "stayin' here, I +mean. But your duty to others--" + +"Don't you think we've heard enough about duty to others? How about my +duty to myself?" + +"I guess that's the last thing we ought to think about in the world, if +we do try to be fair and square. Your church thinks a heap of you, John. +They build on you. You've done more in the little while you've been here +than Mr. Langley did in his last fifteen years. We've grown and we're +doin' good--doin' it, not talkin' it in prayer meetin'. The parish +committee likes you and the poor folks in the society love you. Old Mrs. +Prince was tellin' me, only a little spell ago, that she didn't know how +she'd have pulled through this dreadful time if 'twa'n't for you. And +there's lots of others. Are you goin' to leave them? And what reason +will you give for leavin'?" + +He shook his head. "I don't know," he answered. "I may not give any. But +I shall go." + +"I don't believe you will. I don't believe you're that kind. I've +watched you pretty sharp since you and I have been livin' together and I +have more faith in you than that comes to. You haven't acted to me like +a coward and I don't think you'll run away." + +"Mrs. Coffin, it is so easy for you to talk. Perhaps if I were in your +place I should be giving good advice about duty and not running away and +so on. But suppose you were in mine." + +"Well, suppose I was." + +"Suppose--Oh, but there! it's past supposing." + +"I don't know's 'tis. My life hasn't been all sunshine and fair winds, +by no means." + +"That's true. I beg your pardon. You have had troubles and, from what +I hear, you've borne them bravely. But you haven't had to face anything +like this." + +"Haven't I? Well, what is it you're asked to face? Disappointment? I've +faced that. Sorrow and heartbreak? I've faced them." + +"You've never been asked to sit quietly by and see the one you love more +than all the world marry some one else." + +"How do you know I ain't? How do you know I ain't doin' just that now?" + +"Mrs. Coffin!" + +"John Ellery, you listen to me. You think I'm a homely old woman, +probably, set in my ways as an eight-day clock. I guess I look like it +and act like it. But I ain't so awful old--on the edge of forty, that's +all. And when I was your age I wa'n't so awful homely, either. I had +fellers aplenty hangin' round and I could have married any one of a +dozen. This ain't boastin'; land knows I'm fur from that. I was brought +up in this town and even when I was a girl at school there was only one +boy I cared two straws about. He and I went to picnics together and +to parties and everywhere. Folks used to laugh and say we was keepin' +comp'ny, even then. + +"Well, when I was eighteen, after father died, I went up to New Bedford +to work in a store there. Wanted to earn my own way. And this young +feller I'm tellin' you about went away to sea, but every time he come +home from a voyage he come to see me and things went on that way till we +was promised to each other. The engagement wa'n't announced, but 'twas +so, just the same. We'd have been married in another year. And then we +quarreled. + +"'Twas a fool quarrel, same as that kind gen'rally are. As much my fault +as his and as much his as mine, I cal'late. Anyhow, we was both proud, +or thought we was, and neither would give in. And he says to me, 'You'll +be sorry after I'm gone. You'll wish me back then.' And says I, BEIN' a +fool, 'I guess not. There's other fish in the sea.' He sailed and I did +wish him back, but I wouldn't write fust and neither would he. And then +come another man." + +She paused, hesitated, and then continued. + +"Never mind about the other man. He was handsome then, in a way, and he +had money to spend, and he liked me. He wanted me to marry him. If--if +the other, the one that went away, had written I never would have +thought of such a thing, but he didn't write. And, my pride bein' hurt, +and all, I finally said yes to the second chap. My folks did all they +could to stop it; they told me he was dissipated, they said he had a bad +name, they told me twa'n't a fit match. And his people, havin' money, +was just as set against his takin' a poor girl. Both sides said ruin +would come of it. But I married him. + +"Well, for the first year 'twa'n't so bad. Not happiness exactly, but +not misery either. That come later. His people was well off and he'd +never worked much of any. He did for a little while after we was +married, but not for long. Then he begun to drink and carry on and lost +his place. Pretty soon he begun to neglect me and at last went off to +sea afore the mast. We was poor as poverty, but I could have stood that; +I did stand it. I took in sewin' and kept up an appearance, somehow. +Never told a soul. His folks come patronizin' around and offered me +money, so's I needn't disgrace them. I sent 'em rightabout in a hurry. +Once in a while he'd come home, get tipsy and abuse me. Still I said +nothin'. Thank God, there was no children; that's the one thing I've +been thankful for. + +"You can't keep such things quiet always. People are bound to find out. +They come to me and said, 'Why don't you leave him?' but I wouldn't. +I could have divorced him easy enough, there was reasons plenty, but I +wouldn't do that. Then word came that he was dead, drowned off in the +East Indies somewheres. I come back here to keep house for Sol, my +brother, and I kept house for him till he died and they offered me this +place here at the parsonage. There! that's my story, part of it, more'n +I ever told a livin' soul afore, except Sol." + +She ceased speaking. The minister, who had sat silent by the window, +apathetically listening or trying to listen, turned his head. + +"I apologize, Mrs. Coffin," he said dully, "you have had trials, hard +ones. But--" + +"But they ain't as hard as yours, you think? Well, I haven't quite +finished yet. After word come of my husband's death, the other man come +and wanted me to marry him. And I wanted to--oh, how I wanted to! I +cared as much for him as I ever did; more, I guess. But I wouldn't--I +wouldn't, though it wrung my heart out to say no. I give him up--why? +'cause I thought I had a duty laid on me." + +Ellery sighed. "I can see but one duty," he said. "That is the duty +given us by God, to marry the one we love." + +Keziah's agitation, which had grown as she told her story, suddenly +flashed into flame. + +"Is that as fur as you can see?" she asked fiercely. "It's an easy duty, +then--or looks easy now. I've got a harder one; it's to stand by the +promise I gave and the man I married." + +He looked at her as if he thought she had lost her wits. + +"The man you married?" he replied. "Why, the man you married is dead." + +"No, he ain't. You remember the letter you saw me readin' that night +when you come back from Come-Outers' meetin'? Well, that letter was from +him. He's alive." + +For the first time during the interview the minister rose to his feet, +shocked out of his despair and apathy by this astounding revelation. + +"Alive?" he repeated. "Your husband ALIVE? Why, Mrs. Coffin, this is--" + +She waved him to silence. "Don't stop me now," she said. "I've told so +much; let me tell the rest. Yes, he's alive. Alive and knockin' round +the world somewheres. Every little while he writes me for money and, if +I have any, I send it to him. Why? Why 'cause I'm a coward, after all, +I guess, and I'm scared he'll do what he says he will and come back. +Perhaps you think I'm a fool to put up with it; that's what most folks +would say if they knew it. They'd tell me I ought to divorce him. Well, +I can't, I CAN'T. I walked into the mess blindfold; I married him in +spite of warnin's and everything. I took him for better or for worse, +and now that he's turned out worse, I must take my medicine. I can't +live with him--that I can't do--but while HE lives I'll stay his wife +and give him what money I can spare. That's the duty I told you was laid +on me, and it's a hard one, but I don't run away from it." + +John Ellery was silent. What could he say? Keziah went on. + +"I don't run away from it," she exclaimed, "and you mustn't run away +from yours. Your church depends on you, they trust you. Are you goin' +to show 'em their trust was misplaced? The girl you wanted is to marry +another man, that's true, and it's mighty hard. But she'll marry a good +man, and, by and by, she'll be happy." + +"Happy!" he said scornfully. + +"Yes, happy. I know she'll be happy because I know she's doin' what'll +be best for her and because I know him that's to be her husband. I've +known him all my life; he's that other one that--that--and I give him up +to her; yes, I give him up to her, and try to do it cheerful, because I +know it's best for him. Hard for YOU? Great Lord A'mighty! do you think +it ain't hard for ME? I--I--" + +She stopped short; then covering her face with her apron, she ran from +the room. John Ellery heard her descending the stairs, sobbing as she +went. + +All that afternoon he remained in his chair by the window. It was six +o'clock, supper time, when he entered the kitchen. Keziah, looking up +from the ironing board, saw him. He was white and worn and grim, but he +held out his hand to her. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "I'm not going away. You've shown me what +devotion to duty really means. I shall stay here and go on with my +work." + +Her face lit up. "Will you?" she said. "I thought you would. I was sure +you was that kind." + + +CHAPTER XIV + +IN WHICH THE SEA MIST SAILS + + +They buried Captain Eben in the little Come-Outer cemetery at the rear +of the chapel. A bleak, wind-swept spot was that cemetery, bare of trees +and with only a few graves and fewer headstones, for the Come-Outers +were a comparatively new sect and their graveyard was new in +consequence. The grave was dug in the yellow sand beside that of Mrs. +Hammond, Nat's mother, and around it gathered the fifty or sixty friends +who had come to pay their last tribute to the old sailor and tavern +keeper. + +The Come-Outers were there, all of them, and some members of the Regular +society, Captain Zeb Mayo, Dr. Parker, Keziah Coffin, Mrs. Higgins, and +Ike. Mrs. Didama Rogers was there also, not as a mourner, but because, +in her capacity as gatherer of gossip, she made it a point never to +miss a funeral. The Rev. Absalom Gott, Come-Outer exhorter at Wellmouth, +preached the short sermon, and Ezekiel Bassett added a few remarks. Then +a hymn was sung and it was over. The little company filed out of the +cemetery, and Captain Eben Hammond was but a memory in Trumet. + +Keziah lingered to speak a word with Grace. The girl, looking very white +and worn, leaned on the arm of Captain Nat, whose big body acted as +a buffer between her and over-sympathetic Come-Outers. Mrs. Coffin +silently held out both hands and Grace took them eagerly. + +"Thank you for coming, Aunt Keziah," she said. "I was sure you would." + +"Least I could do, deary," was the older woman's answer. "Your uncle +and I was good friends once; we haven't seen each other so often of +late years, but that ain't changed my feelin's. Now you must go home and +rest. Don't let any of these"--with a rather scornful glance at Josiah +Badger and Ezekiel and the Reverend Absalom--"these Job's comforters +bother you. Nat, you see that they let her alone, won't you?" + +Captain Nat nodded. He, too, looked very grave and worn. "I'll tend to +them," he said shortly. "Come, Grace," he added; "let's go." + +But the girl hung back. "Just a minute, Nat," she said. "I--I--would you +mind if I spoke to Aunt Keziah--alone? I only want to say a word." + +Nat strode off to the cemetery gate, where Josiah Badger stood, +brandishing a red cotton handkerchief as a not too-clean emblem of +mourning. Mr. Badger eagerly sprang forward, but ran into an impossible +barrier in the form of the captain's outstretched arm. Josiah protested +and the captain replied. Grace leaned forward. + +"Auntie," she whispered, "tell me: Did a letter--Did he--" + +"Yes, it came. I gave it to him." + +"Did--did he tell you? Do you know?" + +"Yes, I know, deary." + +"Did he--is he--" + +"He's well, deary. He'll be all right. I'll look out for him." + +"You will, won't you? You won't let him do anything--" + +"Not a thing. Don't worry. We've had a long talk and he's going to +stay right here and go on with his work. And nobody else'll ever know, +Gracie." + +"How--O Aunt Keziah! how he must despise me." + +"Despise you! For doin' what was your duty? Nonsense! He'll respect you +for it and come to understand 'twas best for both of you, by and by. +Don't worry about him, Gracie. I tell you I'll look out for him." + +"I guess it will be better if he does despise me. And hate me, too. He +can't despise and hate me more than I do myself. But it IS right--what +I'm doing; and the other was wrong and wicked. Auntie, you'll come and +see me, won't you? I shall be so lonesome." + +"Yes, yes; I'll come. Perhaps not right away. There's reasons why I'd +better not come right away. But, by and by, after it's all settled and +you and Nat"--she hesitated for an instant in spite of herself--"after +you and Nat are married I'll come." + +"Don't talk about that NOW. Please don't." + +"All right, I won't. You be a good, brave girl and look out for Nat; +that's your duty and I'm sure you'll do it. And I'll do my best for +John." + +"Do you call him John?" + +"Yup. We had a sort of--of adoptin' ceremony the other mornin' and +I--Well, you see, I've got to have somebody to call by their front name +and he's about all I've got left." + +"O Aunt Keziah! if I could be one half as patient and brave and sweet as +you are--" + +"Sssh! here comes Nat. Be kind to him. He's sufferin', too; maybe more'n +you imagine. Here she is, Nat. Take her back home and be good to her." + +The broad-shouldered skipper led his charge out of the gate and down +the "Turn-off." Josiah Badger looked after them disgustedly. As Keziah +approached, he turned to her. + +"I swan to man!" he exclaimed, in offended indignation, "if I ain't +losin' my respect for that Nat Hammond. He's the f-f-fuf-for'ardest +critter ever I see. I was just agoin' to hail Gracie and ask her what +she thought about my leadin' some of the meetin's now her uncle has been +called aloft. I wanted to ask her about it fust, afore Zeke Bassett +got ahead of me, but that Nat wouldn't let me. Told me she mustn't be +b-b-b-bothered about little things now. LITTLE things! Now, what do you +think of that, Mrs. Coffin? And I spoke to Lot Taylor, one of our own +s-s-sas-sassiety, and asked what he thought of it, and he said for me to +go home set d-d-down and let my h-h-h-hah-hair grow. Of all--" + +"I tell you what you do, Josiah," broke in the voice of Captain Zeb +Mayo, "you go home or somewhere else and set down and have it cut. +That'll take pretty nigh as long, and'll keep it from wearin' out your +coat collar. Keziah, I've been waitin' for you. Get in my shay and I'll +drive you back to the parsonage." + +Mrs. Coffin accepted the invitation and a seat in the chaise beside +Captain Zeb. The captain spoke of the dead Come-Outer and of his respect +for him in spite of the difference in creed. He also spoke of the Rev. +John Ellery and of the affection he had come to feel for the young man. + +"I like that young feller, Keziah," he said. "Like him for a lot of +reasons, same as the boy liked the hash. For one thing, his religion +ain't all starch and no sugar. He's good-hearted and kind and--and +human. He seems to get just as much satisfaction out of the promise of +heaven as he does out of the sartainty of t'other port. He ain't all the +time bangin' the bulkhead and sniffin' brimstone, like parsons I have +seen. Sulphur's all right for a spring medicine, maybe, but when June +comes I like to remember that God made roses. Elkanah, he comes to me a +while ago and he says, 'Zebedee,' he says, 'don't you think Mr. Ellery's +sermons might be more orthodox?' 'Yes,' says I, 'they might be, but what +a mercy 'tis they ain't.' He, he, he! I kind of like to poke Elkanah in +the shirt front once in a while, just to hear it crackle. Say, Keziah, +you don't think the minister and Annabel are--" + +"No," was the emphatic interruption; "I know they ain't; he ain't, +anyway." + +"Good! Them Danielses cal'late they own the most of this town already; +if they owned the minister they'd swell up so the rest of us would have +to go aloft or overboard; we'd be crowded off the decks, sure." + +"No one owns him. Haven't you found that out?" + +"Yup, I cal'late I have and I glory in his spunk." + +"I'm glad to hear you say so. Of course Cap'n Elkanah is boss of the +parish committee and--" + +"What? No, he ain't nuther. He's head of it, but his vote counts just +one and no more. What makes you say that?" + +"Oh, nuthin'. Only I thought maybe, long as Elkanah was feelin' that Mr. +Ellery wa'n't orthodox enough, he might be goin' to make a change." + +"He might? HE might! Say, Keziah Coffin, there was Mayos in this town +and in this church afore the fust Daniels ever washed ashore; and +they'll be here when the last one blows up with his own importance. I'm +on that parish committee--you understand?--and I've sailed ships and +handled crews. I ain't so old nor feeble but what I can swing a belayin' +pin. Boss! I'll have you to know that no livin' man bosses me." + +"All right! I didn't mean to stir you up, Zebedee. But from things Cap'n +Daniels has said I gathered that he was runnin' the committee. And, as +I'm a friend of Mr. Ellery, it--" + +"Friend! Well, so'm I, ain't I? If you ever hear of Daniels tryin' any +tricks against the minister, you send for me, that's all. I'LL show him. +Boss! Humph!" + +The wily Keziah alighted at the parsonage gate with the feeling that she +had sown seed in fertile ground. She was quite aware of Captain Zeb's +jealousy of the great Daniels. And the time might come when her parson +needed an influential friend on the committee and in the Regular +society. + +The news of the engagement between Captain Nat Hammond and Grace Van +Horne, told by Dr. Parker to one or two of his patients, spread through +Trumet like measles through a family of small children. Didama Rogers +learned it, so did Lavinia Pepper, and after that it might as well +have been printed on the walls for all to read. It was talked over and +gossiped about in every household from the lighthouse keeper's family to +that of George Washington Cash, who lived in the one-room hovel in the +woods near the Wellmouth line, and was a person of distinction, in his +way, being the sole negro in the county. And whenever it was discussed +it was considered a fine thing for both parties concerned. Almost +everyone said it was precisely what they expected. + +Annabel Daniels and her father had not expected it. They were, however, +greatly pleased. In their discussion, which lasted far into the night, +Captain Elkanah expressed the opinion that the unexpected denouement was +the result of his interview with Eben. He had told the old Come-Outer +what would happen to his ward if she persisted in her impudent and +audacious plot to entrap a Regular clergyman. She, being discovered, had +yielded, perforce, and had accepted Nat as the next best catch. + +Annabel was not satisfied with this explanation. Of course, she said, +she did not pretend to believe Grace's statement that she had found her +uncle unconscious. No doubt the pair had had an interview and all that. +But she believed the minister himself had come to his senses and had +dismissed the brazen creature. She did not blame Mr. Ellery so much. He +was a young man, with a kind heart, and no doubt the "Van Horne +person" had worked upon his sympathies and had taken advantage of his +inexperience of feminine wiles. + +"I think, pa," she said, "that it's our duty, yours and mine, to treat +him just as we always have. He doesn't know that we know, and we will +keep the secret. And, as Christians, we should forget and forgive. We'll +invite him here as we always have, keep him under our good influence, +and be very kind to him, poor innocent. As for Captain Hammond, I'm +sorry for him, knowing the kind of wife he is going to have, but no +doubt Come-Outers are not particular." + +Kyan Pepper was another whom the news of the engagement surprised +greatly. When Lavinia told him of it, at the dinner table, he dropped +the knife he was holding and the greasy section of fish-ball balanced +upon it. + +"'Bishy," said Miss Pepper, "what do you s'pose has happened down to the +Hammond tavern?" + +"Oh, I know that," was the reply. "I heard that long ago; Cap'n Eben's +dead." + +"'Course he's dead; and I knew you knew it. Land sakes! don't be such a +ninny. Why, I told you myself." + +"Well, I didn't know but you'd forgot. Anybody's li'ble to forget who +they've told things to. Why, I've forgot more things--" + +"Yes, there ain't no doubt about that. I've told you a million times, +if I have once, to tuck your napkin round your neck when you've got +your Sunday clothes on. And there you be this minute without a sign of a +napkin." + +"Why, Laviny! I MUST have it round my neck. I know I--" + +"Don't be so foolish! Think I'm blind? Can't I see you ain't got it? Now +where is it?" + +Kyan began a futile hunt for the missing napkin, in his lap, on the +table, and finally under it. + +"I don't understand," he stammered, "where that napkin can be. I'm just +as sure I had it and now I'm just as sure I ain't got it. What do you +s'pose I done with it?" + +"Goodness knows! 'Twouldn't surprise me if you'd et it, you're that +absent-minded. Here! what's that stickin' out of your breast pocket?" + +Her brother put his hand to the pocket indicated and produced the +missing napkin, much crumpled. + +"There!" he exclaimed, in a tone of relief. "Now I remember. It must +have dropped on the floor and I thought 'twas my handkerchief and picked +it up and--" + +"What did you think you'd be carryin' a white handkerchief for, on a +week day?" + +"Well, I had on my Sunday suit and--" + +"Yes, and for the dear mercy sakes WHY have you got it on?" + +Kyan saw an opportunity for self-justification. + +"You TOLD me to put it on," he declared triumphantly. "You said yourself +I'd better rig out in my Sunday clothes 'cause we might go to Eben's +funeral. You know you did." + +"Hear the man! And then, after you've dressed up to go to his funeral, +you pretend to believe I'm goin' to tell you he's dead. I never--" + +"Well, what IS it, then? He ain't come to life, has he?" + +"Grace Van Horne's engaged to be married, that's what it is. Look out! +Oh, you--" + +Just here occurred the accident already described. Knife and fish ball +descended upon the waistcoat belonging to the "Sunday suit." Lavinia +flew for warm water, ammonia, and a cloth, and the soiled waistcoat +was industriously scrubbed. The cleansing process was accompanied by a +lively tongue lashing, to which Kyan paid little attention. + +"Engaged?" he kept repeating. "Gracie Van Horne engaged? Engaged? En--" + +"Be still, you poll parrot! Dear! dear! dear! look at them spots. Yes, +yes; don't say it again; she's engaged." + +"Who--who--who--" + +"Now you've turned to an owl, I do believe. 'Hoo! hoo!' She's engaged to +Nat Hammond, that's who. Nothin' very surprisin' about that, is there?" + +Kyan made no answer. He rubbed his forehead, while his sister rubbed the +grease spots. In jerky sentences she told of the engagement and how the +news had reached her. + +"I can't believe it," faltered Abishai. "She goin' to marry Nat! Why, I +can't understand. I thought--" + +"What did you think? See here! you ain't keepin' anything from me, be +you?" + +The answer was enthusiastically emphatic. + +"No, no, no, no!" declared Kyan. "Only I didn't know they was--was--" + +"Neither did anybody else, but what of it? Folks don't usually advertise +when they're keepin' comp'ny, do they?" + +"No--o. But it's gen'rally found out. I know if I was keepin' +comp'ny--or you was, La-viny--" + +His sister started. + +"What makes you say that?" she demanded, looking quickly up from her +rubbing. + +"Why, nothin'. Only if I was--or you was, somebody'd see somethin' +suspicious and kind of drop a hint, and--" + +"Better for them if they 'tended to their own affairs," was the sharp +answer. "I ain't got any patience with folks that's always talkin' about +their neighbor's doin's. There! now you go out and stand alongside the +cook stove till that wet place dries. Don't you move till 'TIS dry, +neither." + +So to the kitchen went Kyan, to stand, a sort of living clotheshorse, +beside the hot range. But during the drying process he rubbed his +forehead many times. Remembering what he had seen in the grove he could +not understand; but he also remembered, even more vividly, what Keziah +Coffin had promised to do if he ever breathed a word. And he vowed again +that that word should not be breathed. + +The death and funeral of Captain Eben furnished Trumet with a subject of +conversation for a week or more. Then, at the sewing circle and at the +store and after prayer meeting, both at the Regular meeting house and +the Come-Outer chapel, speculation centered on the marriage of Nat and +Grace. When was it to take place? Would the couple live at the old house +and "keep packet tavern" or would the captain go to sea again, taking +his bride with him? Various opinions, pro and con, were expressed by the +speculators, but no one could answer authoritatively, because none knew +except those most interested, and the latter would not tell. + +John Ellery heard the discussions at the sewing circle when, in company +with some of the men of his congregation, he dropped in at these +gatherings for tea after the sewing was over. He heard them at church, +before and after the morning service, and when he made pastoral calls. +People even asked his opinion, and when he changed the subject inferred, +some of them, that he did not care about the doings of Come-Outers. Then +they switched to inquiries concerning his health. + +"You look awful peaked lately, Mr. Ellery," said Didama Rogers. "Ain't +you feelin' well?" + +The minister answered that he was as well as usual, or thought he was. + +"No, no, you ain't nuther," declared Didama. "You look's if you was +comin' down with a spell of somethin'. I ain't the only one that's +noticed it. Why, Thankful Payne says to me only yesterday, 'Didama,' +says she, 'the minister's got somethin' on his mind and it's wearin' of +him out.' You ain't got nothin' on your mind, have you, Mr. Ellery?" + +"I guess not, Mrs. Rogers. It's a beautiful afternoon, isn't it? + +"There! I knew you wa'n't well. A beautiful afternoon, and it hotter'n +furyation and gettin' ready to rain at that! Don't tell me! 'Tain't your +mind, Mr. Ellery, it's your blood that's gettin' thin. My husband had a +spell just like it a year or two afore he died, and the doctor said +he needed rest and a change. Said he'd ought to go away somewheres by +himself. I put my foot down on THAT in a hurry. 'The idea!' I +says. 'You, a sick man, goin' off all alone by yourself to die of +lonesomeness. If you go, I go with you.' So him and me went up to Boston +and it rained the whole week we was there, and we set in a little box of +a hotel room with a window that looked out at a brick wall, and set and +set and set, and that's all. I kept talkin' to him to cheer him up, but +he never cheered. I'd talk to him for an hour steady and when I'd +stop and ask a question he'd only groan and say yes, when he meant no. +Finally, I got disgusted, after I'd asked him somethin' four or five +times and he'd never answered, and I told him, I believed he was gettin' +deef. 'Lordy!' he says, 'I wish I was!' Well, that was enough for ME. +Says I, 'If your mind's goin' to give out we'd better be home.' So home +we come. And that's all the good change and rest done HIM. Hey? What did +you say, Mr. Ellery?" + +"Er--oh, nothing, nothing, Mrs. Rogers." + +"Yes. So home we come and I'd had enough of doctors to last. I figgered +out that his blood was thinnin' and I knew what was good for that. My +great Aunt Hepsy, that lived over to East Wellmouth, she was a great +hand for herbs and such and she'd give me a receipt for thickenin' the +blood that was somethin' wonderful. It had more kind of healin' herbs in +it than you could shake a stick at. I cooked a kittleful and got him to +take a dose four times a day. He made more fuss than a young one about +takin' it. Said it tasted like the Evil One, and such profane talk, and +that it stuck to his mouth so's he couldn't relish his vittles; but I +never let up a mite. He had to take it and it done him a world of good. +Now I've got that receipt yet, Mr. Ellery, and I'll make some of that +medicine for you. I'll fetch it down to-morrow. Yes, yes, I will. I'm +agoin' to, so you needn't say no. And perhaps I'll have heard somethin' +about Cap'n Nat and Grace by that time." + +She brought the medicine, and the minister promptly, on her departure, +handed it over to Keziah, who disposed of it just as promptly. + +"What did I do with it?" repeated the housekeeper. "Well, I'll tell you. +I was kind of curious to see what 'twas like, so I took a teaspoonful. +I did intend to pour the rest of it out in the henyard, but after that +taste I had too much regard for the hens. So I carried it way down +to the pond and threw it in, jug and all. B-r-r-r! Of all the messes +that--I used to wonder what made Josh Rogers go moonin' round makin' his +lips go as if he was crazy. I thought he was talkin' to himself, but now +I know better, he was TASTIN'. B-r-r-r!" + +Keziah was the life of the gloomy parsonage. Without her the minister +would have broken down. Time and time again he was tempted to give up, +in spite of his promise, and leave Trumet, but her pluck and courage +made him ashamed of himself and he stayed to fight it out. She watched +him and tended him and "babied" him as if he was a spoiled child, +pretending to laugh at herself for doing it and at him for permitting +it. She cooked the dishes he liked best, she mended his clothes, she +acted as a buffer between him and callers who came at inopportune +times. She was cheerful always when he was about, and no one would have +surmised that she had a sorrow in the world. But Ellery knew and +she knew he knew, so the affection and mutual esteem between the two +deepened. He called her "Aunt Keziah" at her request and she continued +to call him "John." This was in private, of course; in public he was +"Mr. Ellery" and she "Mrs. Coffin." + +In his walks about town he saw nothing of Grace. She and Mrs. Poundberry +and Captain Nat were still at the old home and no one save themselves +knew what their plans might be. Yet, oddly enough, Ellery was the first +outsider to learn these plans and that from Nat himself. + +He met the captain at the corner of the "Turnoff" one day late in +August. He tried to make his bow seem cordial, but was painfully aware +that it was not. Nat, however, seemed not to notice, but crossed the +road and held out his hand. + +"How are you, Mr. Ellery?" he said. "I haven't run across you for +sometime. What's the matter? Seems to me you look rather under the +weather." + +Ellery answered that he was all right and, remembering that he had +not met the captain since old Hammond's death, briefly expressed his +sympathy. His words were perfunctory and his manner cold. His reason +told him that this man was not to blame--was rather to be pitied, if +Keziah's tale was true. Yet it is hard to pity the one who is to marry +the girl you love. Reason has little to do with such matters. + +"Well, Mr. Ellery," said Captain Nat, "I won't keep you. I see you're in +a hurry. Just thought I'd run alongside a minute and say good-by. Don't +know's I'll see you again afore I sail." + +"Before you sail? You--you are going away?" + +"Yup. My owners have been after me for a good while, but I wouldn't +leave home on account of dad's health. Now he's gone, I've got to +be gettin' back on salt water again. My ship's been drydocked and +overhauled and she's in New York now loadin' for Manila. It's a long +vy'age, even if I come back direct, which ain't likely. So I may not see +the old town again for a couple of years. Take care of yourself, won't +you? Good men, especially ministers, are scurse, and from what I hear +about you I cal'late Trumet needs you." + +"When are you going?" + +"Last of next week, most likely." + +"Will you--shall you go alone? Are you to be--to be--" + +"Married? No. Grace and I have talked it over and we've agreed it's best +to wait till I come back. You see, dad's been dead such a little while, +and all, that--well, we're goin' to wait, anyhow. She'll stay in the old +house with Hannah, and I've fixed things so she'll be provided for while +I'm gone. I left it pretty much to her. If she'd thought it best for +us to marry now, I cal'late I should have--have--well, done what she +wanted. But she didn't. Ah, hum!" he added with a sigh; "she's a good +girl, a mighty good girl. Well, so long and good luck." + +"Good-by, captain." + +"Good-by. Er--I say, Mr. Ellery, how things at the parsonage? All well +there, are you?" + +"Yes." + +"Er--Keziah--Mrs. Coffin, your housekeeper, is she smart?" + +"Yes. She's well." + +"That's good. Say, you might tell her good-by for me, if you want to. +Tell her I wished her all the luck there was. And--and--just say that +there ain't any--well, that her friend--say just that, will you?--her +FRIEND said 'twas all right. She'll understand; it's a--a sort of joke +between us." + +"Very good, captain; I'll tell her." + +"Much obliged. And just ask her to keep an eye on Grace while I'm gone. +Tell her I leave Gracie under her wing. Keziah and me are old chums, in +a way, you see." + +"Yes. I'll tell her that, too." + +"And don't forget the 'friend' part. Well, so long." + +They shook hands and parted. + +Didama and her fellow news-venders distributed the tale of Captain Nat's +sailing broadcast during the next few days. There was much wonderment +at the delayed marriage, but the general verdict was that Captain Eben's +recent death and the proper respect due to it furnished sufficient +excuse. Hannah Poundberry, delighted at being so close to the center of +interest, talked and talked, and thus Grace was spared the interviews +which would have been a trouble to her. Nat left town, via the packet, +on the following Wednesday. Within another week came the news that his +ship, the Sea Mist, had sailed from New York, bound for Manila. Her +topsails sank beneath the horizon, and she vanished upon the wild waste +of tumbling waves and out of Trumet's knowledge, as many another vessel, +manned and officered by Cape Cod men, had done. The village talked of +her and her commander for a few days and then forgot them both. Only at +the old home by the landing and at the parsonage were they remembered. + + +CHAPTER XV + +IN WHICH TRUMET TALKS OF CAPTAIN NAT + + +Summer was over, autumn came, passed, and it was winter--John Ellery's +first winter in Trumet. Fish weirs were taken up, the bay filled with +ice, the packet ceased to run, and the village settled down to hibernate +until spring. The stage came through on its regular trips, except when +snow or slush rendered the roads impassable, but passengers were very +few. Occasionally there were northeast gales, with shrieking winds, +driving gusts of sleet and hail and a surf along the ocean side that +bellowed and roared and tore the sandy beach into new shapes, washing +away shoals and building others, blocking the mouth of the little inlet +where the fish boats anchored and opening a new channel a hundred yards +farther down. Twice there were wrecks, one of a fishing schooner, the +crew of which were fortunate enough to escape by taking to the dories, +and another, a British bark, which struck on the farthest bar and +was beaten to pieces by the great waves, while the townspeople stood +helplessly watching from the shore, for launching a boat in that surf +was impossible. + +The minister was one of those who watched. News of the disaster had been +brought to the village by the lightkeeper's assistant, and Ellery and +most of the able-bodied men in town had tramped the three miles to the +beach, facing the screaming wind and the cutting blasts of flying sand. +As they came over the dunes there were times when they had to dig their +heels into the ground and bend forward to stand against the freezing +gale. And, as they drew nearer, the thunder of the mighty surf grew ever +louder, until they saw the white clouds of spray leap high above the +crazily tossing, flapping bunches of beach grass that topped the last +knoll. + +Three masts and a broken bowsprit sticking slantwise up from a whirl of +creamy white, that was all they could see of the bark, at first glance. +But occasionally, as the breakers drew back for another cruel blow, they +caught glimpses of the tilted deck, smashed bare of houses and rail. + +"Those black things on the masts?" asked Ellery, bending to scream the +question into the ear of Gaius Winslow, his companion. "Are they--it +can't be possible that they're--" + +"Yup," shrieked Gaius in reply, "they're men. Crew lashed in the +riggin'. Poor fellers! it'll soon be over for 'em. And they're most +likely frozen stiff a'ready and won't sense drownin', that's a comfort." + +"Men!" repeated the minister in horror. "Men! Great God! and are we +to stand by here and see them die without lifting a hand? Why, it's +barbarous! It's--" + +Winslow seized his arm and pointed. + +"Look!" he shouted. "Look at them! How much good would our liftin' hands +do against them?" + +Ellery looked. The undertow, that second, was sucking the beach dry, +sucking with such force that gravel and small stones pattered down the +slope in showers. And behind it a wave, its ragged top raveled by the +wind into white streamers, was piling up, up, up, sheer and green and +mighty, curling over now and descending with a hammer blow that shook +the land beneath their feet. And back of it reared another, and +another, and another, an eighth of a mile of whirling, surging, terrific +breakers, with a yelling hurricane whipping them on. + +It was soon over, as Gaius had said it would be. A mighty leap of spray, +a section of hull broken off and tossed into view for an instant, then +two of the masts went down. The other followed almost at once. Then +the watchers, most of them, went back to the village, saying little or +nothing and dispersing silently to their homes. + +During the next fortnight John Ellery conducted six funeral services, +brief prayers beside the graves of unknown men from that wreck. The +bodies, as they were washed ashore, were put into plain coffins paid +for by the board of selectmen, and buried in the corner of the Regular +cemetery beside other waifs thrown up by the sea in other years. It was +a sad experience for him, but it was an experience and tended to make +him forget his own sorrow just a little. Or, if not to forget, at least +to think of and sympathize more keenly with the sorrows of others. +Somewhere, in England or Ireland or scattered over the wide world, there +were women and children waiting for these men, waiting anxiously for +news of their safe arrival in port, praying for them. When he mentioned +this thought to the townspeople they nodded philosophically and said +yes, they "presumed likely." As Captain Zeb put it, "Most sailors are +fools enough to get married, prob'ly this lot wa'n't any exception." It +was no new thought to him or to any other dweller in that region. It was +almost a fixed certainty that, if you went to sea long enough, you +were bound to be wrecked sometime or other. The chances were that, with +ordinary luck and good management, you would escape with your life. +Luck, good or bad, was the risk of the trade; good management was +expected, as a matter of course. + +Mr. Pepper made no more calls at the parsonage, and when the minister +met him, at church or elsewhere, seemed anxious to avoid an interview. + +"Well, Abishai," asked Ellery, on one of these occasions, "how are you +getting on at home? Has your sister locked you up again?" + +"No, sir, she ain't," replied Kyan. "Laviny, she's sort of diff'rent +lately. She ain't nigh so--so down on a feller as she used to be. I can +get out once in a while by myself nowadays, when she wants to write a +letter or somethin'." + +"Oh, she's writing letters, is she?" + +"Um--hm. Writes one about every once in a week. I don't know who they're +to, nuther, but I have my suspicions. You see, we've got a cousin out +West--out Pennsylvany way--and he ain't very well and has got a turrible +lot of money. I'm sort of surmisin' that Laviny's writin' to him. We're +about his only relations that's left alive and--and so--" + +"I see." The minister smiled. + +"Yup. Laviny's a pretty good navigator, fur's keepin' an eye to wind'ard +is concerned. She was awful down on Phineas--that's his name--'cause he +married a Philadelphy woman, but he's a widower man now, so I s'pose she +feels better toward him. She's talkin' of goin' up to Sandwich pretty +soon." + +"She IS? Alone?" + +"So she says." + +"To leave you here? Why! well, I'm surprised." + +"Godfreys mighty! so be I. But she says she b'lieves she needs a change +and there's church conference up there, you know, and she figgers that +she ain't been to conference she don't know when. I s'pose you'll go, +won't you, Mr. Ellery?" + +"Probably." + +"Um--hm. I kind of wisht I was goin' myself. 'Twill be kind of lonesome +round home without her." + +Considering that that variety of lonesomeness had been Abishai's dream +of paradise for years, Ellery thought his change of heart a good joke +and told Keziah of it when he returned to the parsonage. The housekeeper +was greatly surprised. + +"Well! well! well!" she exclaimed. "Miracles'll never cease. I don't +wonder so much at Laviny wantin' to go to conference, but her darin' to +go and leave Kyan at home is past belief. Why, every time she's had +a cold her one fear was that she'd die and leave 'Bish behind to be +kidnaped by some woman. Kyan himself was sick once, and the story was +that his sister set side of the bed night and day and read him over and +over again that chapter in the Bible that says there's no marryin' or +givin' in marriage in heaven. Dr. Parker told me that he didn't believe +'Bish got ha'f the comfort out of that passage that she did. And now +she's goin' to Sandwich and leave him. I can't think it's true." + +But it was true, and Lavinia got herself elected a delegate and went, in +company with Captain Elkanah, Mrs. Mayo, and others, to the conference. +She was a faithful attendant at the meetings and seemed to be having +a very good time. She introduced the minister to one Caleb Pratt, a +resident of Sandwich, whom she said she had known ever since she was a +girl. + +"Mr. Pratt's a cousin to Thankful Payne over to home," volunteered +Lavinia. "You know Thankful, Mr. Ellery." + +Ellery did know Mrs. Payne and said so. Mr. Pratt, who was dressed in a +new suit of black which appeared to hurt him, imparted the information +that he'd heard tell consider'ble of Mr. Ellery. + +"I enjoyed your sermon to-night fust--rate," he added solemnly. +"Fust--rate, sir--yes." + +"Did you, indeed? I'm glad." + +"Yes, sir. You used words in that sermon that I never heard afore in my +life. 'Twas grand." + +Lavinia confided to her pastor that Mr. Pratt made the best shoes in +Ostable County. He could fit ANY kind of feet, she declared, and the +minister ought to try him sometime. She added that he had money in the +bank. + +The Reverend John rode home in the stage beside Miss Annabel, not from +choice, but because the young lady's father insisted upon it. Miss +Daniels gushed and enthused as she always did. As they drove by the +Corners the minister, who had been replying absently to Annabel's +questions, suddenly stopped short in the middle of a sentence. His +companion, leaning forward to look out of the window, saw Grace Van +Horne entering the store. For an instant Annabel's face wore a very +unpleasant expression. Then she smiled and said, in her sweetest manner: + +"Why, there's the tavern girl! I haven't seen her for sometime. How old +she looks! I suppose her uncle's death has aged her. Well, she'll +be married soon, just as soon as Cap'n Nat gets back. They perfectly +worship each other, those two. They say she writes him the longest +letters. Hannah Poundberry told me. Hannah's a queer creature and +common, but devoted to the Hammonds, Mr. Ellery. However, you're not +interested in Come-Outers, are you? Ha, ha!" + +Ellery made some sort of an answer, but he could not have told what it +was. The sight of Grace had brought back all that he was trying so +hard to forget. Why couldn't one forget, when it was so painful--and so +useless--to remember? + +Spring once more; then summer. And now people were again speaking of +Captain Nat Hammond. His ship was overdue, long overdue. Even in those +days, when there were no cables and the telegraph was still something of +a novelty, word of his arrival should have reached Trumet months before +this. But it had not come, and did not. Before the summer was over, the +wise heads of the retired skippers were shaking dubiously. Something had +happened to the Sea Mist, something serious. + +As the weeks and months went by without news of the missing vessel, +this belief became almost a certainty. At the Come-Outer chapel, where +Ezekiel Bassett now presided, prayers were offered for the son of their +former leader. These prayers were not as fervent as they might have +been, for Grace's nonattendance at meetings was causing much comment +and a good deal of resentment. She came occasionally, but not often. "I +always said she was stuck-up and thought she was too good for the rest +of us," remarked "Sukey B." spitefully. "'And, between you and me, pa +says he thinks Nat Hammond would be one to uphold her in it. He wa'n't a +bit spirituous and never experienced religion. If anything HAS happened +to him, it's a punishment sent, that's what pa thinks." + +Those were gloomy days at the parsonage. Keziah said little concerning +the topic of which all the village was talking, and John Ellery +forebore to mention it. The housekeeper was as faithful as ever in the +performance of her household duties, but her smile had gone and she +was worn and anxious. The minister longed to express his sympathy, but +Keziah had not mentioned Nat's name for months, not since he, Ellery, +gave her the message intrusted to him by the captain before sailing. He +would have liked to ask about Grace, for he knew Mrs. Coffin visited the +Hammond home occasionally, but this, too, he hesitated to do. He heard +from others that the girl was bearing the suspense bravely, that she +refused to give up hope, and was winning the respect of all the thinking +class in Trumet by her courage and patience. Even the most bigoted of +the Regulars, Captain Daniels and his daughter excepted of course, had +come to speak highly of her. "She's a spunky girl," declared Captain +Zeb, with emphasis. "There's nothing of the milk-sop and cry-baby about +her. She's fit to be a sailor's wife, and I only hope Nat's alive to +come back and marry her. He was a durn good feller, too--savin' your +presence, Mr. Ellery--and if he was forty times a Come-Outer I'd say the +same thing. I'm 'fraid he's gone, though, poor chap. As good a seaman +as he was would have fetched port afore this if he was atop of water. +As for Gracie, she's a brick, and a lady, every inch of her. My old +girl went down t'other day to call on her and that's the fust Come-Outer +she's been to see sence there was any. Why don't you go see her, too, +Mr. Ellery? 'Twould be a welcome change from Zeke Bassett and his tribe. +Go ahead! it would be the Almighty's own work and the society'd stand +back of you, all them that's wuth considerin', anyhow." + +This was surprising advice from a member of the Regular and was +indicative of the changed feeling in the community, but the minister, of +course, could not take it. He had plunged headlong into his church work, +hoping that it and time would dull the pain of his terrible shock and +disappointment. It had been dulled somewhat, but it was still there, and +every mention of her name revived it. + +One afternoon Keziah came into his study, where he was laboring with his +next Sunday sermon, and sat down in the rocking-chair. She had been out +and still wore her bonnet and shawl. + +"John," she said, "I ask your pardon for disturbin' you. I know you're +busy." + +Ellery laid down his pen. "Never too busy to talk with you, Aunt +Keziah," he observed. "What is it?" + +"I wanted to ask if you knew Mrs. Prince was sick?" + +"No. Is she? I'm awfully sorry. Nothing serious, I hope?" + +"No, I guess not. Only she's got a cold and is kind of under the +weather. I thought p'r'aps you'd like to run up and see her. She thinks +the world and all of you, 'cause you was so good when she was distressed +about her son. Poor old thing! she's had a hard time of it." + +"I will go. I ought to go, of course. I'm glad you reminded me of it." + +"Yes. I told her you hadn't meant to neglect her, but you'd been busy +fussin' with the fair and the like of that." + +"That was all. I'll go right away. Have you been there to-day?" + +"No. I just heard that she was ailin' from Didama Rogers. Didama said +she was all but dyin', so I knew she prob'ly had a little cold, or +somethin'. If she was really very bad, Di would have had her buried by +this time, so's to be sure her news was ahead of anybody else's. I ain't +been up there, but I met her t'other mornin'." + +"Didama?" + +"No; Mrs. Prince. She'd come down to see Grace." + +"Oh." + +"Yes. The old lady's been awful kind and sympathizin' since--since +this new trouble. It reminds her of the loss of her own boy, I presume +likely, and so she feels for Grace. John, what do they say around town +about--about HIM?" + +"Captain Hammond?" + +"Yes." + +The minister hesitated. Keziah did not wait for him to answer. + +"I see," she said slowly. "Do they all feel that way?" + +"Why, if you mean that they've all given up hope, I should hardly say +that. Captain Mayo and Captain Daniels were speaking of it in my hearing +the other day and they agreed that there was still a chance." + +"A pretty slim one, though, they cal'lated, didn't they?" + +"Well, they were--were doubtful, of course. There was the possibility +that he had been wrecked somewhere and hadn't been picked up. They cited +several such cases. The South Pacific is full of islands where vessels +seldom touch, and he and his crew may be on one of these." + +"Yes. They might, but I'm afraid not. Ah, hum!" + +She rose and was turning away. Ellery rose also and laid his hand on her +arm. + +"Aunt Keziah," he said, "I'm very sorry. I respected Captain Hammond, in +spite of--of--in spite of everything. I've tried to realize that he was +not to blame. He was a good man and I haven't forgotten that he saved my +life that morning on the flats. And I'm so sorry for YOU." + +She did not look at him. + +"John," she answered, with a sigh, "sometimes I think you'd better get +another housekeeper." + +"What? Are you going to leave me? YOU?" + +"Oh, 'twouldn't be because I wanted to. But it seems almost as if there +was a kind of fate hangin' over me and that," she smiled faintly, "as if +'twas sort of catchin', as you might say. Everybody I ever cared for has +had somethin' happen to 'em. My brother died; my--the man I married went +to the dogs; then you and Grace had to be miserable and I had to help +make you so; I sent Nat away and he blamed me and--" + +"No, no. He didn't blame you. He sent you word that he didn't." + +"Yes, but he did, all the same. He must have. I should if I'd been in +his place. And now he's dead, and won't ever understand--on this earth, +anyhow. I guess I'd better clear out and leave you afore I spoil your +life." + +"Aunt Keziah, you're my anchor to windward, as they say down here. If +I lost you, goodness knows where I should drift. Don't you ever talk of +leaving me again." + +"Thank you, John. I'm glad you want me to stay. I won't leave yet +awhile; never--unless I have to." + +"Why should you ever have to?" + +"Well, I don't know. Yes, I do know, too. John, I had another letter +t'other day." + +"You did? From--from that man?" + +"Yup, from--" For a moment it seemed as if she were about to pronounce +her husband's name, something she had never done in his presence; but if +she thought of it, she changed her mind. + +"From him," she said. "He wanted money, of course; he always does. But +that wa'n't the worst. The letter was from England, and in it he wrote +that he was gettin' sick of knockin' around and guessed he'd be for +comin' to the States pretty soon and huntin' me up. Said what was the +use of havin' an able-bodied wife if she couldn't give her husband a +home." + +"The scoundrel!" + +"Yes, I know what he is, maybe full as well as you do. That's why I +spoke of leavin' you. If that man comes to Trumet, I'll go, sure as +death." + +"No, no. Aunt Keziah, you must free yourself from him. No power on earth +can compel you to longer support such a--" + +"None on earth, no. But it's my punishment and I've got to put up with +it. I married him with my eyes wide open, done it to spite the--the +other, as much as anything, and I must bear the burden. But I tell you +this, John: if he comes here, to this town, where I've been respected +and considered a decent woman, if he comes here, I go--somewhere, +anywhere that'll be out of the sight of them that know me. And wherever +I go he shan't be with me. THAT I won't stand! I'd rather die, and I +hope I do. Don't talk to me any more now--don't! I can't stand it." + +She hurried out of the room. Later, as the minister passed through the +dining room on his way to the door, she spoke to him again. + +"John," she said, "I didn't say what I meant to when I broke in on you +just now. I meant to tell you about Grace. I knew you'd like to know and +wouldn't ask. She's bearin' up well, poor girl. She thought the world of +Nat, even though she might not have loved him in the way that--" + +"What's that? What are you saying, Aunt Keziah?" + +"I mean--well, I mean that he'd always been like an own brother to her +and she cared a lot for him." + +"But you said she didn't love him." + +"Did I? That was a slip of the tongue, maybe. But she bears it well and +I don't think she gives up hope. I try not to, for her sake, and I try +not to show her how I feel." + +She sewed vigorously for a few moments. Then she said: + +"She's goin' away, Gracie is." + +"Going away?" + +"Yup. She's goin' to stay with a relation of the Hammonds over in +Connecticut for a spell. I coaxed her into it. Stayin' here at home +with all this suspense and with Hannah Poundberry's tongue droppin' +lamentations like kernels out of a corn sheller, is enough to kill a +healthy batch of kittens with nine lives apiece. She didn't want to go; +felt that she must stay here and wait for news; but I told her we'd get +news to her as soon as it come, and she's goin'." + +Ellery took his hat from the peg and opened the door. His foot was on +the step when Keziah spoke again. + +"She--it don't mean nothin', John, except that she ain't so hard-hearted +as maybe you might think--she's asked me about you 'most every time I've +been there. She told me to take good care of you." + +The door closed. Keziah put down her sewing and listened as the +minister's step sounded on the walk. She rose, went to the window +and looked after him. She was wondering if she had made a mistake in +mentioning Grace's name. She had meant to cheer him with the thought +that he was not entirely forgotten, that he was, at least, pitied; but +perhaps it would have been better to have remained silent. Her gaze +shifted and she looked out over the bay, blue and white in the sun and +wind. When she was a girl the sea had been kind to her, it had brought +her father home safe, and those homecomings were her pleasantest +memories. But she now hated it. It was cruel and cold and wicked. It had +taken the man she loved and would have loved till she died, even though +he could never have been hers, and she had given him to another; it had +taken him, killed him cruelly, perhaps. And now it might be bringing to +her the one who was responsible for all her sorrow, the one she could +not think of without a shudder. She clung to the window sash and prayed +aloud. + +"Lord! Lord!" she pleaded, "don't put any more on me now. I couldn't +stand it! I couldn't!" + +Ellery, too, was thinking deeply as he walked up the main road on his +way to Mrs. Prince's. Keziah's words were repeating themselves over and +over in his brain. She had asked about him. She had not forgotten him +altogether. And what did the housekeeper mean by saying that she had +not loved Captain Hammond in the way that--Not that it could make any +difference. Nothing could give him back his happiness. But what did it +mean? + +Mrs. Prince was very glad to see him. He found her in the big armchair +with the quilted back and the projecting "wings" at each side of her +head. She was wrapped in a "Rising Sun" quilt which was a patchwork +glory of red and crimson. A young girl, a neighbor, who was apparently +acting in the dual capacity of nurse and housekeeper, admitted him to +the old lady's presence. + +"Well, well!" she exclaimed delightedly. "Then you ain't forgot me +altogether. I'm awful glad to see you. You'll excuse me for not gettin' +up; my back's got more pains in it than there is bones, a good sight. +Dr. Parker says it's nothin' serious, and all I had to do was set still +and take his medicine. I told him that either the aches or the medicine +made settin' still serious enough, and when your only amusement is +listenin' to Emeline Berry--she's the girl that's takin' care of +me--when your only fun is listenin' to Emeline drop your best dishes in +the kitchen sink, it's pretty nigh tragic. There! there! don't mind an +old woman, Mr. Ellery. Set down and let's talk. It's a comfort to be +able to say somethin' besides 'Don't, Emeline!' and 'Be sure you pick up +all the pieces!'" + +Mrs. Prince's good spirits were of short duration. Her conversation soon +shifted to the loss of her son and she wept, using the corner of the +quilt to wipe away her tears. "Eddie" had been her idol and, as she +said, it was hard to believe what folks kept tellin' her, that it was +God's will, and therefore all for the best. + +"That's so easy to say," she sobbed. "Maybe it is best for the Lord, +but how about me? I needed him more than they did up there, or I think I +did. O Mr. Ellery, I don't mean to be irreverent, but WHY was it all for +the best?" + +Questions like this are hard to answer. The young minister tried, but +the answers were unsatisfactory, even to him. + +"And there's Nat Hammond," continued Mrs. Prince. "A fine man--no better +anywhere, even though his father was a Come-Outer--just goin' to +be married and all, now they say he's drowned--why? Why was that +necessary?" + +Ellery could not reply. The old lady did not wait for him to do so. The +mention of Captain Nat's name reminded her of other things. + +"Poor Gracie!" she said. "It's turrible hard on her. I went down to see +her two or three times afore I was took with this backache. She's an +awful nice girl. And pretty as a pink, too. Don't you think so? Hey? +don't you?" + +"Yes." + +"Yes. I've been kind of expectin' she might get up to see me. Hannah +Poundberry told the Berrys that she said she was comin'. I don't care +about her bein' a Come-Outer. I ain't proud, Mr. Ellery. And there's +Come-Outers and COME-Outers. Proud! Lord 'a' mercy! what has an old +woman, next door to the poorhouse, got to be proud over? Yes, she told +Hannah she was comin', and the Berry folks thought it might be to-day. +So I've been watchin' for her. What! you ain't agoin', Mr. Ellery?" + +"I think I must, Mrs. Prince." + +"Oh, don't! Do stay a spell longer. Gracie might come and I'd like +for you to meet her. She needs sympathy and comfort an awful lot, and +there's no tellin', you might convert her to bein' a Reg'lar. Oh, yes, +you might. You've got the most persuadin' way, everybody says so. And +you don't know her very well, do you? Land sakes alive! talk about +angels! I snum if she ain't comin' up the road this blessed minute." + +John Ellery had risen. Now he seized his hat and moved hastily toward +the door. Mrs. Prince called to him to remain, but he would not. +However, her good-bys delayed him for a minute, and before he reached +the yard gate Grace was opening it. They were face to face for the first +time since they had parted in the grove, so many months before. + +She was thinner and paler, he saw that. And dressed very quietly in +black. She looked at him, as he stood before her in the path, and her +cheeks flushed and her eyes fell. He stepped aside and raised his hat. + +She bowed gravely and murmured a "Good afternoon." Then she passed on up +the path toward the door. He watched her for an instant and then stepped +quickly after her. The black gown and the tired look in her eyes touched +him to the heart. He could not let her go without a word. + +She turned at the sound of his step behind her. + +"Er--Miss Van Horne," he stammered, "I merely wanted to tell you how +deeply I--we all feel for you in your trouble. I--I--I am so sorry." + +"Thank you," she said simply, and after a moment's hesitation. + +"I mean it sincerely. I--I did not know Captain Hammond very well, but +I respected and liked him the first time we met. I shall hope +that--that--it is not so serious as they fear." + +"Thank you," she said again. "We are all hoping." + +"Yes. I--I--" It was dreadfully hard to get words together. "I have +heard so much of the captain from--" + +"From Aunt Keziah? Yes, she was Nat's warmest friend." + +"I know. Er--Mrs. Coffin tells me you are going away. I hope you may +hear good news and soon. I shall think of you--of him--I want you to +understand that I shall." + +The door opened and Emeline Berry appeared on the threshold. + +"Come right in, Grace," she called. "Mrs. Prince wants you to. She's +ahollerin' for you to hurry up." + +"Good-by," said the minister. + +"Good-by. Thank you again. It was very kind of you to say this." + +"No, no. I mean it." + +"I know; that was why it was so kind. Good-by." + +She held out her hand and he took it. He knew that his was trembling, +but so, too, was hers. The hands fell apart. Grace entered the house and +John Ellery went out at the gate. + +That night Keziah, in the sitting room, trying to read, but finding +it hard to keep her mind on the book, heard her parson pacing back and +forth over the straw-matted floor of his chamber. She looked at +the clock; it was nearly twelve. She shut the book and sighed. Her +well-meant words of consolation had been a mistake, after all. She +should not have spoken Grace Van Horne's name. + + +CHAPTER XVI + +IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE + + +"Hey, Mr. Ellery!" + +It was Captain Zeb Mayo who was calling. The captain sat in his antique +chaise, drawn by the antique white horse, and was hailing the parsonage +through a speaking trumpet formed by holding both his big hands before +his mouth. The reins he had tucked between the edge of the dashboard and +the whip socket. If he had thrown them on the ground he would still have +been perfectly safe, with that horse. + +"Mr. Ellery, ahoy!" roared Captain Zeb through his hands. + +The window of Zoeth Peters's house, next door to the Regular church, +was thrown up and Mrs. Peters's head, bound with a blue-and-white +handkerchief in lieu of a sweeping cap, was thrust forth into the crisp +March air. + +"What is it, Cap'n Mayo?" screamed Mrs. Peters. "Hey?" + +"Hey?" repeated Captain Zeb, peering round the chaise curtain. "Who's +that?" + +"It's me. Is somebody dead?" + +"Who's me? Oh! No, Hettie, nobody's dead, though I'm likely to bust a +blood vessel if I keep on yellin' much longer. Is the parson to home?" + +"Hey?" + +"Oh, heavens alive! I say is--Ha, there you be, Mr. Ellery. Mornin', +Keziah." + +The minister and Mrs. Coffin, the former with a napkin in his hand, had +emerged from the side door of the parsonage and now came hurrying down +to the gate. + +"Land of Goshen!" exclaimed the captain, "you don't mean to tell me +you ain't done breakfast yet, and it after seven o'clock. Why, we're +thinkin' about dinner up to our house." + +Keziah answered. "Yes," she said, "I shouldn't wonder. Your wife tells +me, Zeb, that the only time you ain't thinkin' about dinner is when you +think of breakfast or supper. We ain't so hungry here that we get up +to eat in the middle of the night. What's the matter? Hettie Peters is +hollerin' at you; did you know it?" + +"Did I know it? Tut! tut! tut! I'd known it if I was a mile away, 'less +I was paralyzed in my ears. Let her holler; 'twill do her good and keep +her in practice for Come-Outer meetin'. Why, Mr. Ellery, I tell you: +Em'lous Sparrow, the fish peddler, stepped up to our house a few minutes +ago. He's just come down from the shanties over on the shore by the +light--where the wreck was, you know--and he says there's a 'morphrodite +brig anchored three or four mile off and she's flyin' colors ha'f mast +and union down. They're gettin' a boat's crew together to go off to +her and see what's the row. I'm goin' to drive over and I thought maybe +you'd like to go along. I told the old lady--my wife, I mean--that I +thought of pickin' you up and she said 'twas a good idee. Said my likin' +to cruise with a parson in my old age was either a sign that I was +hopeful or fearful, she didn't know which; and either way it ought to be +encouraged. He, he, he! What do you say, Mr. Ellery? Want to go?" + +The minister hesitated. "I'd like to," he said. "I'd like to very much. +But I ought to work on my sermon this morning." + +Keziah cut in here. "Cat's foot!" she sniffed. "Let your sermon go for +this once, do. If it ain't long enough as it is, you can begin again +when you've got to the end and preach it over again. Didama Rogers said, +last circle day, that she could set still and hear you preach right over +n' over. I'd give her a chance, 'specially if it did keep her still. +Keepin' Didama still is good Christian work, ain't it, Zeb?" + +Captain Mayo slapped his knee. "He, he, he!" he chuckled. "Cal'late +you're right, Keziah." + +"Indeed, I am. I believe it would be Christianity and I KNOW 'twould be +work. There! there! run in and get your coat and hat, Mr. Ellery. I'll +step across and ease Hettie's mind and--and lungs." + +She went across the road to impart the news of the vessel in distress to +the curious Mrs. Peters. A moment later the minister, having donned +his hat and coat, ran down the walk and climbed into the chaise beside +Captain Zeb. The white horse, stimulated into a creaky jog trot by +repeated slappings of the reins and roars to "Get under way!" and "Cast +off!" moved along the sandy lane. + +During the drive the captain and his passenger discussed various topics +of local interest, among them Captain Nat Hammond and the manner in +which he might have lost his ship and his life. It was now taken for +granted, in Trumet and elsewhere, that Nat was dead and would never be +heard from again. The owners had given up, so Captain Zeb said, and +went on to enumerate the various accidents which might have +happened--typhoons, waterspouts, fires, and even attacks by Malay +pirates--though, added the captain, "Gen'rally speakin', I'd ruther not +bet on any pirate gettin' away with Nat Hammond's ship, if the skipper +was alive and healthy. Then there's mutiny and fevers and collisions, +and land knows what all. And, speakin' of trouble, what do you cal'late +ails that craft we're goin' to look at now?" + +They found a group on the beach discussing that very question. A few +fishermen, one or two lobstermen and wreckers, and the lightkeeper were +gathered on the knoll by the lighthouse. They had a spyglass, and a +good-sized dory was ready for launching. + +"Where is she, Noah?" asked Captain Zeb of the lightkeeper. "That her +off back of the spar buoy? Let me have a squint through that glass; +my eyes ain't what they used to be, when I could see a whale spout two +miles t'other side of the sky line and tell how many barrels of ile he'd +try out, fust look. Takes practice to keep your eyesight so's you can +see round a curve like that," he added, winking at Ellery. + +"She's a brigantine, Zeb," observed the keeper, handing up the spyglass. +"And flyin' the British colors. Look's if she might be one of them salt +boats from Turk's Islands. But what she's doin' out there, anchored, +with canvas lowered and showin' distress signals in fair weather like +this, is more'n any of us can make out. She wa'n't there last evenin', +though, and she is there now." + +"She ain't the only funny thing along shore this mornin', nuther," +announced Theophilus Black, one of the fishermen. "Charlie Burgess just +come down along and he says there's a ship's longboat hauled up on the +beach, 'bout a mile 'n a half t'other side the mouth of the herrin' +crick yonder. Oars in her and all. And she ain't no boat that b'longs +round here, is she, Charlie?" + +"No, Thoph, she ain't," was the reply. "Make anything out of her, +cap'n?" + +Captain Zeb, who had been inspecting the anchored vessel through +the spyglass, lowered the latter and seemed puzzled. "Not much," he +answered. "Blessed if she don't look abandoned to me. Can't see a sign +of life aboard her." + +"We couldn't neither," said Thoph. "We was just cal'latin' to go off to +her when Charlie come and told us about the longboat. I guess likely we +can go now; it's pretty nigh smooth as a pond. You'll take an oar, won't +you, Noah?" + +"I can't leave the light very well. My wife went over to the village +last night. You and Charlie and Bill go. Want to go, too, Zeb?" + +"No, I'll stay here, I guess. The old lady made me promise to keep my +feet dry afore I left the house." + +"You want to go, Mr. Ellery? Lots of room." + +The minister was tempted. The sea always had a fascination for him and +the mystery of the strange ship was appealing. + +"Sure I won't be in the way?" + +"No, no! 'course you won't," said Burgess. "Come right along. You set in +the bow, if you don't mind gettin' sprinkled once in a while. I'll steer +and Thoph and Bill'll row. That'll be enough for one dory. If we need +more, we'll signal. Heave ahead." + +The surf, though low for that season of the year, looked dangerous to +Ellery, but his companions launched the dory with the ease which comes +of experience. Burgess took the steering oar and Thoph and "Bill," the +latter a lobsterman from Wellmouth Neck, bent their broad backs for the +long pull. The statement concerning the pondlike smoothness of the sea +was something of an exaggeration. The dory climbed wave after wave, long +and green and oily, at the top of each she poised, tipped and slid down +the slope. The minister, curled up in the bow on a rather uncomfortable +cushion of anchor and roding, caught glimpses of the receding shore over +the crests behind. One minute he looked down into the face of Burgess, +holding the steering oar in place, the next the stern was high above him +and he felt that he was reclining on the back of his neck. But always +the shoulders of the rowers moved steadily in the short, deep strokes +of the rough water oarsman, and the beach, with the white light and +red-roofed house of the keeper, the group beside it, and Captain Zeb's +horse and chaise, grew smaller and less distinct. + +"Humph!" grunted Charlie. + +"What's the matter?" asked Thoph. + +The steersman, who was staring hard in the direction they were going, +scowled. + +"Humph!" he grunted again. "I swan to man, fellers, I believe she IS +abandoned!" + +"Rubbish!" panted Bill, twisting his neck to look over his shoulder. +"'Course she ain't! Who'd abandon a craft such weather's this, and +Province-town harbor only three hours' run or so?" + +"When it comes to that," commented Burgess, "why should they anchor off +here, 'stead of takin' her in by the inlet? If there's anybody aboard +they ain't showed themselves yet. She might have been leakin', but she +don't look it. Sets up out of water pretty well. Well, we'll know in a +few minutes. Hit her up, boys!" + +The rowers "hit her up" and the dory moved faster. Then Burgess, putting +his hand to his mouth, hailed. + +"Ship ahoy!" he roared. "Ahoy!" + +No reply. + +"Ahoy the brig!" bellowed Burgess. "What's the matter aboard there? All +hands asleep?" + +Still no answer. Thoph and Bill pulled more slowly now. Burgess nodded +to them. + +"Stand by!" he ordered. "Easy! Way enough! Let her run." + +The dory slackened speed, turned in obedience to the steering oar, and +slid under the forequarter of the anchored vessel. Ellery, looking up, +saw her name in battered gilt letters above his head--the San Jose. + +"Stand by, Thoph!" shouted Charlie. "S'pose you can jump and grab her +forechains? Hold her steady, Bill. Now, Thoph! That's the time!" + +Thoph had jumped, seized the chains, and was scrambling aboard. A moment +later he appeared at the rail amidships, a rope in his hand. The dory +was brought alongside and made fast; then one after the other the men in +the boat climbed to the brig's deck. + +"Ahoy!" yelled Burgess. "All hands on deck! tumble up, you lubbers! +Humph! She is abandoned, sure and sartin." + +"Yup," assented Bill. "Her boats are gone. See? Guess that explains the +longboat on the beach, Charlie." + +"Cal'late it does; but it don't explain why they left her. She ain't +leakin' none to speak of, that's sure. Rides's light's a feather. +Christmas! look at them decks; dirty hogs, whoever they was." + +The decks were dirty, and the sails, sloppily furled, were dirty +likewise. The brig, as she rolled and jerked at her anchor rope, was +dirty--and unkempt from stem to stern. To Ellery's mind she made a +lonesome picture, even under the clear, winter sky and bright sunshine. + +Thoph led the way aft. The cabin companion door was open and they peered +down. + +"Phew!" sniffed Burgess. "She ain't no cologne bottle, is she? Well, +come on below and let's see what'll we see." + +The cabin was a "mess," as Bill expressed it. The floor was covered +with scattered heaps of riff-raff, oilskins, coats, empty bottles, and +papers. On the table a box stood, its hinged lid thrown back. + +"Medicine chest," said Burgess, examining it. "And rum bottles aplenty. +Somebody's been sick, I shouldn't wonder." + +The minister opened the door of one of the little staterooms. The light +which shone through the dirty and tightly closed "bull's-eye" window +showed a tumbled bunk, the blankets soiled and streaked. The smell was +stifling. + +"Say, fellers," whispered Thoph, "I don't like this much myself. I'm for +gettin' on deck where the air's better. Somethin's happened aboard this +craft, somethin' serious." + +Charlie and Bill nodded an emphatic affirmative. + +"Hadn't we better look about a little more?" asked Ellery. "There's +another stateroom there." + +He opened the door of it as he spoke. It was, if possible, in a worse +condition than the first. And the odor was even more overpowering. + +"Skipper's room," observed Burgess, peeping in. "And that bunk ain't +been slept in for weeks. See the mildew on them clothes. Phew! I'm fair +sick to my stomach. Come out of this." + +On deck, in the sunlight, they held another consultation. + +"Queerest business ever I see," observed Charlie. "I never--" + +"I see somethin' like it once," interrupted Bill. "Down in the Gulf +'twas. I was on the old Fishhawk. Eben Salters's dad from over to +Bayport skippered her. We picked up a West Injy schooner, derelict, +abandoned same as this one, but not anchored, of course. Yeller jack was +the trouble aboard her and--Where you bound, Thoph?" + +"Goin' to take a squint at the fo'castle," replied Theophilus, moving +forward. The minister followed him. + +The fo'castle hatchway was black and grim. Ellery knelt and peered down. +Here there was practically no light at all and the air was fouler than +that in the cabin. + +"See anything, Mr. Ellery?" asked Thoph, looking over his shoulder. + +"No, I don't see anything. But I thought--" + +He seemed to be listening. + +"What did you think?" + +"Nothing. I--" + +"Hold on! you ain't goin' down there, be you? I wouldn't. No tellin' +what you might find. Well, all right. I ain't curious. I'll stay up here +and you can report." + +He stepped over and leaned against the rail. Bill came across the deck +and joined him. + +"Where's Charlie?" asked Thoph. + +"Gone back to the cabin," was the answer. "Thought likely he might find +some of her papers or somethin' to put us on the track. I told him to +heave ahead; I didn't want no part of it. Too much like that yeller-jack +schooner to suit me. What's become of the parson?" + +Thoph pointed to the open hatch. + +"Down yonder, explorin' the fo'castle," he replied. "He can have the +job, for all me. Phew! Say, Bill, what IS this we've struck, anyhow?" + +Ellery descended the almost perpendicular ladder gingerly, holding on +with both hands. At its foot he stopped and tried to accustom his eyes +to the darkness. + +A room perhaps ten feet long, so much he could make out. The floor +strewn, like that of the cabin, with heaps of clothing and odds and +ends. More shapes of clothes hanging up and swaying with the roll of the +brig. A little window high up at the end, black with dirt. And cavities, +bunks in rows, along the walls. A horrible hole. + +He took a step toward the center of the room, bending his head to +avoid hitting the fo'castle lantern. Then in one of the bunks something +stirred, something alive. He started violently, controlled himself with +an effort, and stumbled toward the sound. + +"What is it?" he whispered. "Who is it? Is anyone there?" + +A groan answered him. Then a voice, weak and quavering, said: + +"Gimme a drink! Gimme a drink! Can't none of you God-forsaken devils +give me a drink?" + +He stooped over the bunk. A man was lying in it, crumpled into a +dreadful heap. He stooped lower, looked, and saw the man's face. + +There was a shout from the deck, or, rather, a yell. Then more yells and +the sound of running feet. + +"Mr. Ellery!" screamed Burgess, at the hatchway. "Mr. Ellery, for the +Almighty's sake, come up here! Come out of that this minute. Quick!" + +The minister knew what was coming, was sure of it as he stepped to the +foot of the ladder, had known it the instant he saw that face. + +"Mr. Ellery!" shrieked Burgess. "Mr. Ellery, are you there?" + +"Yes, I'm here," answered the minister, slowly. He was fighting with all +his might to keep his nerves under control. His impulse was to leap +up those steps, rush across that deck, spring into the dory and row, +anywhere to get away from the horror of that forecastle. + +"Come up!" called Burgess. "Hurry! It's the smallpox! The darned +hooker's rotten with it. For God sakes, come quick!" + +He ran to the rail, yelling order to Bill and Thoph, who were +frantically busy with the dory. Ellery began to climb the ladder. His +head emerged into the clean, sweet air blowing across the deck. He drew +a breath to the very bottom of his lungs. + +Then from behind and below him came the voice again. + +"Gimme a drink!" it wailed. "Gimme a drink of water. Ain't one of you +cussed swabs got decency enough to fetch me a drink? I'm dyin' for a +drink, I tell you. I'm dyin'!" + +The minister stood still, his feet on the ladder. The three men by the +rail were working like mad, their faces livid under the sunburn and +their hands trembling. They pushed each other about and swore. They were +not cowards, either. Ellery knew them well enough to know that. Burgess +had, that very winter, pulled a skiff through broken ice in the face +of a wicked no'theaster to rescue an old neighbor whose dory had been +capsized in the bay while he was hauling lobster pots. But now Burgess +was as scared as the rest. + +Thoph and Bill sprang over the rail into the boat. Burgess turned and +beckoned to Ellery. + +"Come on!" he called. "What are you waitin' for?" + +The minister remained where he was. + +"Are you sure--" he faltered. + +"Sure! Blast it all! I found the log. It ain't been kept for a fortni't, +but there's enough. It's smallpox, I tell you. Two men died of it three +weeks ago. The skipper died right afterwards. The mate--No wonder them +that was left run away as soon as they sighted land. Come on! Do you +want to die, too?" + +From the poison pit at the foot of the ladder the man in the bunk called +once more. + +"Water!" he screeched. "Water! Are you goin' to leave me, you d--n +cowards?" + +"For Heaven sakes!" cried Burgess, clutching the rail, "what's that?" + +Ellery answered him. "It's one of them," he said, and his voice sounded +odd in his own ears. "It's one of the crew." + +"One of the--Down THERE? Has he--" + +"Yes, he has." + +"Help! help!" screamed the voice shrilly. "Are you goin' to leave me to +die all alone? He-elp!" + +The minister turned. "Hush!" he called, in answer to the voice, "hush! +I'll bring you water in a minute. Burgess," he added, "you and the rest +go ashore. I shall stay." + +"You'll stay? You'll STAY? With THAT? You're crazy as a loon. Don't be +a fool, man! Come on! We'll send the doctor and somebody else--some one +that's had it, maybe, or ain't afraid. I am and I'm goin'. Don't be a +fool." + +Thoph, from the dory, shouted to know what was the matter. Ellery +climbed the ladder to the deck and walked over to the rail. As he +approached, Burgess fell back a few feet. + +"Thoph," said the minister, addressing the pair in the dory, "there is +a sick man down in the forecastle. He has been alone there for hours, +I suppose, certainly since his shipmates ran away. If he is left longer +without help, he will surely die. Some one must stay with him. You and +the rest row ashore and get the doctor and whoever else you can. I'll +stay here till they come." + +Thoph and his companions set up a storm of protest. It was foolish, it +was crazy, the man would die anyhow, and so on. They begged the minister +to come with them. But he was firm. + +"Don't stop to argue," he urged. "Hurry and get the doctor." + +"Come on, Charlie," ordered Bill. "No use talkin' to him, he's set. Come +on! I won't stay alongside this craft another minute for nobody. If you +be comin', come." + +Burgess, still protesting, clambered over the rail. The dory swung clear +of the brig. The rowers settled themselves for the stroke. + +"Better change your mind, Mr. Ellery," pleaded Charlie. "I hate to leave +you this way. It seems mean, but I'm a married man with children, like +the rest of us here, and I can't take no risks. Better come, too. No? +Well, we'll send help quick as the Lord'll let us. By the Almighty!" he +added, in a sudden burst, "you've got more spunk than I have--yes, or +anybody I ever come across. I'll say that for you, if you are a parson. +Give way, fellers." + +The oars dipped, bent, and the dory moved off. The sound of the creaking +thole pins shot a chill through Ellery's veins. His knees shook, and +involuntarily a cry for them to come back rose to his lips. But he +choked it down and waved his hand in farewell. Then, not trusting +himself to look longer at the receding boat, he turned on his heel and +walked toward the forecastle. + +The water butts stood amidships, not far from the open door of the +galley. Entering the latter he found an empty saucepan. This he filled +from the cask, and then, with it in his hand, turned toward the black +hatchway. Here was the greatest test of his courage. To descend that +ladder, approach that bunk, and touch the terrible creature in it, these +were the tasks he had set himself to do, but could he? + +Vaccination in those days was by no means the universal custom that it +now is. And smallpox, even now, is a disease the name of which strikes +panic to a community. The minister had been vaccinated when he was a +child, but that was--so it seemed to him--a very long time ago. And +that forecastle was so saturated with the plague that to enter it meant +almost certain infection. He had stayed aboard the brig because the +pitiful call for help had made leaving a cowardly impossibility. Now, +face to face, and in cold blood, with the alternative, it seemed neither +so cowardly or impossible. The man would die anyhow, so Thoph had said; +was there any good reason why he should risk dying, too, and dying in +that way? + +He thought of a great many things and of many people as he stood by the +hatchway, waiting; among others, he thought of his housekeeper, +Keziah Coffin. And, somehow, the thought of her, of her pluck, and her +self-sacrifice, were the very inspirations he needed. "It's the duty +that's been laid on me," Keziah had said, "and it's a hard one, but I +don't run away from it." He began to descend the ladder. + +The sick man was raving in delirium when he reached him, but the sound +of the water lapping the sides of the saucepan brought him to himself. +He seized Ellery by the arm and drank and drank. When at last he +desisted, the pan was half empty. + +The minister laid him gently back in the bunk and stepped to the foot of +the ladder for breath. This made him think of the necessity for air in +the place and he remembered the little window. It was tightly closed +and rusted fast. He went up to the deck, found a marlin spike, and, +returning, broke the glass. A sharp, cold draught swept through the +forecastle, stirring the garments hanging on the nails. + +An hour later, two dories bumped against the side of the San Jose. Men, +talking in low tones, climbed over the rail. Burgess was one of them; +ashamed of his panic, he had returned to assist the others in bringing +the brigantine into a safer anchorage by the inlet. + +Dr. Parker, very grave but businesslike, reached the deck among the +first. + +"Mr. Ellery," he shouted, "where are you?" + +The minister's head and shoulders appeared at the forecastle companion. +"Here I am, doctor," he said. "Will you come down?" + +The doctor made no answer in words, but he hurried briskly across the +deck. One man, Ebenezer Capen, an old fisherman and ex-whaler from +East Trumet, started to follow him, but he was the only one. The others +waited, with scared faces, by the rail. + +"Get her under way and inshore as soon as you can," ordered Dr. Parker. +"Ebenezer, you can help. If I need you below, I'll call." + +The minister backed down the ladder and the doctor followed him. Parker +bent over the bunk for a few moments in silence. + +"He's pretty bad," he muttered. "Mighty little chance. Heavens, what a +den! Who broke that window?" + +"I did," replied Ellery. "The air down here was dreadful." + +The doctor nodded approvingly. "I guess so," he said. "It's bad enough +now. We've got to get this poor fellow out of here as soon as we can or +he'll die before to-morrow. Mr. Ellery," he added sharply, "what made +you do this? Don't you realize the risk you've run?" + +"Some one had to do it. You are running the same risk." + +"Not just the same, and, besides, it's my business. Why didn't you let +some one else, some one we could spare--Humph! Confound it, man! didn't +you know any better? Weren't you afraid?" + +His tone rasped Ellery's shaken nerves. + +"Of course I was," he snapped irritably. "I'm not an idiot." + +"Humph! Well, all right; I beg your pardon. But you oughtn't to have +done it. Now you'll have to be quarantined. And who in thunder I can get +to stay with me in this case is more than I know. Just say smallpox to +this town and it goes to pieces like a smashed egg. Old Eb Capen will +help, for he's had it, but it needs more than one." + +"Where are you going to take--him?" pointing to the moaning occupant of +the bunk. + +"To one of the empty fish shanties on the beach. There are beds there, +such as they are, and the place is secluded. We can burn it down when +the fuss is over." + +"Then why can't I stay? I shall have to be quarantined, I know that. Let +me be the other nurse. Why should anyone else run the risk? I HAVE run +it. I'll stay." + +Dr. Parker looked at him. "Well!" he exclaimed. "Well! I must say, young +man, that you've got--Humph! All right, Mr. Ellery; I'm much obliged." + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED + + +Before sunset that afternoon the San Jose was anchored behind the point +by the inlet. The fishing boats changed moorings and moved farther +up, for not a single one of their owners would trust himself within a +hundred yards of the stricken brigantine. As soon as the anchors were +dropped, the volunteer crew was over side and away, each of its members +to receive a scolding from his family for taking such a risk and to have +his garments sulphur-smoked or buried. Charlie Burgess, whose wife was +something of a Tartar, observed ruefully that he "didn't take no comfort +'round home nowadays; between the smell of brimstone and the jawin's +'twas the hereafter ahead of time." + +The largest of the beach shanties, one which stood by itself a quarter +of a mile from the light, was hurriedly prepared for use as a pesthouse +and the sick sailor was carried there on an improvised stretcher. +Dr. Parker and Ellery lifted him from his berth and, assisted by old +Ebenezer Capen, got him up to the deck and lowered him into the dory. +Ebenezer rowed the trio to the beach and the rest of the journey was +comparatively easy. + +The shanty had three rooms, one of which was given up to the patient, +one used as a living room, and, in the third, Capen and the minister +were to sleep. Mattresses were procured, kind-hearted and sympathizing +townspeople donated cast-off tables and chairs, and the building was +made as comfortable as it could be, under the circumstances. Sign +boards, warning strangers to keep away, were erected, and in addition +to them, the Trumet selectmen ordered ropes stretched across the lane on +both sides of the shanty. But ropes and signs were superfluous. Trumet +in general was in a blue funk and had no desire to approach within a +mile of the locality. Even the driver of the grocery cart, when he left +the day's supply of provisions, pushed the packages under the ropes, +yelled a hurried "Here you be!" and, whipping up his horse, departed at +a rattling gallop. + +The village sat up nights to discuss the affair and every day brought +a new sensation. The survivors of the San Jose's crew, a wretched, +panic-stricken quartette of mulattos and Portuguese, were apprehended +on the outskirts of Denboro, the town below Trumet on the bay side, +and were promptly sequestered and fumigated, pending shipment to the +hospital at Boston. Their story was short but grewsome. The brigantine +was not a Turks Islands boat, but a coaster from Jamaica. She had sailed +with a small cargo for Savannah. Two days out and the smallpox made its +appearance on board. The sufferer, a negro foremast hand, died. Then +another sailor was seized and also died. The skipper, who was the owner, +was the next victim, and the vessel was in a state of demoralization +which the mate, an Englishman named Bradford, could not overcome. Then +followed days and nights of calm and terrible heat, of pestilence +and all but mutiny. The mate himself died. There was no one left who +understood navigation. At last came a southeast gale and the San Jose +drove before it. Fair weather found her abreast the Cape. The survivors +ran her in after dark, anchored, and reached shore in the longboat. The +sick man whom they had left in the forecastle was a new hand who had +shipped at Kingston. His name was Murphy, they believed. They had left +him because he was sure to die, like the others, and, besides, they knew +some one would see the distress signals and investigate. That was all, +yes. Santa Maria! was it not enough? + +This tale was a delicious tidbit for Didama and the "daily advertisers," +but, after all, it was a mere side dish compared to Mr. Ellery's +astonishing behavior. That he, the minister of the Regular church, +should risk his life, risk dying of the smallpox, to help a stranger +and a common sailor, was incomprehensible. Didama, at least, could not +understand it, and said so. "My soul and body!" she exclaimed, with +uplifted hands. "I wouldn't go nigh my own grandfather if he had the +smallpox, let alone settin' up with a strange critter that I didn't +know from Adam's cat. And a minister doin' it! He ought to consider the +congregation, if he done nothin' else. Ain't we more important than a +common water rat that, even when he's dyin', swears, so I hear tell, +like a ship's poll parrot? I never heard of such foolishness. It beats +ME!" + +It "beat" a good many who, like the Widow Rogers, could not understand +self-sacrifice. But there were more, and they the majority of Trumet's +intelligent people, who understood and appreciated. Dr. Parker, a man +with a reputation for dangerously liberal views concerning religious +matters and an infrequent attendant at church, was enthusiastic and +prodigal of praise. + +"By George!" vowed the doctor. "That's MY kind of Christianity. That's +the kind of parson I can tie to. I'm for John Ellery after this, first, +last, and all the time. And if he don't get the smallpox and die, and +if he does live to preach in the Regular church, you'll see me in one of +the front pews every Sunday. That's what I think of him. Everybody else +ran away and I don't blame 'em much. But he stayed. Yes, sir, by George! +he stayed. 'Somebody had to do it,' says he. I take off my hat to that +young fellow." + +Captain Zeb Mayo went about cheering for his parson. Mrs. Mayo cooked +delicacies to be pushed under the ropes for the minister's consumption. +The parish committee, at a special session, voted an increase of salary +and ordered a weekly service of prayer for the safe delivery of their +young leader from danger. Even Captain Elkanah did not try to oppose +the general opinion; "although I cannot but feel," he said, "that Mr. +Ellery's course was rash and that he should have considered us and our +interest in his welfare before--" + +"Dum it all!" roared Captain Zeb, jumping to his feet and interrupting, +"he didn't consider himself, did he? and ain't he as important TO +himself as you, Elkanah Daniels, or anybody else in this meetin' house? +Bah! don't let's have no more talk like that or I'll say somethin' that +won't be fit to put in the minutes." + +Even at Come-Outers' meeting, when Ezekiel Bassett hinted at a "just +punishment fallin' on the head of the leader of the Pharisees," Thoph +Black rose and defended Ellery. + +Keziah Coffin was, perhaps, the one person most disturbed by her +parson's heroism. She would have gone to the shanty immediately had not +Dr. Parker prevented. Even as it was, she did go as far as the ropes, +but there she was warded off by Ebenezer until Ellery came running out +and bade her come no nearer. + +"But you shan't stay here, Mr. Ellery," vowed Keziah. "Or, if you do, +I'll stay, too. I ain't afraid of smallpox." + +"I am," confessed the minister, "and I'm not going to let anyone I care +for expose themselves to it unnecessarily. If you try to come in here I +shall"--he smiled--"well, Capen and I will put you off the premises by +force. There!" + +Keziah smiled, too, in spite of herself. "Maybe you'd have your hands +full," she said. "O John, what in the world made you do this thing? It's +dreadful. I shan't sleep a wink, thinkin' of you. I just must come here +and help." + +"No, you mustn't. You can come as far as the--the dead line once in +a while, if Captain Mayo will drive you over, but that's all. I'm all +right. Don't worry about me. I'm feeling tiptop and I'm not going to be +sick. Now go home and make me some of that--some of those puddings of +yours. We can use them to advantage, can't we, Capen?" + +"Bet yer!" replied Ebenezer with enthusiasm. Keziah, after more +expostulation, went back to the parsonage, where the puddings were made +and seasoned with tears and fervent prayers. She wrote to Grace and told +her the news of the San Jose, but she said nothing of the minister's +part in it. "Poor thing!" sighed Keziah, "she's bearin' enough already. +Her back ain't as strong as mine, maybe, and mine's most crackin'. Well, +let it crack for good and all; I don't know but that's the easiest way +out." + +The sick sailor grew no better. Days and nights passed and he raved +and moaned or lay in a stupor. Ebenezer acted as day nurse while Ellery +slept, and, at night, the minister, being younger, went on watch. The +doctor came frequently, but said there was no hope. A question of time +only, and a short time, he said. + +Capen occupied his mind with speculations concerning the patient. + +"Do you know, parson," he said, "seem's if I'd seen the feller +somewheres afore. 'Course I never have, but when I used to go whalin' +v'yages I cruised from one end of creation to t'other, pretty nigh, +and I MIGHT have met him. However, his own folks wouldn't know him now, +would they? so I cal'late I'm just gettin' foolish in my old age. Said +his name's Murphy, them ha'f-breeds did, didn't they? I know better'n +that." + +"How do you know?" asked Ellery, idly listening. + +"'Cause when he's floppin' round on the bed, out of his head, he sings +out all kinds of stuff. A good deal of it's plain cussin', but there's +times when he talks respectable and once I heard him say 'darn' and +another time 'I cal'late.' Now no Irishman says THAT. That's Yankee, +that is." + +"Well, he ought to know his own name." + +"Prob'ly he does--or used to--but 'most likely he don't want nobody else +to know it. That's why he said 'twas Murphy and, bein' as he DID say it, +I know 'tain't it. See my argument, don't you, Mr. Ellery?" + +"Yes, I guess so." + +"Um--hm! Why, land sakes, names don't mean nothin' with seafarin' men. +I've seen the time when I had more names--Humph! Looks kind of squally +off to the east'ard, don't it?" + +That night the sick man was much worse. His ravings were incessant. The +minister, sitting in his chair in the living room, by the cook stove, +could hear the steady stream of shouts, oaths, and muttered fragments of +dialogue with imaginary persons. Sympathy for the sufferer he felt, +of course, and yet he, as well as Dr. Parker and old Capen, had heard +enough to realize that the world would be none the worse for losing this +particular specimen of humanity. The fellow had undoubtedly lived a hard +life, among the roughest of companions afloat and ashore. Even Ebenezer, +who by his own confession, was far from being a saint, exclaimed +disgustedly at the close of a day's watching by the sick bed: "Phew! I +feel's if I'd been visiting state's prison. Let me set out doors a spell +and listen to the surf. It's clean, anyhow, and that critter's talk +makes me want to give my brains a bath." + +The wooden clock, loaned by Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife, ticked +steadily, although a half hour slow. Ellery, glancing at it to see if +the time had come for giving medicine, suddenly noticed how loud its +ticking sounded. Wondering at this, he was aware there was no other +sound in the house. He rose and looked in at the door of the adjoining +room. The patient had ceased to rave and was lying quiet on the bed. + +The minister tiptoed over to look at him. And, as he did so, the man +opened his eyes. + +"Halloo!" he said faintly. "Who are you?" + +Ellery, startled, made no answer. + +"Who are you?" demanded the man again. Then, with an oath, he repeated +the question, adding: "What place is this? This ain't the fo'castle. +Where am I?" + +"You're ashore. You've been sick. Don't try to move." + +"Sick? Humph! Sick? 'Course I been sick. Don't I know it? The d--n +cowards run off and left me; blast their eyes! I'll fix 'em for it one +of these days, you hear--" + +"Sshh!" + +"Hush up yourself. Where am I?" + +"You're ashore. On Cape Cod. At Trumet." + +"Trumet! TRUMET!" + +He was struggling to raise himself on his elbow. Ellery was obliged to +use force to hold him down. + +"Hush! hush!" pleaded the minister, "you mustn't try to--" + +"Trumet! I ain't. You're lyin'. Trumet! Good God! Who brought me here? +Did she--Is she--" + +He struggled again. Then his strength and his reason left him +simultaneously and the delirium returned. He began to shout a name, a +name that caused Ellery to stand upright and step back from the bed, +scarcely believing his ears. + +All the rest of that night the man on the bed raved and muttered, but of +people and places and happenings which he had not mentioned before. And +the minister, listening intently to every word, caught himself wondering +if he also was not losing his mind. + +When the morning came, Ebenezer Capen was awakened by a shake to find +John Ellery standing over him. + +"Capen," whispered the minister, "Capen, get up. I must talk with you." + +Ebenezer was indignant. + +"Judas priest!" he exclaimed; "why don't you scare a feller to death, +comin' and yankin' him out of bed by the back hair?" Then, being more +wide awake, he added: "What's the row? Worse, is he? He ain't--" + +"No. But I've got to talk with you. You used to be a whaler, I know. +Were you acquainted in New Bedford?" + +"Sartin. Was a time when I could have located every stick in it, pretty +nigh, by the smell, if you'd set me down side of 'em blindfold." + +"Did you ever know anyone named--" He finished the sentence. + +"Sure and sartin, I did. Why?" + +"Did you know him well?" + +"Well's I wanted to. Pretty decent feller one time, but a fast goer, and +went downhill like a young one's sled, when he got started. His folks +had money, that was the trouble with him. Why, 'course I knew him! He +married--" + +"I know. Now, listen." + +Ellery went on talking rapidly and with great earnestness. Ebenezer +listened, at first silently, then breaking in with ejaculations and +grunts of astonishment. He sat up on the edge of the bed. + +"Rubbish!" he cried at last, "why, 'tain't possible! The feller's dead +as Methusalem's grandmarm. I remember how it happened and--" + +"It wasn't true. That much I know. I KNOW, I tell you." + +He went on to explain why he knew. Capen's astonishment grew. + +"Judas priest!" he exclaimed again. "That would explain why I thought +I'd seen--There! heave ahead. I've got to see. But it's a mistake. I +don't believe it." + +The pair entered the sick room. The sailor lay in a stupor. His +breathing was rapid, but faint. Capen bent over him and gently moved the +bandage on his face. For a full minute he gazed steadily. Then he stood +erect, drew a big red hand across his forehead, and moved slowly back to +the living room. + +"Well?" asked Ellery eagerly. + +Ebenezer sat down in the rocker. "Judas priest!" he said for the third +time. "Don't talk to ME! When it comes my time they'll have to prove I'm +dead. I won't believe it till they do. Ju-das PRIEST!" + +"Then you recognize him?" + +The old man nodded solemnly. + +"Yup," he said, "it's him. Mr. Ellery, what are you goin' to do about +it?" + +"I don't know. I don't know. I must go somewhere by myself and think. I +don't know WHAT to do." + +The minister declined to wait for breakfast. He said he was not hungry. +Leaving Ebenezer to put on the coffeepot and take up his duties as day +nurse, Ellery walked off along the beach. The "dead line" prevented his +going very far, but he sat down in the lee of a high dune and thought +until his head ached. What should he do? What was best for him to do? + +He heard the rattle of the doctor's chaise and the voices of Ebenezer +and Parker in conversation. He did not move, but remained where he was, +thinking, thinking. By and by he heard Capen calling his name. + +"Mr. Ellery!" shouted Ebenezer. "Mr. Ellery, where be you?" + +"Here!" replied the minister. + +The old man came scrambling over the sand. He was panting and much +excited. + +"Mr. Ellery!" he cried, "Mr. Ellery! it's settled for us--one part of +it, anyhow. He's slipped his cable." + +"What?" The minister sprang up. + +"Yup. He must have died just a little while after you left and after I +gave him his medicine. I thought he looked kind of queer then. And when +the doctor came we went in together and he was dead. Yes, sir, dead." + +"Dead!" + +"Um--hm. No doubt of it; it's for good this time. Mr. Ellery, what shall +we do? Shall I tell Dr. Parker?" + +Ellery considered for a moment. "No," he said slowly. "No, Capen, don't +tell anyone. I can't see why they need ever know that he hasn't been +dead for years, as they supposed. Promise me to keep it a secret. I'll +tell--her--myself, later on. Now promise me; I trust you." + +"Land sakes, yes! I'll promise, if you want me to. I'm a widower man, so +there'll be nobody to coax it out of me. I guess you're right, cal'late +you be. What folks don't know they can't lie about, can they? and that's +good for your business--meanin' nothin' disreverent. I'll promise, Mr. +Ellery; I'll swear to it. Now come on back to the shanty. The doctor +wants you." + +The next day the body of "Murphy," foremast hand on the San Jose, was +buried in the corner of the Regular graveyard, near those who were +drowned in the wreck of that winter. There was no funeral, of course. +The minister said a prayer at the shanty, and that was all. Ebenezer +drove the wagon which was used as hearse for the occasion, and filled in +the grave himself. So great was the fear of the terrible smallpox that +the sexton would not perform even that service for its victim. + +Capen remained at the shanty another week. Then, as the minister showed +no symptoms of having contracted the disease and insisted that he needed +no companion, Ebenezer departed to take up his fishing once more. The +old man was provided with a new suit of clothes, those he had worn being +burned, and having been, to his huge disgust, fumigated until, as he +said, he couldn't smell himself without thinking of a match box, went +away. The room which the dead sailor had occupied was emptied and sealed +tight. The San Jose was to stay at her anchorage a while longer. Then, +when all danger was past, she was to be towed to Boston and sold at +auction for the benefit of the heirs of her dead skipper and owner. + +Ellery himself was most urgent in the decision that he should not go +back to the parsonage and his church just yet. Better to wait until he +was sure, he said, and Dr. Parker agreed. "I'd be willing to bet that +you are all right," declared the latter, "but I know Trumet, and if I +SHOULD let you go and you did develop even the tail end of a case of +varioloid--well, 'twould be the everlasting climax for you and me in +this county." + +Staying alone was not unpleasant, in a way. The "dead line" still +remained, of course, and callers did not attempt to pass it, but they +came more frequently and held lengthy conversations at a respectful +distance. Ellery did his own cooking, what little there was to do, but +so many good things were pushed under the ropes that he was in a fair +way to develop weight and indigestion. Captain Zeb Mayo drove down at +least twice a week and usually brought Mrs. Coffin with him. From them +and from the doctor the prisoner learned the village news. Once Captain +Elkanah and Annabel came, and the young lady's gushing praise of the +minister's "heroism" made its recipient almost sorry he had ever heard +of the San Jose. + +Dr. Parker told him of Grace Van Horne's return to the village. She had +come back, so the doctor said, the day before, and was to live at the +tavern for a while, at least. Yes, he guessed even she had given up hope +of Captain Nat now. + +"And say," went on Parker, "how are you feeling?" + +"Pretty well, thank you," replied the minister. "I seem to be rather +tired and good for nothing. More so than I was during the worst of it." + +"No wonder. A chap can't go through what you did and not feel some +reaction. I expected that. Don't get cold, that's all. But what I want +to know is whether you think I could leave you for a couple of days? +The Ostable County Medical Society meets at Hyannis to-morrow and I had +promised myself to take it in this year. But I don't want to leave you, +if you need me." + +Ellery insisted that he did not need anyone, was getting along finely, +and would not hear of his friend's missing the medical society's +meeting. So the physician went. + +"Good-by," he called as he drove off. "I guess your term is pretty +nearly over. I shall let you out of jail inside of four or five days, if +you behave yourself." + +This should have been cheering news, but, somehow, John Ellery did not +feel cheerful that afternoon. The tired feeling he had spoken of so +lightly was worse than he had described it, and he was despondent, for +no particular reason. That night he slept miserably and awoke with a +chill to find a cold, pouring rain beating against the windows of the +shanty. + +He could not eat and he could not keep warm, even with the cook-stove +top red hot and a blanket over his shoulders. By noon the chill had +gone and he was blazing with fever. Still the rain and the wind, and no +visitors at the ropes, not even the light-keeper. + +He lay down on his bed and tried to sleep, but though he dozed a bit, +woke always with a start and either a chill or fever fit. His head began +to ache violently. And then, in the lonesomeness and misery, fear began +to take hold of him. + +He remembered the symptoms the doctor had warned him against, headache, +fever, and all the rest. He felt his wrists and arms and began to +imagine that beneath the skin were the little bunches, like small shot, +that were the certain indications. Then he remembered how that other man +had looked, how he had died. Was he to look that way and die like that? +And he was all alone, they had left him alone. + +Night came. The rain had ceased and stars were shining clear. Inside the +shanty the minister tossed on the bed, or staggered back and forth about +the two rooms. He wondered what the time might be; then he did not care. +He was alone. The smallpox had him in its grip. He was alone and he +was going to die. Why didn't some one come? Where was Mrs. Coffin? And +Grace? She was somewhere near him--Parker had said so--and he must see +her before he died. He called her name over and over again. + +The wind felt cold on his forehead. He stumbled amidst the beach grass. +What was this thing across his path? A rope, apparently, but why should +there be ropes in that house? There had never been any before. He +climbed over it and it was a climb of hundreds of feet and the height +made him giddy. That was a house, another house, not the one he had been +living in. And there were lights all about. Perhaps one of them was the +light at the parsonage. And a big bell was booming. That was his church +bell and he would be late for the meeting. + +Some one was speaking to him. He knew the voice. He had known it always +and would know it forever. It was the voice he wanted to hear. "Grace!" +he called. "Grace! I want you. Don't go! Don't go! Grace! oh, my dear! +don't go!" + +Then the voice had gone. No, it had not gone. It was still there and he +heard it speaking to him, begging him to listen, pleading with him to +go somewhere, go back, back to something or other. And there was an arm +about his waist and some one was leading him, helping him. He broke down +and cried childishly and some one cried with him. + + +Early the next morning, just as day was breaking, a buggy, the horse +which drew it galloping, rocked and bumped down the lighthouse lane. +Dr. Parker, his brows drawn together and his lips set with anxiety, was +driving. He had been roused from sleep in the hotel at Hyannis by a boy +with a telegram. "Come quick," it read. "Mr. Ellery sick." The sender +was Noah Ellis, the lightkeeper. The doctor had hired a fast horse, +ridden at top speed to Bayport, gotten a fresh horse there and hurried +on. He stopped at his own house but a moment, merely to rouse his wife +and ask her if there was any fresh news. But she had not even heard of +the minister's seizure. + +"My soul, Will!" she cried, "you don't think it's the smallpox, do you?" + +"Lord knows! I'm afraid so," groaned her husband. "WHAT made me leave +him? I ought to have known better. If that boy dies, I'll never draw +another easy breath." + +He rushed out, sprang into the buggy, and drove on. At the ropes, early +as it was, he found a small group waiting and gazing at the shanty. +The lightkeeper was there and two or three other men. They were talking +earnestly. + +"How is he, Noah?" demanded the doctor, jumping to the ground. + +"I don't know, doc," replied Ellis. "I ain't heard sence last night when +I telegraphed you." + +"Haven't heard? What do you mean by that? Haven't you been with him?" + +"No-o," was the rather sheepish reply. "You see, I--I wanted to, but my +wife's awful scart I'll catch it and--" + +"The devil!" Dr. Parker swore impatiently. "Who is with him then? You +haven't left him alone, have you?" + +"No-o," Noah hesitated once more. "No-o, he ain't alone. She's there." + +"She? Who? Keziah Coffin?" + +"I don't cal'late Keziah's heard it yet. We was waitin' for you 'fore we +said much to anybody. But she's there--the--the one that found him. You +see, he was out of his head and wanderin' up the lane 'most to the main +road and she'd been callin' on Keziah and when she come away from the +parsonage she heard him hollerin' and goin' on and--" + +"Who did?" + +"Why"--the lightkeeper glanced at his companions--"why, doc, 'twas Grace +Van Horne. And she fetched him back to the shanty and then come and got +me to telegraph you." + +"Grace Van Horne! Grace Van--Do you mean to say she is there with him +NOW?" + +"Yes. She wouldn't leave him. She seemed 'most as crazy's he was. My +wife and me, we--" + +But Parker did not wait to hear the rest. He ran at full speed to the +door of the shanty. Grace herself opened it. + +"How is he?" demanded the doctor. + +"I think he seems a little easier; at any rate, he's not delirious. He's +in there. Oh, I'm so thankful you've come." + +"Is that the doctor?" called Ellery weakly from the next room. "Is it?" + +"Yes," replied Parker, throwing off his coat and hat. "Coming, Mr. +Ellery." + +"For God's sake, doctor, send her away. Don't let her stay. Make her go. +Make her GO! I've got the smallpox and if she stays she will die. Don't +you understand? she MUST go." + +"Hush, John," said Grace soothingly. "Hush, dear." + +Dr. Parker stopped short and looked at her. She returned the look, but +without the slightest semblance of self-consciousness or embarrassment. +She did not realize that she had said anything unusual, which must +sound inexplicably strange to him. Her thoughts were centered in that +adjoining room and she wondered why he delayed. + +"Well?" she asked impatiently. "What is it? Why do you wait?" + +The doctor did not answer. However, he waited no longer, but hurried in +to his new patient. + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT + + +The news was flying from house to house along the main road. Breakfasts +were interrupted as some neighbor rushed in to tell the story which +another neighbor had brought to him or her. Mr. Ellery was very sick +and it was feared he had the smallpox, that was what Mrs. Parker, the +doctor's wife, told those who lived near her. By the time the Corners +heard of it the tale had grown until the minister was said to be dying. +And when it reached Gaius Winslow's home at the upper end of the town he +was reported dead. This was denied, upon investigation, but soon another +rumor grew and spread; Grace Van Horne was with him, had taken him back +to the shanty, and insisted upon staying there until the doctor came. +Facing that dreadful disease and--It was wonderful--and queer. + +At the Danielses' house the servant girl rushed into the dining room to +serve the toast and the story at one swoop. Captain Elkanah's dignity +deserted him for an instant and his egg spoon jingled to the floor. +Annabel's face turned a dull red. Her eyes flashed sparks. + +"Pa!" she cried, "I--I--if you don't do something now I'll never--" + +Her father shook his head warningly. "Debby," he said to the maid, "you +needn't wait." + +Debby departed reluctantly. After the kitchen door had closed, Captain +Elkanah said: "My dear, we mustn't be too hasty in this matter. +Remember, Mr. Ellery is very sick. As for--for the Van Horne girl, we +haven't heard the whole truth yet. She may not be there at all, or it +may be just an accident--" + +"Accident! Pa, you make me boil. Accident! Accidents like that don't +happen. If you let her stay there, or if--Oh, to think of it! And we +were calling him a hero and--and everything! Hero! he stayed there just +so she might--" + +"Hush! hush, child!" + +"I shan't hush. Pa, are you going to let him disgrace himself with HER?" + +"No, no. Probably there ain't any idea of his marrying her. If there +is--" + +"If there is you put him out of the church and out of this town. And +as for HER--O-oh! And we've been having him here at dinner and--and I +have--Oh, I shall die! I wish I WAS dead!" + +Then followed hysterics and agony, greedily listened to by Debby, whose +ear was at the crack of the door. Captain Elkanah soothed and pleaded +and tried to pacify. It ended by his promising to investigate and, if +necessary, take steps 'immejitly.' + +Lavinia Pepper sprung the mine on her brother. Kyan was horrified. He +had grown to be one of Ellery's most devoted worshipers. + +"Smallpox!" he groaned. "The minister got the smallpox. Oh! that's +turrible." + +"Ain't it?" observed his sister, also horrified, but rather relishing +the horror. "And if it hadn't been for Gracie Van Horne--" + +"WHAT?" + +"What's the matter with you? I say, if Gracie Van Horne hadn't happened +to meet him, wanderin' around, crazy as a coot, and toted him back--" + +"Gracie--Van--Horne! Godfreys mighty! She--she met him? Where? Down to +Peters's grove, was it?" + +"Peters's grove! No. What on earth made you think 'twas there? She'd +been visitin' Keziah Coffin at the parsonage, and when she come out +on the main road she heard him aravin' down the lane. Must have passed +right by this house and we never heard him. I never see such a dead man +as you be when you're asleep. You don't SOUND dead, I'll say that for +you, but nothin' wakes you up." + +"Why, Laviny! you never woke up yourself." + +"That's right, lay it onto me. I expected you would; it's just like +you. But why in time did you think Grace met the minister way down to +Peters's grove? That's the most loony notion ever I heard, even from +you. What made you think of it?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. I guess I WAS loony, maybe. Dear! dear! dear! have +you heard how's he's gettin' on? Is he took bad?" + +"I ain't heard nothin' yet, nobody has. But see here, 'Bish Pepper, you +act funny to me. I want to know more about that Peters's grove notion. +WHY did you say it?" + +Kyan wriggled upon the rack and dodged and squirmed for the next twenty +minutes. He tried his best to keep the fateful secret, but he admitted +too much, or not enough, and his sister kept up the cross-examination. +At the end of the session she was still unsatisfied, but she was on +the scent and her brother knew it. He fled to the woodshed and there +punctuated his morning task of kindling chopping with groans and awful +forebodings. + +One of the very first to hear of the minister's illness was Keziah +Coffin. Mrs. Parker told her and Keziah started for the beach before the +tale of Grace's part in the night's happenings reached the village. She +did not wait for a conveyance, hardly waited to throw a shawl over her +shoulders, but began to cover the three miles on foot. She had walked +nearly two thirds of the distance when Captain Zeb Mayo overtook her and +gave her a seat in his chaise. + +They said little during the drive, the shock and anxiety forbidding +conversation. At the ropes was the same group, larger now, and Dr. +Parker's horse was hitched to one of the posts. + +"You can't go in, Mrs. Coffin," said Thoph Black. "The doctor give us +his orders not to let nobody get by. I guess nobody wants to, but all +the same--" + +Keziah paid not the slightest attention to Mr. Black. She stooped +beneath his arm, under the rope and was on her way to the shanty before +they realized her intention. Captain Zeb roared a command for her to +return, but she kept on. No one followed, not even the captain. Mrs. +Mayo had strictly forbidden his passing the dead line. + +Keziah opened the door and entered the little building. The living room +was empty, but at the sound of her step some one came from the room +adjoining. That some one was Grace. + +"Aunt Keziah!" she cried. "What did you come here for? Why did you?" + +"Gracie!" exclaimed the housekeeper. "You?--YOU?" + +Dr. Parker appeared, holding up a hand for silence. + +"Hush!" he cried. "He's quiet now and I think he will sleep. Don't talk +here. Go outside, if you must talk--and I suppose you must." + +Grace led the way. Fortunately, the door was on the side not visible +from the spot where Captain Zeb and the rest were standing. Keziah, +bewildered and amazed at the girl's presence, followed dumbly. + +"Now, auntie," whispered Grace, turning to her, "you want to know how +he is, of course. Well, I think he is better. The doctor thinks so, too. +But why did you come here?" + +"Why did I come? I? Why, because my place was here. I belonged here. +For the love of mercy's sakes what are YOU doin' here? With HIM? And the +smallpox!" + +"Hush. I can't help it. I don't care. I don't care for anything any +more. I'm glad I came. I'm glad I was the one to find him and help him. +No matter what happens--to me--I'm glad. I never was so glad before. I +love him, Aunt Keziah. I can say it to you, for you know it--you must +know it. I LOVE him and he needed me and I came. He was calling my name +when I found him. He might have died there, alone in the wet and cold, +and I saved him. Think what that means to me." + +The girl was in a sort of frenzy of excitement and hysterical +exaltation. All the night she had been calm and quiet, repressing her +feelings, and tending the man she loved. Now, with some one to whom she +could confide, she was calm no longer. Keziah answered her soothingly, +questioning her from time to time, until, at last, she learned the whole +story. + +The door opened softly and Dr. Parker came out. + +"He's asleep," he said. "And he's better, much better. And I'll tell you +something else, if you won't make too much noise about it--he hasn't got +the smallpox." + +The two women looked at him. + +"Fact," he said, with an emphatic nod. "Not a symptom of it. I'd have +bet my best hat that he wasn't going to have it and I won't have to go +bareheaded yet awhile. He is pretty close to brain fever, though, but I +guess he'll dodge that this time, with care. On the whole, Keziah, I'm +glad you came. This young lady," with a movement of the head toward +Grace, "has done her part. She really saved his life, if I'm not +mistaken. Now, I think she can go away and leave him to you and me. I'll +pretty nearly guarantee to have him up and out of this--this pesthole in +a fortnight." + +Here was joyful tidings, the better for being so unexpected. Keziah +leaned against the boards and drew a long breath. Grace said nothing, +but, after a moment, she went into the house. + +"That's a good thing, too," commented Parker, watching her as she went. +"I wanted to talk with you, Keziah Coffin, and right away. Now, then, +there's something up, something that I don't know about, and I rather +guess you do. Young women--even when they're her kind and that's as good +a kind as there is--don't risk smallpox for any young man they pick up +casually. They don't carry--I guess it was pretty nearly carrying--him +home and put him to bed and care for him and cry over him and call him +'dear.' And he doesn't beg them to run away and let him die rather than +to stay there and risk dying, too. No, not to any great extent. Now, +Keziah, you and I are fairly good friends and we ought to know each +other by this time. I see a light--a little one. Now, then, if you turn +up the lamp, so that I can see the whole blaze, maybe I can help those +two in yonder." + +Keziah considered. "All right, doctor," she said, when she reached a +decision, "all right; I'll tell you the whole thing, and you can see one +of the reasons why my hair is gettin' grayer. This thing has reached the +point now where there's no keepin' it quiet. Folk'll know--I s'pose they +know already--that she's been here with him. They'll suspect a lot more +and the truth is better than suspicion--that is, it can't be worse than +the suspicions that come natural to a good many minds in this town. I +am glad I can tell you, for I guess the time's come to step out in +broad daylight and h'ist our colors. Now, you listen. Here 'tis, from +beginnin' to end." + +She went on to tell all she knew of her parson's love story. + +Dr. Parker listened. + +"Hum!" he said thoughtfully, "I see. What made her change her mind so +suddenly? You say, or you gather from what Mr. Ellery told you, that she +had all but agreed to marry him. She cares for him, that's sure. Then, +all at once, she throws him over and accepts Nat. Of course her uncle's +sudden seizure was a shock and he wanted Nat to have her, but she isn't +the kind of girl to be easily swayed. Why did she do it?" + +"Well, doctor, that's kind of a puzzle to me. All I can think is that +she come to realize what it might mean to him, the minister, if he +married a Come-Outer. I think she done it for his sake, to save him, +though what made her realize it all at once I don't know. There's the +part we ain't heard." + +"I guess you're right. Something happened between the time she left +Ellery and when you and I reached the tavern. But never mind that, that +doesn't count now. Let's look at things as they are this minute. She's +here and folks know it. As they do know it they'll begin to talk, and +the more they talk the farther from the truth they'll get--most of 'em. +Nat, poor chap, is dead, so her promise to him is canceled. Ellery will +get well if he isn't troubled, and her being with him will help more +than anything else. I can understand now why he broke down." + +"Yes, he ain't been himself since it happened." + +"Of course, and the last few weeks of worry and night work have helped +to wreck his nerves. Well, as I see it, there's only one thing to do. If +she leaves him he'll go to pieces again, so she mustn't leave. And she +can't stay without an explanation. I say let's give the explanation; +let's come right out with the announcement that they're engaged." + +"Whew! that'll stir things up." + +"You bet! But let it stir. I like that parson of yours; he's a trump. +And I always liked her, although, generally speaking, I don't love +Come-Outers. And I like her more than ever now, when she risked what she +thought was smallpox to care for him. As I said, she saved his life, and +she ought to have him. She SHALL have him." + +"But she's a Come-Outer and--there's the church." + +"Well, I know it. But he never was so popular as he is now. And she +isn't by any means a steady-going Come-Outer. Why, Zeke Bassett and +the rest have been finding fault with her and calling her a backslider. +That'll help. Then you trust me to whoop up her heroism and the fact +that without her he would have died. We can do it, Keziah. Come on! I've +tackled a good many jobs, but matchmaking isn't one of 'em. Here goes to +tackle that." + +Keziah was delighted; here was work after her own heart. But she still +hesitated. + +"Doctor," she said, "you've forgot one thing, that's Gracie herself. +Would she marry him now, knowing it may mean the loss of his ministry +and all, any more than she would at first? I don't believe it." + +"That's your part, Keziah. You've got to show her she MUST marry him or +he'll die; see? Call on me to back you up in any fairy yarn you spin. +You prove to her it's her duty to marry him. You'll have to stay, here +and help nurse, of course, and that's easy because his disease isn't +contagious. You convince her and I'll take care of the congregation. +He'll live to be minister here for the rest of his life, if he wants to, +and she'll be a minister's wife and sit in the front pew. I'll guarantee +the church if you'll guarantee the girl. Why, it's your duty! Come, now, +what do you say?" + +Keziah's hesitation was at an end. Her face lit up. + +"I say good!" she cried. "And I'll be thankful to you all the rest of +my life. But for the dear mercy sakes, don't say 'duty' to me again. Oh, +doctor, if you only knew what it means to me to be fightin' at last for +somethin' that ain't just duty, but what I really want! I do honestly +believe we can win. Glory, hallelujah! And now I want to give you a +piece of advice, your course for the first leg, as you might say: you +see Cap'n Zebedee Mayo." + +"Humph! Cap'n Zeb is the first man I mean to see." + +Captain Zeb listened with his mouth and eyes and ears open. Mrs. Mayo +was with him when the doctor called, and she, too, listened. + +"Well!" exclaimed the captain, when the plea for support was ended. +"Well, by the flukes of Jonah's whale! Talk about surprises! Old lady, +what do you say?" + +"I say go ahead, Zebedee. Go ahead! If Mr. Ellery wanted to marry +Jezebel's sister, and I knew he really wanted to, I'd--I do believe I'd +help him get her. And Grace Van Horne is a good girl. Go ahead." + +"Of course," put in Parker, profiting by a hint of Mrs. Coffin's, +"of course Daniels will fight tooth and nail against us. He'll be for +discharging Ellery at once. And he really runs the parish committee." + +"He does, hey? Well, I cal'late he don't. Not if I'm on deck, he don't. +All right, doctor, I'm with you. He, he, he!" he chuckled. "Say, doc, do +you know I sort of love a good lively row. That's been the only trouble +with our society sence Mr. Ellery took command of it--there ain't been +any rows. He, he, he! Well, there'll be one now." + +There was, and it was lively enough to suit even Captain Zeb. Dr. +Parker, on his calls that day, was assailed with a multitude of +questions concerning Grace's presence at the shanty. He answered them +cheerfully, dilating upon the girl's bravery, her good sense, and the +fact that she had saved Mr. Ellery's life. Then he confided, as a strict +secret, the fact that the two were engaged. Before his hearers had +recovered from the shock of this explosion, he was justifying the +engagement. Why shouldn't they marry if they wanted to? It was a free +country. The girl wasn't a Come-Outer any longer, and, besides--and this +carried weight in a good many households--what a black eye the marriage +would be for that no-account crowd at the chapel. + +Captain Zebedee, having shipped with the insurgents, worked for them +from sunrise to sunset and after. Zeb was something of a politician and +knew whom to "get at." He sought his fellows on the parish committee and +labored with them. Mrs. Mayo and the doctor's wife championed the cause +at sewing circle. They were lively, those sewing meetings, and the fur +flew. Didama Rogers and Lavinia Pepper were everywhere and ready to +agree with whichever side seemed likely to win. Lavinia was so deeply +interested that she forgot to catechise Abishai further about his +untimely reference to Peters's grove. And Kyan, puzzled but thankful, +kept silence. + +It was by no means a one-sided struggle. Captain Elkanah, spurred on by +the furious Annabel, marshaled his forces and proclaimed that Ellery, +having disgraced the Regular Society, should no longer occupy its +pulpit. + +"If he does," thundered Elkanah, "I shall never cross the threshold of +that church. And I've worshiped there for fifty years. Hum--ha! I should +like to know whose money has gone more liberal for that meeting house +than mine! But not another cent--no, sir! not one--if that licentious +young scamp continues to blaspheme there." + +He hinted concerning a good-sized contribution toward a parish house, +something the society needed. If Ellery was discharged, the contribution +would probably be made, not otherwise. And this was a point worth +considering. + +Daniels also wrote to his influential friends of the National Regular +Society. But Captain Zebedee had forestalled him there and both letters +were laid on the table to await further developments. As for the +Come-Outers, they were wild with rage and Grace was formally read out of +their communion. + +"I wonder," shrieked Ezekiel Bassett, in prayer meeting, "what the +sperrit of the good and great man who used to lead us from this 'ere +platform would say if he was here now? Hey? what would he say?" + +Josiah Badger upreared his lanky person. "I dreamed about Cap'n +Eben t'other n-nin-nun-night," he stammered. "I see him just +as--p-pup-pup-plain as you hear me n-n-now. And he says to me, he says, +Josiah,' he says, 'I-I-I-I--'" + +"Ki yi!" broke in Thoph Baker, from the shadow of the rear seat. Josiah +turned to berate Thoph, who, being in disgrace because of his defense of +Ellery, was reckless, and the communication from the dead leader of the +Come-Outers was lost in the squabble which followed. + +Meantime Keziah, installed as head nurse at the shanty, was having her +troubles. The minister was getting better, slowly but surely getting +better. The danger of brain fever was at an end, but he was very weak +and must not be excited, so the doctor said. He knew nothing of the +struggle for and against him which was splitting Trumet in twain, and +care was taken that he should not know it. He was not allowed to talk, +and, for the most part, was quite contented to be silent, watching Grace +as she moved about the room. If he wondered why she was still with him, +he said nothing, and the thought of what his congregation might say did +not vex him in the least. She was there, he saw her every day, that was +enough. + +He had expressed a wish to talk with his housekeeper. "I've got +something to tell you, Aunt Keziah," he said weakly. "Some news for you +and--and--" + +"Cat's foot!" snapped Keziah briskly, "don't start in tellin' me news +now. I've got my hands full as 'tis. News'll keep and you won't, if you +talk another minute." + +"But this is important." + +"So are you, though you may not think so. If you don't believe it ask +Grace." + +"Well," the minister sighed. "Well, perhaps I won't tell it now. I'd +rather wait until I feel stronger. You won t care, will you? It will be +hard to tell and I--" + +"No, no! Care? No. If it's bad news I don't want to hear it, and if it's +good I can wait, I cal'late. You turn over and take a nap." + +She could manage him; it was with Grace that she had her struggle. John +was safe now; he would be himself again before very long, and the girl +had begun to think of his future and his reputation. She knew that +gossip must be busy in the village, and, much as she wished to remain by +his side, she decided that she should not do so. And then Keziah began +to fulfill her agreement with Dr. Parker. + +First, and bluntly, she told the girl that her leaving now was useless. +The secret was out; it had been made public. Everyone knew she was +in love with John and he with her. Their engagement was considered an +established certainty. Grace was greatly agitated and very indignant. + +"Who dared say so?" she demanded. "Who dared say we were engaged? It's +not true. It's a wicked lie and--Who is responsible, Aunt Keziah?" + +"Well, I suppose likely I am, much as anybody, deary." + +"You? You, Aunt Keziah?" + +"Yup; me. You are in love with him; at any rate, you said so. And you're +here with him, ain't you? If you two ain't engaged you ought to be." + +"Aunt Keziah, how can you speak so? Don't you realize--" + +"Look here. Don't you want to marry him?" + +"WANT to? Oh, please--How can you? I--" + +"S-s-sh! There! there! I am a bull-headed old thing, for sure. But I'm +like the dog that chased the rat across the shelf where they kept the +best china, my intentions are good. Don't cry, deary. Let's get to the +bottom of this thing, as the man said when he tumbled into the well. +When I first knew that you and John were in love with each other, I felt +dreadful. I knew your uncle and I knew Trumet. If you had married then, +or let people know that you thought of it, 'twould have been the end, +and ruin for John and you. But things are diff'rent now, a good deal +diff'rent. John is worshiped pretty nigh, since his pluck with that +smallpox man. He could go into church and dance a jig in the pulpit and +nobody--or precious few, at least--would find fault. And you've stood +by him. If it wa'n't for you he wouldn't be here to-day, and people know +that. Dr. Parker and Captain Zebedee and Gaius Winslow and dozens more +are fighting for him and for you. And the doctor says they are going to +win. Do you want to spoil it all?" + +"Aunt Keziah, that night before uncle died I was upstairs in my room and +I heard uncle and Captain Elkanah Daniels talking." + +"Elkanah? Was he there at your house?" + +"Yes. Somehow or other--I don't know how--he had learned about--about +John and me. And he was furious. Aunt Keziah, I heard him say that +unless I broke off with John he would drive him from the ministry and +from Trumet and disgrace him forever. He said that if I really cared for +him I would not ruin his life. That brought me to myself. I realized how +wicked I had been and what I was doing. That was why I--I--" + +"There! there! Tut! tut! tut! hum! Now I see. But, Gracie, you ain't +goin' to ruin his life. No, nor Elkanah ain't goin' to do it, either. +He can't, no matter how hard he tries. I've lived to see the day when +there's a bigger man in the Reg'lar church than Elkanah Daniels, and I +thank the good Lord for it." + +"I never should have come here. I know it. But he needed me. Aunt +Keziah, he was sick and dying almost, and I couldn't leave him. I came, +and now he will be ruined and disgraced." + +"He won't, I tell you; he won't. Listen to me. I ain't talkin' for my +health. Listen!" + +She argued and pleaded and coaxed, and, at last, when she began to think +she had prevailed, Grace brought forward another objection. She had +given her word to her uncle. How could she break that promise made to a +dying man? She would feel like a traitor. + +"Traitor to who?" demanded the housekeeper, losing patience. "Not +to poor Nat, for he's gone. And don't you suppose that he and Eben +understand things better now, where they are? Do you suppose that Nat +wouldn't want you to be happy? I know he would, for I knew him." + +It was still unsettled when the long talk was over, but Grace agreed not +to leave the minister at present. She would stay where she was until he +was himself again, at least. Keziah was satisfied with the preliminary +skirmish. She felt confident of winning the victory, and in the prospect +of happiness for others, she was almost happy herself. Yet each time the +mail was brought to the shanty she dreaded to look at it, and the sight +of a stranger made her shake with fear. Ansel Coffin had threatened to +come to Trumet. If he came, she had made up her mind what to do. + +The parish committee was to meet. Captain Elkanah had announced his +intention of moving that John Ellery be expelled from the Regular +church. There was to be no compromise, no asking for a resignation; he +must be discharged, thrown out in disgrace. The county papers were full +of the squabble, but they merely reported the news and did not take +sides. The fight was too even for that. + +Captain Zeb chuckled. "It's all right, Keziah," he said. "We know what's +what and who's who. The Rev. Mr. Ellery can preach here for the next +hundred year, if he lives that long and wants to, and he can marry +whoever he darn pleases, besides. Elkanah's licked and he knows it. He +ain't got enough backers to man a lobster dory. Let him holler; noise +don't scare grown folks." + +One afternoon a few days before the date set for the meeting Elkanah +and two or three of his henchmen were on the piazza of the Daniels home, +discussing the situation. They were blue and downcast. Annabel was in +the sitting room, shedding tears of humiliation and jealous rage on the +haircloth sofa. + +"Well," observed her father, "there's one thing we can do. If the +vote in committee goes against us, I shall insist on the calling of a +congregational meeting. Hum--ha! Yes, I shall insist on that." + +"Won't be no good, cap'n," sniffed Beriah Salters dolefully. "The +biggest part of the congregation's for Ellery, and you know it. They're +as sot on him as if he was the angel Gabriel. If you'd only told what +you knew afore this smallpox business, we'd have been able to give him +and his Come-Outer woman what b'longs to 'em. But not now." + +Captain Daniels shifted uneasily in his chair. + +"Hum--ha!" he barked, to cover confusion. "Hum--ha! It seemed to me +more--er--charitable to give the misguided young man another chance, and +I did it. But--What's that?" + +Some one was talking excitedly on the sidewalk beyond the lilac bushes +at the border of the Daniels property. Voices answered. Didama Rogers +darted out of her yard and past the house in the direction of the +sounds. Salters rose and walked down to the gate. + +"Hey!" he shouted. "Halloo! Ahoy there! You, Em'lous, what is it?" + +Emulous Sparrow, the fish peddler, was seated in his cart, which was +surrounded by men and women, neighbors of the Danielses. There was a +perfect storm of questionings and ejaculations. Salters opened the gate +and joined the group. A moment later he came running back, up the walk +toward the piazza. + +"Cap'n," he shouted. "Cap'n Elkanah, here's news! What do you think? A +telegram's just come from Nat Hammond. He's safe and sound in New York, +and he'll be here day after to-morrow." + +They could not believe it and rushed out to hear more. Emulous, glowing +with importance, affirmed that it was so. He had seen the telegram at +the store. It was for Grace Van Horne and they were just going to send a +boy over to the shanty with it. + +"No details nor nothin'," he declared. "Just said 'Am all right. +Arrived to-day. Will be in Trumet Thursday.' And 'twas signed 'Nathaniel +Hammond.' There!" + +"Well, by thunder!" exclaimed Salters. "If that don't beat all. I +wonder what's happened to him? Two year gone and give up for dead, and +now--What do you cal'late it means?" + +Captain Elkanah seized him by the arm and led him out of the group. +The old man's face was alight with savage joy and his voice shook with +exultation. + +"I'll tell you one thing it means," he whispered. "It means the end of +Ellery, so far as his marrying her is concerned. She gave her word to +Hammond and she'll keep it. She's no liar, whatever else she is. He may +be minister of the Regular church, though I'LL never set under him, but +he'll never marry her, now." + + +CHAPTER XIX + +IN WHICH A RECEPTION IS CALLED OFF + + +Far out on the Pacific coast there are two small islands, perhaps +a hundred miles distant from one another. The first of these is +uninhabited. On the other is a little colony of English-speaking people, +half-breed descendants of native women and the survivors of a crew from +a British vessel cast away there in the latter part of the eighteenth +century. + +On the first of these islands, the smaller one, the Sea Mist had been +wrecked. Driven out of her course by a typhoon, she staggered through +day after day and night after night of terrific wind and storm until, +at last, there was promise of fair weather. Captain Nat, nearly worn out +from anxiety, care, and the loss of sleep, had gone to his stateroom +and the first mate was in charge. It was three o'clock, the wind still +blowing and the darkness pitchy, when the forward lookout shrieked a +warning, "Breakers under the lee!" Almost the next instant the ship was +on a coral reef, full of water, and the seas breaking over her from stem +to stern. + +Morning came and showed a little patch of land, with palm trees and +tropical vegetation waving in the gusts and green in the sunshine. +Captain Nat ordered the boats to be lowered. Much as he hated the +thought, he saw that the Sea Mist had made her last voyage and must +be abandoned. He went to the cabin, collected papers and charts and +prepared to leave. The ship's money, over ten thousand dollars in gold +belonging to the owner and to be used in trade and speculation among the +East Indies, he took with him. Then the difficult and dangerous passage +through the opening in the reef was begun. + +Only the captain's boat reached the shore. The mate's was caught by a +huge breaker, dashed against the reef and sunk. Captain Nat, his second +mate and five of his men were all that was left of the Sea Mist's +company. And on that island they remained for nearly two weeks. +Provisions they had brought ashore with them. Water they found by +digging. Nat hid the gold at night, burying it on the beach below +high-water mark. + +Then, having made sure of his location by consulting the chart, he +determined to attempt a voyage to the second island, where he knew +the English colony to be. Provisions were getting short, and to remain +longer where they were was to risk starvation and all its horrors. So, +in the longboat, which was provided with a sail, they started. Charts +and papers and the gold the skipper took with them. None of the crew +knew of the existence of the money; it was a secret which the captain +kept to himself. + +A hundred miles they sailed in the longboat and, at last, the second +island was sighted. They landed and found, to their consternation and +surprise, that it, too, was uninhabited. The former residents had grown +tired of their isolation and, a trading vessel having touched there, had +seized the opportunity to depart for Tahiti. Their houses were empty, +their cattle, sheep, goats, and fowl roamed wild in the woods, and the +fruit was rotting on the trees. In its way the little island was +an Eyeless Eden, flowing with milk and honey; but to Captain Nat, a +conscientious skipper with responsibilities to his owners, it was a +prison from which he determined to escape. Then, as if to make escape +impossible, a sudden gale came up and the longboat was smashed by the +surf. + +"I guess that settles it," ruefully observed the second mate, "another +Cape Codder, from Hyannis. Cal'late we'll stay here for a spell now, +hey, Cap'n." + +"For a spell, yes," replied Nat. "We'll stay here until we get another +craft to set sail in, and no longer." + +"Another craft? ANOTHER one? Where in time you goin' to get her?" + +"Build her," said Captain Nat cheerfully. Then, pointing to the row of +empty houses and the little deserted church, he added, "There's timber +and nails--yes, and cloth, such as 'tis. If I can't build a boat out of +them I'll agree to eat the whole settlement." + +He did not have to eat it, for the boat was built. It took them six +months to build her, and she was a curious-looking vessel when done, +but, as the skipper said, "She may not be a clipper, but she'll sail +anywhere, if you give her time enough." He had been the guiding +spirit of the whole enterprise, planning it, laying the keel, burning +buildings, to obtain nails and iron, hewing trees for the largest beams, +showing them how to spin ropes from cocoa-nut fiber, improvising sails +from the longboat's canvas pieced out with blankets and odd bits of +cloth from the abandoned houses. Even a strip of carpet from the church +floor went into the making of those sails. + +At last she was done, but Nat was not satisfied. + +"I never commanded a ship where I couldn't h'ist Yankee colors," he +said, "and, by the everlastin'! I won't now. We've got to have a flag." + +So, from an old pair of blue overalls, a white cotton shirt, and the +red hangings of the church pulpit, he made a flag and hoisted it to the +truck of his queer command. They provisioned her, gave her a liberal +supply of fresh water, and, one morning, she passed through the opening +of the lagoon out to the deep blue of the Pacific. And, hidden in her +captain's stateroom under the head of his bunk, was the ten thousand +dollars in gold. For Nat had sworn to himself, by "the everlasting" +and other oaths, to deliver that money to his New York owners safe and, +necessary expenses deducted of course, untouched. + +For seven weeks the crazy nondescript slopped across the ocean. Fair +winds helped her and, at last, she entered the harbor of Nukahiva, over +twelve hundred miles away. And there--"Hammond's luck," the sailors +called it--was a United States man-of-war lying at anchor, the first +American vessel to touch at that little French settlement for five +years. The boat they built was abandoned and the survivors of the Sea +Mist were taken on board the man-of-war and carried to Tahiti. + +From Tahiti Captain Nat took passage on a French bark for Honolulu. +Here, after a month's wait, he found opportunity to leave for New York +on an American ship, the Stars and Stripes. And finally, after being +away from home for two years, he walked into the office of his New York +owners, deposited their gold on a table, and cheerfully observed, "Well, +here I am." + +That was the yarn which Trumet was to hear later on. It filled columns +of the city papers at the time, and those interested may read it, in all +its details, in a book written by an eminent author. The tale of a Cape +Cod sea captain, plucky and resourceful and adequate, as Yankee sea +captains were expected to be, and were, in those days. + +But Trumet did not hear the yarn immediately. All that it heard and all +that it knew was contained in Captain Nat's brief telegram. "Arrived +to-day. Will be home Thursday." That was all, but it was enough, for +in that dispatch was explosive sufficient to blow to atoms the doctor's +plans and Keziah's, the great scheme which was to bring happiness to +John Ellery and Grace Van Horne. + +Dr. Parker heard it, while on his way to Mrs. Prince's, and, neglecting +that old lady for the once, he turned his horse and drove as fast as +possible to the shanty on the beach. Fast as he drove, Captain Zebedee +Mayo got there ahead of him. Captain Zeb was hitching his white and +ancient steed to the post as the doctor hove in sight. + +"By mighty!" the captain exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, "I'm glad +enough you've come, doctor. I hated to go in there alone. You've heard, +of course." + +"Yes, I've heard." + +"Say, ain't it wonderful! I'm tickled all up one side and sorry all down +t'other. Nat's a true-blue feller, and I'm glad enough that he ain't +shark bait; but what about the minister and her? She's promised to Nat, +you know, and--" + +"I know. Don't I know! I've been going over the affair and trying to see +a way out ever since I heard of the telegram. Tut! tut! I'm like you, +mighty glad Hammond is safe, but it would have spared complications if +he had stayed wherever he's been for a few months longer. We would have +married those two in there by that time." + +"Sartin we would. But he didn't stay. Are you goin' to tell Mr. Ellery?" + +"Certainly not. And I hope he hasn't been told. He's getting well fast +now, but he mustn't be worried, or back he'll go again. We must see Mrs. +Coffin. Keziah is our main hold. That woman has got more sense than all +the rest of us put together." + +But it was Grace, not Keziah, who opened the shanty door in answer to +their knock. She was pale and greeted them calmly, but it was evident +that her calmness was the result of sheer will power. + +"Won't you come in, doctor?" she asked. "Good afternoon, Captain Mayo." + +Dr. Parker entered the building, but Captain Zeb remained outside, +stammering that he cal'lated he'd better stay where he could keep an eye +on his horse. This was such a transparent excuse that it would have been +funny at any other time. No one smiled now, however. + +"Is--is Mrs. Coffin--er--Keziah aboard?" the captain asked. + +"No, she isn't. She went to the parsonage a few hours ago. Mr. Ellis +brought the mail and there was a letter in it for her. She said it was +important and that she must go home to see about some things. She'll be +back pretty soon, I suppose." + +The doctor whispered her name then and she went inside, closing the door +after her. Captain Zebedee sat down on the step to ponder over the new +and apparently insurmountable difficulty which had arisen. As he said +afterwards, "The more I tried to get an observation, the thicker it got. +Blamed if I could see anything but fog, but I could hear--I could hear +Elkanah and his gang gigglin', ahead, astern and off both bows." + +Parker found his patient sleeping soundly and had not disturbed him. +Returning to the living room he spoke to Grace. + +"Humph!" he grunted, watching her from under his brows, "everything +seems to be all right in there. He hasn't been excited or anything like +that?" + +"No." + +"That's good. He mustn't be. You understand that? He mustn't be told +anything that will upset him. He's getting well fast and I want it to +continue." + +"Yes, I understand." + +"Hum! Er--have you heard--Has anyone been here?" + +"Yes. I have heard. The telegram came and I answered it." + +"You did? Well, it's a miracle and we're all thankful, of course. Did +you--er--er--" + +"Doctor, I must go home. I mustn't stay here any longer." + +"Why not?" + +"You know why not. I must be at home when he comes. You must get some +one to take my place. Aunt Keziah will stay, of course, and perhaps Mrs. +Higgins would come, or Hannah Poundberry. She--" + +"Not if I know it. I'd as soon have a hay-cutter running in here as +Hannah's tongue. I could stop a hay-cutter when it got too noisy. Well, +if you must go, you must, I suppose. But stay through tomorrow, at +any rate. Nat won't get here until Thursday, and I may be able to find +another nurse by that time. And what I shall say to him," motioning +toward the other room, "I don't know." + +"Must you say anything? Just say that I have been called away for a few +days on--on some business. Don't tell him. Don't tell him the truth, +doctor, now. He is too weak and I am afraid--" + +She stopped and turned away. The doctor watched her pityingly. + +"Cheer up," he said. "At any rate, this is only for a little while. When +the captain knows, if he's the man I take him for, he'll--" + +She whirled like a flash. "You're not going to tell him?" she cried. +"No, no! You mustn't. You must promise me you won't. Promise." + +"Somebody'll tell him. Telling things is Trumet's specialty." + +"Then you must stop it. No one must tell him--no one except me. I shall +tell him, of course. He must hear it from me and not from anyone else. +He would think I was disloyal and ungrateful--and I am! I have been! But +I was--I COULDN'T help it. You know, doctor, you know--" + +"Yes, yes, I know. Well, I'll promise, but it will all come out right, +you see. You mustn't think I--we--have been interfering in your affairs, +Grace. But we've all come to think a whole lot of that parson of ours +and what he wanted we wanted him to have, that's all." + +"I know. Thank you very much for all your kindness, and for your +promise." + +He would have liked to say much more, but he could not, under the +circumstances. He stammered a good-by and, with a question concerning +Mrs. Coffin's whereabouts, went out to join Captain Zeb. + +"Well?" queried the latter anxiously. "How is it? What's up? What's the +next tack?" + +"We'll go to the parsonage," was the gloomy answer. "If anybody can see +a glimmer in this cussed muddle Keziah Coffin can." + +Keziah was on her knees in her room, beside a trunk, the same trunk she +had been packing the day of the minister's arrival in Trumet. She was +working frantically, sorting garments from a pile, rejecting some and +keeping others. She heard voices on the walk below and went down to +admit the callers. + +"What's the matter, Keziah?" asked Dr. Parker sharply, after a look at +her face. "You look as if you'd been through the war. Humph! I suppose +you've heard the news?" + +Keziah brushed back the hair from her forehead. "Yes," she answered +slowly. "I've heard it." + +"Well, it's great news, and if it wasn't for--if things weren't as they +are, I'd be crowing hallelujahs this minute. Trumet has got a good man +safe and sound again, and the Lord knows it needs all of that kind it +can get." + +"Yes." + +"Yes. But there's the other matter. I've been to see Grace. She didn't +say so, but it was easy enough to see; the man she promised to marry and +thought was dead, is alive. She's a girl of her word--she promised him +and she promised her dying uncle--and she'll marry him. And then what +will become of John Ellery? He'll go downhill so fast that a ship's +anchor wouldn't hold him. If he doesn't die I'll have to send him away +somewhere, and the Regular church will lose the minister we've fought so +hard for." + +"Yes," concurred Zebedee, "and them blasted Danielses'll run the shebang +and the rest of us'll have to sing small, I tell you." + +"So we've come to you, Keziah," went on the doctor. "Do you see any +salvation?" + +"Yes, I do." + +"You do? Where?" + +"In Nat Hammond. If he knows Grace doesn't want to marry him, do you +suppose he'll hold her to her promise?" + +"I don't know. I'm not so sure. Men don't give up girls like that so +easy. I wouldn't--by George, I wouldn't! And she won't tell him the +whole truth, I'm afraid. She'll pretend to be glad--hang it! she IS +glad--to have him home again and--" + +"Of course she's glad. Ain't we all glad and happy and thankful? We +ought to be. But"--she hesitated--"doctor, you leave this to me. So +far as John and Grace are concerned you needn't worry. I'll take it on +myself to see that they have each other, as the Almighty meant 'em to. +Leave it to me. Just leave it to me. I KNOW I can do it." + +She would not say more, nor tell on what grounds she based her optimism. +She would go back to the shanty that evening, she said, and stay until +the following afternoon. Grace would undoubtedly go to the old tavern to +prepare for the homecoming. Let Mrs. Higgins take her place as nurse. + +"I shall have to leave, myself," she added, "for a little while; so +perhaps you'd better try to get somebody else to help the Higgins woman. +Don't ask me any questions, please don't, and be sure not to say a word +to anybody--most of all to Grace. Just do as I tell you and leave it to +me. And don't come and see me again until after--after he comes home. +Good-by, doctor. Good-by, Cap'n Zeb." + +She shook hands with each of them, a rather unusual proceeding as they +thought of it afterwards. Then they went away and left her. + +"Humph!" mused Parker, as they came out at the gate. "Humph! She seems +sure, doesn't she. And yet she doesn't act like herself. Did you notice +that?" + +"Yup. I noticed it. But I expect Nat's droppin' out of the clouds shook +her up, same as it done the rest of us. Well, never mind. She's a bully +good, capable woman and what she says she'll do she gen'rally does. I'm +bettin' on her. By time! I feel better." + +Captain Elkanah Daniels and his friends were feeling better also, and +they were busy. Trumet had a new hero now. On Wednesday the Boston +papers printed excerpts from Captain Hammond's story, and these brief +preliminary accounts aroused the admiration of every citizen. It was +proposed to give him a reception. Elkanah was the moving spirit in the +preparations. Captain Nat, so they learned by telegraphing, would arrive +on the noon train Thursday. His was not to be a prosaic progress by +stage all the way from Sandwich. A special carriage, drawn by the +Daniels span and escorted by other vehicles, was to meet the coach at +Bayport and bring him to Trumet in triumphant procession. All this was +to be a surprise, of course. + +Wednesday afternoon the Daniels following was cheered by the tidings +that Grace Van Horne had left the beach and was at her old home, the +Hammond tavern. And Mrs. Poundberry reported her busy as a bee "gettin' +things ready." This was encouraging and indicated that the minister +had been thrown over, as he deserved to be, and that Nat would find his +fiancee waiting and ready to fulfill her contract. "Reg'lar whirligig, +that girl," sniffed Didama Rogers. "If she can't have one man she'll +take the next, and then switch back soon's the wind changes. However, +most likely she never was engaged to Mr. Ellery, anyhow. He's been out +of his head and might have said some fool things that let Dr. Parker and +the rest b'lieve he was in love with her. As for pickin' of him up and +totin' him back to the shanty that night, that wa'n't nothin' but common +humanity. She couldn't let him die in the middle of the lighthouse lane, +could she?" + +Thursday was a perfect day, and the reception committee was on hand and +waiting in front of the Bayport post office. The special carriage, the +span brushed and curried until their coats glistened in the sunshine, +was drawn up beside the platform. The horses had little flags fastened +to their bridles, and there were other and larger flags on each side +of the dashboard. Captain Daniels, imposing in his Sunday raiment, +high-collared coat, stock, silk hat and gold-headed cane, sat stiffly +erect on the seat in the rear. The other carriages were alongside, among +them Captain Zebedee Mayo's ancient chaise, the white horse sound asleep +between the shafts. Captain Zeb had not been invited to join the escort, +but had joined it without an invitation. + +"I guess likely I'd better be on hand," the captain confided to Dr. +Parker. "Maybe I can stop Elkanah from talkin' too much about--well, +about what we don't want him to talk about, and besides, I'm just as +anxious to give Nat a welcome home as the next feller. He's a brick and +we're all proud of him. By mighty! I'd like to have seen that craft he +built out of cocoanuts and churches--I would so." + +Kyan Pepper was there also, not yet fully recovered from the surprise +which Lavinia's gracious permission had given him. Abishai had been +leaning disconsolately over his front gate early that morning when Noah +Ellis, the lightkeeper, jogged down the lane. + +"'Mornin', 'Bish," hailed Noah, pulling up his horse. "What's the +matter? You look bluer'n a spiled mack'rel. What's the row? Breakfast +disagree with you?" + +"Naw," replied Kyan shortly. "Where you bound, all rigged up in your +shore duds?" + +"Bound to Bayport, to see Nat Hammond land," was the cheerful answer. +"I ain't had a day off I don't know when, and I thought I'd take one. Be +great doin's over there, they tell me. Elkanah's goin' to make a speech +and there's eighteen teams of folks goin'." + +"I know it. I wisht I was goin', too, but I never have no fun. Have +to stay to home and work and slave over them consarned tax papers. +Sometimes I wish there wa'n't no taxes." + +"Humph! I've wished that, myself, more'n once. Why don't you go, if you +want to? Climb right aboard here with me. Plenty of room." + +"Hey? You mean that? By godfreys mighty! I'd like to." + +"Sartin, I mean it. Come ahead." + +Mr. Pepper sadly shook his head. "I guess likely I'd better not," he +sighed. "Laviny might not like to have me leave her." + +"Oh, fiddlesticks! she won't mind. I'll take care of you. It's perfectly +safe. There ain't goin' to be no women around. Haw! haw! haw!" + +He was still laughing at his own joke when through the slats of the +closed blinds shading the Pepper house parlor a shrill voice was heard +speaking. + +"Go ahead, 'Bishy dear," called Lavinia. "Go ahead and go. A change of +air'll do you good." + +Kyan whirled and clutched at the gate. + +"HEY?" he shouted in amazement. + +"Are you deef? Or is Mr. Ellis laughin' so hard that you can't hear? +What is it that's so funny, Mr. Ellis?" + +The light-keeper shut off his laughter by a sudden and rather frightened +gulp. + +"Oh, nothin', nothin', Miss Pepper. Nice day, ain't it?" + +"I guess so. I ain't had time to look at it yet. I have to work. I can't +let my wife do it for me, like some folks, and take 'days off.' What was +it you was laughin' at, Mr. Ellis?" + +"Nothin', nothin' at all." + +"Hum! They used to tell me there was only one kind of person who laughed +at nothin'. Well, 'Bish Pepper, what are you standin' there for? If +you're goin', come right into the house and change your clothes this +minute." + +Kyan obeyed. Shortly he reappeared, clothed like a lily of the field, +one that had long since gone to seed. He clambered up beside Noah and +they drove off. + +"Jerushy!" exclaimed the lightkeeper. "This is kind of unexpected, ain't +it? What's got into her to make her so accommodatin'?" + +"Godfreys mighty!" was the dazed reply, "I don't know. This as fast as +you can drive? Hurry up, afore she changes her mind." + +So it happened that Mr. Pepper was in Bayport with the rest, awaiting +the stage which was bringing Trumet's latest celebrity from Sandwich. + +"Here she comes!" shouted Ezra Simmons, the postmaster. "Right on time, +too." + +Sure enough! A cloud of dust in the distance, rising on the spring +wind, and the rattle of rapidly turning wheels. The reception committee +prepared for action. Captain Elkanah descended from the carriage and +moved in stately dignity to the front of the post-office platform. + +"Hum--ha!" he barked, turning to his followers. "Be ready now. Give him +a good cheer, when I say the word. Let it be hearty--hearty, yes." + +The stage, its four horses at a trot, swung up to the platform. + +"Whoa!" roared the driver. + +"Now!" ordered Elkanah. "One--two--Hurrah!" + +"Hurrah!" shouted the committee, its uninvited guests and the +accompanying crowd of Bayport men and boys which had gathered to assist +in the welcome. "Hurrah!" + +"Hooray!" yelled Kyan, a little behind, as usual. + +A passenger or two peered from the coach window. The stage driver +ironically touched his cap. + +"Thank ye," he said. "Thank ye very much. I've been hopin' for this +for a long time, though I'd about given up expectin' it. I'm very much +obliged. Won't somebody please ask me to make a speech?" + +Captain Elkanah frowned his disapproval. + +"We are cheering Cap'n Nathaniel Hammond of Trumet," he explained +haughtily. "We are here to meet him and escort him home." + +The driver sighed. "You don't say," he said. "And I thought my merits +had been recognized at last. And 'twas all for Cap'n Hammond? Dear! +dear!" + +He winked at Simmons, who wanted to laugh, but did not dare. + +"Come! come!" said Captain Elkanah. "Where is he? Where's Cap'n +Hammond?" + +"Well, now, I'll tell ye; I don't know where he is." + +"You DON'T? Isn't he with you?" + +"No, he ain't. And he didn't come on the train, nuther. He WAS on it. +The conductor told me he see him and set along with him between stations +as fur as Cohasset Narrows. But after that he never see hide nor hair of +him. Oh, that's so! Here's the mail bag, Ezry." + +Captain Elkanah looked at the reception committee and it looked at him. +Here was a most disconcerting setback for all the plans. The committee, +after asking more, and fruitless questions, went into executive session. + +Captain Zeb stepped beside the stage and put one foot on the wheel. + +"Say, Thad," he whispered, "is that all you know? Where did he go to?" + +"Can't tell you, cap'n. The conductor says he see him afore they got to +Cohasset Narrows and not after. Naturally, we s'pose he got off there. +Pretty good joke on old Daniels, I call it. Serve him right, figgerin' +to take a passenger away from me. He, he!" + +"But you do know more, now don't you? Tell a feller--come! I don't like +Elkanah any better'n you do." + +"Well," the driver's voice dropped still lower. "Well," he whispered, +"I did hear this much, though don't you tell none of them: A chap I know +was on the train and he said he see Cap'n Nat get off the cars at the +Cohasset Narrows depot and there was a woman with him." + +"A woman? A WOMAN? What woman?" + +"Blessed if I know! And he didn't nuther. So long! Git dap!" + +The reception committee and its escort drove slowly back to Trumet. The +Daniels following was disgusted and disappointed. Captain Elkanah had +figured upon keeping Hammond under his own wing until he was safely +deposited at the old tavern. Grace was there and Elkanah meant that +these two should meet before any inkling of Ellery's story reached Nat's +ears. Incidentally, he could drop a few damaging hints concerning the +minister's character. To hurt Ellery all he could and prejudice Hammond +against him--that was the plan, and now it was frustrated. The captain +had not put in an appearance and no one knew where he was or when he +would come home. Obviously, there was nothing to do except give up the +reception and await further news from the missing man. + +Some of those present wished to remain in Bayport until night. Another +train was due in Sandwich and, possibly, Nat might come on that. They +could telegraph and find out whether or not he did come, and if he did, +could send a carriage for him. But this suggestion was overruled. The +reception was off. + +The homeward journey had some unpleasant incidents. Several Come-Outers +had driven over. Nat belonged to them, so they felt--he was the son of +their dead founder and leader--and they determined the Regulars should +not have him all to themselves. They had come to bid him welcome on +behalf of the worshipers at the chapel. Now they took advantage of the +general disappointment to make sarcastic and would-be-humorous remarks +loud enough for the majestic occupant of the decorated carriage to hear. + +"Seems to me," said Thoph Black, "that them flags ought to be ha'f mast. +That craft's in distress." + +"S-sh-h!" counciled his companion, another Come-Outer. "Don't be +irreverent. Look who's cruisin' under 'em. That's the King of Trumet. +Let's you and me go ahead and fire salutes, Thoph." + +Captain Elkanah wrathfully ordered the flags to be removed from the +horses' heads and from the dashboard. + +As Noah Ellis and his passenger turned into the lighthouse lane another +vehicle turned out of it. + +"Who was that?" queried Kyan. "Looked like one of the livery stable +horses to me." + +"'Twa'n't. 'Twas Thankful Payne's and that was her carriage, too. It's +gettin' so dark I couldn't see who was drivin' it, but 'twas a man, +anyhow." + +Kyan seemed to be pondering. "I wonder," he said slowly, "I wonder if +that cousin of hers from Sandwich is here visitin'. That Caleb Pratt, +seems to me his name is." + +"Don't know. Why?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. I just wondered, that was all. That might explain why +she let me--" + +"Hey?" + +"Nothin'. Good night, Noah. I'm much obliged to you for takin' me over, +even if there wa'n't no reception." + +Trumet spent that evening wondering what had become of Nat Hammond. +Captain Zeb Mayo wondered most of all. Yet his wonderment was +accompanied by vague suspicions of the truth. And, at eleven o'clock, +when the village was in bed, a horse and buggy moved down the Turn-off +and stopped before the Hammond gate. A man alighted from the buggy and +walked briskly up to the side door. There he knocked and then whistled +shrilly. + +A window overhead was opened. + +"Who is it?" asked a feminine voice. + +"Don't be frightened, Gracie," replied the man at the door. "It's +me--Nat. I've come home again." + + +CHAPTER XX + +IN WHICH THE MINISTER RECEIVES A LETTER + + +John Ellery was uneasy. Physically he was very much better, so much +better that he was permitted to sit up a while each day. But mentally he +was disturbed and excited, exactly the condition which the doctor said +he must not be in. Keziah and Grace had gone away and left him, and he +could not understand why. + +Mrs. Higgins, Ike's mother, was at the shanty and she did her best to +soothe and quiet him. She was a kind soul and capable, in her way, but +she could not answer his questions satisfactorily. + +"Where are they?" he demanded. "Why did they go? Has anything happened? +When are they coming back?" + +"I can't tell you just when, Mr. Ellery," replied Mrs. Higgins. "Grace +had to go home for a--a day or so and Keziah had things to attend to at +the parsonage. Don't you fret yourself about them." + +"I'm not fretting, but it does seem strange. I could understand why one +should go, perhaps, but not both. Didn't Gra--Miss Van Horne tell you +why she went?" + +"Well, now, Mr. Ellery, don't let's worry about Gracie. She's a good +girl with lots of common sense and--" + +"I know that. But that doesn't answer me. Why did she go?" + +"Keziah hadn't been to the parsonage sence that day when you was fust +took sick, and I expect likely she felt that she'd ought to--" + +"Please, Mrs. Higgins, tell me the truth. I'm not asking about Mrs. +Coffin. Didn't Miss Van Horne tell you her reason for leaving?" + +"No, she didn't." + +"But you know the reason? You're keeping something from me. Did she say +when she would come back?" + +"No, not exactly, but, of course--" + +"I know you're keeping something from me. What has happened?" + +"Happened? Land sakes! does anything ever happen in Trumet?" + +"I think a good many things have happened lately. And the longer you +keep the truth from me the more I shall suspect." + +"Mr. Ellery, you set still in that chair, or, when the doctor comes, +he'll put you to bed. I've got some cookin' to do and I can't set here +gossipin' no longer. You behave yourself and stop frettin'. I'm skipper +here now--er--for a while, anyhow--and you've got to take orders from +me. There! now I cal'late you're scared, ain't you?" + +He did not seem greatly frightened, nor in awe of his new skipper. +Instead, he was evidently preparing to ask more questions. Mrs. Higgins +hurriedly fled to the living room and closed the door behind her. + +The minister heard her rattling pans and dishes at a great rate. The +noise made him nervous and he wished she might be more quiet. He moved +to the chair nearest the window and looked out over the dunes and the +wide stretch of tumbling blue sea. The surf was rolling up the shore, +the mackerel gulls were swooping and dipping along the strand, the beach +grass was waving in the wind. A solitary fish boat was beating out past +the spar buoy. She was almost over the spot when the San Jose had first +anchored. + +The view was a familiar one. He had seen it in all weathers, during a +storm, at morning when the sun was rising, at evening when the moon +came up to tip the watery ridges with frosted silver. He had liked +it, tolerated it, hated it, and then, after she came, loved it. He had +thought it the most beautiful scene in all the world and one never to be +forgotten. The dingy old building, with its bare wooden walls, had been +first a horror, then a prison, and at last a palace of contentment. With +the two women, one a second mother to him, and the other dearest of +all on earth, he could have lived there forever. But now the old prison +feeling was coming back. He was tired of the view and of the mean little +room. He felt lonely and deserted and despairing. + +His nerves were still weak and it was easy, in his childish condition, +to become despondent. He went over the whole situation and felt more and +more sure that his hopes had been false ones and that he had builded a +fool's paradise. After all, he remembered, she had given him no promise; +she had found him ill and delirious and had brought him there. She had +been kind and thoughtful and gracious, but that she would be to anyone, +it was her nature. And he had been content, weak as he was, to have her +near him, where he would see her and hear her speak. Her mere presence +was so wonderful that he had been satisfied with that and had not asked +for more. And now she had gone. Mrs. Higgins had said "for a day or +two," but that was indefinite, and she had not said she would return +when those two days had passed. He was better now, almost well. Would +she come back to him? After all, conditions in the village had not +changed. He was still pastor of the Regular church and she was a +Come-Outer. The man she had promised to marry was dead--yes. But the +other conditions were the same. And Mrs. Higgins had refused to tell +him the whole truth; he was certain of that. She had run away when he +questioned her. + +He rose from the chair and started toward the living room. He would not +be put off again. He would be answered. His hand was on the latch of the +door when that door was opened. Dr. Parker came in. + +The doctor was smiling broadly. His ruddy face was actually beaming. He +held out his hand, seized the minister's, and shook it. + +"Good morning, Mr. Ellery," he said. "It's a glorious day. Yes, sir, a +bully day. Hey? isn't it?" + +Ellery's answer was a question. + +"Doctor," he said, "why have Mrs. Coffin and--and Miss Van Horne gone? +Has anything happened? I know something has, and you must tell me what. +Don't try to put me off or give me evasive answers. I want to know why +they have gone." + +Parker looked at him keenly. "Humph!" he grunted. "I'll have to get +into Mrs. Higgins's wig. I told her not to let you worry, and you have +worried. You're all of a shake." + +"Never mind that. I asked you a question." + +"I know you did. Now, Mr. Ellery, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you +were a sensible man who would take care of his health, now that he'd got +the most of it back again. I've got news for you--good news--but I'm not +sure that I shall tell it to you." + +"Good news! Dr. Parker, if you've got news for me that is good, for +Heaven's sake tell it. I've been imagining everything bad that could +possibly happen. Tell me, quick. My health can stand that." + +"Ye-es, yes, I guess it can. They say joy doesn't kill, and that's one +of the few medical proverbs made by unmedical men that are true. You +come with me and sit down in that chair. Yes, you will. Sit down." + +He led his patient back to the chair by the window and forced him into +it. + +"There!" he said. "Now, Mr. Ellery, if you think you are a man, a +sensible man, who won't go to pieces like a ten-year-old youngster, +I'll--I'll let you sit here for a while." + +"Doctor?" + +"You sit still. No, I'm not going to tell you anything. You sit where +you are and maybe the news'll come to you. If you move it won't. Going +to obey orders? Good! I'll see you by and by, Mr. Ellery." + +He walked out of the room. It seemed to Ellery that he sat in that chair +for ten thousand years before the door again opened. And then-- + +--"Grace!" he cried. "O Grace! you--you've come back." + +She was blushing red, her face was radiant with quiet happiness, but her +eyes were moist. She crossed the room, bent over and kissed him on the +forehead. + +"Yes, John," she said; "I've come back. Yes, dear, I've come back to--to +you." + + +Outside the shanty, on the side farthest from the light and its group +of buildings, the doctor and Captain Nat Hammond were talking with Mrs. +Higgins. The latter was wildly excited and bubbling with joy. + +"It's splendid!" she exclaimed. "It's almost too fine to believe. Now +we'll keep our minister, won't we?" + +"I don't see why not," observed the doctor, with quiet satisfaction. +"Zeb and I had the Daniels crowd licked to a shoestring and now they'll +stay licked. The parish committee is three to one for Mr. Ellery and the +congregation more than that. Keep him? You bet we'll keep him! And +I'll dance at his wedding--that is, unless he's got religious scruples +against it." + +Mrs. Higgins turned to Captain Nat. + +"It's kind of hard for you, Nat," she said. "But it's awful noble and +self-sacrificin' and everybody'll say so. Of course there wouldn't be +much satisfaction in havin' a wife you knew cared more for another man. +But still it's awful noble of you to give her up." + +The captain looked at the doctor and laughed quietly. + +"Don't let my nobility weigh on your mind, Mrs. Higgins," he said. "I'd +made up my mind to do this very thing afore ever I got back to Trumet. +That is, if Gracie was willin'. And when I found she was not only +willin' but joyful, I--well, I decided to offer up the sacrifice right +off." + +"You did? You DID? Why, how you talk! I never heard of such a thing in +my born days." + +"Nor I neither, not exactly. But there!" with a wink at Parker, "you see +I've been off amongst all them Kanaka women and how do you know but I've +fell in love?" + +"Nat HAMMOND!" + +"Oh, well, I--What is it, Grace?" + +She was standing in the doorway and beckoning to him. Her cheeks were +crimson, the breeze was tossing her hair about her forehead, and she +made a picture that even the practical, unromantic doctor appreciated. + +"By George, Nat!" he muttered, "you've got more courage than I have. If +'twas my job to give her up to somebody else I'd think twice, I'll bet." + +The captain went to meet her. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"Nat," she whispered, "will you come in? He wants to see you." + +John Ellery was still seated in the chair by the window, but he no +longer looked like an invalid. There was no worry or care in his +countenance now, merely a wondrous joy and serene happiness. + +He held out his hands and the captain shook them heartily. + +"Mr. Ellery," he said, "as they used to say at the circus, 'Here we are +again.' And you and I have been doing all kinds of circus acrobatics +since we shook last, hey? I'm glad you're pretty nigh out of the sick +bay--and the doctor says you are." + +"Captain," began Ellery. Hammond interrupted him. + +"Hold on!" he said. "Belay right there. If you and I are to cruise in +the same family--and that's what I hear is likely to happen--I +cal'late we'll heave overboard the cap'ns and Misters. My name's +'Nathaniel'--'Nat' for short." + +"All right. And mine is 'John.' Captain--Nat, I mean--how can I ever +thank you?" + +"Thank me? What do you want to thank me for? I only handed over +somethin' that wasn't mine in the first place and belonged to you all +along. I didn't know it, that was the only trouble." + +"But your promise to your father. I feel--" + +"You needn't. I told dad that it was just as Grace said. She says she's +got a better man, or words to that effect. And--I don't know how you +feel about such things, John--but I b'lieve there's a broader outlook up +aloft than there is down here and that dad would want me to do just what +I have done. Don't worry about me. I'm doin' the right thing and I +know it. And don't pity me, neither. I made up my mind not to marry +Grace--unless, of course, she was set on it--months ago. I'm tickled to +death to know she's goin' to have as good a man as you are. She'll tell +you so. Grace! Hello! she's gone." + +"Yes. I told her I wanted to talk with you alone, for a few minutes. +Nat, Grace tells me that Aunt Keziah was the one who--" + +"She was. She met me at the Cohasset Narrows depot. I was settin' in the +car, lookin' out of the window at the sand and sniffin' the Cape air. By +the everlastin'! there ain't any air or sand like 'em anywheres else. +I feel as if I never wanted to see a palm tree again as long as I live. +I'd swap the whole of the South Pacific for one Trumet sandhill with a +huckleberry bush on it. Well, as I started to say, I was settin' there +lookin' out of the window when somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I +looked up and 'twas her. + +"You could have blown me over with a fan. By the jumpin' Moses, you +could! You see, I'd been thinkin' about her--that is, I was--" + +He hesitated, turned red, coughed, and went on. + +"I was surprised enough to see her, I tell you. Way up there at the +Narrows! I couldn't have said a word, anyway, and she never gave me a +chance. 'Nat,' she says, 'don't talk now. Come with me, quick, afore the +train starts.' + +"Still I didn't say anything, nothin' sane anyhow. 'Keziah!' I managed +to stutter. 'KEZIAH!' + +"'Come!' says she. 'Hurry! I want you to get off here. I've come here on +purpose to meet you. I must talk with you; it's important. You can go +to Trumet on the next train, to-night. But now I must talk with you. I +MUST. Won't you please come, Nat?' + +"Well, I went. The engine bell was beginnin' to ring and we had to move +lively, I tell you. I swung her off the step just as the car begun to +move. After the smoke had faded away around the next bend I realized +that my hat had faded away along with it. Yes, sir! I'd left it on the +seat. Ha! ha! ha!" + +He laughed uproariously. Ellery laughed in sympathy. + +"However, I wa'n't worryin' about hats, just then. All I wanted to do +was stand still, like a frozen image, and stare at her. You see, John, +I hadn't laid eyes on a friend, one of the real homemade kind, for more +days than I wanted to count; and here was one of 'em, one of the best, +passed out to me unexpected and ahead of time, like a surprise party +present. So I just pumped her hand up and down and stared. I didn't have +any exclusive mortgage on the starin' by no means, for the depot master +and a dozen or so loafers was lookin' at us with their mouths wide open. + +"I guess she noticed it, for she says, 'Don't stay here, Nat. Come in +the waitin' room or somewheres where we can talk.' + +"So into the waitin' room we went and come to anchor on the settee. Six +or eight of the loafers settled themselves handy to the door, so's they +could peek in occasionally. I remember I told one of them not to stretch +his neck that way 'cause he might never get it back into shape again and +in the gunnin' season that would be dangerous. 'Some nearsighted feller +might take you for a goose,' I says. Ho! ho! + +"And then, John, we had our talk. Seems she left Trumet Wednesday +afternoon. Got the livery stable man to drive her as fur as Bayport, +hired another team there and come on to Sandwich. Stayed overnight there +and took the mornin' train which got to Cohasset Narrows just ahead of +the one I was comin' on. She'd been so afraid of bein' late, she said. +She must see me afore I got to Trumet. + +"Well, she saw me and told me the whole yarn about you and Grace. She +tried to break it to me gently, so I wouldn't feel too bad. She knew it +would be a shock to me, she said. It was a shock, in a way, but as for +feelin' bad, I didn't. I think the world of Grace. I'd do anything she +wanted me to do; but most the way down on the train--yes, and long afore +that--I'd been dreadin' my comin' home on one account. I dreaded tellin' +her that, unless she was real set on it, she'd better not marry me. + +"You see, John, I've thought a lot sence I've been away. Had +consider'ble time to do it in. And the more I thought the less that +promise to dad seemed right. I'd have bet my sou-wester Gracie never +cared for me in the way a girl ought to care for a chap she's goin' to +ship as pilot for the rest of her days. And, as for me--well, I--I had +my reasons for not wantin' to marry her." + +He paused again, sighed, started to speak, and then sat silent, looking +out of the window. Ellery laid a hand on his knee. + +"Nat," said the minister, "you saved my life once, do you remember that? +I do, if you don't." + +"Saved your life? What are you talkin' about? Oh! that time on the +flats? That wasn't savin' your life, 'twas savin' your clothes from +gettin' a wettin'." + +"No, it was more than that. And now I guess you've saved it again, you +and Grace between you. Yes, and Aunt Keziah. Bless her! to think of her +going way up there to meet you and help us!" + +"Yes. 'Twas like her, wasn't it? She said she knew I'd hear the yarn +when I got to Trumet, but she wanted me to hear it just as it was, and +nobody but she and Grace and you knew the whole truth about it. So she +come. I'm glad she did; not that I shouldn't have done the same, whoever +told me, but--" + +"Nat, I want to tell you something. Something that only one other person +knows. Grace doesn't know it yet. Neither does Aunt Keziah--the whole of +it. And if she knew I told you even a part I'm afraid she would, as she +would say, 'skin me alive.' But I owe her--and you--more than I could +repay if I lived a thousand years. So I'm going to tell and take the +consequences." + +The captain looked at him. "Well!" he exclaimed. "What's comin' now? +More secrets? Blessed if this ain't gettin' more excitin' than the South +Seas. I used to think excitement in Trumet was scurcer than cream in +poorhouse coffee, but I'll have to change my mind." + +"Nat, when--that morning after your father died and after you and Grace +had agreed to--to--" + +"To do somethin' neither of us wanted to do? Yes, I know. Go ahead." + +"That morning Aunt Keziah came home to the parsonage and broke the +news to me. She did it as only she could do such a thing, kindly and +pityingly and--" + +"Of course. That's Keziah." + +"Yes. Well, as you can imagine, I was almost crazy. I made a fool of +myself, I expect; refused to believe her, behaved disgracefully, and at +last, when I had to believe it, threatened to run away and leave my work +and Trumet forever, like a coward. She made me stay." + +"Did, hey?" + +"Yes. She showed me it was my duty to face the music. When I whimpered +about my troubles she told me her own story. Then I learned what trouble +was and what pluck was, too. She told me about her marriage and--excuse +me for speaking of what isn't my business; yet it is mine, in a way--she +told me about you." + +Captain Hammond did not answer. His good natured face clouded and he +shifted in his chair. + +"She told me of you, Nat, all about you--and herself. And she told me +something else, which explains why she felt she must send you away, why +she thought your marriage to Grace would be a good thing." + +"I know. She told you that that darn scamp Anse Coffin was alive." + +The minister started violently. He gasped in surprise. + +"You knew it? You KNEW it?" he stammered. + +"I know it now. Have known it for over a year. My findin' it out was one +of the special Providences that's been helpin' along this last voyage of +mine. My second mate was a Hyannis man, name of Cahoon. One day, on +that pesky island, when we was eatin' dinner together, he says to me, +'Cap'n,' he says, 'you're from Trumet, ain't you?' I owned up. 'Know +anybody named Coffin there?' says he. I owned up to that, too. 'Well,' +he says, 'I met her husband last trip I was in the Glory of the Wave.' +I stared at him. 'Met his ghost, you mean,' I says. 'He's been dead +for years, and a good thing, too. Fell overboard and, not bein' used to +water, it killed him.' + +"But he wouldn't have it so. 'I used to know Anse Coffin in New +Bedford,' he says. 'Knew him well's I know you. And when we was in port +at Havre I dropped in at a gin mill down by the water front and he come +up and touched me on the arm. I thought same as you, that he was dead, +but he wa'n't. He was three sheets in the wind and a reg'lar dock rat to +look at, but 'twas him sure enough. We had a long talk. He said he was +comin' back to Trumet some day. Had a wife there, he said. I told him, +sarcastic, that she'd be glad to see him. He laughed and said maybe not, +but that she knew he was alive and sent him money when he was hard up. +Wanted me to promise not to tell any Cape folks that I'd seen him, and I +ain't till now.' + +"Well, you can imagine how I felt when Cahoon spun me that yarn. First +I wouldn't b'lieve it and then I did. It explained things, just as you +say, John. I could see now why Keziah gave me my walkin' papers. I could +see how she'd been sacrificin' her life for that scum." + +"Yes. She wouldn't divorce him. She said she had taken him for better or +worse, and must stand by him. I tried to show her she was wrong, but it +was no use. She did say she would never live with him again." + +"I should say not. LIVE with him! By the everlastin'! if he ever comes +within reach of my hands then--there's times when good honest murder is +justifiable and righteous, and it'll be done. It'll be done, you hear +me!" + +He looked as if he meant it. Ellery asked another question. + +"Did you tell her--Aunt Keziah--when you met her at the Narrows?" he +asked. + +"No. But I shall tell her when I see her again. She shan't spoil her +life--a woman like that! by the Lord! WHAT a woman!--for any such crazy +notion. I swore it when I heard the story and I've sworn it every day +since. That's what settled my mind about Grace. Keziah Coffin belongs +to me. She always has belonged to me, even though my own pig-headedness +lost her in the old days." + +"She cares for you, Nat. I know that. She as much as told me so." + +"Thank you, John. Thank you. Well, I can wait now. I can wait, for +I've got something sure to wait for. I tell you, Ellery, I ain't a +church-goin' man--not as dad was, anyway--but I truly believe that this +thing is goin' to come out right. God won't let that cussed rascal live +much longer. He won't! I know it. But if he does, if he lives a thousand +years, I'll take her from him." + +He was pacing the floor now, his face set like granite. Ellery rose, his +own face beaming. Here was his chance. At last he could pay to this man +and Keziah a part of the debt he owed. + +Nat stopped in his stride. "Well!" he exclaimed. "I almost forgot, after +all. Keziah sent a note to you. I've got it in my pocket. She gave it to +me when she left me at Cohasset." + +"Left you? Why! didn't she come back with you on the night train?" + +"No. That's funny, too, and I don't understand it yet. We was together +all the afternoon. 'I was feelin' so good at seein' her that I took her +under my wing and we cruised all over that town together. Got dinner at +the tavern and she went with me to buy myself a new hat, and all that. +At first she didn't seem to want to, but then, after I'd coaxed a while, +she did. She was lookin' pretty sad and worn out, when I first met her, +I thought; but she seemed to get over it and we had a fine time. It +reminded me of the days when I used to get home from a voyage and we +were together. Then, when 'twas time for the night train we went down to +the depot. She gave me this note and told me to hand it to you to-day. + +"'Good-by, Nat,' she says. 'We've had a nice day, haven't we?' + +"'We have, for a fact,' I says. 'But what are you sayin' good-by for?' + +"'Because I'm not goin' to Trumet with you,' says she. 'I'm goin' to the +city. I've got some business to see to there. Good-by.' + +"I was set back, with all my canvas flappin'. I told her I'd go to +Boston with her and we'd come home to Trumet together to-morrow, +that's to-day. But she said no. I must come here and ease your mind and +Grace's. I must do it. So at last I agreed to, sayin' I'd see her in a +little while. She went on the up train and I took the down one. Hired +a team in Sandwich and another in Bayport and got to the tavern about +eleven. That's the yarn. And here's your note. Maybe it tells where +she's gone and why." + +The minister took the note and tore open the envelope. Within was a +single sheet of paper. He read a few lines, stopped, and uttered an +exclamation. + +"What's the matter?" asked the captain. + +Ellery did not answer. He read the note through and then, without a +word, handed it to his friend. + +The note was as follows: + + +"DEAR JOHN: + +"I am going away, as I told you I would if he came. He is coming. +Tuesday I got a letter from him. It was written at Kingston, Jamaica, +almost three months ago. I can't think why I haven't got it sooner, but +suppose it was given to some one to mail and forgotten. In it he said +he was tired of going to sea and was coming home to me. I had money, +he said, and we could get along. He had shipped aboard a brig bound +for Savannah, and from there he was going to try for a berth on a +Boston-bound vessel. So I am going away and not coming back. I could not +stand the disgrace and I could not see him. You and Grace won't need me +any more now. Don't worry about me. I can always earn a living while I +have my strength. Please don't worry. If he comes tell him I have gone +you do not know where. That will be true, for you don't. I hope you will +be very happy. I do hope so. Oh, John, you don't know how I hate to do +this, but I must. Don't tell Nat. He would do something terrible to him +if he came, and Nat knew. Just say I have been called away and may be +back some time. Perhaps I may. Love to you all. Good-by. + +"Yours truly, + +"KEZIAH COFFIN." + + +The captain stared at the note. Then he threw it to the floor and +started for the door. The minister sprang from his chair and called to +him. + +"Nat," he cried. "Nat! Stop! where are you going?" + +Hammond turned. + +"Goin'?" he growled. "Goin'? I'm goin' to find her, first of all. Then +I'm comin' back to wait for him." + +"But you won't have to wait. He'll never come. He's dead." + +"Dead? DEAD? By the everlastin'! this has been too much for you, I ought +to have known it. I'll send the doctor here right off. I can't stay +myself. I've got to go. But--" + +"Listen! listen to me! Ansel Coffin is dead, I tell you. I know it. I +know all about it. That was what I wanted to see you about. Did Keziah +tell you of the San Jose and the sailor who died of smallpox in this +very building? In that room there?" + +"Yes. John, you--" + +"I'm not raving. It's the truth. That sailor was Ansel Coffin. I watched +with him and one night, the night before he died, he spoke Keziah's +name. He spoke of New Bedford and of Trumet and of her, over and over +again. I was sure who he was then, but I called in Ebenezer Capen, who +used to know Coffin in New Bedford. And he recognized him. Nat, as sure +as you and I are here this minute, Ansel Coffin, Aunt Keziah's husband, +is buried in the Trumet cemetery." + + +CHAPTER XXI + +IN WHICH MR. STONE WASHES HIS HANDS + + +Mr. Abner Stone, of Stone & Barker, marine outfitters and ship +chandlers, with a place of business on Commercial Street in Boston, and +a bank account which commanded respect throughout the city, was feeling +rather irritable and out of sorts. Poor relations are always a nuisance. +They are forever expecting something, either money--in Mr. Stone's case +this particular expectation was usually fruitless--or employment or +influence or something. Mr. Stone was rich, he had become so by his own +ability and unaided effort. He was sure of that--often mentioned it, +with more or less modesty, in the speeches which he delivered to his +Sunday-school class and at the dinners of various societies to which he +belonged. He was a self-made man and was conscious that he had done a +good job. + +Therefore, being self-made, he saw no particular reason why he should +aid in the making of others. If people were poor they ought to get over +it. Poverty was a disease and he was no doctor. He had been poor once +himself, and no one had helped him. "I helped myself," he was wont to +say, with pride. Some of his rivals in business, repeating this remark, +smiled and added that he had been "helping himself" ever since. + +Mr. Stone had "washed his hands" of his cousin, Keziah Coffin, or +thought he had. After her brother Solomon died she had written to him, +asking him to find her a position of some kind in Boston. "I don't want +money, I don't want charity," wrote Keziah. "What I want is work. Can +you get it for me, Abner? I write to you because father used to tell of +what you said to him about gratitude and how you would never rest until +you had done something in return for what he did for you." + +Captain Ben Hall's kindness was the one thing Mr. Stone forgot when he +said no one had ever helped him. He disliked to be reminded of it. It +was a long while ago and the captain was dead. However, being reminded, +he had called upon a friend in the tailoring line and had obtained for +Keziah the place of sewing woman. She decided to become housekeeper at +the Trumet parsonage and so notified him. Then he washed his hands of +her. + +But now he was compelled to soil them again. Keziah had appeared at +his office, without warning, and demanded that he find her a position. +"Demanded" was the proper word. Certainly she had not begged. She seemed +to feel that her demand was right and proper, and his acceding to it the +least he could do. + +"What a fine place you've got here, Abner!" she said, inspecting the +office and the store. "I declare it's finer than the one you had when +you first went into business, afore you failed. I wish father could have +lived to see it. He'd have realized that his judgment was good, even +though his investment wasn't." + +Captain Hall had invested largely in that first business, the one which +failed. Mr. Stone changed the subject. Later in the day he again sought +his friend, the tailor, and Keziah was installed in the loft of the +latter's Washington Street shop, beside the other women and girls who +sewed and sewed from seven in the morning until six at night. Mr. Stone +had left her there and come away, feeling that an unpleasant matter +was disposed of. He had made some inquiries as to where she intended +staying, even added a half-hearted invitation to dinner that evening at +his home. But she declined. + +"No, thank you, Abner," she said, "I'm goin' to find a boardin' place +and I'd just as soon nobody knew where I was stayin', for the present. +And there's one thing I want to ask you: don't tell a soul I am here. +Not a soul. If anyone should come askin' for me, don't give 'em any +satisfaction. I'll tell you why some day, perhaps. I can't now." + +This was what troubled Mr. Stone as he sat in his office. Why should +this woman wish to have her whereabouts kept a secret? There was a +reason for this, of course. Was it a respectable reason, or the other +kind? If the latter, his own name might be associated with the scandal. +He wished, for the fiftieth time, that there were no poor relations. + +A boy came into the office. "There is some one here to see you, Mr. +Stone," he said. + +"Who is it?" + +"I don't know, sir. Looks like a seafaring man, a sea captain, I should +say--but he won't give his name. Says it's important and nobody but +you'll do." + +"Humph! All right. Tell him to wait. I'll be out in a minute." + +Sea captains and ship owners were Stone & Barker's best customers. The +senior partner emerged from the office with a smile on his face. + +"Ah!" he said, extending his hand. "Glad to see you, Captain--er--" + +"Hammond," replied the visitor. "Same to you, Mr. Stone." + +"Fine weather for this time of year." + +"Fine enough, Mr. Stone." + +"Well, Captain Hammond, what can we do for you? Going to sail soon?" + +"Not right away. Just made port, less'n a week ago. Home looks good to +me, for a spell, anyhow." + +"So? Yes, I have no doubt. Let me see--where is your home, captain? I +should remember, of course, but--" + +"Don't know why you should. This is my first trip in your latitude, I +guess. My home's at Trumet." + +"Trumet?" Mr. Stone's tone changed. + +"Yes. Trumet, down on the Cape. Ever been there? We think it's about as +good a place as there is." + +"Hu-u-m! Trumet? Well, Captain Hammond, you wished to see me, I +understand." + +"Yes. Fact is, Mr. Stone, I want to ask you where I can find Mrs. Keziah +Coffin. She's a relation of yours, I b'lieve, and she's come to Boston +lately. Only yesterday or the day afore. Can you tell me where she is?" + +"Why do you wish to see her?" + +"Oh, for reasons, personal ones. She's a friend of mine." + +"I see. No, captain, I can't tell you where she is. Good morning." + +Captain Nat was greatly disappointed. + +"Hold on there, just a minute," he begged. "This is important, you +understand, Mr. Stone. I'm mighty anxious to find Kezi--Mrs. Coffin. We +thought, some of her friends and I, that most likely you'd know where +she was. Can't you give us any help at all? Hasn't she been here?" + +"Good morning, Captain Hammond. You must excuse me, I'm busy." + +He went into the office and closed the door. Captain Nat rubbed his +forehead desperately. He had been almost sure that Abner Stone would put +him on Keziah's track. Grace had thought so, too. She remembered what +the housekeeper had told concerning her Boston cousin and how the latter +had found employment for her when she contemplated leaving Trumet, after +her brother's death. Grace believed that Keziah would go to him at once. + +Nat walked to the door and stood there, trying to think what to do next. +A smart young person, wearing a conspicuous suit of clothes, aided and +abetted by a vivid waistcoat and a pair of youthful but promising side +whiskers, came briskly along the sidewalk and stopped in front of him. + +"Well, sir?" observed this person, with cheerful condescension. +"Anything I can do for you?" + +Captain Nat turned his gaze upon the side whiskers and the waistcoat. + +"Hey?" he queried. + +"I say, is there anything I can do for you?" + +The captain shook his head. "No-o," he drawled dryly, "I'm afraid not, +son. I admit that don't seem scarcely possible, but I am afraid it's +so." + +"Looking for something in our line, was you?" + +"Well, I don't know. What might be on your line--clothes?" + +The bewhiskered one drew himself up. "I am connected with Stone & +Barker," he said sharply. "And, seeing you standing in our doorway, I +thought possibly--" + +"Yes, yes. Beg your pardon, I'm sure. No, I don't want to buy anything. +I come to see Mr. Stone on a personal matter." + +"He's busy, I suppose." + +"So he says." + +The young man smiled with serene satisfaction. "I'm not surprised," he +observed complacently. "We ARE a busy house, Mr--er--" + +"Hammond's my name. Are you Mr. Barker?" + +"No-o, my name is Prince." + +"So? Silent partner in the firm, hey?" + +"No-o, not exactly." Mr. Prince was slightly embarrassed. "No, I am a--a +salesman--at present. Was the matter you wished to see Mr. Stone about a +very private one?" + +"Middlin'.'" + +"Well, I asked because Mr. Stone is a busy man and we like to save him +all the--the--" + +"Trouble you can, hey? That's nice of you, you must save him a lot, +Mr--er--King, was it?" + +"No, Prince." + +"Sure and sartin', Prince, of course. I knew 'twas connected with the +royal family. Well, Mr. Prince, I'm afraid even you can't help me nor +him out this time. I'm lookin' up a friend of mine, a widow lady from +down the Cape. She's a relation of Mr. Stone's, and she's come to Boston +durin' the last day or so. I thought likely he might know where she was, +that's all. That would be a little out of your latitude, hey?" + +"I don't know. Her name wasn't Coffin, was it?" + +Captain Nat started. "It certainly was," he answered eagerly. "How'd you +know that?" + +Mr. Prince's complacence was superb. "Oh," he answered with +condescension, "Mr. Stone trusts me with a good many of his personal +affairs." + +"I should think likely he would. But about Mrs. Coffin? You was goin' to +say?" + +"She is with James Hallett & Co., the tailors, on Washington Street. Mr. +Stone found a place for her there, I believe. I--er--er--superintended +the carrying of her valise and--What?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. Hum! Hallett & Co., tailors? What number Washin'ton +Street did you say?" + +Mr. Prince gave the number. + +"Thank you a lot," said Captain Nat, with fervor. "Good-by, Mr. Prince. +Hope the next time I come you'll be in the firm. Good day, sir." + +"Good day. Nothing else I can do? And you won't wait for Mr. Stone? Very +good. Is there any message for him that you would like to leave?" + +"Hey?" Nat had started to go, but now he paused and turned. There was +a grim twinkle in his eye. "Message?" he repeated. "Why, ye-es, I don't +know but there is. You just give Mr. Stone Cap'n Hammond's compliments +and tell him I'm lookin' forward to interviewin' him some time. Just +tell him that, will you?" + +"I'll tell him. Glad to have met you, Captain Hammond." + +The captain nodded solemnly. "Say, Mr. King," he said, "you ain't half +so glad as I am." + +Mr. Prince strutted into the store. + +"Who was that chap you were talking with?" asked a fellow-clerk. + +"Oh, a hayseed who wanted to see the old man. Poor relation, I guess. +I headed him off. Stone is always telling us that time is money, so I +saved both of 'em for him. He ought to thank me. Wouldn't be surprised +if I got the raise I've been asking for." + +Mr. Prince did not get the raise, nor the thanks. But he was surprised. + + +In the workshop of Hallett & Co., Keziah sat sewing busily. The window +near her was closed, stuck fast, and through the dingy panes she could +see only roofs and chimneys. The other women and girls near her +chatted and laughed, but she was silent. She did not feel like talking, +certainly not like laughing. The garment she was at work on was a coat, +a wedding coat, so the foreman had told her, with a smile; therefore she +must be very particular. + +She wondered idly whose coat it might be and who its future wearer was +to marry. This reminded her of the minister and Grace. They would be +happy now, her talk with Nat had assured her of that, and they, too, +would be married one of these days. But she would not attend the +wedding. She wondered what John had said when he read her note. He and +Grace would be sorry for her, of course; but there was nothing they +could do to help. No one could help her, no one. Perhaps by this time +the man she had run away from had reached Trumet and her secret was +known. How Didama and the rest would spread the tale! How Captain +Elkanah and Annabel would sneer and exult! They hated her because she +was the minister's friend. And Nat, poor fellow, what would he do? Well, +at least he would understand now. + +The narrow stairway leading up to the workshop ended in a little +boxed-in room where the finished garments were hung to await the final +pressing. From behind the closed door of this room came the sound of +voices, apparently in heated argument. One of these voices was that of +Larry, the errand boy. Larry was speaking shrilly and with emphasis. The +other voice was lower in key and the words were inaudible. + +"No, sir, you can't," declared Larry. "You can't, I tell you. The boss +don't let nobody in there and--Hold on! Hold on!" + +The other voice made a short but evidently earnest answer. Larry again +expostulated. The workers looked up from their sewing. The door opened +and Larry appeared, flushed and excited. + +"Where's Mr. Upham?" he demanded. "Mr. Upham!" + +Upham was the foreman of the workroom. At the moment he was downstairs +in conversation with the head of the house. A half dozen gave this +information. + +"What's the matter? Who is it?" asked several. + +"I don't know who 'tis. It's a man and he's crazy, I think. I told him +he couldn't come in here, but he just keeps comin'. He wants to see +somebody named Coffin and there ain't no Coffins here." + +Keziah bent lower over the wedding coat. Her hand shook and she dropped +the needle. + +"I told him we didn't keep coffins," declared Larry. "This ain't no +undertaker's. Where's Mr. Upham?" + +Keziah's nearest neighbor leaned toward her. + +"I guess it's somebody to see you," she said. "Your name is Coffin, +ain't it?" + +"No, no. That is, it can't be anybody to see me. I don't want to see +anybody. Tell him so, whoever it is. I can't see anybody. I--NAT!" + +He stood in the doorway, beckoning to her. + +"Keziah," he said, "come here. I want you. I'll tell you why in a +minute. Come!" + +She hesitated. In a measure she was relieved, for she had feared the +man at the door might be her husband. But she was greatly agitated and +troubled. Everyone in the place was looking at her. + +"Nat," she said, trying to speak firmly, "I can't see you now. I'm very +busy. Please go away." + +"Come!" + +"I can't come. Go away. Please!" + +"Keziah, I'm waitin'. And I'm goin' to wait if I stay here all night. +Come!" + +She obeyed then. She could not have a scene there, before all those +strangers. She stepped past him into the little room. He followed and +closed the door. + +"Nat," she said, turning to him, "why did you come? How could you be so +cruel? I--" + +He interrupted her, but not with words. The next moment his arms were +about her and she was pressed tight against the breast of his blue +jacket. + +"Keziah," he whispered, "I've come to take you home. Home for good. No, +stay where you are and I'll tell you all about it. Praise be to God! +we're off the rocks at last. All that's left is to tow you into port, +and, by the everlastin', that's what I'm here for!" + + +When Upham came up the stairs after his long interview with "the boss," +he found the door at the top closed. When he rattled the latch that door +was opened by a stranger. + +"Are you Mr. Hallett?" asked Captain Nat briskly. + +"No, I'm not. Mr. Hallett is in his office on the first floor. But +what--" + +"On the main deck, hey? Well, all right; we won't trouble him. You'll +do just as well; I judge you're one of the mates of this craft. You tell +Mr. Hallett that this lady here has decided not to cruise with him any +longer. No fault to find, you understand, but she's got a better berth. +She's goin' to ship along with me. Ain't that so, Keziah?" + +Keziah, pale, trembling, scarcely realizing the situation even yet, +did not speak. But Captain Nat Hammond seemed to find his answer in her +silence. A few minutes later, her arm in his, they descended the gloomy, +dusty stairs, and emerged into the sunshine together. + +That afternoon Mr. Abner Stone again "washed his hands" of his poor +relation--this time, as he indignantly declared, "for good and all." + + +CHAPTER XXII + +IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON PREACHES ONCE MORE + + +Time has wrought many changes in Trumet. The packet long since ceased to +ply between the village and Boston, the stage has been superseded by +the locomotive, the old "square-riggers," commanded by Cape Cod men, no +longer sail the seas. Along the main road the houses have changed hands. +Didama Rogers peers no more from her parlor window; that parlor is now +profaned by the frivolous and irreverent summer boarder. But the old +residents love to talk of the days that are gone and if you happen to +catch Mr. Isaac Higgins, now postmaster and a dignified member of the +board of selectmen, in a reminiscent mood he will very likely tell you +of the meeting of the parish committee called by its chairman, Elkanah +Daniels, to oust the Rev. John Ellery from the pulpit of the Regular +church. + +"I'll never forget," says Mr. Higgins, "that parish committee meetin' if +I live a thousand year. I, and two or three other young shavers, was hid +in the little room off the vestry--the room where they kept the dishes +they used for church suppers--and we heard the whole business. Of course +nobody knew that Nat was goin' to marry Keziah then, but they did know +that he wa'n't goin' to marry Grace Van Horne, and had given her up +to the minister of his own accord. So Daniels's guns was spiked and he +didn't stand no chance at all. However, you'd never have guessed it +to look at him. He marched into that meetin' and up to the platform as +stiff and dignified as if he'd swallered a peck of starch. He called +the meetin' to order--'twas a full one, for all hands and the cook was +there--and then got up to speak. + +"He opened fire right off. He raked John Ellery fore and aft. The +parson, he said, had disgraced the society and his sacred profession +and should be hove overboard immediate. 'Twas an open secret, he said. +Everybody knew how he, minister of a Reg'lar church, had been carryin' +on with a Come-Outer girl, meetin' her unbeknownst to anyone, and so on. +As he got warmed up on this subject he got more bitter and, though he +didn't come out open and say slanderous things, his hints was as nigh +that as a pig's snout is to his squeal. Even through the crack of the +dish-closet door I could see the bristles risin' on the back of Cap'n +Zeb Mayo's neck. + +"At last Cap'n Zeb couldn't stand it no longer. + +"'Belay there!' he sings out, jumpin' to his feet. 'I want to ask you +one question, Elkanah Daniels: Are you tryin' to say somethin' against +Grace Van Horne's character?' + +"Well, that was a sort of sticker, in a way, and I cal'late Daniels +realized it. He 'hum-ha'd' and barked a little and then give in that he +couldn't swear the Van Horne person's character wa'n't all right, but--" + +"'Couldn't swear!' snorts Zeb. 'You better not try to, not when the +minister or Nat's around. Aw, belay! you want us to fire John Ellery +out of this society--the best minister it ever had or ever will +have--because he had the sense to get sweet on a good clean girl and the +spunk to ask her to marry him. And you're down on her because she's been +brought up in a Come-Outer family--at least, that's the reason you give +out, though some of us have suspicions 'tain't the real one. Why! she +risked what she thought was smallpox to keep him from dyin' that night +she picked him up, ravin' distracted, in the middle of the lighthouse +lane, and if he hadn't married her after that I, for one, would have +been willin' to vote to give him his walkin' papers, Come-Outer she may +have been, but, by time, she's got religion that's good enough for me +and I'll be proud to see her the wife of my minister. Don't let's have +no more chin music. We know what you want and what you called this +meetin' for; now let's vote on it.' + +"Three or four sung out 'Question' and 'Vote.' But Elkanah held up his +hand. + +"'Gentlemen,' says he, 'before I ask for the vote I want to say just one +word. I've worshiped in this meetin' house ever sence I was a child. I +was christened in it; my father worshiped here afore me; I've presided +over the meetin's of this body for years. But I tell you now that if you +vote to keep that rascally hypocrite in your pulpit I shall resign from +the committee and from the society. It'll be like cuttin' off my right +hand, but I shall do it. Are you ready for the vote? Those in favor of +retaining the present minister of this parish will rise. Those opposed +will remain seated.' + +"Every man on the floor stood up. Daniels himself was the only one that +stayed settin' down. + +"'It is a vote,' says he, white as a sheet, and his voice trembling. +'Gentlemen, I bid you good day.' + +"He took up his hat and cane, give one look around the vestry, as if +he was sayin' good-by to it, and marched down the aisle as straight and +starchy as he'd come into it. Only, when he reached the door, he put up +one hand as if he was steadyin' himself. There was precious few in that +vestry that liked Elkanah Daniels, but I'm bettin' high there wa'n't a +one who didn't feel sorry for him then. + +"'Twas quiet as could be for a minute or so after he'd gone. Then Cap'n +Zeb draws a big breath and flings up his hand. + +"'Shipmates,' says he, 'this is the Almighty's house and we've got to do +it quiet, but I propose three whisperin' cheers for the Rev. John Ellery +and the lady that's goin' to be his wife.' + +"So they give 'em--hearty, too, if they was whispered--and that's all +there is to that meetin' worth tellin' about." + +Captain Daniels and his daughter moved to Boston that summer. They never +came back to Trumet to live. Annabel remained single until after her +father's death; then she married a man very much younger and poorer +than she was. It was remarked by acquaintances of the couple that the +difference in age became less and less apparent as their married life +continued. + +"Humph!" observed Captain Zeb, summing up the situation, "he started +about ten year astern, but he'll beat her on the run into the cemetery, +now you mark my words. Annabel's temper's cal'lated to keep any average +chap drivin' on that course, bows under. There's a three-reef breeze +blowin' off her tongue, day and night." + +On a Sunday morning, a few weeks after the committee meeting, the +Regular church was crowded. John Ellery was to preach his first sermon +since the San Jose came ashore. Every member of the congregation was +present. Even Mrs. Prince, feeble but garrulous, was there. Gaius +Winslow, having delivered his brood of children at the church door, made +a special trip in his carryall to fetch the old lady. Captain Zebedee +and Mrs. Mayo beamed from their pew. Dr Parker and his wife smiled at +them across the aisle. Didama Rogers's new bonnet was a work of art and +her neck threatened to twist itself off as she turned to see each one +who came in. + +Lavinia Pepper sailed to the front. She was dressed in a new black +alpaca which rustled so very much like silk that nearsighted people +might have been deceived by it. With her was a man, apparently suffering +from strangulation because of the height and tightness of his collar. +"It's Caleb Pratt, from Sandwich," whispered Didama. "Thankful Payne's +relation, you know. Have you heard what folks are sayin'? I guess +it's true, because--Look at Kyan! you'd think he was goin' to his own +funeral." + +Abishai's expression was not cheerful, certainly. He followed Mr. Pratt +and his sister to the Pepper pew and subsided sadly in the corner next +the wall. Occasionally he was observed to wipe his forehead and once--it +was during the prayer--he groaned audibly. Lavinia's dig in the ribs +prevented his repeating the sound, but, judging by his looks, he +continued to groan in spirit. + +There was a stir at the door. All heads swung in that direction--all but +Mr. Pepper's, that is. The minister and Grace were coming up the aisle +and behind them came Captain Nat Hammond and Keziah Coffin. Nat was +smiling and self-possessed. Never before in his life had he entered the +Regular meeting house as a worshiper, but he seemed to be bearing the +ordeal bravely. It was Grace's first visit to the church, also, and she +was plainly embarrassed. To be stared at by eighty-odd pairs of eyes, +and to catch whispered comments from the starers' tongues, is likely to +embarrass one. + +Yet the comments were all friendly. + +"I declare!" whispered Mrs. Prince, "I never see her look so pretty +afore. I knew she was the best lookin' girl in this town, but I never +realized she was SUCH a beauty. Well, there's one thing sartin'--we've +got the handsomest parson and parson's wife in THIS county, by about ten +mile and four rows of apple trees. And there's the other bride that's +goin' to be. I never see Keziah look so well, neither." + +Keziah did look well. Her parson had emerged triumphant from his battle +with disease and adverse fate and was more than ever the idol of his +congregation. He was to marry the girl of his choice--and hers. The +housekeeper's ears were still ringing with the thanks of John and Grace. +Both seemed to feel that to her, Keziah Coffin, more than anyone else, +they owed their great joy. Some of the things they said she would never +forget. And her own life, too, was freed forever of its burden, the +secret which had hung over her for so many years. Only a very few knew +that secret, and they would not disclose it. Toward the memory of the +man buried in the stranger's lot at the cemetery she felt almost +kindly now. While he lived she had feared and dreaded him, now she was +beginning to forgive. For he had paid his debt with his life, and with +her, beside her, was the other, the one whom she had loved, had given +up, had mourned for, and who was now to be hers always. No wonder Keziah +looked well. She was happy, and happiness is a wondrous beautifier. + +The minister went up the stairs to the pulpit. He was still white and +thin, but his eyes were bright and his voice clear. He gave out the +opening hymn and the service began. + +They said it was the finest sermon ever preached in that church, and +perhaps it was. When it was over, before the benediction was pronounced, +Ellery stepped out from behind the pulpit to the edge of the platform. +He looked over the friendly faces upturned to his and, for an instant, +it seemed that he could not trust himself to speak. + +"My friends," he said, "I cannot let you go without a personal word. I +owe you so much, all of you, that nothing I can say will convey to you +my feeling of gratitude and love for this congregation and this church. +You have stood by me all through. You trusted me and believed in me. I +came to Trumet a stranger. I have found here the truest friends a man +could hope to find--yes, and more than friends. If I live, and while +I live, I shall hope to prove by the best effort that is in me my +realization of the great debt I owe you and my desire to repay it, even +though the payment must, of necessity, be so inadequate. God bless you +all--and thank you." + +"Wa'n't it lovely!" gushed Didama. "And when he said that about true +friends he was lookin' straight at Gracie all the time." + +"Didn't seem to me so," declared Gaius Winslow. "I thought he was +lookin' at Cap'n Hammond." + +"Well, now, that's queer," put in Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife. "I +would have sworn he was looking at Keziah Coffin." + +Captain Zebedee grinned. "I cal'late you're all right," he observed. "I +wouldn't wonder if he was lookin' at all of 'em." + +There was much hand shaking and congratulation and the church emptied +slowly. Among the last to leave were the Peppers and Mr. Pratt. Lavinia +took the minister aside. + +"Mr. Ellery," she simpered, "I've--that is, Caleb and me--will prob'ly +want you to--That is, we want you to be the one--" + +"Yes, Miss Pepper?" + +"Oh, my sakes! you see--'Bishy dear, come here a minute, won't you?" + +Kyan approached, the picture of desolation. + +"What do you want?" he asked gruffly. + +"Heavens to Betsy! Don't look so sour. A body'd think you was goin' +to be hung, to look at you. 'Bishy, you tell Mr. Ellery all about it, +there's a dear. He'll tell you, Mr. Ellery; and remember we count on +you. Neither me nor Caleb wont have nobody else." + +She seized Mr. Pratt by the arm and led him hastily away. Kyan looked +after them. + +"Hung?" he muttered. "I wish, by godfreys mighty, I had the hangin' of +SOME folks! I'd put a tighter collar on 'em than they've got now, I bet +you!" + +The minister's lips twitched. He knew what was coming. Hints of a +surprising nature had been circulating about Trumet. + +"What's the matter, Mr. Pepper?" he asked. + +"Matter? Matter enough! You know what she's goin' to do? She's goin' to +marry THAT!" + +The last word was emphasized by a furious gesticulation toward the back +of the gentleman from Sandwich. + +"Who? Mr. Pratt? Is your sister to marry him? Indeed! I congratulate +them both--and you." + +"Me? What in tunket--I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery, for talkin' so in +the meetin' house--but what are you congratulatin' me for?" + +"Why, because your sister is to have a good husband; at least people +speak highly of him." + +"Ugh!" + +"And because--well, Mr. Pepper, you have been quite confidential with +me; we have shared secrets, you know; and I thought possibly the new +arrangement might make it a bit more pleasant for you." + +"Pleasant? How?" + +"I suppose Mr. Pratt will take his bride home to Sandwich, and you, +being here alone, will be more free." + +"Free?" Kyan repeated the word wrathfully. "Free! I'll be about as free +as a settin' hen under a barrel, I will. Is a feller free when he's +got two pickin' at him instead of one? I thought I was goin' to have a +little peace and comfort; I thought that same as you, Mr. Ellery. I've +had my suspicions as to her and him for some time. That day when I +cal'lated I'd locked her up and come back to find she'd gone buggy +ridin', I thought 'twas queer. When she went to conference and left +me alone I smelt a rat. When she took to letter writin' the smell got +stronger; until the last few weeks I've been sartin of the game she was +up to. And I never complained, no sir! Some brothers would have ripped +up the eternal foundations afore they'd have let their sister break +up their home and desert 'em for a stiff-necked, bald-headed old shoe +peddler like--" + +"Hush! hush! Mr. Pepper. You forget--" + +"No, I don't forget, nuther. Mr. Ellery, you don't know it all. When +Laviny come to me and told me what she was goin' to do, was I obstinate? +Did I stand on my rights as head of the family and tell her she couldn't +do it? No, sir-ee, I didn't! I was resigned. I says to her, 'Laviny,' +I says, 'I won't say that I shan't be turrible lonesome without you. I +won't say that I ain't sort of shocked and grieved at our partin' after +all these years. But what's my personal feelin's when I compare 'em with +your happiness? Nothin', nothin' at all!' I says. 'Bless you, Laviny,' +says I. 'When you goin' to go away?' And what do you s'pose she says to +me? Why, that she wa'n't goin' away at all. That--that Pratt thing +has sold out his shoe store up to Sandwich and is comin' here to live. +Comin' to live at our HOUSE, mind you, with her and with ME! ''Twill be +so nice for you, 'Bishy dear,' she says, 'to have a man in the house +to keep you comp'ny and look out for you when I ain't round.' Godfreys +mighty!" + +This portion of Kyan's disclosure was surprising, if the announcement of +his sister's engagement was not. + +"Mr. Pratt is coming to Trumet?" the minister repeated. "What for? What +is he going to do here?" + +"Keep shoe store, I s'pose likely. Laviny says there's a good openin' +for one in this town. I told her the best openin' I could think of for +him was the well and I hoped to the nation he'd fall into it. Then she +went for me like a dogfish after a herrin' and I never had a taste of +vittles till I'd took it all back and said I was glad he was goin' to +live with us. Free! Don't talk to me about freedom! Godfreys mighty!" + +Ellery smothered his desire to laugh and expressed sympathy. Abishai +listened in sullen silence. + +"Well," he said, turning to go, "I ain't goin' to stand it, if I can +help it. I've been doin' some thinkin' on my own account and there's +two ways of gettin' even. That Caleb critter is marryin' into our family +'cause he knows I'm well off. I'll cheat him, by godfreys! I'll will +every cent of my fifteen hundred dollars to the poor or the heathen or +somethin'. I will, sure's taxes." + +The minister was obliged to laugh, then. + +"I wouldn't do that," he said. "From what I hear, Mr. Pratt is worth +several times fifteen hundred." + +"I know it; but he's so dum mean that 'twould break his heart to see +even ten cents gettin' away from him. However, that ain't my only plan. +He and Laviny ain't got any mortgage on the marryin' business. +Other folks can do it as well as them. What do you think of Hannah +Poundberry?" + +"What do I think of her? What do you mean?" + +"Never mind what I mean. Just you keep that in your head, Mr. Ellery. +You remember that I asked you, as man to man, 'What do you think of +Hannah Poundberry?'--Yes, yes, Laviny, I'm a-comin'. They want me to +ask you to marry 'em," he added. "I s'pose you'll have to. But say, Mr. +Ellery, when you do, just tell Pratt that your usual price for the +job is ten dollars. That'll spile his honeymoon for him, or I miss my +guess." + +He turned away and moved sulkily toward his beckoning sister and her +escort; but wheeled once more to add, in a mysterious whisper, "Don't +you forget now, Mr. Ellery. Remember that question I put to you: 'What +do you think of'--Yes, yes, La-viny, I hear you!--of you know who?'" + + +That evening, at the parsonage, Keziah was clearing the table and +Captain Nat was helping her. A happy party of four had enjoyed the meal, +John and Mrs. Coffin acting as hosts and Grace and the captain being the +invited guests. Now the younger couple had gone over to the church, the +bell of which was ringing for evening service. + +"Hurry up, Keziah," urged Nat. "If you and me don't get decks cleared +pretty soon we'll be late for meetin', and I'd hate to do that, +considerin' I'm such a brand-new disciple, as you might say. What do we +do next, shorten sail? Like this, hey?" + +He pulled the cloth from the table, sending the crumbs flying in all +directions, and proceeded to fold it, after a fashion. + +"There!" he exclaimed with satisfaction; "there she is, canvas furled +and under bare poles. Now we can clear out, can't we? What's the +matter?" + +Keziah took the cloth from his hands and refolded it. + +"Nat Hammond," she said, laughing, "you may be a good sailor, but you're +an awful poor housekeeper. Look at the mess you've made of that floor." + +Nat looked at the scattered crumbs and shook his head. + +"By the everlastin'!" he observed, "I did make dirty weather on that +tack, didn't I? Cal'late I ain't much of a housekeeper, same as you say. +Maybe that's why I was so dreadful anxious to get a good one to cruise +along with me. Well, I've got her. I'm satisfied." + +He walked to the back door of the kitchen, threw it open, and stood +looking out. + +"Keziah," he said, "come here a minute." + +She came from the dining room and stood at his side. He put an arm about +her. + +"Look off there," he said, pointing with his free hand. "See that?" + +The sun was just setting and all the west was gorgeous with crimson and +purple and yellow. The bay was spangled with fire, the high sand bluffs +along the shore looked like broken golden ingots. The fields and swamps +and salt meadows, rich in their spring glory of bud and new leaf, were +tinged with the ruddy glow. The Trumet roofs were bathed in it, the +old packet, asleep at her moorings by the breakwater, was silhouetted +against the radiance. The church bell had ceased to ring and there was +not a sound, except the low music of the distant surf. + +"Look at it, Keziah," urged Captain Nat. + +"I'm lookin', Nat," she answered. "It's beautiful." + +"Ain't it? I love it, you know that, and I never thought I should be +anxious for the time to come when I must leave it. But I am. I want to +go." + +They were to be married in another month. It would be a double wedding, +for Grace and the minister were to be married at the same time. Then Nat +and his wife were to go to New York, where a new ship, just out of +the builders' hands, was to be ready for him. She was a fine one, this +successor to the Sea Mist. She had been building for more than a year +and when Captain Hammond returned, safe and sound, and with their money +in his possession, the owners decided at once that he should command the +addition to their fleet. She was to sail for Liverpool and Keziah was to +be a passenger. + +"I can't hardly wait to get to sea," went on Nat. "Think of it! No more +lonesome meals in the cabin, thinkin' about you and about home. No, sir! +you and home'll be right aboard with me. Think of the fun we'll have in +the foreign ports. London, and you and me goin' sightseein' through it! +And Havre and Gibraltar and Marseilles and Genoa and--and--by and by, +Calcutta and Hong Kong and Singapore. I've seen 'em all, of course, but +you haven't. I tell you, Keziah, that time when I first saw a real hope +of gettin' you, that time after I'd learned from John that that big +trouble of yours was out of the way forever, on my way up to Boston in +the cars I made myself a promise--I swore that if you did say yes to me +I'd do my best to make the rest of your life as smooth and pleasant as +the past so far had been rough. I ain't rich enough to give you what you +deserve, nowhere near; but I'll work hard and do my best, my girl--you +see." + +Keziah was looking out over the bay, her eyes brighter than the sunset. +Now she turned to look up into his face. + +"Rich!" she repeated, with a little catch in her voice. "Rich! there +never was a woman in this world so rich as I am this minute. Or so +happy, either." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEZIAH COFFIN *** + +***** This file should be named 2068.txt or 2068.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/2068/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/2068.zip b/2068.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca73b8c --- /dev/null +++ b/2068.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c97893 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #2068 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2068) diff --git a/old/kziac10.txt b/old/kziac10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ec5217 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/kziac10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13129 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +Keziah Coffin + +by Joseph C. Lincoln + +February, 2000 [Etext #2068] + + +The Project Gutenberg Etext Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln +*****This file should be named kziac10.txt or kziac10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, kziac11.txt. +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, kziac10a.txt. + + +This etext was prepared by Donald Lainson, charlie@idirect.com. + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, for time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-two text +files per month, or 384 more Etexts in 1997 for a total of 1000+ +If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the +total should reach over 100 billion Etexts given away. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only 10% of the present number of computer users. 2001 +should have at least twice as many computer users as that, so it +will require us reaching less than 5% of the users in 2001. + + +We need your donations more than ever! + + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (CMU = Carnegie- +Mellon University). + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails try our Executive Director: +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +We would prefer to send you this information by email +(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail). + +****** +If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please +FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives: +[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type] + +ftp uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd etext/etext90 through /etext96 +or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information] +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET INDEX?00.GUT +for a list of books +and +GET NEW GUT for general information +and +MGET GUT* for newsletters. + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at +Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project"). Among other +things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This etext was prepared by Donald Lainson, charlie@idirect.com. + + + + + +KEZIAH COFFIN + +by Joseph C. Lincoln + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I.--IN WHICH KEZIAH HEARS OF TWO PROPOSALS AND THE BEGINNING OF A + THIRD + +II.--IN WHICH KEZIAH UNEARTHS A PROWLER + +III.--IN WHICH KEZIAH ASSUMES A GUARDIANSHIP + +IV.--IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON DECIDES TO RUN IT BLINDFOLD + +V.--IN WHICH THE PARSON CRUISES IN STRANGE WATERS + +VI.--IN WHICH OLD FRIENDS MEET + +VII.--IN WHICH CAPTAIN NAT PICKS UP A DERELICT + +VIII.--IN WHICH THE PARSON AND MR. PEPPER DECLARE THEIR INDEPENDENCE + +IX.--IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT + +X.--IN WHICH KEZIAH'S TROUBLES MULTIPLY + +XI.--IN WHICH CAPEN EBEN RECEIVES A CALLER + +XII.--IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN MAKES PORT + +XIII.--IN WHICH KEZIAH BREAKS THE NEWS + +XIV.--IN WHICH THE SEA MIST SAILS + +XV.--IN WHICH TRUMET TALKS OF CAPTAIN NAT + +XVI--IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE + +XVII.--IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED + +XVIII.--IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT + +XIX.--IN WHICH A RECEPTION IS CALLED OFF + +XX.--IN WHICH THE MINISTER RECEIVES A LETTER + +XXI.--IN WHICH MR. STONE WASHES HIS HANDS + +XXII.--IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON PREACHES ONCE MORE + + + + +KEZIAH COFFIN + +by Joseph C. Lincoln + + + + +CHAPTER I + +IN WHICH KEZIAH HEARS TWO PROPOSALS AND THE BEGINNING OF A THIRD + + +Trumet in a fog; a fog blown in during the night by the wind from +the wide Atlantic. So wet and heavy that one might taste the salt +in it. So thick that houses along the main road were but dim +shapes behind its gray drapery, and only the gates and fences of +the front yards were plainly in evidence to the passers-by. The +beach plum and bayberry bushes on the dunes were spangled with +beady drops. The pole on Cannon Hill, where the beacon was hoisted +when the packet from Boston dropped anchor in the bay, was shiny +and slippery. The new weathervane, a gilded whale, presented to +the "Regular" church by Captain Zebedee Mayo, retired whaler, swam +in a sea of cloud. The lichened eaves of the little "Come-Outer" +chapel dripped at sedate intervals. The brick walk leading to the +door of Captain Elkanah Daniels's fine residence held undignified +puddles in its hollows. And, through the damp stillness, the +muttered growl of the surf, three miles away at the foot of the +sandy bluffs by the lighthouse, sounded ominously. + +Directly opposite Captain Elkanah's front gate, on the other side +of the main road, stood the little story-and-a-half house, also the +captain's property, which for fourteen years had been tenanted by +Mrs. Keziah Coffin and her brother, Solomon Hall, the shoemaker. +But Solomon had, the month before, given up his fight with debt and +illness and was sleeping quietly in Trumet's most populous center, +the graveyard. And Keziah, left alone, had decided that the rent +and living expenses were more than her precarious earnings as a +seamstress would warrant, and, having bargained with the furniture +dealer in Wellmouth for the sale of her household effects, was now +busy getting them ready for the morrow, when the dealer's wagon was +to call. She was going to Boston, where a distant and +condescending rich relative had interested himself to the extent of +finding her a place as sewing woman in a large tailoring +establishment. + +The fog hung like a wet blanket over the house and its small yard, +where a few venerable pear trees, too conservative in their old age +to venture a bud even though it was almost May, stood bare and +forlorn. The day was dismal. The dismantled dining room, its +tables and chairs pushed into a corner, and its faded ingrain +carpet partially stripped from the floor, was dismal, likewise. +Considering all things, one might have expected Keziah herself to +be even more dismal. But, to all outward appearances, she was not. +A large portion of her thirty-nine years of life had been passed +under a wet blanket, so to speak, and she had not permitted the +depressing covering to shut out more sunshine than was absolutely +necessary. "If you can't get cream, you might as well learn to +love your sasser of skim milk," said practical Keziah. + +She was on her knees, her calico dress sleeves, patched and darned, +but absolutely clean, rolled back, uncovering a pair of plump, +strong arms, a saucer of tacks before her, and a tack hammer with a +claw head in her hand. She was taking up the carpet. Grace Van +Horne, Captain Eben Hammond's ward, who had called to see if there +was anything she might do to help, was removing towels, +tablecloths, and the like from the drawers in a tall "high-boy," +folding them and placing them in an old and battered trunk. The +pair had been discussing the subject which all Trumet had discussed +for three weeks, namely, the "calling" to the pastorate of the +"Regular" church of the Rev. John Ellery, the young divinity +student, who was to take the place of old Parson Langley, minister +in the parish for over thirty years. Discussion in the village had +now reached a critical point, for the Reverend John was expected by +almost any coach. In those days, the days of the late fifties, the +railroad down the Cape extended only as far as Sandwich; passengers +made the rest of their journey by stage. Many came direct from the +city by the packet, the little schooner, but Mr. Ellery had written +that he should probably come on the coach. + +"They say he's very nice-looking," remarked Miss Van Horne soberly, +but with a MISCHIEVOUS glance under her dark lashes at Keziah. The +lady addressed paused long enough to transfer several tacks from +the floor to the saucer, and then made answer. + +"Humph!" she observed. "A good many years ago I saw a theater show +up to Boston. Don't be shocked; those circumstances we hear so +much tell of--the kind you can't control--have kept me from goin' +to theaters much, even if I wanted to. But I did see this +entertainment, and a fool one 'twas, too, all singin' instead of +talkin'--op'ra, I believe they called it. Well, as I started to +say, one of the leadin' folks in it was the Old Harry himself, and +HE was pretty good-lookin'." + +Grace laughed, even though she had been somewhat shocked. + +"Why, Aunt Keziah!" she exclaimed--those who knew Keziah Coffin +best usually called her aunt, though real nephews and nieces she +had none--"why, Aunt Keziah! What do you mean by comparing the-- +the person you just mentioned with a MINISTER!" + +"Oh, I wasn't comparin' 'em; I'll leave that for you Come-Outers to +do. Drat this carpet! Seems's if I never saw such long tacks; I +do believe whoever put 'em down drove 'em clean through the center +of the earth and let the Chinymen clinch 'em on t'other side. I +haul up a chunk of the cellar floor with every one. Ah, hum!" with +a sigh, "I cal'late they ain't any more anxious to leave home than +I am. But, far's the minister's concerned, didn't I hear of your +Uncle Eben sayin' in prayer meetin' only a fortni't or so ago that +all hands who wa'n't Come-Outers were own children to Satan? Mr. +Ellery must take after his father some. Surprisin', ain't it, what +a family the old critter's got." + +The girl laughed again. For one brought up, since her seventh +year, in the strictest of Come-Outer families, she laughed a good +deal. Many Come-Outers considered it wicked to laugh. Yet Grace +did it, and hers was a laugh pleasant to hear and distinctly +pleasant to see. It made her prettier than ever, a fact which, if +she was aware of it, should have been an additional preventive, for +to be pretty smacks of vanity. Perhaps she wasn't aware of it. + +"What do you think Uncle Eben would say if he heard that?" she +asked. + +"Say I took after my father, too, I presume likely. Does your +uncle know you come here to see me so often? And call me 'aunt' +and all that?" + +"Of course he does. Aunt Keziah, you mustn't think Uncle Eben +doesn't see the good in people simply because they don't believe as +he does. He's as sweet and kind as--" + +"Who? Eben Hammond? Land sakes, child, don't I know it? Cap'n +Eben's the salt of the earth. I'm a Regular and always have been, +but I'd be glad if my own society was seasoned with a few like him. +'Twould taste better to me of a Sunday." She paused, and then +added quizzically: "What d'you s'pose Cap'n Elkanah and the rest of +our parish committee would say if they heard THAT?" + +"Goodness knows! Still, I'm glad to hear you say it. And uncle +says you are as good a woman as ever lived. He thinks you're +misled, of course, but that some day you'll see the error of your +ways." + +"Humph! I'll have to hurry up if I want to see 'em without +spectacles. See my errors! Land sakes! much as I can do to see +the heads of these tacks. Takin' up carpets is as hard a test of a +body's eyesight as 'tis of their religion." + +Her companion put down the tablecloth she was folding and looked +earnestly at the other woman. To an undiscerning eye the latter +would have looked much as she always did--plump and matronly, with +brown hair drawn back from the forehead and parted in the middle; +keen brown eyes with a humorous twinkle in them--this was the +Keziah Coffin the later generation of Trumet knew so well. + +But Grace Van Horne, who called her aunt and came to see her so +frequently, while her brother was alive and during the month +following his death, could see the changes which the month had +wrought. She saw the little wrinkles about the eyes and the lines +of care about the mouth, the tired look of the whole plucky, +workaday New England figure. She shook her head. + +"Religion!" she repeated. "I do believe, Aunt Keziah, that you've +got the very best religion of anybody I know. I don't care if you +don't belong to our church. When I see how patient you've been and +how cheerful through all your troubles, it--" + +Mrs. Coffin waved the hammer deprecatingly. "There! there!" she +interrupted. "I guess it's a good thing I'm goin' away. Here's +you and I praisin' up each other's beliefs, just as if that wasn't +a crime here in Trumet. Sometimes when I see how the two societies +in this little one-horse place row with each other, I declare if it +doesn't look as if they'd crossed out the first word of 'Love your +neighbor' and wrote in 'Fight,' instead. Yet I'm a pretty good +Regular, too, and when it comes to whoopin' and carryin' on like +the Come-Outers, I-- Well! well! never mind; don't begin to +bristle up. I won't say another word about religion. Let's pick +the new minister to pieces. ANY kind of a Christian can do that." + +But the new minister was destined to remain undissected that +morning, in that house at least. Grace was serious now and she +voiced the matter which had been uppermost in her mind since she +left home. + +"Aunt Keziah," she said, "why do you go away? What makes you? Is +it absolutely necessary?" + +"Why do I go? Why, for the same reason that the feller that was +hove overboard left the ship--cause I can't stay. You've got to +have vittles and clothes, even in Trumet, and a place to put your +head in nights. Long's Sol was alive and could do his cobblin' we +managed to get along somehow. What I could earn sewin' helped, and +we lived simple. But when he was taken down and died, the doctor's +bills and the undertaker's used up what little money I had put by, +and the sewin' alone wouldn't keep a healthy canary in bird seed. +Dear land knows I hate to leave the old house I've lived in for +fourteen years and the town I was born in, but I've got to, for all +I see. Thank mercy, I can pay Cap'n Elkanah his last month's rent +and go with a clear conscience. I won't owe anybody, that's a +comfort, and nobody will owe me; though I could stand that, I +guess," she added, prying at the carpet edge. + +"I don't care!" The girl's dark eyes flashed indignantly. "I +think it's too bad of Cap'n Elkanah to turn you out when--" + +"Don't talk that way. He ain't turnin' me out. He ain't lettin' +houses for his health and he'll need the money to buy his +daughter's summer rigs. She ain't had a new dress for a month, +pretty near, and here's a young and good-lookin' parson heavin' in +sight. Maybe Cap'n Elkanah would think a minister was high-toned +enough even for Annabel to marry." + +"He's only twenty-three, they say," remarked Grace, a trifle +maliciously. "Perhaps she'll adopt him." + +Annabel was the only child of Captain Elkanah Daniels, who owned +the finest house in town. She was the belle of Trumet, and had +been for a good many years. + +Keziah laughed. + +"Well," she said, "anyhow I've got to go. Maybe I'll like Boston +first rate, you can't tell. Or maybe I won't. Ah, hum! 'twouldn't +be the first thing I've had to do that I didn't like." + +Her friend looked at her. + +"Aunt," she said, "I want to make a proposal to you, and you +mustn't be cross about it." + +"A proposal! Sakes alive! What'll I say? 'This is so sudden!' +That's what Becky Ryder, up to the west part of the town, said when +Jim Baker, the tin peddler, happened to ask her if she'd ever +thought of gettin' married. 'O James! this is so sudden!' says +Becky. Jim said afterwards that the suddenest thing about it was +the way he cleared out of that house. And he never called there +afterwards." + +Grace smiled, but quickly grew grave. + +"Now, auntie," she said, "please listen. I'm in earnest. It seems +to me that you might do quite well at dressmaking here in town, if +you had a little--well, ready money to help you at the start. I've +got a few hundred dollars in the bank, presents from uncle, and my +father's insurance money. I should love to lend it to you, and I +know uncle would--" + +Mrs. Coffin interrupted her. + +"Cat's foot!" she exclaimed. "I hope I haven't got where I need to +borrow money yet a while. Thank you just as much, deary, but +long's I've got two hands and a mouth, I'll make the two keep +t'other reasonably full, I wouldn't wonder. No, I shan't think of +it, so don't say another word. NO." + +The negative was so decided that Grace was silenced. Her +disappointment showed in her face, however, and Keziah hastened to +change the subject. + +"How do you know," she observed, "but what my goin' to Boston may +be the best thing that ever happened to me? You can't tell. No +use despairin', Annabel ain't given up hope yet; why should I? +Hey? Ain't that somebody comin'?" + +Her companion sprang to her feet and ran to the window. Then she +broke into a smothered laugh. + +"Why, it's Kyan Pepper!" she exclaimed. "He must be coming to see +you, Aunt Keziah. And he's got on his very best Sunday clothes. +Gracious! I must be going. I didn't know you expected callers." + +Keziah dropped the tack hammer and stood up. + +"Kyan!" she repeated. "What in the world is that old idiot comin' +here for? To talk about the minister, I s'pose. How on earth did +Laviny ever come to let him out alone?" + +Mr. Pepper, Mr. Abishai Pepper, locally called "Kyan" (Cayenne) +Pepper because of his red hair and thin red side whiskers, was one +of Trumet's "characters," and in his case the character was weak. +He was born in the village and, when a youngster, had, like every +other boy of good family in the community, cherished ambitions for +a seafaring life. His sister, Lavinia, ten years older than he, +who, after the death of their parents, had undertaken the job of +"bringing up" her brother, did not sympathize with these ambitions. +Consequently, when Kyan ran away she followed him to Boston, +stalked aboard the vessel where he had shipped, and collared him, +literally and figuratively. One of the mates venturing to offer +objection, Lavinia turned upon him and gave him a piece of her +mind, to the immense delight of the crew and the loungers on the +wharf. Then she returned with the vagrant to Trumet. Old Captain +Higgins, who skippered the packet in those days, swore that Lavinia +never stopped lecturing her brother from the time they left Boston +until they dropped anchor behind the breakwater. + +"I give you my word that 'twas pretty nigh a stark calm, but there +was such a steady stream of language pourin' out of the Pepper +stateroom that the draught kept the sails filled all the way home," +asserted Captain Higgins. + +That was Kyan's sole venture, so far as sailoring was concerned, +but he ran away again when he was twenty-five. This time he +returned of his own accord, bringing a wife with him, one Evelyn +Gott of Ostable. Evelyn could talk a bit herself, and her first +interview with Lavinia ended with the latter's leaving the house in +a rage, swearing never to set foot in it again. This oath she +broke the day of her sister-in-law's funeral. Then she appeared, +after the ceremony, her baggage on the wagon with her. The +bereaved one, who was sitting on the front stoop of his dwelling +with, so people say, a most resigned expression on his meek +countenance, looked up and saw her. + +"My land! Laviny," he exclaimed, turning pale. "Where'd you come +from?" + +"Never mind WHERE I come from," observed his sister promptly. "You +just be thankful I've come. If ever a body needed some one to take +care of 'em, it's you. You can tote my things right in," she +added, turning to her grinning driver, "and you, 'Bishy, go right +in with 'em. The idea of your settin' outside takin' it easy when +your poor wife ain't been buried more'n an hour!" + +"But--but--Laviny," protested poor Kyan, speaking the truth +unwittingly, "I couldn't take it easy AFORE she was buried, could +I?" + +"Go right in," was the answer. "March!" + +Abishai marched, and had marched under his sister's orders ever +since. She kept house for him, and did it well, but her one fear +was that some female might again capture him, and she watched him +with an eagle eye. He was the town assessor and tax collector, but +when he visited dwellings containing single women or widows, +Lavinia always accompanied him, "to help him in his figgerin'," she +said. + +Consequently, when he appeared, unchaperoned, on the walk leading +to the side door of the Coffin homestead, Keziah and her friend +were surprised. + +"He's dressed to kill," whispered Grace, at the window. "Even his +tall hat; and in this fog! I do believe he's coming courting, Aunt +Keziah." + +"Humph!" was the ungracious answer. "He's come to say good-by, I +s'pose, and to find out where I'm goin' and how much pay I'm goin' +to get and if my rent's settled, and a few other little things that +ain't any of his business. Laviny put him up to it, you see. +She'll be along pretty quick. Well, I'll fix him so he won't talk +much. He can help us take down that stovepipe. I said 'twas a job +for a man, and a half one's better than none-- Why, how d'ye do, +'Bishy? Come right in. Pretty thick outside, isn't it?" + +Mr. Pepper entered diffidently. + +"Er--er--how d'ye do, Keziah?" he stammered. "I thought I'd just +run in a minute and--" + +"Yes, yes. Glad to see you. Take off your hat. My sakes! it's +pretty wet. How did Laviny come to let you-- I mean how'd you +come to wear a beaver such a mornin's this?" + +Kyan removed the silk hat and inspected its limp grandeur ruefully. + +"I--I--" he began. "Well, the fact is, I come out by myself. You +see, Laviny's gone up to Sarah B.'s to talk church doin's. I--I-- +well, I kind of wanted to speak with you about somethin', Keziah, +so-- Oh! I didn't see you, Gracie. Good mornin'." + +He didn't seem overjoyed to see Miss Van Horne, as it was. In +fact, he reddened perceptibly and backed toward the door. The +girl, her eyes twinkling, took up her jacket and hat. + +"Oh! I'm not going to stop, Mr. Pepper," she said. "I was only +helping Aunt Keziah a little, that's all. I must run on now." + +"Run on--nonsense!" declared Keziah decisively. "You're goin' to +stay right here and help us get that stovepipe down. And 'Bishy'll +help, too. Won't you, 'Bish?" + +The stovepipe was attached to the "air-tight" in the dining room. +It--the pipe--rose perpendicularly for a few feet and then extended +horizontally, over the high-boy, until it entered the wall. Kyan +looked at it and then at his "Sunday clothes." + +"Why, I'd be glad to, of course," he declared with dubious +enthusiasm. "But I don't know's I'll have time. Perhaps I'd +better come later and do it. Laviny, she--" + +"Oh, Laviny can spare you for a few minutes, I guess; 'specially as +she don't know you're out. Better take your coat off, hadn't you? +Grace, fetch one of those chairs for Ky--for 'Bishy to stand in." + +Grace obediently brought the chair. It happened to be the one with +a rickety leg, but its owner was helping the reluctant Abishai +remove the long-tailed blue coat which had been his wedding garment +and had adorned his person on occasions of ceremony ever since. +She did not notice the chair. + +"It's real good of you to offer to help," she said. "Grace and I +didn't hardly dast to try it alone. That pipe's been up so long +that I wouldn't wonder if 'twas chock-full of soot. If you're +careful, though, I don't believe you'll get any on you. Never mind +the floor; I'm goin' to wash that before I leave." + +Reluctantly, slowly, the unwilling Mr. Pepper suffered himself to +be led to the chair. He mounted it and gingerly took hold of the +pipe. + +"Better loosen it at the stove hole first," advised Keziah. "What +was it you wanted to see me about, 'Bish?" + +"Oh, nothin', nothin'," was the hasty response. "Nothin' of any +account--that is to say--" + +He turned redder than ever and wrenched at the pipe. It loosened +at its lower end and the wires holding it in suspension shook. + +"I guess," observed the lady of the house, "that you'd better move +that chest of drawers out so's you can get behind it. Grace, you +help me. There! that's better. Now move your chair." + +Kyan stepped from the chair and moved the latter to a position +between the high-boy and the wall. Then he remounted and gripped +the pipe in the middle of its horizontal section. + +"Seems to stick in the chimney there, don't it?" queried Keziah. +"Wiggle it back and forth; that ought to loosen it. What was it +you wanted to say, 'Bish?" + +Apparently, Mr. Pepper had nothing to say. The crimson tide had +reached his ears, which, always noticeable because of their size +and spread, were now lit up like a schooner's sails at sunset. His +hands trembled on the pipe. + +"Nothin', nothin', I tell you," he faltered. "I--I just run in to +say how d'ye do, that's all." + +"Really, I think I'd better be going," said Grace, glancing from +Kyan's embarrassed face to that of the unsuspecting Mrs. Coffin. +"I'm afraid I'm in the way." + +"No, no!" shouted the occupant of the chair. "No, no, you ain't!" + +"But I'm afraid I am. And they'll be expecting me at home. Aunt +Keziah, I--" + +"Don't be in such a hurry," interrupted Keziah. "Does stick in the +chimney, don't it? Tell you what you can do, Grace; you can go in +the woodshed and fetch the hammer that's in the table drawer. +Hurry up, that's a good girl." + +Kyan protested that he did not need the hammer, but his protest was +unheeded. With one more glance at the couple, Grace departed from +the kitchen, biting her lips. She shut the door carefully behind +her. Mr. Pepper labored frantically with the pipe. + +"No use to shake it any more till you get the hammer," advised +Keziah. "Might's well talk while you're waitin'. What was it you +wanted to tell me?" + +Abishai drew one hand across his forehead, leaving a decorative +smooch of blacking on his perspiring countenance. He choked, +swallowed, and then, with a look at the closed door, seemed to +reach a desperate resolve. + +"Keziah," he whispered hurriedly, "you've known me quite a spell, +ain't you?" + +"Known you? Known you ever since you were born, pretty nigh. What +of it?" + +"Yes, yes. And I've known you, you know. Fact is, we've known +each other." + +"Hear the man! Land sakes! don't everybody in Trumet know +everybody else? What ARE you drivin' at?" + +"Keziah, you're a single woman." + +His companion let go of the chair, which she had been holding in +place, and stepped back. + +"I'm a single woman?" she repeated sharply. "What do you mean by +that? Did--did anybody say I wasn't?" + +"No, no! 'Course not. But you're a widow, so you BE single, you +know, and--" + +"Well? Did you think I was twins? Get down off there this minute. +You've gone crazy. I thought so when I saw that beaver. Either +that or you've been drinkin'. Grace! What DOES make her so long +gettin' that hammer?" + +Finding the hammer did seem to take a long time. There was no +sound from the kitchen. Kyan, steadying himself with one hand on +the pipe, waved the other wildly. + +"S-s-sh! s-sh-h!" he hissed. "Hush! be still! Don't get her in +here. Keziah, you're single and so am I. You ain't got nobody to +take care of you and I ain't, neither--that is, I don't want to be +took care of--I mean, I've been took care of too much." + +Mrs. Coffin took another step in the direction of the kitchen. + +"He IS loony!" she exclaimed under her breath. "I--" + +"No, no! I ain't loony. I want to make a proposal to you. I want +to see if you won't marry me. I'm sick of Laviny. Let's you and +me settle down together. I could have some peace then. And I +think a whole lot of you, too," he added, apparently as an +afterthought. + +Keziah's face was red now, and growing redder every instant. + +"Kyan Pepper!" she cried in amazed incredulity. "Kyan Pepper, do +you--" + +"Hurry up!" pleaded Abishai, in agitated impatience. "Say yes +quick. She'll be back in a minute." + +"Say YES! Why, you--" + +"Don't stop to argue, Keziah. I've got 'most fifteen hundred +dollars in the bank. Laviny keeps the pass book in her bureau, but +you could get it from her. I own my house. I'm a man of good +character. You're poor, but I don't let that stand in the way. +Anyhow, you're a first-rate housekeeper. And I really do think an +awful lot of you." + +Mrs. Coffin stepped no farther in the direction of the kitchen. +Instead, she strode toward the rickety chair and its occupant. +Kyan grasped the pipe with both hands. + +"You poor--miserable--impudent--" began the lady. + +"Why, Keziah, don't you WANT to?" He spoke as if the possibility +of a refusal had never entered his mind. "I cal'lated you'd be +glad. You wouldn't have to go away then, nor-- My soul and body! +some one's knockin' at the door! AND THIS DUMMED PIPE'S FETCHED +LOOSE!" + +The last sentence was a smothered shriek. Keziah heeded not. +Neither did she heed the knock at the door. Her hands were opening +and closing convulsively. + +"Be glad!" she repeated. "Glad to marry a good-for-nothin' sand- +peep like you! You sassy-- GET down off that chair and out of +this house! Get down this minute!" + +"I can't! This stovepipe's loose, I tell you! Be reason'ble, +Keziah. Do--don't you touch me! I'll fall if you do. Pl-e-ase, +Keziah!-- O Lordy! I knew it. LAVINY!" + +The door opened. On the threshold, arms akimbo and lips set tight, +stood Lavinia Pepper. Her brother's knees gave way; in their +collapse they struck the chair back; the rickety leg wabbled. Kyan +grasped at the pipe to save himself and, the next moment, chair, +sections of stovepipe, and Mr. Pepper disappeared with a mighty +crash behind the high-boy. A cloud of soot arose and obscured the +view. + +Keziah, too indignant even to laugh, glared at the wreck. In the +doorway of the kitchen Grace Van Horne, hammer in hand, leaned +against the jamb, her handkerchief at her mouth and tears in her +eyes. Lavinia, majestic and rigid, dominated the scene. From +behind the high-boy came coughs, sneezes, and emphatic +ejaculations. + +Miss Pepper was the first to speak. + +"Abishai Pepper," she commanded, "come out of that this minute." + +Her answer was a tremendous sneeze. Then from the dusky cloud by +the wall sounded a voice feebly protesting. + +"Now, Laviny," began poor Kyan, "I never in my life--" + +"Do you hear me? Come out of that!" + +There was a sound of scrambling. More soot floated in the air. +Then around the corner of the high-boy appeared Mr. Pepper, +crawling on his hands and knees. His hair was streaked with black; +his shirt front and collar and shirt sleeves were spotted and +smeared with black; and from his blackened cheeks his red whiskers +flamed like the last glowing embers in a fire-scarred ruin. + +"Laviny," he panted, "I never was so surprised and upsot in all my +life afore." + +This was too much for Grace. She collapsed in a chair and laughed +hysterically. Even the wrathful Keziah smiled. But Lavinia did +not smile. For that matter, neither did her brother. + +"Hum!" sneered Miss Pepper. "Upsot! Yes, I see you're upsot. Get +up, and try to look as much like a Christian as you can!" + +Kyan rose from his knees to his feet and rubbed his back. He +glanced reproachfully at Grace, then fearfully at his sister. + +"I was just tryin' to help Keziah take down her stovepipe," he +explained. "You see, she didn't have no man to--" + +"Yes, I see. Well, I judge you got it down. Now you go out to the +sink and wash your face. Heavens and earth! Look at them +clothes!" + +"I do hope you didn't hurt yourself, Abishai," said the sympathetic +Keziah. Then, as remembrance of what had led to the upset came to +her, she added: "Though I will say 'twas your own fault and nobody +else's." + +Lavinia whirled on her. + +"His own fault, was it?" she repeated, her voice shrill and +trembling. "Thank you very much, marm. I cal'late 'twas his own +fault comin' here, too, wa'n't it? Nobody led him on, I s'pose. +Nobody put him up to riggin' out in his best bib and tucker and +sneakin' here the minute I was out of the house. No, nobody did! +Of COURSE not!" + +"No, nobody did," said Keziah briskly. "And you may know what +you're hintin' at, but I don't." + +"Dear me! Ain't we innocent! We've got plenty of money, WE have. +Widowers with property ain't no attraction to US. Everybody knows +that--oh, yes! And they never talk of such a thing--oh, no! Folks +don't say that--that-- Well," with a snarl in the direction of the +kitchen, "are you anywheres nigh clean yet? Get your coat and hat +on and come home with me." + +She jerked her brother into the blue coat, jammed the tall hat down +upon his head, and, seizing him by the arm, stalked to the door. + +"Good day, marm," she said. "I do hope the next widower you get to +take down your stovepipe--yes, indeed! ha! ha!--I hope you'll have +better luck with him. Though I don't know who 'twould be; there +ain't no more idiots in town that I know of. Good day, and thank +you kindly for your attentions to our family." + +She pulled the door open and was on the step; but Mrs. Coffin did +not intend to let her go in just that way. + +"Laviny Pepper," she declared, her eyes snapping, "I don't know +what you're talkin' about, but if you dare to mean that I want any +of your money, or your brother's money, you're mistaken--'cause I +don't. And I don't want your brother either--Lord help him, poor +thing! And I tell you right now that there's nobody that does; +though some kind-hearted folks have said 'twould be a Christian act +to poison him, so's to put him out of his misery. There! Good +mornin' to you." + +She slammed the door. Lavinia was speechless. As for her brother, +but one remark of his reached Grace, who was watching from the +window. + +"Laviny," pleaded Kyan, "just let me explain." + +At nine o'clock that night he was still "explaining." + +Keziah turned from the door she had closed behind her visitor. + +"Well!" she ejaculated. "WELL!" + +Her friend did not look at her. She was still gazing out of the +window. Occasionally she seemed to choke. + +Keziah eyed her suspiciously. + +"Humph!" she mused. "'Twas funny, wasn't it?" + +"Oh, dreadfully!" was the hurried answer. + +"Yes. Seems to me you took an awful long time findin' that +hammer." + +"It was away back in the drawer. I didn't see it at first." + +"Hum! Grace Van Horne, if I thought you heard what that--that +THING said to me, I'd--I'd-- Good land of mercy! somebody ELSE is +comin'." + +Steps, measured, dignified steps, sounded on the walk. From +without came a "Hum--ha!" a portentous combination of cough and +grunt. Grace dodged back from the window and hastily began donning +her hat and jacket. + +"It's Cap'n Elkanah," she whispered. "I must go. This seems to be +your busy morning, Aunt Keziah. I"--here she choked again-- +"really, I didn't know you were so popular." + +Keziah opened the door. Captain Elkanah Daniels, prosperous, +pompous, and unbending, crossed the threshold. Richest man in the +village, retired shipowner, pillar of the Regular church and +leading member of its parish committee, Captain Elkanah looked the +part. He removed his hat, cleared his throat behind his black +stock, and spoke with impressive deliberation. + +"Good morning, Keziah. Ah--er--morning, Grace." Even in the tone +given to a perfunctory salutation like this, the captain +differentiated between Regular and Come-Outer. "Keziah, I--hum, +ha!--rather expected to find you alone." + +"I was just going, Cap'n Daniels," explained the girl. The captain +bowed and continued. + +"Keziah," he said, "Keziah, I came to see you on a somewhat +important matter. I have a proposal I wish to make you." + +He must have been surprised at the effect of his words. Keziah's +face was a picture, a crimson picture of paralyzed amazement. As +for Miss Van Horne, that young lady gave vent to what her friend +described afterwards as a "squeal," and bolted out of the door and +into the grateful seclusion of the fog. + + +CHAPTER II + +IN WHICH KEZIAH UNEARTHS A PROWLER + + +The fog was cruel to the gossips of Trumet that day. Mrs. Didama +Rogers, who lived all alone, except for the society of three cats, +a canary, and a white poodle named "Bunch," in the little house +next to Captain Elkanah's establishment, never entirely recovered +from the chagrin and disappointment caused by that provoking mist. +When one habitually hurries through the morning's household duties +in order to sit by the front window and note each passer-by, with +various fascinating surmises as to his or her errand and the +reasons for it, it is discouraging to be able to see only one's own +front fence and a scant ten feet of sidewalk. And then to learn +afterwards of a dozen most exciting events, each distinctly out of +the ordinary, which might have been used as excuses for two dozen +calls and as many sensations! As Captain Zeb Mayo, the irreverent +ex-whaler, put it, "That fog shook Didama's faith in the judgment +of Providence. 'Tain't the 'all wise,' but the 'all seein'' kind +she talks about in meetin' now." + +The fog prevented Mrs. Rogers's noting the entrance of Mr. Pepper +at the Coffin front gate. Also his exit, under sisterly arrest. +It shut from her view the majestic approach of Captain Elkanah +Daniels and Grace's flight, her face dimpled with smiles and +breaking into laughter at frequent intervals. For a young lady, +supposed to be a devout Come-Outer, to hurry along the main road, a +handkerchief at her mouth and her eyes sparkling with fun, was a +circumstance calculated to furnish material for enjoyable scandal. +And Didama missed it. + +Other happenings she missed, also. Not knowing of Captain +Daniels's call upon Keziah, she was deprived of the pleasure of +wonder at the length of his stay. She did not see him, in company +with Mrs. Coffin, go down the road in the opposite direction from +that taken by Grace. Nor their return and parting at the gate, two +hours later. She did not see--but there! she saw nothing, +absolutely nothing--except the scraggy spruce tree in her tiny +front yard and the lonely ten feet of walk bordering it. No one +traversed that section of walk except old Mrs. Tinker, who was +collecting subscriptions for new hymn books for the Come-Outer +chapel. And Didama was particularly anxious NOT to see her. + +The dismal day dragged on. The silver-leaf trees dripped, the +hedges were shining with moisture. Through the stillness the +distant surf along the "ocean side" of the Cape growled and moaned +and the fog bell at the lighthouse clanged miserably. Along the +walk opposite Didama's--the more popular side of the road--shadowy +figures passed at long intervals, children going to and from +school, people on errands to the store, and the like. It was three +o'clock in the afternoon before a visitor came again to the Coffin +front gate, entered the yard and rapped at the side door. + +Keziah opened the door. + +"Halloa!" she exclaimed. "Back, are you? I begun to think you'd +been scared away for good." + +Grace laughed as she entered. + +"Well, auntie," she said, "I don't wonder you thought I was scared. +Truly, I didn't think it was proper for me to stay. First Kyan and +then Cap'n Elkanah, and both of them expressing their wishes to see +you alone so--er--pointedly. I thought it was time for me to go. +Surely, you give me credit for a little delicacy." + +Keziah eyed her grimly. + +"Humph!" she sniffed. "If you'd been a little less delicate about +fetchin' that hammer, we might have been spared at least one smash- +up. I don't s'pose Laviny'll ever speak to me again. Oh, dear! I +guess likely I'll never get the memory of that--that Kyan thing out +of my mind. I never was so set back in my born days. Yes, you can +laugh!" + +She laughed herself as she said it. As for Grace, it was sometime +before that young lady became coherent. + +"He DID look so funny!" she gasped. "Hopping up and down on that +shaky chair and holding on to that pipe and--and-- O Aunt Keziah, +if you could have seen your face when I opened that door!" + +"Yes; well, I will say you was sometime gettin' it open. And then, +on top of the whole fool business, in parades Elkanah Daniels and--" + +She paused. Her companion looked delightedly expectant. + +"Yes," she cried eagerly. "Then Cap'n Elkanah came and the very +first thing he said was-- I almost laughed in his face." + +"Almost! Humph! that's no exaggeration. The way you put out of +that door was a caution." + +"Yes, but what did the cap'n mean? Is it a secret? Ahem! shall I +congratulate you, auntie?" + +"Grace Van Horne! there's born fools enough in this town without +your tryin' to be one. You know 'twa'n't THAT. Though what 'twas +was surprise enough, I will say," she added. "Grace, I ain't goin' +away to-morrow." + +"You're not? Oh, splendid! Has the cap'n decided to let you stay +here?" + +"I guess his decidin' wouldn't influence me, if twas stayin' in his +house he meant. The only way I could live here would be on his +charity, and that would be as poor fodder as sawdust hasty puddin', +even if I was fond of charity, which I ain't. He said to me-- +Well, you take your things off and I'll tell you about it. You can +stay a little while, can't you?" + +"Yes, I was going to stay all the afternoon and for supper, if +you'd let me. I knew you had so much to do and I wanted to help. +I told uncle and he said certainly I ought to come. He said he +should try to see you and say good-by before you left tomorrow." + +"You don't say! And me a Regular! Well, I'm much obliged, though +I guess your Uncle Eben won't see me to-morrow--nor speak to me +again, when he knows what I AM going to do. Grace, I ain't goin' +to leave Trumet, not for the present, anyhow. I've got a way of +earnin' my livin' right here. I'm goin' to keep house for the new +minister." + +The girl turned, her hat in her hand. + +"Oh!" she cried in utter astonishment. + +Keziah nodded. "Yes," she affirmed. "That was what Elkanah's +proposal amounted to. Ha! ha! Deary me! When he said 'proposal,' +I own up for a minute I didn't know WHAT was comin'. After Kyan I +was prepared for 'most anything. But he told me that Lurany +Phelps, who the parish committee had counted on to keep house for +Mr. Ellery, had sent word her sister was sick and couldn't be left, +and that somebody must be hired right off 'cause the minister's +expected by day after to-morrow's coach. And they'd gone over +every likely candidate in town till it simmered down to Mehitable +Burgess. And Cap'n Zeb Mayo spoke right up in the committee +meetin' and gave out that if Mehitable kept house for Mr. Ellery +he, for one, wouldn't come to church. Said he didn't want to hear +sermons that was inspired by HER cookin'. Seems she cooked for the +Mayos one week when Mrs. Mayo had gone to Boston, and Cap'n Zeb +declares his dreams that week was somethin' awful. 'And I'm a man +with no nerves and mighty little imagination,' he says. 'Land +knows what effect a dose of Mehitable's biscuits might have on a +MINISTER.' + +"And so," continued Keziah, "they decided Mehitable wouldn't do, +and finally somebody thought of me. I have a notion 'twas Zeb, +although Cap'n Elkanah did his best to make me think 'twas himself. +And the cap'n was made a delegate to come and see me about it. +Come he did, and we settled it. I went down to the parsonage with +him before dinner and looked the place over. There's an awful lot +of sweepin' and dustin' to be done afore it's fit for a body to +live in. I did think that when I'd finished with this house I +could swear off on that kind of dissipation for a while, but I +guess, judgin' by the looks of that parsonage, what I've done so +far is only practice." She paused, glanced keenly at her friend +and asked: "Why! what's the matter? You don't act nigh so glad as +I thought you'd be." + +Grace said of course she was glad; but she looked troubled, +nevertheless. + +"I can hardly make it seem possible," she said. "Is it really +settled--your salary and everything? And what will you do about +your position in Boston?" + +"Oh, I'll write Cousin Abner and tell him. Lord love you, HE won't +care. He'll feel that he did his duty in gettin' me the Boston +chance and if I don't take it 'tain't his fault. HIS conscience'll +be clear. Land sakes! if I could clean house as easy as some folks +clear their consciences I wouldn't have a backache this minute. +Yes, the wages are agreed on, too. And totin' them around won't +make my back ache any worse, either," she added drily. + +Grace extended her hand. + +"Well, Aunt Keziah," she said, "I'm ever and ever so glad for you. +I know you didn't want to leave Trumet and I'm sure everyone will +be delighted when they learn that you're going to stay." + +"Humph! that includes Laviny Pepper, of course. I cal'late +Laviny's delight won't keep her up nights. But I guess I can stand +it if she can. Now, Grace, what is it? You AIN'T real pleased? +Why not?" + +The girl hesitated. + +"Auntie," she said, "I'm selfish, I guess. I'm glad for your sake; +you mustn't think I'm not. But I almost wish you were going to do +something else. You are going to live in the Regular parsonage and +keep house for, of all persons, a Regular minister. Why, so far as +my seeing you is concerned, you might as well be in China. You +know Uncle Eben." + +Keziah nodded understandingly. + +"Yes," she said, "I know him. Eben Hammond thinks that parsonage +is the presence chamber of the Evil One, I presume likely. But, +Grace, you mustn't blame me, and if you don't call I'll know why +and I shan't blame you. We'll see each other once in a while; I'll +take care of that. And, deary, I HAD to do it--I just had to. If +you knew what a load had been took off my mind by this, you'd +sympathize with me and understand. I've been happier in Trumet +than I ever was anywhere else, though I've seen some dark times +here, too. I was born here; my folks used to live here. My +brother Sol lived and died here. His death was a heavy trouble to +me, but the heaviest came to me when I was somewheres else and-- +well, somehow I've had a feelin' that, if there was any real joys +ever planned out for me while I'm on this earth, they'd come to me +here. I don't know when they'll come. There's times when I can't +believe they ever will come, but-- There! there! everybody has to +bear burdens in this life, I cal'late. It's a vale of tears, +'cordin' to you Come-Outer folks, though I've never seen much good +in wearin' a long face and a crape bathin' suit on that account. +Hey? What are you listenin' to?" + +"I thought I heard a carriage stop, that was all." + +Mrs. Coffin went to the window and peered into the fog. + +"Can't see anything," she said. "'Tain't anybody for here, that's +sure. I guess likely 'twas Cap'n Elkanah. He and Annabel were +goin' to drive over to Denboro this afternoon. She had some +trimmin' to buy. Takes more than fog to separate Annabel Daniels +from dressmakin'. Well, there's a little more packin' to do; then +I thought I'd go down to that parsonage and take a whack at the +cobwebs. I never saw so many in my born days. You'd think all the +spiders from here to Ostable had been holdin' camp meetin' in that +shut-up house." + +The packing took about an hour. When it was finished, the carpet +rolled up, and the last piece of linen placed in the old trunk, +Keziah turned to her guest. + +"Now, Gracie," she said, "I feel as though I ought to go to the +parsonage. I can't do much more'n look at the cobwebs to-night, +but to-morrow those spiders had better put on their ascension +robes. The end of the world's comin' for them, even though it +missed fire for the Millerites when they had their doin's a few +years ago. You can stay here and wait, if 'twon't be too lonesome. +We'll have supper when I get back." + +Grace looked tempted. + +"I've a good mind to go with you," she said. "I want to be with +you as much as I can, and HE isn't there yet. I'm afraid uncle +might not like it, but--" + +"Sho! Come along. Eben Hammond may be a chronic sufferer from +acute Come-Outiveness, but he ain't a ninny. Nobody'll see you, +anyway. This fog's like charity, it'll cover a heap of sins. Do +come right along. Wait till I get on my things." + +She threw a shawl over her shoulders, draped a white knitted +"cloud" over her head, and took from a nail a key, attached by a +strong cord to a block of wood eight inches long. + +"Elkanah left the key with me," she observed. "No danger of losin' +it, is there. Might as well lose a lumber yard. Old Parson +Langley tied it up this way, so he wouldn't miss his moorin's, I +presume likely. The poor old thing was so nearsighted and absent- +minded along toward the last that they say he used to hire Noah +Myrick's boy to come in and look him over every Sunday mornin' +before church, so's to be sure he hadn't got his wig on stern +foremost. That's the way Zeb Mayo tells the yarn, anyhow." + +They left the house and came out into the wet mist. Then, turning +to the right, in the direction which Trumet, with unconscious +irony, calls "downtown," they climbed the long slope where the main +road mounts the outlying ridge of Cannon Hill, passed Captain +Mayo's big house--the finest in Trumet, with the exception of the +Daniels mansion--and descended into the hollow beyond. Here, at +the corner where the "Lighthouse Lane" begins its winding way over +the rolling knolls and dunes to the light and the fish shanties on +the "ocean side," stood the plain, straight-up-and-down meeting +house of the Regular society. Directly opposite was the little +parsonage, also very straight up and down. Both were painted white +with green blinds. This statement is superfluous to those who +remember Cape architecture at this period; practically every +building from Sandwich to Provincetown was white and green. + +They entered the yard, through the gap in the white fence, and went +around the house, past the dripping evergreens and the bare, wet +lilac bushes, to the side door, the lock of which Keziah's key +fitted. There was a lock on the front door, of course, but no one +thought of meddling with that. That door had been opened but once +during the late pastor's thirty-year tenantry. On the occasion of +his funeral the mourners came and went, as was proper, by that +solemn portal. + +Mrs. Coffin thrust the key into the keyhole of the side door and +essayed to turn it. + +"Humph!" she muttered, twisting to no purpose; "I don't see why-- +This must be the right key, because-- Well, I declare, if it ain't +unlocked already! That's some of Cap'n Elkanah's doin's. For a +critter as fussy and particular about some things, he's careless +enough about others. Mercy we ain't had any tramps around here +lately. Come in." + +She led the way into the dining room of the parsonage. Two of the +blinds shading the windows of that apartment had been opened when +she and Captain Daniels made their visit, and the dim gray light +made the room more lonesome and forsaken in appearance than a +deeper gloom could possibly have done. The black walnut extension +table in the center, closed to its smallest dimensions because +Parson Langley had eaten alone for so many years; the black walnut +chairs set back against the wall at regular intervals; the rag +carpet and braided mats--homemade donations from the ladies of the +parish--on the green painted floor; the dolorous pictures on the +walls; "Death of Washington," "Stoning of Stephen," and a still +more deadly "fruit piece" committed in oils years ago by a now +deceased boat painter; a black walnut sideboard with some blue-and- +white crockery upon it; a gilt-framed mirror with another outrage +in oils emphasizing its upper half; dust over everything and the +cobwebs mentioned by Keziah draping the corners of the ceiling; +this was the dining room of the Regular parsonage as Grace saw it +upon this, her first visit. The dust and cobwebs were, in her +eyes, the only novelties, however. Otherwise, the room was like +many others in Trumet, and, if there had been one or two paintings +of ships, would have been typical of the better class. + +"Phew!" exclaimed Keziah, sniffing disgustedly. "Musty and shut up +enough, ain't it? Down here in the dampness, and 'specially in the +spring, it don't take any time for a house to get musty if it ain't +aired out regular. Mr. Langley died only three months ago, but +we've been candidatin' ever since and the candidates have been +boarded round. There's been enough of 'em, too; we're awful hard +to suit, I guess. That's it. Do open some more blinds and a +window. Fresh air don't hurt anybody--unless it's spiders," with a +glare at the loathed cobwebs. + +The blinds and a window being opened, more light entered the room. +Grace glanced about it curiously. + +"So this is going to be your new home now, Aunt Keziah," she +observed. "How queer that seems." + +"Um--h'm. Does seem queer, don't it? Must seem queer to you to be +so near the headquarters of everything your uncle thinks is wicked. +Smell of brimstone any, does it?" she asked with a smile. + +"No, I haven't noticed it. You've got a lot of cleaning to do. I +wish I could help. Look at the mud on the floor." + +Keziah looked. + +"Mud?" she exclaimed. "Why, so 'tis! How in the world did that +come here? Wet feet, sure's you're born. Man's foot, too. Cap'n +Elkanah's, I guess likely; though the prints don't look hardly big +enough for his. Elkanah's convinced that he's a great man and his +boots bear him out in it, don't they? Those marks don't look broad +enough for his understandin', but I guess he made 'em; nobody else +could. Here's the settin' room." + +She threw open another door. A room gloomy with black walnut and +fragrant with camphor was dimly visible. + +"Cheerful's a tomb, ain't it?" was Mrs. Coffin's comment. "Well, +we'll get some light and air in here pretty soon. Here's the front +hall and there's the front stairs. The parlor's off to the left. +We won't bother with that yet a while. This little place in here +is what Mr. Langley used to call his 'study.' Halloa! how this +door sticks!" + +The door did stick, and no amount of tugging could get it open, +though Grace added her efforts to those of Keziah. + +"'Tain't locked," commented Mrs. Coffin, "cause there ain't any +lock on it. I guess it's just swelled and stuck from the damp. +Though it's odd, I don't remember-- Oh, well! never mind. Let's +sweeten up this settin' room a little. Open a window or two in +here. We'll have to hurry if we want to do anything before it gets +dark. I'm goin' into the kitchen to get a broom." + +She hurried out, returning in a moment or two with a broom and a +most disgusted expression. + +"How's a body goin' to sweep with that?" she demanded, exhibiting +the frayed utensil, the business end of which was worn to a stub. +"More like a shovel, enough sight. Well, there's pretty nigh dust +enough for a shovel, so maybe this'll take off the top layers. +S'pose I'll ever get this house fit for Mr. Ellery to live in +before he comes? I wonder if he's a particular man?" + +Grace, who was struggling with a refractory window, paused for +breath. + +"I'm sure I don't know," she replied. "I've never seen him." + +"Nor I either. Sol was so bad the Sunday he preached that I +couldn't go to meetin'. They say his sermon was fine; all about +those who go down to the sea in ships. That's what got the parish +committee, I guess; they're all old salts. I wonder if he's as +fine-lookin' as they say?" + +Miss Van Horne tossed her head. She was resting, prior to making +another assault on the window. + +"I don't know," she said. "And I'm sure I don't care. I don't +like good-looking ministers." + +"Deary me! You're different from most females in this town, then. +And you spoke of his good looks yourself this very mornin'. Why +don't you like the good-lookin' ones?" + +"Oh, because they're always conceited and patronizing and superior-- +and spoiled. I can just imagine this Mr. Ellery of yours +strutting about in sewing circle or sociables, with Annabel and +Georgianna Lothrop and the rest simpering and gushing and getting +in his way: 'O Mr. Ellery, I did so enjoy that sermon of yours +Sunday!' and 'O Mr. Ellery, it was SO good of you to come this +afternoon!' Pooh! I'm glad I'm a Come-Outer. Not that I would +simper over him if I wasn't. He couldn't patronize me--not more +than once, at any rate." + +Keziah was greatly amused. + +"Sakes alive!" she chuckled. "You're awfully high and mighty, +seems to me. And changeable since mornin'. You was willin' enough +to talk about him then. Now, Gracie, you mustn't take a spite +against poor Mr. Ellery just because I've got to keep house for +him. 'Tain't his fault; he don't even know it yet." + +"I don't care. I know he'll be a conceited little snippet and I +shall hate the sight of him. There! there! Auntie, you mustn't +mind me. I told you I was a selfish pig. But don't you ask me to +LIKE this precious minister of yours, because I shan't do it. He +has no business to come and separate me from the best friend I've +got. I'd tell him so if he was here-- What was that?" + +Both women looked at each other with startled faces. They listened +intently. + +"Why, wa'n't that funny!" whispered Keziah. "I thought I heard--" + +"You DID hear. So did I. What do you suppose--" + +"S-s-s-h-h! It sounded from the front room somewhere. And yet +there can't be anybody in there, because-- My soul! there 'tis +again. I'm goin' to find out." + +She grasped the stubby broom by the handle and moved determinedly +toward the front hall. Grace seized her by the arm. + +"Don't you do it, auntie!" she whispered frantically. "Don't you +DO it! It may be a tramp." + +"I don't care. Whoever or whatever it is, it has no business in +this house, and I'll make that plain in a hurry. Just like as not +it's a cat got in when Elkanah was here this forenoon. Don't be +scared, Grace. Come right along." + +The girl came along, but not with enthusiasm. They tiptoed through +the dark, narrow hall and peered into the parlor. This apartment +was dim and still and gloomy, as all proper parlors should be, but +there was no sign of life. + +"Humph!" sniffed Keziah. "It might have been upstairs, but it +didn't sound so. What did it sound like to you?" + +"Like a footstep at first; and then like something falling--and +rustling. Oh, what is the matter?" + +Mrs. Coffin was glancing back down the hall with a strange +expression on her face. Her grip upon the broom handle tightened. + +"What IS it?" pleaded the girl in an agonized whisper. + +"Grace," was the low reply, "I've just remembered somethin'. That +study door isn't stuck from the damp, because--well, because I +remember now that it was open this mornin'." + +Before her companion could fully grasp the import of this +paralyzing fact, Keziah strode down the hall and seized the knob of +the study door. + +"Whoever you are in there," she commanded sternly, "open this door +and come out this minute. Do you hear? I'm orderin' you to come +out." + +There was an instant of silence; then a voice from within made +answer, a man's voice, and its tone indicated embarrassment. + +"Madam," it said, "I--I am--I will be out in another minute. If +you will just be patient--" + +Grace interrupted with a smothered shriek. Keziah brandished the +broom. + +"Patient!" she repeated sharply. "Well, I like that! What do you +mean by-- Open that door! Grace, run out and get the--the +constable." + +This command was delivered entirely for effect. The office of +constable in Trumet is, generally speaking, a purely honorary one. +Its occupant had just departed for a week's cruise as mate of a +mackerel schooner. However, the effect was instantaneous. From +behind the door came sounds of hurry and commotion. + +"Don't get the police on my account, please," said the voice. "If +you will be patient until I get this--I'm just as anxious to come +out as you can be to have me. Of all the ridiculous--" + +"Come out then!" snapped Keziah. "Come out! If you're so +everlastin' anxious, then come out. Patience! Of all the cheek! +Why don't you come out NOW?" + +The answer was brisk and to the point. Evidently, the unknown's +stock of the virtue which he demanded of others was diminishing. + +"Well, to be frank, since you insist," snapped the voice, "I'm not +fully dressed." + +This was a staggerer. For once Keziah did not have a reply ready. +She looked at Grace and the latter at her. Then, without words, +they retreated to the sitting room. + +"Shall--shall I go for help?" whispered the girl. "Hadn't we +better leave him here and-- He doesn't sound like a tramp, does +he. What DO you suppose--" + +"I hope you won't be alarmed," continued the voice, broken by +panting pauses, as if the speaker was struggling into a garment. +"I know this must seem strange. You see, I came on the coach as +far as Bayport and then we lost a wheel in a rut. There was a--oh, +dear! where IS that--this is supremely idiotic!--I was saying there +happened to be a man coming this way with a buggy and he offered to +help me along. He was on his way to Wellmouth. So I left my trunk +to come later and took my valise. It rained on the way and I was +wet through. I stopped at Captain Daniels's house and the girl +said he had gone with his daughter to the next town, but that they +were to stop here at the parsonage on their way. So--there! that's +right, at last!--so I came, hoping to find them. The door was open +and I came in. The captain and his daughter were not here, but, as +I was pretty wet, I thought I would seize the opportunity to change +my clothes. I had some dry--er--things in my valise and I--well, +then you came, you see, and--I assure you I--well, it was the most +embarrassing--I'm coming now." + +The door opened. The two in the sitting room huddled close +together, Keziah holding the broom like a battle-ax, ready for +whatsoever might develop. From the dimness of the tightly +shuttered study stepped the owner of the voice, a stranger, a young +man, his hair rumpled, his tie disarranged, and the buttons of his +waistcoat filling the wrong buttonholes. Despite this evidence of +a hasty toilet in semidarkness, he was not unprepossessing. +Incidentally, he was blushing furiously. + +"I'm--I'm sure I beg your pardon, ladies," he stammered. "I +scarcely know what to say to you. I--" + +His eyes becoming accustomed to the light in the sitting room, he +was now able to see his captors more clearly. He looked at Keziah, +then at Miss Van Horne, and another wave of blushes passed from his +collar up into the roots of his hair. Grace blushed, too, though, +as she perfectly well knew, there was no reason why she should. + +Mrs. Coffin did not blush. This young fellow, although evidently +not a tramp or a burglar, had caused her some moments of distinct +uneasiness, and she resented the fact. + +"Well," she observed rather tartly, "I'm sorry you don't know what +to say, but perhaps you might begin by telling us who you are and +what you mean by makin' a--er--dressin' room of a house that don't +belong to you, just because you happened to find the door unlocked. +After that you might explain why you didn't speak up when we first +come, instead of keepin' so mighty quiet. That looks kind of +suspicious to me, I must say." + +The stranger's answer was prompt enough now. It was evident he +resented the suspicion. + +"I didn't speak," he said, "because you took me by surprise and I +wasn't, as I explained--er--presentable. Besides, I was afraid of +frightening you. I assure you I hurried as fast as I could, +quietly, and when you began to talk"--his expression changed and +there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth--"I tried to hurry +still faster, hoping you might not hear me and I could make my +appearance--or my escape--sooner. As for entering the house--well, +I considered it, in a way, my house; at least, I knew I should live +in it for a time, and--" + +"Live in it?" repeated Keziah. "LIVE in it? Why! mercy on us! you +don't mean to say you're--" + +She stopped to look at Grace. That young lady was looking at her +with an expression which, as it expressed so very much, is beyond +ordinary powers of description. + +"My name is Ellery," said the stranger. "I am the minister--the +new minister of the Regular society." + +Then even Keziah blushed. + + +CHAPTER III + +IN WHICH KEZIAH ASSUMES A GUARDIANSHIP + + +Didama would have given her eyeteeth--and, for that matter, the +entire upper set--to have been present in that parsonage sitting +room when the Rev. John Ellery made his appearance. But the fates +were against Didama that day and it was months afterwards before +she, or any of what Captain Zeb Mayo called the "Trumet Daily +Advertisers," picked up a hint concerning it. Keziah and Grace, +acquainted with the possibilities of these volunteer news +gatherers, were silent, and the Reverend John, being in some +respects a discreet young man with a brand-new ministerial dignity +to sustain, refrained from boasting of the sensation he had caused. +He thought of it very often, usually at most inconvenient times, +and when, by all the requirements of his high calling, his thought +should have been busy with different and much less worldly matters. + +"I declare!" said Mrs. Thankful Payne, after the new minister's +first call at her residence, a week after his arrival at Trumet, +"if Mr. Ellery ain't the most sympathetic man. I was readin' out +loud to him the poem my cousin Huldy B.--her that married Hannibal +Ellis over to Denboro--made up when my second husband was lost to +sea, and I'd just got to the p'int in the ninth verse where it +says: + + + 'The cruel billows crash and roar, + And the frail craft is tempest-tossed, + But the bold mariner thinks not of life, but says, + "It is the fust schooner ever I lost."' + + +And 'twas, too, and the last, poor thing! Well, I just got fur as +this when I looked up and there was the minister lookin' out of the +window and his face was just as red, and he kept scowlin' and +bitin' his lips. I do believe he was all but sheddin' tears. +Sympathy like that I appreciate." + +As a matter of fact, Mr. Ellery had just seen Grace Van Horne pass +that window. She had not seen him, but for the moment he was back +in that disgusting study, making a frenzied toilet in the dusk and +obliged to overhear remarks pointedly personal to himself. + +Grace left the parsonage soon after the supposed tramp disclosed +his identity. Her farewells were hurried and she firmly refused +Mrs. Coffin's not too-insistent appeal to return to the house "up +street" and have supper. She said she was glad to meet Mr. Ellery. +The young minister affirmed his delight in meeting her. Then she +disappeared in the misty twilight and John Ellery surreptitiously +wiped his perspiring forehead with his cuff, having in his late +desire for the primal necessities forgotten such a trifling +incidental as a handkerchief. + +"Well, Mr. Ellery," observed Keziah, turning to her guest, or +employer, or incumbrance--at present she was more inclined to +consider him the latter--"well, Mr. Ellery, this has been kind of +unexpected for all hands, ain't it? If I'd known you was comin' +to-day, I'd have done my best to have things ready, but Cap'n +Elkanah said not before day after to-morrow and--but there, what's +the use of talkin' that way? I didn't know I was goin' to keep +house for you till this very forenoon. Mercy me, what a day this +has been!" + +The minister smiled rather one-sidedly. + +"It's been something of a day for me," he admitted. "I am ahead of +time and I've made a lot of trouble, I'm afraid. But yesterday +afternoon I was ready and, to tell the truth, I was eager to come +and see my new home and get at my work. So I started on the +morning train. Then the stage broke down and I began to think I +was stranded at Bayport. But this kind-hearted chap from +Wellmouth--I believe that's where he lived--happened to pull up to +watch us wrestling with the smashed wheel, and when he found I was +in a hurry to get to Trumet, offered to give me a lift. His name +was--was Bird. No, that wasn't it, but it was something like Bird, +or some kind of a bird." + +"Bird?" repeated Keziah thoughtfully. "There's no Birds that I +know of in Wellmouth. Hum! Hey? 'Twa'n't Sparrow, was it?" + +"That was it-- Sparrow." + +"Good land! Emulous Sparrow. Run consider'ble to whiskers and +tongue, didn't he?" + +"Why, yes; he did wear a beard. As for tongue--well, he was +conversational, if that's what you mean." + +"That's what I mean. If you rode twelve mile with Emulous, you +must have had an earache for the last six. Did he ask a question +or two about your personal affairs, here and there between times?" + +Mr. Ellery laughed. + +"Yes, one or two, between times," he admitted. + +"I shan't die of surprise. Did you tell him who you was?" + +"No-o, to be honest, I didn't. He was so very anxious to find out, +that--well, I dodged. I think he believed I was going to visit +Captain Daniels." + +"Good enough! If I was governor of this state I wouldn't send any +Thanksgivin' proclamations down this way. I'd just write Em Peters +and Didama Rogers and a couple more like them and save myself the +trouble. They'd have all I wanted to proclaim spread from one end +of the county to the other in less'n a day, and a peck or two of +extrys pitched in for good measure. I'm awful glad you didn't tell +Emulous you was the minister. You see, Trumet's Trumet, and, +considerin' everything, maybe it's just as well nobody knows about +your bein' shut up in that study. Not but what 'twas all right, +you know, but--" + +"I understand. I'm not proud of it. Still, some one may have seen +me come here." + +"No, no, they didn't. This fog is as thick as Injun-meal puddin'. +Nobody saw you." + +"Well," with some hesitation, "the young lady who was here with +you--" + +"Oh, Grace Van Horne! She's all right. She won't tell. She ain't +that kind." + +"Van Horne? That doesn't sound like a New England name." + +"'Tisn't. Her folks come from Jersey somewheres. But she was +adopted by old Cap'n Hammond, who keeps the tavern down on the bay +shore by the packet wharf, and she's lived in Trumet since she was +six years old. Her father was Teunis Van Horne, and he was mate on +Cap'n Eben's coastin' schooner and was drowned off Hatteras. Eben +was saved just by the skin of his teeth and got a broken hip and +religion while it happened. His hip's better except that he's some +lame; but his religion's been more and more feverish ever since. +He's one of the head Come-Outers, and built their chapel with his +own money. You mustn't think I'm speakin' lightly of religion, nor +of Cap'n Eben, either. He's a dear good soul as ever was, but he +is the narrowest kind of Come-Outer. His creed is just about as +wide as the chapel door, and that's as narrow as the way leadin' to +salvation; it IS the way, too, so the Come-Outers think." + +"What are Come-Outers? Some new sect?" + +"Sakes alive! Haven't you heard of Come-Outers? Cat's foot! +Well, you'll hear of 'em often enough from now on. They're folks +who used to go to our church, the Regular, but left because the +services was too worldly, with organs and choir singin', and the +road to paradise too easy. No need for me to tell you any more. +You'll learn." + +Mr. Ellery was interested. He had been in Trumet but once before, +on the occasion when he preached his trial sermon, and of that +memorable visit remembered little except the sermon itself, the +pews filled with captains and their families, and the awe-inspiring +personality of Captain Elkanah Daniels, who had been his host. To +a young man, the ink upon his diploma from the theological school +still fresh, a trial sermon is a weighty matter, and the preaching +of it weightier still. He had rehearsed it over and over in +private, had delivered it almost through clinched teeth, and had +returned to his room in the Boston boarding house with the +conviction that it was an utter failure. Captain Elkanah and the +gracious Miss Annabel, his daughter, had been kind enough to +express gratification, and their praise alone saved him from +despair. Then, to his amazement, the call had come. Of casual +conversation at the church and about the Daniels's table he could +recall nothing. So there was another religious organization in +town and that made up of seceders from his own church. He was +surprised. + +"Er--this Miss Van Horne?" he asked. "Is she a--Come-Outer?" + +Mrs. Coffin nodded. + +"Yes," she said. "She's one. Couldn't be anything else and live +with her Uncle Eben, as she calls him." + +The minister experienced a curious feeling of disappointment and +chagrin. This young person, already predisposed to regard a +clergyman of his denomination with disapproval, had seen him for +the first time under most humiliating circumstances. And he should +never have the opportunity to regain her favor, or his own self- +respect, by his efforts in the pulpit. No matter how well he might +preach she would never hear him. + +"Has this Captain Hammond no children of his own?" he asked. + +Keziah's answer was short for her. + +"Yes," she said. "One." + +"Ah! another daughter?" + +"No, a son. Name's Nathaniel, and he's a sea captain. He's on his +way from Surinam to New York now. They expect him to make port +most any time, I believe. Now, Mr. Ellery, I s'pose we've got to +arrange for your supper and stayin' overnight; and with this house +the way 'tis and all, I don't see--" + +But the minister was still interested in the Hammond household. + +"This Nathaniel Hammond?" he asked. "You don't seem enthusiastic +over him. Is he a black sheep?" + +This reply also was short, but emphatic. + +"No," said Keziah. "He's a fine man." + +Then she resumed her semisoliloquy concerning her companion's +entertainment. + +"I guess," she said, "that the best thing for you to do will be to +go to Cap'n Elkanah's. They'll be real glad to see you, I know, +and you'll be in time for supper, for Elkanah and Annabel have been +to Denboro and they'll be late home. They can keep you overnight, +too, for it's a big house with lots of rooms. Then, after +breakfast to-morrow you come right here. I'll have things +somewhere near shipshape by then, I guess, though the cleanin'll +have to be mainly a lick and a promise until I can really get at +it. Your trunk'll be here on the coach, I s'pose, and that'll be +through early in the forenoon. Get on your hat and coat and I'll +go with you to Elkanah's." + +The young man demurred a little at thrusting himself upon the +hospitality of the Daniels's home, but Keziah assured him that his +unexpected coming would cause no trouble. So he entered the now +dark study and came out wearing his coat and carrying his hat and +valise in his hand. + +"I'm sure I'm ever so much obliged to you," he said. "And, as we +are going to be more or less together--or at least I guess as much +from what you say--would you mind if I suggest a mutual +introduction. I'm John Ellery; you know that already. And you--" + +Keziah stopped short on her way to the door. + +"Well, I declare!" she exclaimed. "If I ain't the very worst! +Fact is, you dropped in so ahead of time and in such a irregular +sort of way, that I never once thought of introducin' anybody; and +I'm sure Grace didn't. I'm Keziah Coffin, and Cap'n Elkanah and I +signed articles, so to speak, this mornin', and I'm goin' to keep +house for you." + +She explained the reason upsetting the former arrangement by which +Lurania Phelps was to have had the position. + +"So I'm to keep house for you," she concluded. Adding: "For a +spell, anyhow." + +"Why do you say that?" asked the minister. + +"Well, you might not like me. You may be particular, you know." + +"I think I can run that risk." + +"Yes; well, you can't tell. Or I might not like you. You see, I'm +pretty particular myself," she added with a laugh. + +At the Daniels's door Keziah turned her new charge over to Matilda +Snow, the hired girl. It was an indication of the family's social +position that they kept "hired help." This was unusual in Trumet +in those days, even among the well to do. + +"Good night," said the young man, extending his hand. "Good night, +Miss--or is it Mrs.--Coffin?" + +"Mrs. Good night." + +"She's a widow," explained Matilda. "Husband died 'fore she come +back here to live. Guess he didn't amount to much; she never +mentions his name." + +"There was one thing I meant to tell her," mused the minister, +hesitating on the threshold. "I meant to tell her not to attempt +any cleaning up at the parsonage to-night. To-morrow will do just +as well." + +"Heavens to Betsy!" sniffed the "hired help," speaking from the +depths of personal conviction, "nobody but a born fool would clean +house in the night, 'specially after the cleanin' she's been doin' +at her own place. I guess you needn't worry." + +So Mr. Ellery did not worry. And yet, until three o'clock of the +following morning, the dull light of a whale-oil lantern +illuminated the rooms of the parsonage as Keziah scrubbed and swept +and washed, giving to the musty place the "lick and promise" she +had prophesied. If the spiders had prepared those ascension robes, +they could have used them that night. + +After breakfast the wagons belonging to the Wellmouth furniture +dealer drove in at the gate of the little house opposite Captain +Elkanah's, and Keziah saw, with a feeling of homesickness which she +hid beneath smiles and a rattle of conversation, the worn household +treasures which had been hers, and her brother's before her, +carried away out of her life. Then her trunks were loaded on the +tailboards of the wagons, to be left at the parsonage, and with a +sigh and a quick brush of her hand across her eyes, she locked the +door for the last time and walked briskly down the road. Soon +afterwards John Ellery, under the eminently respectable escort of +Captain Elkanah and Miss Annabel, emerged from the Daniels's gate +and followed her. Mrs. Didama Rogers, thankful for a clear +atmosphere and an unobstructed view, saw them pass and recognized +the stranger. And, within a quarter of an hour, she, arrayed in a +hurried calling costume, was spreading the news along the main +road. The "Trumet Daily Advertiser" had, so to speak, issued an +extra. + +Thus the new minister came to Trumet and thus Keziah Coffin became +his housekeeper. She entered upon her duties with the whole- +hearted energy peculiar to her. She was used to hard work, and, as +she would have said, felt lonesome without it. She cleaned that +parsonage from top to bottom. Every blind was thrown open and the +spring sunshine poured in upon the braided mats and the rag +carpets. Dust flew in clouds for the first day or two, but it flew +out of windows and doors and was not allowed to settle within. The +old black walnut furniture glistened with oil. The mirrors and the +crockery sparkled from baths of hot water and soap. Even St. +Stephen, in the engravings on the dining-room wall, was forced to a +martyrdom of the fullest publicity, because the spots and smears on +the glass covering his sufferings were violently removed. In the +sleeping rooms upstairs the feather beds were beaten and aired, the +sheets and blankets and patchwork comforters exposed to the light, +and the window curtains dragged down and left to flap on the +clothesline. The smell of musty dampness disappeared from the +dining room and the wholesome odors of outdoors and of good things +cooking took its place. + +Keziah, in the midst of her labors, found time to coach her +employer and companion in Trumet ways, and particularly in the ways +which Trumet expected its clergymen to travel. On the morning +following his first night in the parsonage, he expressed himself as +feeling the need of exercise. He thought he should take a walk. + +"Well," said his housekeeper from her station opposite him at the +breakfast table, "if I was you I wouldn't take too long a one. +You'd better be back here by ten, anyhow. Where was you thinkin' +of goin'?" + +Mr. Ellery had no particular destination in mind. He would like to +see something of the village and, perhaps, if she could give him +the names of a few of his parishioners, he might make a few calls. +Keziah shook her head. + +"Gracious goodness!" she exclaimed. "I wouldn't advise you to do +that. You ain't been here long enough to make forenoon calls. If +you should catch some of the women in this town with aprons and +calico on, they'd never forgive you in this world. Wait till +afternoon; they'll be expectin' you then and they'll be rigged out +in their best bibs and tuckers. S'pose you found Annabel Daniels +with her hair done up in curl papers; what do you think would +happen? Mornin's are no time for ministers' calls. Even old Mr. +Langley never made calls in the forenoon--and he'd been here +thirty-odd years." + +"All right, you know best. Much obliged for the advice. Then I'll +simply take my walk and leave the calls until later." + +"I'd be back by ten, though. Folks'll begin callin' on you by that +time." + +"They will? Doesn't the rule work both ways?" + +"Not with new ministers it don't. Cat's foot! You don't s'pose +Didama Rogers and Laviny Pepper and their kind'll wait any longer'n +they can help afore they come to see what you look like, do you?" + +"Well, they must have seen me when I preached here before. I +remember--" + +"Mercy on us! that was in meetin'. Meetin's diff'rent. All they +could say to you then was how much they liked your sermon. They +say that to every minister that comes, no matter how they may pick +him to pieces afterwards. But here they can ask you questions; +about how you came to come here and what you think of it far's +you've got, and what your views are on certain points in the creed. +Likewise, who your folks were and whether they was well off, and a +few things like that. Then they'll want to see what kind of +clothes you wear and--" + +"Whew!" Ellery whistled. "You're unfolding a pleasant prospect for +me, I must say. Am I supposed to be catechized on all of my +private affairs?" + +"Of course! A minister hasn't got any private affairs; he's a +public character. There!" she laughed, as she poured the coffee, +"I mustn't discourage you. But don't you see that every mother's +son--and, for that matter, every daughter and children's child unto +the third and fourth generation--feel that, so long as they pay pew +rent or put a cent in the collection, they own a share in you. And +we always keep a watch on our investments down this way. That's +the Yankee shrewdness you read so much about, I guess." + +The minister absently played with his spoon. + +"I'm afraid you're a cynic," he said. + +"No, no, I ain't. Though sometimes, considerin' everything, I feel +as though I had excuse enough if I wanted to belong to that tribe. +But you're young. You mustn't mind my sayin' that; if you was old, +of course, I wouldn't talk about ages. But you are young and this +is your first church. So you must start right. I'm no cynic, +bless you. I've got trust in human nature left--most kinds of +human nature. If I hadn't, I'd have more money, I s'pose. Perhaps +you've noticed that those who trust a good deal are usually poor. +It's all right, Mr. Ellery; you go and take your walk. And I'll +walk into that pantry closet. It'll be a good deal like walkin' +into the Slough of Despond, but Christian came out on the other +side and I guess likely I will, if the supply of soapsuds holds +out." + +When, promptly at ten o'clock, the minister returned from his walk, +he found Mrs. Rogers waiting in the sitting room. It is a prime +qualification of an alert reporter to be first on the scene of +sensation. Didama was seldom beaten. Mr. Ellery's catechism +began. Before it was over Keziah opened the door to admit Miss +Pepper and her brother. "Kyan" was nervous and embarrassed in the +housekeeper's presence. Lavinia was a glacier, moving majestically +and freezing as it moved. Keziah, however, was not even touched by +the frost; she greeted the pair cordially, and begged them to "take +off their things." + +It was dinner time before the catechizers departed. The catechized +came to the table with an impaired appetite. He looked troubled. + +"Don't let it worry you, Mr. Ellery," observed Keziah calmly. "I +think I can satisfy you. Honest and true, I ain't half as bad as +you might think." + +The minister looked more troubled than before; also surprised. + +"Why, Mrs. Coffin!" he cried. "Could you hear--" + +"No, no! I couldn't hear nothin' in that closet except my own +opinion on dirt and dust. But if I was as deaf as the man that set +on the powder keg and dropped his pipe ashes into it, it wouldn't +have made any difference. The man said after they picked him up +that they needn't have been so rough, he'd have moved without bein' +pushed if they'd have made signs they wanted to use the keg. And +if I was out in the next lot I'd have known what you was listenin' +to in that sittin' room. They hinted that they were real sorry for +you, but 'twasn't any of THEIR doin's. The parish committee, bein' +just men, was apt to make mistakes in certain matters. Of course +everything MIGHT be well enough, and if you wa'n't TOO particular +about cookin' and so on, why-- Anyhow, you mustn't think that THEY +were criticisin'. 'Twas only that they took an interest and-- +That was about it, wasn't it?" + +"Mrs. Coffin, I--I hope you don't think I paid any attention to +their remarks--of that kind, I mean. Honestly, I did my best to +stop them. I said--" + +"Man alive! I'm not worried. Why should you be? We were talkin' +about trust just now--or I was. Well, you and I'll have to take +each other on trust for a while, until we see whether we're goin' +to suit. If you see anything that I'm goin' wrong in, I wish you'd +tell me. And I'll do the same by you, if that's agreeable. You'll +hear a lot of things said about me, but if they're very bad I give +you my word they ain't true. And, to be real frank, I'll probably +hear some about you, which I'll take for what they're worth and +considerin' who said 'em. That's a good wholesome agreement, I +think, for both of us. What do you think?" + +John Ellery said, with emphasis, that he thought well of it. He +began to realize that this woman, with her blunt common sense, was +likely to be a pilot worth having in the difficult waters which he +must navigate as skipper of the Regular church in Trumet. Also, +he began to realize that, as such a skipper, he was most +inexperienced. And Captain Daniels had spoken highly-- +condescendingly but highly--of his housekeeper's qualifications and +personality. So the agreement was ratified, with relief on his +part. + +The first Sunday came and with it the first sermon. He read that +sermon to Keziah on Saturday evening and she approved of it as a +whole, though she criticised some of its details. + +"Don't be afraid to put in plenty of salt," she said. "Where +you've got the Christian life and spirit written down as bein' like +a quiet, peaceful home, free from all distrust, and like that, why +don't you change it to a good safe anchorage, where the soul can +ride forever without fear of breakers or no'theasters or the +dangers besettin' the mariner on a lee shore. They'll understand +that; it gets right home to 'em. There's scarcely a man or a woman +in your congregation that ain't been out of sight of land for weeks +on a stretch." + +The breakfast hour on Sunday would be at nine o'clock, instead of +seven, as on week days, she told him. + +"Trumet lays to bed Sunday mornin's," she explained. "It's almost +a part of its religion, as you might say, and lived up to more +conscientious than some other parts, I'm afraid. Six days shalt +thou labor and wear comfort'ble clothes; and on the seventh you +must be lazy and dress up. Likewise you must have baked beans +Saturday for supper, as we're havin' 'em, and more beans with fish +balls next mornin'. That is, if you want to be orthodox." + +The service began at eleven o'clock. At half past ten the sexton, +old Mr. Jubal Knowles, rang the "first bell," a clanging five- +minute reminder. Twenty minutes later he began on the second and +final call. Mr. Ellery was ready--and nervous--before the first +bell had finished ringing. But Keziah, entering the sitting room +dressed in black alpaca and carrying the hymn book with her name in +gilt letters on the cover, forbade his leaving the parsonage thus +early. + +"I shall go pretty soon," she said, "but you mustn't. The minister +ain't expected until the last bell's 'most done. Parson Langley +used to wait until the Winslows went in. Gaius Winslow is a +widower man who lives up to the west end of the town and he's got +nine children, all boys. You'll know 'em because they always drive +down to meetin' in one carryall with a white horse. Gaius is as +punctual as a boardin'-house dinner. The old parson used to wait +until the last Winslow had toddled up the meetin'-house steps and +then he'd come out of this side door with his sermon in his hand. +It's a pretty good rule to remember and saves watchin' the clock. +Besides, it's what we've been used to, and that goes a good ways +with some folks. Good-by, Mr. Ellery. You'll see me in the third +pew from the back, on the right side, wishin' you luck just as hard +as I can." + +So, as in couples or family groups, afoot or in all sorts of +vehicles, the members of Trumet's Regular society came to the +church to hear their new minister, that functionary peeped under +the parlor window shade of the parsonage and waited, fidgetting and +apprehensive, for the Winslows. They arrived at last, and were not +hard to recognize, for ten individuals packed into one carriage are +hard to overlook anywhere. As Gaius, with the youngest in his +arms, passed in at the church door, John Ellery passed out of the +parsonage gate. The last bell clanged its final stroke, the +vibrations ceased, the rustle of skirts and the sounds of decorous +coughing subsided and were succeeded by the dry rattle of the hymn- +book pages, the organ, presented by Captain Elkanah and played by +his daughter, uttered its preliminary groan, the service began. + +Outside the spring breeze stirred the budding silver-leafs, the +distant breakers grumbled, the crows in the pines near Captain Eben +Hammond's tavern cawed ribald answers to the screaming gulls +perched along the top of the breakwater. And seated on one of the +hard benches of the little Come-Outer chapel, Grace Van Horne heard +her "Uncle Eben," who, as usual, was conducting the meeting, speak +of "them who, in purple and fine linen, with organs and trumpets +and vain shows, are gathered elsewhere in this community to hear a +hired priest make a mock of the gospel." (A-MEN!) + +But John Ellery, the "hired priest," knew nothing of this. He did +know, however, that he was the center of interest for his own +congregation, the people among whom he had been called to labor. +Their praise or criticism meant everything to him; therefore he +preached for dear life. + +And Keziah Coffin, in the third pew from the back, watched him +intently, her mind working in sympathetic unison with his. She was +not one to be greatly influenced by first impressions, but she had +been favorably impressed by this young fellow, and had already +begun to feel that sense of guardianship and personal +responsibility which, later on, was to make Captain Zebedee Mayo +nickname the minister "Keziah's Parson." + +The sermon was a success. + + +CHAPTER IV + +IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON DECIDES TO RUN IT BLINDFOLD + + +On Monday afternoon the minister made a few calls. Keziah made out +a short list for him to follow, a "sort of chart of the main +channel," she called it, "with the safe ports marked and the shoals +and risky places labeled dangerous." + +"You see," she said, "Trumet ain't a course you can navigate with +your eyes shut. We divide ourselves into about four sets-- +aristocrats, poor relations, town folks, and scum. The aristocrats +are the big bugs like Cap'n Elkanah and the other well-off sea +captains, afloat or ashore. They 'most all go to the Regular +church and the parish committee is steered by 'em. The poor +relations are mainly widows and such, whose husbands died or were +lost at sea. Most of them are Regulars. The town folks are those +that stay ashore and keep store or run salt works or somethin'. +And the scum work around on odd jobs or go fishin'. So, if you +really want to be safe, you must call on the aristocrats first, +after that on the poor relations, and so on down. You won't be +bothered with scum much; they're mainly Come-Outers." + +Ellery took the list from her hand and looked it over. + +"Hum!" he said musingly. "Am I supposed to recognize these--er-- +class distinctions?" + +"Yes. That is, not in meetin' or sewin' circle or anything like +that, or not out and out and open anywhere. But you want to +cultivate a sort of different handshake and how-dy-do for each set, +so's to speak. Gush all you want to over an aristocrat. Be +thankful for advice and always SO glad to see 'em. With the poor +relations you can ease up on the gush and maybe condescend some. +Town folks expect condescension and superiority; give it to 'em. +When it comes to scum, why--well, any short kind of a bow and a +''Mornin'' 'll do for them. 'Course the Lord, in His infinite +mercy, made 'em, same as He did potato bugs, but it's necessary to +keep both bugs and them down to their proper place." + +She delivered this in the intervals between trips to the kitchen +with the dinner dishes. The minister listened with a troubled +expression on his face. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "I guess I'm dull. There was a Scotch +professor at college and the fellows used to say his bump of humor +was a dent. Maybe mine isn't much better. Are you joking?" + +Keziah stacked the cups and saucers. + +"I ain't jokin'," she declared. "I've been a poor relation in this +village for a good while and my brother was a shoemaker and on the +upper fringe of the town-folk class. My humor bump would have to +stick up like Cannon Hill afore I could see any joke in that." + +"But you're not seriously advising me to treat a rich man +differently from a poor one?" + +"Not openly different--no. But if you want to steer a perfectly +SAFE course, one that'll keep deep water under your keel the whole +voyage, why, there's your chart." + +Mr. Ellery promptly tore the "chart" into small pieces. + +"I'm going out," he said. "I shall be back by supper time." + +Mrs. Coffin eyed him grimly. + +"Goin' to run it blindfold, are you?" she asked. + +"Yes, I am." + +Her grimness disappeared and she smiled. + +"I'll have your supper ready for you," she said. "Bring back a +good appetite." + +The young man hesitated on the threshold. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he demanded, "would YOU have called only on the +aristocrats at first?" + +She shook her head, smiling still. + +"No," she replied, "not me. I've always taken risks. But I didn't +know but you might be a safe sailor. It saves a lot of trouble in +this world." + +"How about the next?" + +"Oh, well, perhaps even the scum may count for somethin' over +there." She turned to face him and her smile vanished. "Go on, +Mr. Ellery," she said. "Go and call where you please. Far be it +from me that I should tell you to do anything else. I suppose +likely you hope some day to be a great preacher. I hope you will. +But I'd enough sight rather you was a good man than the very +greatest. No reason why you can't be both. There was a preacher +over in Galilee once, so you told us yesterday, who was just good. +'Twa'n't till years afterwards that the crowd came to realize that +he was great, too. And, if I recollect right, he chummed in with +publicans and sinners. I'm glad you tore up that fool paper of +mine. I hoped you might when I gave it to you. Now you run along, +and I'll wash dishes. If cleanliness is next to godliness, then a +parson ought to eat out of clean plates." + +As a matter of fact, the minister's calls were in the nature of a +compromise, although an unintentional one. He dropped in on +Zebedee Mayo, owner of the big house on the slope of the hill. +Captain Zeb took him up into what he called his "cupoler," the +observatory on the top of the house, and showed him Trumet spread +out like a map. The main road was north and south, winding and +twisting its rutted, sandy way. Along it were clustered the +principal houses and shops, shaded by silver-leaf poplars, a few +elms, and some willows and spruces. Each tree bent slightly away +from the northeast, the direction from which blew the heavy winter +gales. Beyond the main road were green slopes and pastures, with +swamps in the hollows, swamps which were to be cranberry bogs in +the days to come. Then the lower road, with more houses, and, +farther on, the beach, the flats--partially uncovered because it +was high tide--and the bay. + +Behind the Mayo house was the crest of Cannon Hill, more hills, +pastures and swamps, scattered houses and pine groves. Then began +the tumbled, humped waste of sand dunes, and, over their ragged +fringes of beach plum and bayberry bushes, the deep blue of the +wide Atlantic. The lighthouse was a white dot and the fish +shanties a blotch of brown. Along the inner edge of the blue were +scars of dancing white, the flashing teeth of hungry shoals which +had torn to pieces and swallowed many a good ship. And, far out, +dotted and sprinkled along the horizon, were sails. + +"See?" said Captain Zeb, puffing still from the exertion of +climbing the ladder to the "cupoler," for he was distinctly +"fleshy." "See? The beacon's up. Packet come in this mornin'. +There she is. See her down there by the breakwater?" + +Sure enough, the empty barrel, painted red, was hoisted to the top +of its pole on the crest of Cannon Hill. And, looking down at the +bay and following the direction of the stubby pointing finger, +Ellery saw a little schooner, with her sails lowered, lying, +slightly on her side, in a shallow pool near a long ridge of piled +stones--the breakwater. A small wharf made out from the shore and +black figures moved briskly upon it. Carts were alongside the +schooner and there more dots were busy. + +"Eben's pennant's flyin'," said Captain Zeb. "He always sets +colors when the packet's in. Keeps packet tavern, Eben does. +That's it, that old-fashioned, gambrel-roofed house on the rise by +the wharf. Call it 'Saints' Rest,' they do now, 'cause Eben's so +mighty religious." + +The minister saw the long, rambling house, with one lonely, twisted +tree in its yard, a flag flying from a pole beside it. So that was +where the Hammonds lived. And where the girl lived who was certain +he was a "conceited snippet." Whatever he might be in reality he +hoped it was not that. "Snippet" was not in his dictionary, but he +didn't like the sound of it. + +"Who owns the packet?" he asked, to make conversation. + +"Zach Foster. Married Freewill Doane's daughter over to Harniss. +She's dead now." + +"A good sailor, is he?" + +Captain Zeb spat in supreme disgust. + +"Good farmer!" he snorted. "Zach took over the packet for a debt +when the chap that used to run her died. His dad, old man Foster, +raised garden truck at the same time mine went to sea. Both of us +took after our fathers, I guess. Anyhow, my wife says that when I +die 'twill be of salt water on the brain, and I'm sure Zach's head +is part cabbage. Been better for him if he'd stuck to his garden. +However, I s'pose he does his best." + +"They say angels can do no more." + +"Um-m. Well, Zach'll be an angel pretty soon if he keeps on +cruisin' with that old hooker as she is. 'Bijah Perry, he's mate +and the only good seaman aboard, tells me that most of the riggin's +rotten and the main topmast ain't sound, by a good deal. The old +man's put off havin' her overhauled for two reasons, one that +repairs cost money, and t'other that puttin' off is the main sheet +of his gospel. When there's no rain the roof don't leak and long's +it don't blow too hard 'most any kind of gear'll hold. That's +philosophy--cabbage philosophy." + +Ellery decided that he should like Captain Zeb, although it was +evident that the old whaler had decided opinions of his own which +he did not hesitate to express. He judged that the Mayos were of +the so-called aristocracy, but undoubtedly unique specimens. He +visited four more households that afternoon. The last call was at +Mrs. Thankful Payne's, and while there, listening to the wonderful +"poem," he saw Miss Van Horne pass the window, as has already been +told. He came home to a Cape Cod supper of scalloped clams, hot +biscuits, and baked Indian pudding, and Keziah greeted him with a +cheery smile which made him feel that it WAS home. His summary +disposal of the "chart" had evidently raised him in his +housekeeper's estimation. She did not ask a single question as to +where he had been. + +Next day he had a taste of Trumet's real aristocracy, the genuine +article. Captain Elkanah Daniels and his daughter made their first +formal call. The captain was majestic in high hat, fur-collared +cape, tailed coat, and carrying a gold-headed cane. Miss Annabel +wore her newest gown and bonnet and rustled as she walked. They +entered the sitting room and the lady glanced superciliously about +the apartment. + +"Hum--ha!" barked Captain Elkanah. "Ahem! Mr. Ellery, I trust +you're being made comfortable. The parish committee are--hum--ah-- +anxious that you should be. Yes?" + +The minister said that he was very comfortable indeed. + +"It isn't what you've been used to, we know," observed Miss +Annabel. "Mr. Langley, our former pastor, was a sweet old +gentleman, but he was old-fashioned and his tastes were queer, +especially in art. Have you noticed that 'fruit piece' in the +dining room? Isn't it too ridiculous?" + +Ellery admitted that the fruit piece was rather funny; but no doubt +it had been a gift and so-- + +"Yes, indeed. I guess it was a present, fast enough. Nobody would +buy such a thing. It seems strange to pa and me that, although so +many of our people have been abroad, they have such strange ideas +of art. Do you remember the beautiful marbles in the palaces at +Florence, Mr. Ellery? Of course you've seen them?" + +The minister was obliged to admit that he had never been abroad. + +"Oh, is that so? I've been so many times with pa that it seems +almost as if everybody was as familiar with Yurrup as I am. You +remember what I said about the marbles, pa?" + +Her parent nodded. + +"Hum--ha! Oh, yes, yes," he said. "That was when I was in the +fruit-carrying trade and made a voyage to Valenchy." + +"Valencia, pa," corrected Annabel. "And Valencia is in Spain." + +"I know it. But we went to Leghorn afterwards. I sailed to +Cronstadt for some years regular. Cronstadt is in Rooshy, Mr. +Ellery." + +"Russia, pa," snapped his daughter. Then she changed the subject +to church and parish affairs. They spoke of the sewing circle and +the reading society and the Friday-evening meetings. + +"The Come-Outers are so vexed with us," tittered Miss Annabel, +"that they won't even hold prayer meeting on the same night as +ours. They have theirs on Thursday nights and it's as good as a +play to hear them shout and sing and carry on. You'll enjoy the +Come-Outers, Mr. Ellery. They're a perfect delight." + +And as they rose to go Captain Elkanah asked: + +"Is there anything you'd like done about the parsonage, Mr. Ellery? +If so, it shall be done immejitly. How are you satisfied with your +housekeeper?" + +"Very well, indeed, Captain Daniels," was the prompt reply. + +"She's a character, isn't she?" giggled Annabel. "She was born +here in Trumet, but went away to New Bedford when she was young and +grew up there. Her maiden name was Hall, but while she was away +she married a man named Ansel Coffin. They didn't live together +very long and weren't happy, I guess. I don't know whose fault it +was, nobody knows much of anything about it, for that's the one +thing she won't talk about. Anyhow, the Coffin man was lost to +sea, and after a while she came back to keep house for her brother +Solomon. She's an awful odd stick, but she's a good cook, I +believe; though I'm afraid you won't get the meals people such as +ourselves, who've been so much in the city, are used to." + +Ellery thought of the meals at his city boarding house and +shuddered. He was an orphan and had boarded for years. +Incidentally, he had worked his way through college. Captain +Elkanah cleared his throat. + +"Keziah," he commanded. "Hum--ha! Keziah, come in here a minute." + +Keziah came in response to the call, her sewing in her hand. The +renovation of the parsonage had so far progressed that she could +now find time for a little sewing, after the dinner dishes were +done. + +"Keziah," said the captain pompously, "we expect you to look out +for Mr. Ellery in every respect. The parish committee expects +that--yes." + +"I'll try," said Mrs. Coffin shortly. + +"Yes. Well, that's all. You can go. We must be going, too, Mr. +Ellery. Please consider our house at your disposal any time. Be +neighborly--hum--ha!--be neighborly." + +"Yes," purred Annabel. "DO come and see us often. Congenial +society is very scarce in Trumet, for me especially. We can read +together. Are you fond of Moore, Mr. Ellery? I just dote on him." + +The last "hum--ha" was partially drowned by the click of the gate. +Keziah closed the dining-room door. + +"Mrs. Coffin," said the minister, "I shan't trouble the parish +committee. Be sure of that. I'm perfectly satisfied." + +Keziah sat down in the rocker and her needle moved very briskly for +a moment. Then she said, without looking up: + +"That's good. I own up I like to hear you say it. And I am glad +there are some things I do like about this new place of mine. +Because--well, because there's likely to be others that I shan't +like at all." + +On Friday evening the minister conducted his first prayer meeting. +Before it, and afterwards, he heard a good deal concerning the +Come-Outers. He learned that Captain Eben Hammond had preached +against him in the chapel on Sunday. Most of his own parishioners +seemed to think it a good joke. + +"Stir 'em up, Mr. Ellery," counseled Lavinia Pepper. "Stir 'em up! +Don't be afraid to answer em from the pulpit and set 'em where they +belong. Ignorant, bigoted things!" + +Others gave similar counsel. The result was that the young man +became still more interested in these people who seemed to hate him +and all he stood for so profoundly. He wished he might hear their +side of the case and judge it for himself. It may as well be +acknowledged now that John Ellery had a habit of wishing to judge +for himself. This is not always a politic habit in a country +minister. + +The sun of the following Thursday morning rose behind a curtain of +fog as dense as that of the day upon which Ellery arrived. A flat +calm in the forenoon, the wind changed about three o'clock and, +beginning with a sharp and sudden squall from the northwest, blew +hard and steady. Yet the fog still cloaked everything and refused +to be blown away. + +"There's rain astern," observed Captain Zeb, with the air of +authority which belongs to seafaring men when speaking of the +weather. "We'll get a hard, driving rain afore mornin', you see. +Then, if she still holds from the northwest'ard, it'll fair off +fine." + +"Goin' out in this, Mr. Ellery!" exclaimed Keziah, in amazement, as +the minister put on his hat and coat about seven that evening. +"Sakes alive! you won't be able to see the way to the gate. It's +as dark as a nigger's pocket and thicker than young ones in a poor +man's family, as my father used to say. You'll be wet through. +Where in the world are you bound for THIS night?" + +The minister equivocated. He said he had been in the house all day +and felt like a walk. + +"Well, take an umbrella, then," was the housekeeper's advice. +"You'll need it before you get back, I cal'late." + +It was dark enough and thick enough, in all conscience. The main +road was a black, wet void, through which gleams from lighted +windows were but vague, yellow blotches. The umbrella was useful +in the same way that a blind man's cane is useful, in feeling the +way. The two or three stragglers who met the minister carried +lanterns. One of these stragglers was Mr. Pepper. Kyan was +astonished. + +"Well, I snum!" cried Kyan, raising the lantern. "If 'tain't Mr. +Ellery. Where you bound this kind of night?" + +Before the minister could answer, a stately figure appeared and +joined the pair. Lavinia, of course. + +"Well, Mr. Ellery," she said. "Ain't you lost, out in this fog? +Anybody sick?" + +No, no one was sick. + +"That's a mercy. Goin' callin', be you?" + +"No." + +"Hum! Queer weather for a walk, I call it. Won't be many out to- +night, except Come-Outers goin' to holler their lungs loose at +prayer meetin'. He, he! You ain't turned Come-Outer, have you, +Mr. Ellery? You've headed right for the chapel." + +Ellery's reply was hurried and a bit confused. He said good night +and went on. + +"Laviny," whispered the shocked Kyan, "do you think that was a--er-- +polite thing to say to a parson? That about his turnin' Come- +Outer? He didn't make much answer, seemed to me. You don't think +he was mad, do ye?" + +"I don't care if he was," snorted Miss Pepper. "He could tell a +body where he was goin' then. Nobody can snub me, minister or not. +I think he's kind of stuck-up, if you want to know, and if he is, +he'll get took down in a hurry. Come along, don't stand there with +your mouth open like a flytrap. I'd like to know what he was up +to. I've a precious good mind to follow him; would if 'twa'n't so +much trouble." + +She didn't. Yet, if she had, she would have deemed the trouble +worth while. For John Ellery stumbled on through the mist till he +reached the "Corners" where the store was located and the roads +forked. There, he turned to the right, into the way called locally +"Hammond's Turn-off." A short distance down the "Turn-off" stood a +small, brown-shingled building, its windows alight. Opposite its +door, on the other side of the road, grew a spreading hornbeam tree +surrounded by a cluster of swamp blackberry bushes. In the black +shadow of the hornbeam Mr. Ellery stood still. He was debating in +his mind a question: should he or should he not enter that building? + +As he stood there, groups of people emerged from the fog and +darkness and passed in at the door. Some of them he had seen +during his fortnight in Trumet. Others were strangers to him. A +lantern danced and wabbled up the "Turn-off" from the direction of +the bay shore and the packet wharf. It drew near, and he saw that +it was carried by an old man with long white hair and chin beard, +who walked with a slight limp. Beside him was a thin woman wearing +a black poke bonnet and a shawl. In the rear of the pair came +another woman, a young woman, judging by the way she was dressed +and her lithe, vigorous step. The trio halted on the platform of +the building. The old man blew out the lantern. Then he threw the +door open and a stream of yellow light poured over the group. + +The young woman was Grace Van Horne. The minister recognized her +at once. Undoubtedly, the old man with the limp was her guardian, +Captain Eben Hammond, who, by common report, had spoken of him, +Ellery, as a "hired priest." + +The door closed. A few moments thereafter the sound of a squeaky +melodeon came from within the building. It wailed and quavered and +groaned. Then, with a suddenness that was startling, came the +first verse of a hymn, sung with tremendous enthusiasm: + + + "Oh, who shall answer when the Lord shall call + His ransomed sinners home?" + + +The hallelujah chorus was still ringing when the watcher across the +street stepped out from the shadow of the hornbeam. Without a +pause he strode over to the platform. Another moment and the door +had shut behind him. + +The minister of the Trumet Regular church had entered the Come- +Outer chapel to attend a Come-Outer prayer meeting! + + +CHAPTER V + +IN WHICH THE PARSON CRUISES IN STRANGE WATERS + + +The Come-Outer chapel was as bare inside, almost, as it was +without. Bare wooden walls, a beamed ceiling, a raised platform at +one end with a table and chairs and the melodeon upon it, rows of +wooden settees for the congregation--that was all. As the minister +entered, the worshipers were standing up to sing. Three or four +sputtering oil lamps but dimly illumined the place and made +recognition uncertain. + +The second verse of the hymn was just beginning as Ellery came in. +Most of the forty or more grown people in the chapel were too busy +wrestling with the tune to turn and look at him. A child here and +there in the back row twisted a curious neck but twisted back again +as parental fingers tugged at its ear. The minister tiptoed to a +dark corner and took his stand in front of a vacant settee. + +The man whom Ellery had decided must be Captain Eben Hammond was +standing on the low platform beside the table. A quaint figure, +patriarchal with its flowing white hair and beard, puritanical with +its set, smooth-shaven lips and tufted brows. Captain Eben held an +open hymn book back in one hand and beat time with the other. He +wore brass-bowed spectacles well down toward the tip of his nose. +Swinging a heavy, stubby finger and singing in a high, quavering +voice of no particular register, he led off the third verse: + + + "Oh, who shall weep when the roll is called + And who shall shout for joy?" + + +The melodeon and the hymn book were in accord as to the tune, but +Captain Eben and the various members of the congregation seemed to +have a desire to improvise. They sang with spirit, however, and +the rhythmic pat of feet grew louder and louder. Here and there +men and women were swaying and rocking their bodies in time to the +music. The chorus for each verse was louder than the one preceding +it. + +Another hymn was given out and sung. And another and still +another. The windows rattled. The patting grew to a steady +"thump! thump!" Momentary pauses between lines were punctuated by +hallelujahs and amens. Standing directly in front of the minister +was a six-foot, raw-boned individual whose clothes smelled strongly +of fish, and whose hands, each swung at the end of an exposed five +inches of hairy red wrist, looked like flippers. At the end of the +third hymn this personage sprang straight up into the air, cracked +the heels of a pair of red cowhide boots together, and whooped: +"Glory be! Send the PAOWER!" in a voice like the screech of a +northeast gale. Mr. Ellery, whom this gymnastic feat had taken by +surprise, jumped in sympathy, although not as high. + +The singing over, the worshipers sat down. Captain Eben took a +figured handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. The +thin, nearsighted young woman who had been humped over the keyboard +of the melodeon, straightened up. The worshipers relaxed a little +and began to look about. + +Then the captain adjusted his spectacles and opened a Bible, which +he took from the table beside him. Clearing his throat, he +announced that he would read from the Word, tenth chapter of +Jeremiah: + +"'Thus saith the Lord. Learn not the way of the heathen, and be +not dismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed +at them. + +"'For the customs of the people are vain: for one cutteth a tree +out of the forest, the work of the hands of the workmen, with the +ax.'" + +He read in a measured singsong, stopping occasionally to hold the +book in a better light and peering at the fine print through his +spectacles. And as he read, there was a sudden rustle on one of +the back benches. A child had turned, stared, and pulled at its +mother's sleeve. The rustle grew and spread. + +Captain Eben drawled on to the twentieth verse: + +"'My tabernacle is spoiled and all my cords are broken: my children +are gone forth from me, and they are not: there is none to stretch +forth my tent any more, and to set up my curtains! + +"'For the pastors are become brutish and have not sought the Lord: +therefore they shall not prosper, and--'" + +"A-MEN!" + +The shout came from the second bench from the front, where Ezekiel +Bassett, clam digger and fervent religionist, was always to be +found on meeting nights. Ezekiel was the father of Susannah B. +Bassett, "Sukey B." for short, who played the melodeon. He had +been, by successive seizures, a Seventh Day Baptist, a Second +Adventist, a Millerite, a Regular, and was now the most energetic +of Come-Outers. Later he was to become a Spiritualist and preside +at table-tipping seances. + +Ezekiel's amen was so sudden and emphatic that it startled the +reader into looking up. Instead of the faces of his congregation, +he found himself treated to a view of their back hair. Nearly +every head was turned toward the rear corner of the room, there was +a buzz of whispering and, in front, many men and women were +standing up to look. Captain Eben was scandalized. + +"Well!" he exclaimed. "Is this a prayer meetin' or--or--what? +Brethren and sisters, I must say--" + +Ezekiel Bassett stepped forward and whispered in his ear. The +captain's expression of righteous indignation changed to one of +blank astonishment. He, too, gazed at the dark corner. Then his +lips tightened and he rapped smartly on the table. + +"Brethren and sisters," he thundered, in the voice which, of old, +had enforced obedience aboard his coasting schooner, "remember this +is the house of the Lord. Be reverent!" + +He waited until every eye had swung about to meet his. Then he +regarded his abashed but excited hearers with a steady and +prolonged stare. + +"My friends," he said, "let us bow in prayer." + +John Ellery could have repeated that prayer, almost word for word, +years after that night. The captain prayed for the few here +gathered together: Let them be steadfast. Let them be constant in +the way. The path they were treading might be narrow and beset +with thorns, but it was the path leading to glory. + +"Scoffers may sneer," he declared, his voice rising; "they may make +a mock of us, they may even come into Thy presence to laugh at us, +but theirs is the laugh that turns to groanin'. O Lord, strengthen +us to-night to speak what's in our hearts, without fear." ("A- +men!") "To prophesy in Thy name! To bid the mockers and them that +dare--dare to profane this sanctuary be careful. Hired singers and +trumpets and vain shows we have not" ("Thank the Lord! Amen!"), +"but the true faith and the joy of it we do have." ("Hallelujah! +Hallelujah! Glory!") + +And so on, his remarks becoming more personal and ever pointing +like a compass needle to the occupant of that seat in the corner. +The minister's determination to attend a Come-Outer meeting, though +it had reached the sticking point only a half hour before, was the +result of considerable deliberation. He had argued with himself +and had made up his mind to find out for himself just what these +people did. He was finding out, certainly. His motives were good +and he had come with no desire to scoff, but, for the life of him, +he could not help feeling like a criminal. Incidentally, it +provoked him to feel that way. + +"O Lord," prayed Captain Hammond, the perspiration in beads on his +forehead, "Thou hast said that the pastors become brutish and have +not sought Thee and that they shan't prosper. Help us tonight to +labor with this one that he may see his error and repent in +sackcloth and ashes." + +They sang once more, a hymn that prophesied woe to the unbeliever. +Then Ezekiel Bassett rose to "testify." The testimony was mainly +to the effect that he was happy because he had fled to the ark of +safety while there was yet time. + +"I found out," he shouted, "that fancy music and--ah--and--ah--sot +sermons and fine duds and suchlike wa'n't goin' to do ME no good. +I needed somethin' else. I needed good times in my religion" +("Hallelujah!") "and I've found 'em right here. Yes, sir! right +here. And I say this out loud," turning to glare at the intruder, +"and I don't care who comes to poke fun at me for sayin' it." +("Amen!") + +A sharp-nosed female followed Mr. Bassett. She spoke with evident +feeling and in a voice that trembled and shook when her emotion +carried it aloft. SHE'D had enough of high-toned religion. Yes, +and of them that upheld it. When her brother Simeon was took bad +with phthisic, "wheezin' like a busted bellerses" and 'twas "up and +down, trot, trot, trot," to fetch and carry for him day in and +night out, did the folks from the Reg'lar church help her? She +guessed NOT. The only one that came nigh her was Laviny Pepper, +and she came only to gas and gabble and find out things that wa'n't +none of her business. What help she got was from a Come-Outer, +from Eben Hammond, bless his good soul! ("Amen!") That phthisic +settled her for Reg'larism. Yes, and for them that preached it, +too. So there! + +Captain Eben called for more testimony. But the testifiers were, +to use the old minstrel joke, backward in coming forward that +evening. At an ordinary meeting, by this time, the shouts and +enthusiasm would have been at their height and half a dozen Come- +Outers on their feet at once, relating their experiences and +proclaiming their happiness. But tonight there was a damper; the +presence of the leader of the opposition cast a shadow over the +gathering. Only the bravest attempted speech. The others sat +silent, showing their resentment and contempt by frowning glances +over their shoulders and portentous nods one to the other. + +"Come, brethren," commanded the captain sharply; "we are waitin' to +hear you. Are you afraid? If your faith is real, nothin' nor +nobody should keep you from cryin' it out loud. Now, if ever, is +the accepted time. Speak up for the spirit that's in you." + +An elderly man, grave and quiet, arose and said a few words, +dignified and solemn words of prayer and thankfulness for the +comfort this little society of true believers had been to him. +Ellery realized that here was another sort of Come-Outer, one of +the Hammond type. Evidently, they were not all like Ezekiel and +the shrill-voiced woman. + +Then, from the settee in front of him, rose the lengthy and fishy +person with the cowhide boots and enormous hands. His name was +Josiah Badger and he was, according to Trumet's estimate, "a little +mite lackin' in his top riggin'." He stuttered, and this infirmity +became more and more apparent as he grew eloquent. + +"I--I ain't afraid," he proclaimed. "They can call me a C-C-Come- +Outer all they want to. I--I don't care if they do. Let 'em, I +say; l-let 'em! They can p-p-poke their fun and p-p-p-pup-pup-poke +it, but I tell 'em to h-heave ahead and p-pup-pup-POKE. When I +used to g-go to their old Reg'lar meetin' house, all I done was to +go to sleep. But I don't go to sleep here, glory hallelujah! No, +sir! There's too much b-b-blessed noise and we have too g-good +times to g-go to sleep here. That old K-Kyan Pepper called me t- +town f-fool t'other day. T-tut-town fool's what he called me. +Says I to him, says I: 'You-you-y-you ain't got spunk enough to be +a fool,' I says, 'unless Laviny says you c-can be. You old Reg'lar +p-p-pepper shaker, you!" + +By this time tee-hees from the children and chuckles from some of +the older members interfered with Mr. Badger's fervent but jerky +discourse. Captain Eben struck the table smartly. + +"Silence!" he thundered. "Silence! Brother Badger, I beg your +pardon for 'em. Go on!" + +But Josiah's train of thought had evidently been derailed by the +interruption. + +"I--I--I cal'late that's about all," he stammered and sat down. + +The captain looked over the meeting. + +"I'm ashamed," he said, "ashamed of the behavior of some of us in +the Lord's house. This has been a failure, this service of ours. +We have kept still when we should have justified our faith, and +allowed the presence of a stranger to interfere with our duty to +the Almighty. And I will say," he added, his voice rising and +trembling with indignation, "to him who came here uninvited and +broke up this meetin', that it would be well for him to remember +the words of Scriptur', 'Woe unto ye, false prophets and workers of +iniquity.' Let him remember what the Divine wisdom put into my +head to read to-night: 'The pastors have become brutish and have +not sought the Lord; therefore they shall not prosper.'" + +"Amen!" "Amen!" "Amen!" "So be it!" The cries came from all +parts of the little room. They ceased abruptly, for John Ellery +was on his feet. + +"Captain Hammond," he said, "I realize that I have no right to +speak in this building, but I must say one word. My coming here +to-night may have been a mistake; I'm inclined to think it was. +But I came not, as you seem to infer, to sneer or to scoff; +certainly I had no wish to disturb your service. I came because I +had heard repeatedly, since my arrival in this town, of this +society and its meetings. I had heard, too, that there seemed to +be a feeling of antagonism, almost hatred, against me among you +here. I couldn't see why. Most of you have, I believe, been at +one time members of the church where I preach. I wished to find +out for myself how much of truth there was in the stories I had +heard and to see if a better feeling between the two societies +might not be brought about. Those were my reasons for coming here +to-night. As for my being a false prophet and a worker of +iniquity"--he smiled--"well, there is another verse of Scripture I +would call to your attention: 'Judge not, that ye be not judged.'" + +He sat down. There was silence for a moment and then a buzz of +whispering. Captain Eben, who had heard him with a face of iron +hardness, rapped the table. + +"We will sing in closin'," he said, "the forty-second hymn. After +which the benediction will be pronounced." + +The Regular minister left the Come-Outers' meeting with the +unpleasant conviction that he had blundered badly. His visit, +instead of tending toward better understanding and more cordial +relationship, had been regarded as an intrusion. He had been +provoked into a public justification, and now he was quite sure +that he would have been more politic to remain silent. He realized +that the evening's performance would cause a sensation and be +talked about all over town. The Come-Outers would glory in their +leader's denunciation of him, and his own people would perhaps feel +that it served him right. If he had only told Mrs. Coffin of what +he intended to do. Yet he had not told her because he meant to do +it anyhow. Altogether it was a rather humiliating business. + +So that old bigot was the Van Horne girl's "uncle." It hardly +seemed possible that she, who appeared so refined and ladylike when +he met her at the parsonage, should be a member of that curious +company. When he rose to speak he had seen her in the front row, +beside the thin, middle-aged female who had entered the chapel with +Captain Hammond and with her. She was looking at him intently. +The lamp over the speaker's table had shone full on her face and +the picture remained in his memory. He saw her eyes and the wavy +shadows of her hair on her forehead. + +He stepped off the platform, across the road, out of the way of +homeward-bound Come-Outers, and stood there, thinking. The fog was +as heavy and wet as ever; in fact, it was almost a rain. The wind +was blowing hard from the northwest. The congregation dispersed in +chattering groups, their lanterns dipping and swinging like +fireflies. The chatter dealt entirely with one subject--himself. +He heard his name mentioned at least twenty times. Out of the +gusty, dripping blackness came Mr. Badger's voice. + +"By time!" crowed Josiah, "he was took down a few p-p-pup-pegs, +wa'n't he! My! how Eben did g-gi-gi-give it to him. He looked +toler'ble white under the gills when he riz up to heave out his s- +s-sus-sassy talk. And foolish, too. I cal'late I won't be the +only town fuf-fuf-fool from now on. He! he!" + +The noises died away in the distance. Within the chapel the tramp +of heavy boots sounded as the lights were blown out, one by one. +The minister frowned, sighed, and turned homeward. It is not +pleasant to be called a fool, even by a recognized member of the +fraternity. + +He had taken but a few steps when there was a rustle in the wet +grass behind him. + +"Mr. Ellery," whispered a voice, "Mr. Ellery, may I speak to you +just a moment?" + +He wheeled in surprise. + +"Why! why, Miss Van Horne!" he exclaimed. "Is it you?" + +"Mr. Ellery," she began, speaking hurriedly and in a low voice, +"I--I felt that I must say a word to you before--" + +She paused and glanced back at the chapel. Ezekiel Bassett, the +janitor, having extinguished the last lamp, had emerged from the +door and was locking up. In another moment he clumped past them in +the middle of the road, the circle of light from his lantern just +missing them as they stood in the grass at the side under the +hornbeam and blackberry bushes. He was alone; Sukey B. had gone on +before, other and younger masculine escort having been +providentially provided. + +Mr. Bassett was out of hearing before Grace finished her sentence. +The minister was silent, waiting and wondering. + +"I felt," she said, "that I must see you and--explain. I am SO +sorry you came here to-night. Oh, I wish you hadn't. What made +you do it?" + +"I came," began Ellery, somewhat stiffly, "because I--well, because +I thought it might be a good thing to do. As I said--" + +"Yes, I know. But it wasn't. It was so--so--" + +"So foolish. Thank you, I'm aware of it. I've heard myself called +a fool already since I left your church. Not that I needed to hear +it. I realize the fact." + +There was a bitterness in his tone, unmistakable. And a little +laugh from his companion did not tend to soothe his feelings. + +"Thank you," he said. "Perhaps it is funny. I did not find it so. +Good evening." + +This was priggish, but it must be borne in mind that John Ellery +was very, very fresh from the theological school, where young +divines are taught to take themselves seriously. He was ashamed of +himself as soon as he said it, which proved that his case was not +beyond hope. + +The girl detained him as he was turning away. + +"I wasn't laughing at that," she said. "I know who called you +that--that name. It was Josiah Badger, and he really is one, you +know. I was thinking of his testimony in meeting and how he called +Ky--Abishai--a pepper shaker. That was ridiculous enough, but it +reminded me of something else about Mr. Pepper, and I HAD to laugh. +It wasn't at you, truly." + +So the minister begged her pardon; also he remained where he was, +and heard the drops from the tree patter hollow on his hat. + +"I came after you," went on Grace rapidly and with nervous haste, +"because I felt that you ought not to misjudge my uncle for what he +said to-night. He wouldn't have hurt your feelings for the world. +He is a good man and does good to everybody. If you only knew the +good he does do, you wouldn't--you wouldn't DARE think hardly of +him." + +She stamped her foot in the wet grass as she said it. She was +evidently in earnest. But Ellery was not in the mood to be greatly +impressed by Eben Hammond's charity or innate goodness. The old +tavern keeper's references to himself were too fresh in his mind. +"False prophet" and "worker of iniquity!" + +"I'm not judging your uncle," he declared. "It seemed to me that +the boot was on the other leg." + +"I know, but you do judge him, and you mustn't. You see, he +thought you had come to make fun of him--and us. Some of the +Regular people do, people who aren't fit to tie his shoes. And so +he spoke against you. He'll be sorry when he thinks it over. +That's what I came to tell you. I ask your pardon for--for him." + +"Why--why, that's all right. I think I understood--" + +"I'm not asking it because he's a Come-Outer and you're a Regular +minister. He isn't ashamed of his religion. Neither am I. I'm a +Come-Outer, too." + +"Yes. I--I supposed you were." + +"Yes, I am. There, good night, Mr. Ellery. All I ask is that you +don't think too hardly of uncle. He didn't mean it." + +She turned away now, and it was the minister who detained her. + +"I've been thinking," he said slowly, for in his present state of +mind it was a hard thing to say, "that perhaps I ought to +apologize, too. I'm afraid I did disturb your service and I'm +sorry. I meant well, but-- What's that? Rain?" + +There was no doubt about it; it was rain and plenty of it. It came +in a swooping downpour that beat upon the trees and bushes and +roared upon the roof of the chapel. The minister hurriedly raised +his umbrella. + +"Here!" he cried, "let me--Miss Van Horne! Where are you?" + +The answer came from a short distance down the "Turn-off." + +"Good night," called the girl. "I must run." + +Evidently, she WAS running. Therefore the young man ran after her. +He caught up with her in a moment, in spite of some stumbles over +the rough road. + +"Here!" he commanded, "you must take the umbrella. Really, you +must. You haven't one and you'll be wet through." + +She pushed the umbrella aside. + +"No, no," she answered. "I don't need it; I'm used to wet weather; +truly I am. And I don't care for this hat; it's an old one. You +have a long way to go and I haven't. Please, Mr. Ellery, I can't +take it." + +"Very well," was the sternly self-sacrificing reply, "then I shall +certainly go with you." + +"But I don't wish you to." + +"I can't help that. I'm not going to let you go unprotected +through this flood. Especially as you might have been at home +before this if you hadn't stopped to speak with me." + +"But you mustn't." + +"I shall." + +Here was the irresistible force and the immovable object. They +stood stock still in the middle of the road, while the rain drops +jumped as they struck the umbrella top. The immovable object, +being feminine, voiced the unexpected. + +"All right," she said; "then I suppose I shall have to take it." + +"What?" + +"The umbrella. I'm sorry, and you'll get dreadfully wet, but it's +your own fault." + +He could feel her hand near his own on the handle. He did not +relinquish his grasp. + +"No," he said. "I think, on the whole, that that is unreasonable. +I SHOULD get wet and, though I don't mind it when it is necessary, +I--" + +"Well?" rather sharply, "what are you going to do?" + +"Go with you as far as your gate. I'm sorry, if my company is +distasteful, but--" + +He did not finish the sentence, thinking, it may be, that she might +finish it for him. But she was silent, merely removing her hand +from the handle. She took a step forward; he followed, holding the +umbrella above her head. They plashed on, without speaking, +through the rapidly forming puddles. + +Presently she stumbled and he caught her arm to prevent her +falling. To his surprise he felt that arm shake in his grasp. + +"Why, Miss Van Horne!" he exclaimed in great concern, "are you +crying? I beg your pardon. Of course I wouldn't think of going +another step with you. I didn't mean to trouble you. I only-- If +you will please take this umbrella--" + +Again he tried to transfer the umbrella and again she pushed it +away. + +"I--I'm not crying," she gasped; "but--oh, dear! this is SO funny!" + +Mr. Ellery gazed blankly at her through the rain-streaked dark. +This was the most astonishing young person he had met in his +twenty-three years of worldly experience. + +"Funny!" he repeated. "Well, perhaps it is. Our ideas of fun seem +to differ. I--" + +"Oh, but it IS so funny. You don't understand. What do you think +your congregation would say if they knew you had been to a Come- +Outers' meeting and then insisted on seeing a Come-Outer girl +home?" + +John Ellery swallowed hard. A vision of Captain Elkanah Daniels +and the stately Miss Annabel rose before his mind's eye. He hadn't +thought of his congregation in connection with this impromptu +rescue of a damsel in distress. + +"Ha, ha!" he laughed mournfully. "I guess it is rather funny, +after all." + +"It certainly is. Now will you leave me and go back to your +parsonage?" + +"Not unless you take the umbrella." + +"Very well. It is a beautiful evening for a walk, don't you think +so? Mr. Ellery, I'm afraid we shan't have you with us in Trumet +very long." + +"Why not?" + +"Oh, because you're so very, very original. Are your sermons that +way, too? Captain Elkanah doesn't like his ministers to be too +original." + +The minister set his teeth. At that moment he felt an intense +desire to bid the Daniels family mind their own business. Then +another thought struck him. + +"Possibly your Uncle Eben might be somewhat--er--surprised if he +knew you were with me. Perhaps he might have something to say on +the subject." + +"I guess he would. We shall know very soon. I ran away and left +him with Mrs. Poundberry, our housekeeper. He doesn't know where I +am. I wonder he hasn't turned back to look for me before this. We +shall probably meet him at any moment." + +She seemed to enjoy the prospect of the meeting. Ellery wondered +what on earth he should say to Captain Hammond--that is, provided +he was allowed to say anything. + +Suddenly a heavier gust of rain and wind beat upon them. The +minister struggled with the umbrella. The gust passed and with it +the fog. An instant before it had been all about them, shutting +them within inky walls. Now it was not. Through the rain he could +see the shadowy silhouettes of bushes at the road side. Fifty +yards away the lighted windows of the Hammond tavern gleamed +yellow. Farther on, over a ragged, moving fringe of grass and +weeds, was a black flat expanse--the bay. And a little way out +upon that expanse twinkled the lights of a vessel. A chain +rattled. Voices shouting exultingly came to their ears. + +"Why!" exclaimed Grace in excited wonder, "it's the packet! She +was due this morning, but we didn't expect her in till to-morrow. +How did she find her way in the fog? I must tell uncle." + +She started to run toward the house. The minister would have +followed with the umbrella, but she stopped him. + +"No, Mr. Ellery," she urged earnestly. "No, please don't. I'm all +right now. Thank you. Good night." + +A few steps farther on she turned. + +"I hope Cap'n Elkanah won't know," she whispered, the laugh +returning to her voice. "Good night." + +Ellery stood still in the rain and watched her. He saw her pass +the lighted windows and open a door. Into the yellow radiance she +flashed and disappeared. A minute more and the bulky form of Eben +Hammond, lantern in hand, a sou'wester on his head and his +shoulders working themselves into an oilskin coat, burst out of the +door and hurriedly limped down toward the shore. On the threshold, +framed in light, stood his ward, gazing after him. And the +minister gazed at her. + +From the bay came the sound of oars in row-locks. A boat was +approaching the wharf. And suddenly from the boat came a hail. + +"Halloo! Ahoy, dad! Is that you?" + +There was an answering shout from the wharf; a shout of joy. Then +a rattle of oars and a clamor of talk. And Grace still stood in +the doorway, waiting. + +The lantern bobbed up the slope. As it reached the tavern gateway, +the minister saw that it was now carried by a tall, active man, who +walked with a seaman's stride and roll. Captain Eben was close +beside him, talking excitedly. + +They entered the yard. + +"Grace! Grace!" screamed Captain Eben. Gracie, girl, look who's +come! Look!" + +The tall man ran forward. + +"Hi, Grace!" he cried in a deep, hearty voice. "Is that you? +Ain't you got a word for your old messmate?" + +The girl stepped out into the rain. + +"Why! why, NAT!" she cried. + +The big man picked her up bodily in his arms and carried her into +the house. Captain Eben followed and the door closed. + +John Ellery picked his way homeward through the puddles and the +pouring rain. + +He found Keziah in the sitting room, seated by the table, evidently +writing a letter. She looked tired and grave--for her. + +"Well!" she exclaimed as he entered. "I guess you're soppin' now, +sartin sure. There's a light in your room. Take off your wet +things and throw 'em down to me, and I'll dry 'em in the kitchen. +Better leave your boots here now and stand that umbrella in the +sink. The kettle's on the stove; you'd better have somethin' hot-- +ginger tea or somethin'. I told you not to go out such a night as +this. Where in the world have you been?" + +The minister said he would tell her all about it in the morning. +Just now he thought he had better go up and take off his wet +clothes. He declined the ginger tea, and, after removing his +boots, went upstairs to his room. + +Keziah dipped her pen in the ink and went on with her letter. + +"I inclose ten dollars," she wrote. "It is all I can send you now. +More than I ought to afford. Goodness knows why I send anything. +You don't deserve it. But while I live and you do I can't--" + +The minister called from the landing. + +"Here is my coat," he said. "The cuffs and lower part of the +sleeves are pretty wet. By the way, the packet came in to-night. +They didn't expect her so soon on account of the fog. There was a +passenger aboard whom I think must be that Nathaniel Hammond you +told me of." + +Keziah's pen stopped. The wet coat struck the hall floor with a +soft thump. The tick of the clock sounded loud in the room. A +sheet of wind-driven rain lashed the windows. + +"Did you hear?" called the minister. "I said that Nathaniel +Hammond, Captain Eben's son, came on the packet. I didn't meet +him, but I'm sure it was he. Er--Mrs. Coffin, are you there? Do +you hear me?" + +The housekeeper laid the pen down beside the unfinished letter. + +"Yes," she said, "I hear you. Good night." + +For minutes she sat there, leaning back in her chair and staring at +the wall. Then she rose, went into the hall, picked up the coat, +and took it out into the kitchen, where she hung it on the +clotheshorse by the cook stove. After a while she returned to the +table and took up the pen. Her face in the lamplight looked more +tired and grave than ever. + +It was a long time before John Ellery fell asleep. He had much to +think of--of the morrow, of the talk his rash visit to the chapel +would cause, of the explanation he must make to Captain Elkanah and +the rest. But the picture that was before his closed eyes as he +lay there was neither of Captain Elkanah nor the parish committee; +it was that of a girl, with dark hair and a slim, graceful figure, +standing in a lighted doorway and peering out into the rain. + + +CHAPTER VI + +IN WHICH OLD FRIENDS MEET + + +When Ellery came down to breakfast the rain was over, the wind had +gone down, and the morning sunshine was pouring in at the dining- +room windows. Outside the lilacs were in bud, the bluebirds were +singing, and there was a sniff of real spring in the air. The +storm was at an end and yet the young minister was conscious of a +troublesome feeling that, for him, it was just beginning. + +However, he had determined while dressing to make a clean breast of +it to his housekeeper--a nominally clean breast, that is. There +were some things he would not tell her, some that he would not +speak of to anyone, the picture in the doorway for instance. True, +it was only a picture and of no moment, but it was pleasant to +remember. One of the very few pleasant things connected with the +previous evening. + +So, as they sat opposite each other at the table, he began his +confession. The muffins scorched in the oven and the coffeepot +boiled over as he told his story, for Keziah was too much +interested to think of trifles. Interested and astounded, for, +since Come-Outers had been Come-Outers and the split in the society +took place, no Regular minister had crossed the threshold of a +seceder's dwelling, much less attended their services and walked +home with a member of their congregation. She knew what this +amazing procedure was likely to mean, if her parson did not. + +"Well!" she exclaimed when the recital was finished. "Well!" + +"I--I'm afraid I was too hasty," observed Mr. Ellery thoughtfully. +"Perhaps it would have been wiser not to have done it." + +"Perhaps 'twould. Yes, I wouldn't wonder a mite." + +"It will be talked about some, I suppose. Don't you think so?" + +"Some, yes." + +"I'm afraid some of my own people may think it queer." + +"Queer! Say, Mr. Ellery, you remind me of a half-breed Portugee +feller--half Portugee and a half Indian--that went to sea with my +father, back in the old days. He hardly ever spoke a word, mainly +grunted and made signs. One day he and another fo'mast hand went +aloft in a calm to do somethin' to the tops'l. The half-breed-- +they called him Billy Peter and he always called himself that--was +out on the end of the yard, with his foot on the rope underneath, I +forget the name of it, when the tarred twine he had for a shoe +string caught. Tryin' to get it loose it broke sudden, his shoe +pulled off, he lost his balance and fell. He grabbed at the yard, +saved himself for a second, fell again, grabbed the next yard, then +a rope and so on down, grabbin' and pullin' all the way. First his +shoe hit the deck, then his sheath knife, then a piece of rope, and +finally himself, landin' right on top of the Irish cook who was +goin' aft from the galley with father's dinner. + +"There was the greatest racket you ever heard, pans fallin', dishes +smashin', men yellin', and the cook swearin'. Father run on deck, +thinkin' the ship was dismasted. He found the cook and Billy Peter +sittin' in the middle of the mess, lookin' at each other. Neither +was hurt a mite. The mates and the crew, part of 'em, was standin' +starin' at the pair. + +"'For Heaven sakes!' says father; 'what happened?' + +"The half-breed looked up and rubbed his head. 'Ugh!' says he, +'Billy Peter bust his shoe string.' + +"The cook, his name was O'Neill, looked at him disgusted. 'Well, +begorra!' says he, 'Billy Peter, you don't exaggerate none, do ye! +It's a good thing BOTH of 'em didn't bust or we'd have foundered.' + +"You remind me of Billy Peter, Mr. Ellery, you don't exaggerate. +Queer? Some folks think your goin' to that meetin' last night +QUEER? At this moment one half of Trumet is talkin' about it and +runnin' out to tell the other half. I guess I'd better hurry up +with this breakfast. We're goin' to have callers." + +Strange to say, however, this prophecy of early morning visitors +did not prove true. Nine o'clock, then ten, and no visitor came to +the parsonage. Mrs. Coffin affirmed that she did not understand +it. Where was Didama? Where Lavinia Pepper? Had the "Trumet +Daily Advertiser" suspended publication? + +At half past ten the gate slammed. Keziah peered from the window. + +"Humph!" she ejaculated. "Here comes Elkanah and he's got storm +signals set, by the looks. He's comin' after you, Mr. Ellery." + +"Very well," was the calm reply; "let him come." + +"What are you goin' to say to him?" + +"Nothing, except that I did what I considered right at the time. +Show him into the study, Mrs. Coffin, please." + +Captain Daniels marched to the dining-room door, his gold-headed +cane marking time like a drumbeat. He nodded curtly to Keziah, who +answered the knock, and stepped across the threshold. + +"Hum--ha!" he barked. "Is the minister--hum--ha! is Mr. Ellery +in?" + +"Yes, he's in." + +"Tell him I want to see him." + +The housekeeper announced the visitor. + +"He's as sour as a skimmin' of last week's milk," she whispered. +"Don't be afraid of him, though." + +"Oh, I'm not. Show him in." + +"All right. Say, Mr. Ellery, it's none of my business, but I +wouldn't say anything about your seein' Grace home. That's none of +HIS business, either, or anybody else's." + +The head of the parish committee stalked into the study and the +door closed behind him. A rumble of voices in animated +conversation 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 more. Her lips twitched and her eyes sparkled. + +"Hum!" she said again. "They say you can tell the Old Scratch by +his footprints, even if you can't smell the sulphur. Anyhow, you +can tell a Hammond by the size of his boots. Come out from behind +that door this minute. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?" + +The owner of the boot stepped forth from behind the door and seized +her by both hands. + +"Halloo, Keziah!" he cried joyfully. "My, but it's good to see +you." + +"Halloo, Nat!" said Keziah heartily. "It's kind of good to see +you, too." + +The rest of him was in keeping with his boots. He was big and +broad-shouldered and bearded. His face, above the beard, was +tanned to a deep reddish brown, and the corners of his eyes were +marked with dozens of tiny wrinkles. He was dressed in blue cloth +and wore a wide-brimmed, soft felt hat. He entered the kitchen and +tossed the hat into a corner. + +"Well!" he exclaimed. "Why don't you act surprised to see a +feller? Here I've been cruisin' from the Horn to Barnegat and back +again, and you act as if I'd just dropped in to fetch the cup of +molasses I borrowed yesterday. What do you mean by it?" + +"Oh, I heard you'd made port." + +"Did, hey? That's Trumet, sure pop. You ain't the only one. I +sneaked off acrost lots so's to dodge the gang of neighbors that I +knew would be sailin' into our yard, the whole fleet loaded to the +gunwale with questions. Wanted to see you first, Keziah." + +"Yes. So, instead of callin' like a Christian, you crept up the +back way and threw cranberries at me. Ain't you ashamed of +yourself?" + +"Not a mite." He took a handful of the frostbitten berries from +his coat pocket and inspected them lovingly. "Ain't they fine?" he +asked, crunching two or three between his teeth. "I picked 'em up +as I came along. I tell you, that's the home taste, all right." + +"Don't eat those frozen things. They'll give you your never-get- +over." + +"What? Cape Cod cranberries! Never in the world. I'd rather eat +sand down here than the finest mug my steward can cook. Tell you +what I'll do, though; I'll swear off on the cranberries if you'll +give me a four-inch slice of that pie I saw you put in the oven. +Dried-apple, I'll bet my sou'wester. Think you might ask a feller +to sit down. Ain't you glad to see me?" + +Mrs. Coffin pulled forward one of the kitchen chairs. He seated +himself on it and it groaned under his weight. + +"Whew!" he whistled. "Never made to stand rough weather, was it? +Well, AIN'T you glad?" + +Keziah looked at him gravely. + +"You know I'm glad, Nat," she said. + +"So? I hoped you would be, but I did want to hear you say it. Now +you come to anchor yourself and let's have a talk. I've been +countin' on it ever since we set tops'ls off Surinam." + +The housekeeper took the other chair. + +"How are you--" she began. He stopped her. + +"S-shh!" he interrupted. "Don't say anything for a minute. Let me +look at you. Just as clean and wholesome and good-lookin' as ever. +They don't make girls like that anywhere else but down on this old +sand bar. Not a day older, by the jumpin'--" + +She held up her hand. + +"Hush, Nat," she protested; "don't talk foolish. Girl? Not a day +older? Why, if feelin's count for anything, I'm as old as +Methusaleh. Haven't I had enough to make me old?" + +He was grave immediately. + +"I beg your pardon, Keziah," he said. "I'm a dough head, that's a +fact. I hadn't forgot about Sol, but I was so glad to be home +again and to see dad and Grace and the old town and you that +everything else flew out of my mind. Poor Sol! I liked him." + +"He liked you, too. No wonder, considerin' what you did to--" + +"Belay! Never mind that. Poor chap! Well, he's rid of his +sufferin's at last. Tell me about it, if you can without bringin' +all the trouble back too plain." + +So she told him of her brother's sickness and death, of having to +give up the old home, and, finally, of her acceptance of the +housekeeper's position. He listened, at first with sympathy and +then with suppressed indignation. + +"By the jumpin' Moses!" he exclaimed. "And Elkanah was goin' to +turn you out of house and home. The mean, pompous old--" + +"Hush! hush! he's in there with Mr. Ellery." + +"Who? Elkanah?" + +"Yes; they're in the study." + +"By the jumpin'-- Let me talk to him for a few minutes. I'LL tell +him what's good for his health. You just listen." + +He rose from the chair, but she made him sit down again. + +"No, no," she protested. "He wasn't to blame. He had to have his +rent and I didn't feel that I could afford to keep up a whole +house, just for myself. And, besides, I ought to be thankful to +him, I suppose. He got me this place." + +"He did?" + +"Yes, he did. I rather guess Zeb Mayo or somebody may have +suggested it to him first, but--" + +"Humph! I rather guess so, too." + +"Well, you can't always tell. Sometimes when you really get inside +of a person you find a generous streak that--" + +"Not in a Daniels. Anybody that got inside of Elkanah would find +nothin' but Elkanah there, and 'twould be crowded at that. So he's +talkin' to the new parson, hey? Bossin' him, too, I'll bet." + +"I ain't so sure. Mr. Ellery's young, but he's got a mind of his +own." + +Captain Hammond chuckled and slapped his knee. + +"Ho, ho!" he laughed. "I've been hearin' somethin' about that +mind. Went to the chapel last night, I understand, and he and dad +had a set-to. Oh, I heard about it! Wish I might have been +there." + +"How does your father act about it?" + +"'Bout the way a red-hot stove acts when you spill water on it; +every time he thinks of the minister he sizzles. Ho, ho! I do +wish I could have been there." + +"What does Grace say?" + +"Oh, she doesn't say much. I wouldn't wonder if she felt the way I +do, though we both keep quiet. I'll tell you, between ourselves +and the ship's pump, that I sort of glory in the young chap's +spunk." + +"Good! So do I. I like him." + +"See here, Keziah! I'm gettin' frightened. You ain't settin' your +cap to be a parson's wife, are you? Because--" + +"Don't be silly. I might adopt him, but that's all, I guess." + +Her friend leaned forward. + +"Keziah," he said earnestly, "there's no sense in your slavin' +yourself to death here. I can think of a good deal pleasanter +berth than that. Pleasanter for me, anyhow, and I'd do my best to +make it pleasant for you. You've only got to say the word and-- +No? Well, then all I can do is hope through another voyage." + +"Please don't, Nat. You know." + +"No, I don't know." + +"Well, perhaps you don't. But I know. I like you, Nat. I count +on you as the straightest, truest friend I've got; and I want to +keep on countin' on you just that way. Mayn't I?" + +"'Course you can, Keziah. But--" + +"Then don't say another word, please." + +He sighed and looked out at the open door. The kitchen clock +ticked loud in the silence. + +"All right," he said at last. "All right, but I'm goin' to keep on +hopin'." + +"You mustn't, Nat." + +"Keziah, when you set your foot down you're pretty stubborn; but +I've got somethin' of a foot myself. You remember you said so a +few minutes ago. Hi, hum! Well, speakin' of dad reminds me that +I'm kind of worried about him." + +"You are? Why? Isn't he well?" + +"Pretty well, but he ain't strong, and he gets too excited over +things like last night's foolishness. Grace tells me that the +doctor says he must be careful or he'll drop off sudden some of +these days. He had a shock five or six years ago, a little one, +and I've been anxious about him ever since. I've got to go to New +York off and on for the next month; after that I hope to be home +for a spell and I can keep an eye on him. Keziah, if you'll listen +I'll whisper somethin' to you--religion's a good thing and so's a +mustard plaster, but both of 'em can be put on too strong. Dad is +just a little mite crazy on Come-Outers, I'm afraid." + +"Oh, no, I guess not! You mustn't worry. How did Grace look to +you?" + +"Like the harbor light on a stormy night. She's a brick, that +girl, and gets prettier every minute. Wonder to me some of the +young chaps down here don't carry her off by main strength. She'll +make somebody a good wife." + +"Um-hm. Have--have you ever thought of her that way yourself?" + +"Keziah!" + +"Well, don't get mad. I think a lot of Grace, and I don't know +anyone I'd rather see you marry." + +"I do. Keziah, that's enough of that. Are you and dad in +partnership to get me spliced and out of the way? He was at me +this mornin' along the same line. Don't say anything like that +again, even in fun. YOU know why." + +"All right, all right. Now tell me about yourself. Have you had a +good voyage? How do you like your owners? How did Zach Foster +ever get the packet in through yesterday's fog?" + +"Voyage was all right. Some rugged weather on the trip out, but +homeward bound we slid along like a slush bucket on a greased +plank. Owners are all right. Good people as ever I sailed for. +As for Zach and the packet-- Ho, ho!" + +He laughed, rocking back and forth on the chair, which creaked in +sympathy. + +"What's the joke?" demanded the housekeeper. "Don't do that! That +chair wasn't made for elephants to use." + +"Hey? 'Tis pretty weak in the knees, ain't it? Dad would say +'twas a piece with the creed of those that owned it. I-- What's +that? Somebody's comin'. I'm goin' to clear out. I don't want to +be put through my catechism yet a while." + +"No, you mustn't go. I want you to meet Mr. Ellery. You sit out +on the wash bench by the back door till I get rid of whoever 'tis +that's comin'. Scoot!" + +Nat "scooted," stopping to snatch up his hat as he ran. Keziah +went into the dining room and admitted Captain Zebedee Mayo, who +was panting from the exertion of his walk. + +"Whew!" puffed Captain Zeb, mopping his forehead. "How be you, +Keziah? What? You ain't all alone! Thought you'd have a cabin +full of gab machines by this time. Have they been and gone?" + +"No, they haven't been. I-- My land, my pie!" + +She rushed into the kitchen and snatched the pastry from the oven. +Her new caller followed her. + +"So they ain't been, hey?" he said. "That's queer." + +"Elkanah's here. He's in there with the minister now." + +"He is? Givin' the young feller Hail Columby, I cal'late. Well, +now, he shan't. He, he! When they told me how the minister passed +old hop-and-go-fetch-it what was due him at the chapel last night I +riz up and hoorayed till my wife shut the windows. She said the +neighbors all thought I was loony, anyhow, and I needn't prove it +to 'em. He, he! But Elkanah ain't got any funny bone. He's as +solemn as a stuffed owl, and he'll-- Well, I'm goin' to put MY oar +in. I'm parish committee, too, I cal'late, and I've got somethin' +to say, even if I wa'n't christened Daniels. Here goes!" + +He headed for the study, but before he crossed the threshold of the +kitchen Ellery and his visitor came out into the dining room. +Captain Elkanah's face was flushed, and he fidgeted. The minister +looked determined but calm. + +"Ahoy there, Elkanah!" hailed Zebedee cheerfully. "'Mornin', Mr. +Ellery. Been havin' officers' counsel, have you?" + +"Good morning, Captain Mayo," said the minister. + +"'Mornin', Zebedee," grunted Elkanah. "I have--hum--ha!--been +discussing the regrettable affair of last night with Mr. Ellery. I +have tried--hum--ha! to show him that respectable people of our +society don't associate with Come-Outers, and that for a Regular +minister to go to their meetings is something neither the +congregation nor the parish committee approves of. No--er--hum-- +ha! no!" + +"And I explained to Captain Daniels," observed the minister, "that +I went there for what seemed to me good reasons, and, as they did +seem to me good at the time, I'm not ashamed of having gone. It +was an honest mistake on my part and I may make more." + +"But the society--" began Elkanah. Captain Zeb interrupted him. + +"Don't worry about the society, Mr. Ellery," he said with emphasis. +"Nor about the parish committee, either. Great fishhooks! the most +of us are tickled to death over what you said to Eben Hammond. We +think it's a mighty good joke. YOU didn't know, of course, and +what you did was done innocent. He! he! he! Did you lay him out, +hey?" + +"Zebedee," began Captain Daniels, "I must say I can't see anything +to laugh at." + +"You never could, Elkanah. I remember that time when you and me +and some of the fellers home from sea went out sailin' and the boom +knocked you overboard with your Sunday clothes on. Lordy, how the +rest of us did holler! but you never cracked a smile. If you'd +seen yourself when we hauled you in! whiskers runnin' salt water; +beaver hat lookin' like a drownded kitten--" + +"There! There! Never mind that. I think you'll find a good many +of the society feel as I do, shocked and--hum--ha!--sorry. I'm +surprised they haven't been here to say so." + +"I expected them," remarked the minister. + +"So did I," chimed in Captain Zeb. "But I cal'late to know why +they ain't been. They're all too busy crowin' over the way Nat +Hammond fetched the packet home last night. WHAT? You ain't +heard? Great fishhooks! it's the best thing ever--" + +"I've heard about it," snapped Elkanah impatiently. "Mr. Ellery, +I'm glad you realize that your action was a mistake and I will take +pains to have that immejitly made plain to--" + +"YOU ain't heard, Keziah, have you?" broke in Zebedee. "Nor you, +Mr. Ellery? Well, I must tell you. Here's where I gain a lap on +Didama Rogers. Seems the Deborah S.--that's the packet's name, Mr. +Ellery--she hauled out of Boston night afore last on the ebb, with +a fair wind and sky clear as a bell. But they hadn't much more'n +got outside of Minot's 'fore the fog shut down, thicker'n gruel for +a sick rich man. The wind held till 'long toward mornin'; then she +flattened to a dead calm. 'Bije Perry, the mate, he spun the yarn +to me, and he said 'twas thick and flat as ever he see and kept +gettin' no better fast. + +"They drifted along till noon time and then they was somewheres out +in the bay, but that's about all you could say. Zach, he was +stewin' and sputterin' like a pair of fried eels, and Lafayette +Gage and Emulous Peters--they're Denboro folks, Mr. Ellery, and +about sixteen p'ints t'other side of no account--they was the only +passengers aboard except Nat Hammond, and they put in their time +playin' high low jack in the cabin. The lookout was for'ard +tootin' a tin horn and his bellerin' was the most excitin' thing +goin' on. After dinner--corned beef and cabbage--trust Zach for +that, though it's next door to cannibalism to put cabbage in HIS +mouth--after dinner all hands was on deck when Nat says: 'Hush!' he +says. 'Don't I hear somethin'?' + +"They listened, and then they all heard it--all 'cept Zach, who's +deef in his larboard ear. + +"'Stand by!' roars Nat. 'It's a squall, dead astern and comin' +abilin'! I'll take her, 'Bije. You look out for them tops'ls.' + +"So Nat grabs the wheel and 'Bije tears for'ard and sends the two +fo'mast hands aloft on the jump. Zach was skipper, but all he done +was race around and holler and trip over his own feet. Oh, he's a +prize sailor, he is! Don't talk to me about them Fosters! I--" + +"Nobody is talkin' about 'em but you, Zeb," observed Keziah drily. +"Go on. How about the squall?" + +"It hit 'em 'fore they got even one tops'l clewed down. That one, +the foretops'l 'twas, split to rags. The main tops'l was set, and +when the squall struck, the rotten old topmast went by the board +'Kerrash-o!' 'Course splinters flew like all possessed, and one of +'em, about a foot long, sailed past Nat's head, where he stood +heavin' his whole weight on the wheel, and lit right on the +binnacle, smashin' it to matches. + +"They say Nat never paid the least attention, no more'n if the +chunk of wood had been a June bug buzzin' past. He just held that +wheel hard down and that saved the packet. She come around and put +her nose dead in the wind just in time. As 'twas, 'Bije says there +was a second when the water by her lee rail looked right underneath +him as he hung onto the deck with finger nails and teeth. + +"Well, there they was, afloat, but with their upper riggin' gone +and the compass smashed flat. A howlin' no'thwester blowin' and +fog thick as ever. Zach was a whimperin', fidgetin' old woman, +Lafayette and Emulous was prayin' in the scuppers--and that ain't +an exercise they're used to, neither--and even 'Bije was mighty +shook up and worried--he says he was himself. But Nat Hammond was +as cool and refreshin' as the bottom of my well up home. + +"'Better clear away that mess aloft, hadn't you?' he says to the +skipper. + +"Zach said he guessed so; he wa'n't sure of nothin'. However, they +cleared it away, and incidentally 'Bije yanked the prayer meetin' +out of the scuppers and set 'em to work. Then Nat suggests gettin' +the spare compass and, lo and behold you! there wa'n't any. +Compasses cost money and money's made to keep, so Zach thinks. + +"So there they was. Wind was fair, or ought to be, but 'twas +blowin' hard and so thick you couldn't hardly see the jib boom. +Zach he wanted to anchor, then he didn't, then he did, and so on. +Nobody paid much attention to him. + +"'What'll we do, Nat?' says 'Bije. He knew who was the real seaman +aboard. + +"'Keep her as she is, dead afore it, if you ask me, says Nat. +'Guess we'll hit the broadside of the cape somewheres if this gale +holds.' + +"So they kept her as she was. And it got to be night and they knew +they'd ought to be 'most onto the edge of the flats off here, if +their reck'nin' was nigh right. They hove the lead and got five +fathom. No flats about that. + +"Zach was for anchorin' again. 'What do you think, Nat?' asks +'Bije. + +"'Anchor, of course, if you want to,' Nat says. 'You're runnin' +this craft. I'm only passenger.' + +"'But what do you THINK?' whines Zach. 'Can't you tell us what you +do think?' + +"'Well, if 'twas me, I wouldn't anchor till I had to. Prob'ly +'twill fair off to-morrow, but if it shouldn't, we might have to +lay out here all day. Anyhow, we'd have to wait for a full tide.' + +"'I'm afraid we're off the course,' says 'Bije, else we'd been +acrost the bar by this time.' + +"'Well,' Nat tells him, 'if we are off the course and too far +inshore, we would have made the bar--the Bayport bar--if not the +Trumet one. And if we're off the course and too far out, we'd +ought to have deeper water than five fathom, hadn't we? 'Course +I'm not sure, but-- What's that, lands-man?' + +"'Three and a half, sir,' says the feller with the lead. That +showed they was edgin' in somewheres. Nat he sniffed, for all the +world like a dog catchin' a scent, so 'Bije declares. + +"'I can smell home,' he says. + +"Three fathom the lead give 'em, then two and a half, then a scant +two. They was drawin' six feet. Zach couldn't stand it. + +"'I'm goin' to anchor,' he squeals, frantic. 'I believe we're +plumb over to Wellmouth and drivin' right onto Horsefoot Shoal.' + +"'It's either that or the bar,' chimes in 'Bije. 'And whichever +'tis, we can't anchor in the middle of it.' + +"'But what'll we do?' shouts Zach. 'Can't nobody say somethin' to +DO?' + +"'Tell you I smell home,' says Nat, calm and chipper, 'and I'd know +that smell if I met it in Jericho. Ha! there she deepens again. +That was the bar and we're over it.' + +"The wind had gone down to a stiff sailin' breeze, and the old +Debby S. slapped along afore it. Sometimes there was twelve foot +under her keel and sometimes eight or nine. Once 'twas only seven +and a half. Zach and 'Bije both looked at each other, but Nat only +smiled. + +"'Oh, you can laugh!' hollers Zach. ''Tain't your vessel you're +runnin' into danger. YOU aint paid out your good money--' + +"Nat never answered; but he stopped smilin'. + +"And all to once the water deepened. Hammond swung her up into the +wind. + +"'NOW you can anchor,' says he. + +"'And 'bout time, too, I guess,' says 'Bije. 'I cal'late the +skipper's right. This IS Horsefoot and we're right between the +shoals. Yes, sir, and I hear breakers. Lively there!' + +"They hove over the mudhook and dropped the sails. Nat shook his +head. + +"'Breakers or not,' says he, 'I tell you I've smelt home for the +last half hour. Now, by the jumpin' Moses, I can TASTE it!' + +"And inside of a couple of shakes come the rain. It poured for a +while and then the fog cleared. Right acrost their bows was +Trumet, with the town clock strikin' ten. Over the flat place +between the hills they could see the light on the ocean side. And +they was anchored right in the deep hole inside the breakwater, as +sure as I'm knee high to a marlin spike! + +"'Bije just stared at Hammond with his mouth open. + +"'Nat,' says he, 'you're a seaman, if I do say it. I thought I was +a pretty good bay pilot, but I can't steer a vessel without a +compass through a night as black as Pharaoh's Egypt, and in a thick +fog besides, and land her square on top of her moorin's. If my hat +wa'n't sloshin' around thirty mile astern, I snum if I wouldn't +take it off to you this minute!' + +"'Nat,' stammers Zach, 'I must say I--' + +"Nat snapped him shut like a tobacco box. 'You needn't,' says he. +'But I'll say this to you, Zach Foster. When I undertake to handle +a vessel I handle her best I know how, and the fact that I don't +own her makes no difference to me. You just put that down +somewheres so you won't forget it.' + +"And this mornin'," crowed Captain Zebedee, concluding his long +yarn, "after that, mind you, that lubber Zach Foster is around town +tellin' folks that his schooner had been over the course so often +she COULDN'T get lost. She found her way home herself. WHAT do +you think of that?" + +The two members of the parish committee left the parsonage soon +after Captain Mayo had finished his story. Elkanah had listened +with growing irritation and impatience. Zebedee lingered a moment +behind his companions. + +"Don't you fret yourself about what happened last night, Mr. +Ellery," he whispered. "It'll be all right. 'Course nobody'd want +you to keep up chummin' in with Come-Outers, but what you said to +old Eben'll square you this time. So long." + +The minister shut the door behind his departing guests. Then he +went out into the kitchen, whither the housekeeper had preceded +him. He found her standing on the back step, looking across the +fields. The wash bench was untenanted. + +"Hum!" mused Ellery thoughtfully, "that was a good story of Captain +Mayo's. This man Hammond must be a fine chap. I should like to +meet him." + +Keziah still looked away over the fields. She did not wish her +employer to see her face--just then. + +"I thought you would meet him," she said. He was here a little +while ago and I asked him to wait. I guess Zeb's yarn was too much +for him; he doesn't like to be praised." + +"So? Was he here? At the Regular parsonage? I'm surprised." + +"He and I have known each other for a long while." + +"Well, I'm sorry he's gone. I think I should like him." + +Keziah turned from the door. + +"I know you would," she said. + + +CHAPTER VII + +IN WHICH CAPTAIN NAT PICKS UP A DERELICT + + +It is probable that John Ellery never fully realized the debt of +gratitude he owed to the fog and the squall and to Captain Nat +Hammond. Trumet, always hungry for a sensation, would have +thoroughly enjoyed arguing and quarreling over the minister's visit +to Come-Outer meeting, and, during the fracas, Keziah's parson +might have been more or less battered. But Captain Nat's brilliant +piloting of the old packet was a bit of seamanship which every man +and woman on that foam-bordered stretch of sand could understand +and appreciate, and the minister's indiscretion was all but +forgotten in consequence. The "Daily Advertisers" gloated over it, +of course, and Captain Elkanah brought it up at the meeting of the +parish committee, but there Captain Zeb Mayo championed the young +man's course and proclaimed that, fur's he was concerned, he was +for Mr. Ellery more'n ever. "A young greenhorn with the spunk to +cruise single-handed right into the middle of the Come-Outer school +and give an old bull whale like Eben the gaff is the man for my +money," declared Zebedee. Most of his fellow-committee agreed with +him. "Not guilty, but don't do it again," was the general verdict. + +As for the Come-Outers, they professed to believe that their leader +had much the best of the encounter, so they were satisfied. There +was a note of triumph and exultation in the "testimony" given on +the following Thursday night, and Captain Eben divided his own +discourse between thankfulness for his son's safe return and +glorification at the discomfiture of the false prophets. +Practically, then, the result of Ellery's peace overture was an +increased bitterness in the feeling between the two societies and a +polishing of weapons on both sides. + +Keziah watched anxiously for a hint concerning her parson's walk in +the rain with Grace, but she heard nothing, so congratulated +herself that the secret had been kept. Ellery did not again +mention it to her, nor she to him. A fortnight later he preached +his great sermon on "The Voyage of Life," and its reference to +gales and calms and lee shores and breakers made a hit. His +popularity took a big jump. + +He met Nat Hammond during that fortnight. The first meeting was +accompanied by unusual circumstances, which might have been +serious, but were actually only funny. + +The tide at Trumet, on the bay side, goes out for a long way, +leaving uncovered a mile and a half of flats, bare and sandy, or +carpeted with seaweed. Between these flats are the channels, +varying at low water from two to four feet in depth, but deepening +rapidly as the tide flows. + +The flats fascinated the young minister, as they have many another +visitor to the Cape, before or since. On cloudy days they lowered +with a dull, leaden luster and the weed-grown portions were like +the dark squares on a checkerboard, while the deep water beyond the +outer bar was steely gray and angry. When the sun shone and the +wind blew clear from the northwest the whole expanse flashed into +fire and color, sapphire blue, emerald green, topaz yellow, dotted +with white shells and ablaze with diamond sparkles where the +reflected light leaped from the flint crystals of the wet, coarse +sand. + +The best time to visit the flats--tide serving, of course--is the +early morning at sunrise. Then there is an inspiration in the wide +expanse, a snap and tang and joy in the air. Ellery had made up +his mind to take a before-breakfast tramp to the outer bar and so +arose at five, tucked a borrowed pair of fisherman's boots beneath +his arm, and, without saying anything to his housekeeper, walked +down the lawn behind the parsonage, climbed the rail fence, and +"cut across lots" to the pine grove on the bluff. There he removed +his shoes, put on the boots, wallowed through the mealy yellow sand +forming the slope of the bluff, and came out on the white beach and +the inner edge of the flats. Then he plashed on, bound out to +where the fish weirs stood, like webby fences, in the distance. + +It was a wonderful walk on a wonderful day. The minister enjoyed +every minute of it. Out here he could forget the petty trials of +life, the Didamas and Elkanahs. The wind blew his hat off and +dropped it in a shallow channel, but he splashed to the rescue and +laughed aloud as he fished it out. It was not much wetter than it +had been that night of the rain, when he tried to lend his umbrella +and didn't succeed. This reflection caused him to halt in his walk +and look backward toward the shore. The brown roof of the old +tavern was blushing red in the first rays of the sun. + +A cart, drawn by a plodding horse and with a single individual on +its high seat, was moving out from behind the breakwater. Some +fisherman driving out his weir, probably. + +The sand of the outer bar was dimpled and mottled like watered silk +by the action of the waves. It sloped gradually down to meet the +miniature breakers that rolled over and slid in ripples along its +edge. Ellery wandered up and down, picking up shells and sea +clams, and peering through the nets of the nearest weir at the +"horsefoot crabs" and squid and flounders imprisoned in the pound. +There were a few bluefish there, also, and a small school of +mackerel. + +The minister had been on the bar a considerable time before he +began to think of returning to the shore. He was hungry, but was +enjoying himself too well to mind. The flats were all his that +morning. Only the cart and its driver were in sight and they were +half a mile off. He looked at his watch, sighed, and reluctantly +started to walk toward the town; he mustn't keep Mrs. Coffin's +breakfast waiting TOO long. + +The first channel he came to was considerably deeper than when he +forded it on the way out. He noticed this, but only vaguely. The +next, however, was so deep that the water splashed in at the top of +one of his boots. He did notice that, because though he was not +wearing his best clothes, he was not anxious to wet his "other +ones." The extent of his wardrobe was in keeping with the size of +his salary. + +And the third channel was so wide and deep that he saw at once it +could not be forded, unless he was willing to plunge above his +waist. This was provoking. Now he realized that he had waited too +long. The tide had been flowing for almost an hour; it had flowed +fast and, as he should have remembered, having been told, the +principal channels were eight feet deep before the highest flats +were covered. + +He hurried along the edge, looking for a shallower place, but found +none. At last he reached the point of the flat he was on and saw, +to his dismay, that here was the deepest spot yet, a hole, scoured +out by a current like a mill race. Turning, he saw, creeping +rapidly and steadily together over the flat behind him, two lines +of foam, one from each channel. His retreat was cut off. + +He was in for a wetting, that was sure. However, there was no help +for it, so he waded in. The water filled his boots there, it +gurgled about his hips, and beyond, as he could see, it seemed to +grow deeper and deeper. The current was surprisingly strong; he +found it difficult to keep his footing in the soft sand. It looked +as though he must swim for it, and to swim in that tide would be no +joke. + +Then, from behind him, came a hail. He turned and saw moving +toward him through the shallow water now covering the flat beyond +the next channel, the cart he had seen leave the shore by the +packet wharf, and, later, on the outer bar. The horse was jogging +along, miniature geysers spouting beneath its hoofs. The driver +waved to him. + +"Hold on, mate," he called. "Belay there. Stay where you are. +I'll be alongside in a shake. Git dap, January!" + +Ellery waded back to meet this welcome arrival. The horse plunged +into the next channel, surged through it, and emerged dripping. +The driver pulled the animal into a walk. + +"Say," he cried, "I'm cruisin' your way; better get aboard, hadn't +you? There's kind of a heavy dew this mornin'. Whoa, Bill!" + +"Bill" or "January" stopped with apparent willingness. The driver +leaned down and extended a hand. The minister took it and was +pulled up to the seat. + +"Whew!" he panted. "I'm much obliged to you. I guess you saved me +from a ducking, if nothing worse." + +"Yes," was the answer, "I wouldn't wonder if I did. This ain't +Saturday night and 'twould be against Trumet principles to take a +bath any other time. All taut, are you? Good enough! then we'll +get under way." He flapped the reins and added, "G'long, Julius +Caesar!" + +The horse, a sturdy, sedate beast to whom all names seemed to be +alike, picked up his feet and pounded them down again. Showers of +spray flew about the heads of the pair on the seat. + +"I ain't so sure about that duckin'," commented the rescuer. "Hum! +I guess likely we'll be out of soundin's if we tackle that sink +hole you was undertakin' to navigate. Let's try it a little +further down." + +Ellery looked his companion over. + +"Well," he observed with a smile, "from what I've heard of you, +Captain Hammond, I rather guess you could navigate almost any water +in this locality and in all sorts of weather." + +The driver turned in surprise. + +"So?" he exclaimed. "You know me, do you? That's funny. I was +tryin' to locate you, but I ain't been able to. You ain't a +Trumetite I'll bet on that." + +"Yes, I am." + +"Tut! tut! tut! you don't tell me. Say, shipmate, you hurt my +pride. I did think there wa'n't a soul that ever trod sand in this +village that I couldn't name on sight, and give the port they +hailed from and the names of their owners. But you've got me on my +beam ends. And yet you knew ME." + +"Of course I did. Everybody knows the man that brought the packet +home." + +Nat Hammond sniffed impatiently. + +"Um--hm!" he grunted. "I cal'late everybody does, and knows a lot +more about that foolishness than I do myself. If ever a craft was +steered by guess and by godfrey, 'twas that old hooker of Zach's +t'other night. Well-- Humph! here's another piece of pilotin' +that bids fair to be a mighty sight harder. Heave ahead, Hannibal! +hope you've got your web feet with you." + +They had moved along the edge of the flat a short distance and now +turned into the channel. The horse was wading above its knees; +soon the water reached its belly and began to flow into the body of +the cart. + +"Pick up your feet, shipmate," commanded Nat. "You may get +rheumatiz if you don't. This'll be a treat for those sea clams +back in that bucket amidships. They'll think I've repented and +have decided to turn 'em loose again. They don't know how long +I've been countin' on a sea-clam pie. I'll fetch those clams +ashore if I have to lug 'em with my teeth. Steady, all hands! +we're off the ways." + +The cart was afloat. The horse, finding wading more difficult than +swimming, began to swim. + +"Now I'm skipper again, sure enough," remarked Hammond. "Ain't +gettin' seasick, are you?" + +The minister laughed. + +"No," he said. + +"Good! she keeps on a fairly even keel, considerin' her build. +THERE she strikes! That'll do, January; you needn't try for a +record voyage. Walkin's more in your line than playin' steamboat. +We're over the worst of it now. Say! you and I didn't head for +port any too soon, did we?" + +"No, I should say not. I ought to have known better than to wait +out there so long. I've been warned about this tide. I--" + +"S-sh-sh! YOU ought to have known better! What do you think of +me? Born and brought up within sight and smell of this salt puddle +and let myself in for a scrape like this! But it was so mighty +fine off there on the bar I couldn't bear to leave it. I always +said that goin' to sea on land would be the ideal way, and now I've +tried it. But you took bigger chances than I did. Are you a good +swimmer?" + +"Not too good. I hardly know what might have happened if you +hadn't--" + +"S-sh-sh! that's all right. Always glad to pick up a derelict, may +be a chance for salvage, you know. Here's the last channel and +it's an easy one. There! now it's plain sailin' for dry ground." + +The old horse, breathing heavily from his exertions, trotted over +the stretch of yet uncovered flats and soon mounted the slope of +the beach. The minister prepared to alight. + +"Captain Hammond," he said, "you haven't asked me my name." + +"No, I seldom do more'n once. There have been times when I'D just +as soon cruise without too big letters alongside my figurehead." + +"Well, my name is Ellery." + +"Hey? WHAT? Oh, ho! ho! ho!" + +He rocked back and forth on the seat. The minister's feelings were +a bit hurt, though he tried not to show it. + +"You mustn't mind my laughin'," explained Nat, still chuckling. +"It ain't at you. It's just because I was wonderin' what you'd +look like if I should meet you and now-- Ho! ho! You see, Mr. +Ellery, I've heard of you, same as you said you'd heard of me." + +Ellery smiled, but not too broadly. + +"Yes," he admitted, "I imagined you had." + +"Yes, seems to me dad mentioned your name once or twice. As much +as that, anyhow. Wonder what he'd say if he knew his son had been +takin' you for a mornin' ride?" + +"Probably that it would have been much better to have left me where +you found me." + +The captain's jolly face grew serious. + +"No, no!" he protested. "Not so bad as that. Dad wouldn't drown +anybody, not even a Regular minister. He's a pretty square-built +old craft, even though his spiritual chart may be laid out +different from yours--and mine." + +"From yours? Why, I supposed--" + +"Yes, I know. Well, WHEN I go to meetin', I generally go to the +chapel to please father. But when it comes right down to a +confession of faith, I'm pretty broad in the beam. Maybe I'd be +too broad even for you, Mr. Ellery." + +The minister, who had jumped to the ground, looked up. + +"Captain Hammond," he said, "I'm very glad indeed that I met you. +Not alone because you helped me out of a bad scrape; I realize how +bad it might have been and that--" + +"Shsh! shh! Nothin' at all. Don't be foolish." + +"But I'm glad, too, because I've heard so many good things about +you that I was sure you must be worth knowing. I hope you won't +believe I went to your father's meeting with any--" + +"No, no! Jumpin' Moses, man! I don't find fault with you for +that. I understand, I guess." + +"Well, if you don't mind the fact that I am what I am, I'd like to +shake hands with you." + +Nat reached down a big brown hand. + +"Same here," he said. "Always glad to shake with a chap as well +recommended as you are. Yes, indeed, I mean it. You see, you've +got a friend that's a friend of mine, and when she guarantees a man +to be A. B., I'll ship him without any more questions." + +"Well, then, good-by. I hope we shall meet again and often. And I +certainly thank you for--" + +"That's all right. Maybe you'll fish ME out of the drink some day; +you never can tell. So long! Git dap, Gen'ral Scott!" + +He drove off up the beach, but before he turned the corner of the +nearest dune he called back over his shoulder: + +"Say, Mr. Ellery, if you think of it you might give my regards to-- +to--er--the lady that's keepin' house for you." + +Breakfast had waited nearly an hour when the minister reached home. +Keziah, also, was waiting and evidently much relieved at his safe +arrival. + +"Sakes alive!" she exclaimed, as she met him at the back door. +"Where in the world have you been, Mr. Ellery? Soakin' wet again, +too!" + +Ellery replied that he had been for a walk out to the bar. He sat +down on the step to remove the borrowed boots. A small rivulet of +salt water poured from each as he pulled them off. + +"For a walk! A swim, you mean. How could you get in up to your +waist if you just walked? Did you fall down?" + +"No, not exactly. But I waited too long and the tide headed me +off." + +"Mercy on us! you mustn't take chances on that tide. If you'd told +me you was goin', I'd have warned you to hurry back." + +"Oh, I've been warned often enough. It was my own fault, as usual. +I'm not sure that I don't need a guardian." + +"Humph! well, I ain't sure either. Was the channels very deep?" + +"Deep enough. The fact is, that I might have got into serious +trouble if I hadn't been picked up." + +He told briefly the story of his morning's adventure. The +housekeeper listened with growing excitement. + +"Heavens to Betsy!" she interrupted. "Was the channel you planned +to swim the one at the end of the flat by the longest weir leader?" + +"Yes." + +"My soul! there's been two men drowned in that very place at half +tide. And they were good swimmers. After this I shan't dare let +you out of my sight." + +"So? Was it as risky as that? Why, Captain Hammond didn't tell me +so. I must owe him more even than I thought." + +"Yes, I guess you do. He wouldn't tell you, though; that ain't his +way. Deary me! for what we've received let us be thankful. And +that reminds me that biscuits ought to be et when they're first +made, not after they've been dried up on the back of the stove +forever and ever amen. Go on and change those wet things of yours +and then we'll eat. Tryin' to swim the main channel on the flood! +My soul and body!" + +"Captain Nat sent his regards to you, Mrs. Coffin," said the +minister, moving toward the stairs. + +"Did, hey?" was the housekeeper's reply. "Want to know!" + + +CHAPTER VIII + +IN WHICH THE PARSON AND MR. PEPPER DECLARE THEIR INDEPENDENCE + + +That afternoon, when dinner was over, the Reverend John decided to +make a few duty calls. The first of these he determined should be +on the Peppers. Lavinia and her brother had called at the +Parsonage several times, but as yet he had not paid them a visit. +It was not a ceremony to which he looked forward with delight, but +it must be performed. Miss Pepper had hinted several times, at +sewing circle and after prayer meeting, of "partiality" and "only +stoppin' in where they had fancy curtains up to the windows." So, +as it could not be put off longer, without causing trouble, he +determined to go through with it. + +The Pepper house was situated just off the main road on the lane +leading over the dunes to the ocean and the light. It was a small +building, its white paint dingy and storm beaten, and its little +fenced-in front yard dotted thickly with clumps of silver-leaf +saplings. A sign, nailed crookedly on a post, informed those +seeking such information that within was to be found "Abishai G. W. +Pepper, Tax Collector, Assessor, Boots and Shoes Repaired." And +beneath this was fastened a shingle with the chalked notice, "Salt +Hay for sale." + +The boot and shoe portion of the first sign was a relic of other +days. Kyan had been a cobbler once, but it is discouraging to wait +three or four weeks while the pair of boots one has left to be +resoled are forgotten in a corner. Captain Zeb Mayo's pointed +comment, "I want my shoe leather to wear while I'm alive, not to be +laid out in after I die of old age," expressed the general feeling +of the village and explained why custom had left Mr. Pepper and +flown to the more enterprising shoemaker at "The Corners." The tax +collectorship might have followed it, but here Lavinia kept her +brother up to the mark. She went with him on his rounds and it +gave her opportunity to visit, and afterwards comment upon, every +family in town. + +The minister walked up the dusty lane, lifted the Pepper gate and +swung it back on its one hinge, shooed away the three or four +languid and discouraged-looking fowls that were taking a sun bath +on the clam-shell walk, and knocked at the front door. No one +coming in answer to the knock, he tried again. Then he discovered +a rusty bell pull and gave it a sharp tug. The knob came off in +his hand and he hurriedly thrust it back again into its place. +Evidently, that bell was solely for ornament. + +He came to the conclusion that no one was at home and felt a guilty +sense of relief in consequence. But his conscience would not let +him depart without another try, so he clenched his fist and gave +the cracked door panel a series of tremendous thumps. A thin black +cat, which had evidently been asleep beneath the step, burst from +its concealment and fled in frantic terror. Then from somewhere in +the rear of the house came the sound of a human voice. + +"Hi!" it called faintly. "Whoever you be, don't bust that door +down. Come round here." + +Ellery walked around the corner of the building. The voice came +again. + +"Say!" it wailed, "why don't you answer? Be you comin'? If you're +a peddler, you needn't." + +"I'm not a peddler," was the minister's amused reply. + +"Oh, ain't ye? All right. Come along, then." + +Ellery "came along" as far as the angle where the ell joined the +main body of the house. So far as he could see every door and +window was closed and there were no signs of life. However, he +stepped to the door, a green-painted affair of boards, and ventured +another knock. + +"Don't start that poundin' again!" protested the voice. "Come +round to t'other side where I be." + +So around went the Reverend John, smiling broadly. But even on +"t'other side" there was no one to be seen. And no door, for that +matter. + +"Why!" exclaimed the voice, "if 'tain't Mr. Ellery! How d'ye do? +Glad to see you, Mr. Ellery. Fine day, ain't it? Here I be at +this window." + +Sure enough; one of the windows on this side of the house was +raised about six inches at the bottom, the shade was up, and +peering beneath the sash the minister discerned the expressive +features of Abishai Pepper--or as much of those features as the +size of the opening permitted to be seen. + +"Oh!" exclaimed the visitor, "is that you, Mr. Pepper? Well, I'm +glad to see you, at last. You are rather hard to see, even now." + +Kyan was plainly embarrassed. He stammered as he answered. + +"Yes," he agreed, "I--I shouldn't wonder if I be. How be you? +Pretty smart?" + +"Yes, thank you. I'm well." + +"Er--er--come to call, did you?" + +"Why, yes, that was my intention." + +"Hum! Er--er--Laviny, she's gone over to Thankful Payne's. She +heard that Thankful's cousin up to Middleboro had died--passed +away, I mean--and she thought she'd run over and find out if +Thankful was willed anything. She said she'd be back pretty soon." + +"Very well. Then, as she won't be gone long, perhaps I'll come in +and wait." + +He was moving away toward the corner when a shout from beneath the +window sash brought him to a halt. + +"Hi!" called Abishai. "Hi, Mr. Ellery! don't go to that door. +'Tain't no use; it's locked." + +"Locked? Well, you can unlock it, can't you?" + +"No, not very well. That is, I--Mr. Ellery, come back here, won't +ye? I don't want anybody to hear." + +The house of the nearest neighbor being several hundred yards away, +the likelihood of being overheard was improbable; but the minister +came back, nevertheless. + +"You see, Mr. Ellery," stammered Kyan, "I--I'd like to have you +come in fust rate, but--er--Laviny she's got the key." + +Ellery was surprised. + +"She has!" he exclaimed. + +"Um--hm, she's got it. She took it with her." + +"But there are other doors. She didn't take them all, did she?" + +"No--o, but-- Well, the fact is, Mr. Ellery, I--I--I'm locked in." + +"Locked in?" + +"Yes, locked in this room. She--she-- Oh, consarn it all, Mr. +Ellery, she's locked me in this room a-purpose, so's I won't get +out and go somewheres without her knowin' it." + +"What?" + +"Um--h'm; that's what she's done. Did you ever hear of anything +like that in your born days?" + +This surprising disclosure was funny enough, but the tone of +grieved indignation in which Mr. Pepper told of his imprisonment +was funnier still. The minister coughed violently and looked the +other way. + +"She done it a-purpose," continued Kyan, in a burst of confidence. +"She had me put one of them new-fangled spring locks on the door of +this room t'other day, 'cause she said she was afraid of tramps and +wanted some place to shut herself up in if one of em come. And-- +and after dinner to-day she sent me in here for somethin' and then +slammed the door on me. Said she cal'lated I'd stay put till she +got back from Thankful's. She knew mighty well I couldn't get out +of the window, 'cause it won't open no further'n 'tis now. I +wa'n't never so provoked in my life. 'Tain't no way to treat your +own brother, lockin' him up like a young one; now, is it?" + +Ellery's reply was not made immediately. He had heard numerous +stories concerning this odd household, some of which seemed too +absurd for belief. But this performance was more ridiculous than +anything he had heard. + +"'Tain't right, is it, Mr. Ellery?" demanded Kyan. + +"Why," answered the caller chokingly, "I--I--it is rather unusual, +that's a fact. May I ask what you've done to--" + +"Done? I ain't done nothin'. She's so darned scared some other +woman'll get my money that--you see, a month or so ago I--I--well, +she thought I done somethin', or was plannin' to do somethin' that-- +Keziah Coffin never told you anything about me, did she?" + +"No, indeed. What could Mrs. Coffin tell me about you?" + +"All right. Nothin', nothin'. Only if she did, tain't so. But I +ain't goin' to stand it no more, Mr. Ellery. Bein' shut up in a +darned old--excuse my swearin', I didn't mean to, though I got +reason enough, land knows--bein' shut up in a room full of trunks +and odds and ends is goin' too fur. I never want to smell old +clothes ag'in long's I live. Would you stand it if you was me, Mr. +Ellery?" + +"Why, of course I mustn't interfere in your family matters, Mr. +Pepper. Perhaps I'd better call some other time. Good afternoon." + +"Hold on! hold on! you ain't answered me yet. You're a minister +and I go to your meetin' house. Tell me what you'd do if you was +me. Would you stand it?" + +Ellery laughed aloud. + +"No," he said, "I suppose I shouldn't." + +"I bet you wouldn't! What would you do?" + +"I don't know. You're of age, Mr. Pepper, and you must decide for +yourself. I think I should declare my independence. Really, I +must go. I--" + +"Don't be in such a hurry. I want advice. I need it. And, so +fur's DECLARIN' goes, that don't do me no good. She can declare +more things in a minute than I can think of in a week. Tongue! I +never heard-- No, no! Never mind the declarin'. What would you +DO? S'posin' you wanted to go outdoor without havin' her tagged to +your coat tails, how'd you stop the taggin'?" + +The absurdity of the affair was too much for the visitor. He +roared a "Ha, ha!" that caused Abishai to wave a warning hand +beneath the sash. + +"Ss-h-h! sshh!" he hissed. "Folks'll hear ye, and I'd be so +ashamed if they did that I wouldn't dast to show my head. Can't +show much of it, anyhow, just now. By gum! I'll do somethin' +desperate. I--I dunno as I won't pizen her. I--" + +"Hush! hush! you mustn't talk that way. I'm afraid you must be +very fascinating, Mr. Pepper. If your sister is so very fearful of +your meeting other women, it must be because she has good reason to +fear." + +"Stop your foolishness! Oh!--I--I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery. +That ain't no way to talk to a minister. But I'm goin' to go out +when I want to if I bust a hole through the clapboards. I AIN'T +fascinatin'. You ask any woman--except her--if I be, and see what +they say. What'll I DO?" + +"Ha, ha! I don't know, I'm sure. You might lock HER up, I suppose, +just for a change." + +"Hey!" There was a sound from behind the pane as if the imprisoned +one had slapped his knee. "By gum! I never thought of that. Would +you now, Mr. Ellery? Would you? Sshh! sshh! somebody's comin'. +Maybe it's her. Run around to the door, Mr. Ellery, quick. And +don't tell her I've seen you, for mercy sakes! Don't now, will ye? +Please! Run!" + +The minister did not run, but he walked briskly around the corner. +Sure enough, Lavinia was there, just unlocking the door. She +expressed herself as very glad to see the caller, ushered him into +the sitting room and disappeared, returning in another moment with +her brother, whom she unblushingly said had been taking a nap. +Abishai did not contradict her; instead, he merely looked +apprehensively at the minister. + +The call was a short one. Lavinia did seven eighths of the talking +and Ellery the rest. Kyan was silent. When the visit was over, +Miss Pepper escorted her guest to the door and bade him a voluble +good-by. Over her shoulder the minister saw Kyan making frantic +signs to him; he interpreted the signals as a request for secrecy +concerning the interview by the window. + +Several times during the remainder of that week he surprised his +housekeeper by suddenly laughing aloud when there was, apparently, +nothing to laugh at. He explained these outbursts by saying that +he had thought of something funny. Keziah suggested that it must +be mighty funny to make him laugh in the middle of sermon writing. + +"I've heard sermons that were funny," she said, "though they wasn't +intended to be; but what I've heard of yours ain't that kind. I +wish you'd let me in on the joke. I haven't been feelin' like +laughin' for the last fortni't." + +She had been rather grave and preoccupied, for her, of late. +Bustling and busy she always was, never sitting down to "rest," as +she called it, without a lap full of sewing. The minister's +clothes were mended and his socks darned as they had not been since +his mother's day. And with him, at meal times, or after supper in +the sitting room, she was always cheerful and good-humored. But he +had heard her sigh at her work, and once, when she thought herself +unobserved, he saw her wipe her eyes with her apron. + +"No, no," she protested, when he asked if anything had gone wrong. +"I'm all right. Got a little cold or somethin', I guess, that's +all." + +She would not give any other explanation and absolutely refused to +see the doctor. Ellery did not press the matter. He believed the +"cold" to be but an excuse and wondered what the real trouble might +be. It seemed to him to date from the evening of his chapel +experience. + +He told no one, not even her, of Kyan's confidential disclosure, +and, after some speculation as to whether or not there might be a +sequel, put the whole ludicrous affair out of his mind. He worked +hard in his study and at his pastoral duties, and was conscious of +a pleasant feeling that he was gaining his people's confidence and +esteem. + +A week from the following Sunday he dined in state at the Daniels's +table. Captain Elkanah was gracious and condescending. Annabel +was more than that. She was dressed in her newest gown and was so +very gushing and affable that the minister felt rather embarrassed. +When, after the meal was over, Captain Elkanah excused himself and +went upstairs for his Sabbath nap, the embarrassment redoubled. +Miss Annabel spoke very confidentially of her loneliness, without +"congenial society," of how VERY much she did enjoy Mr. Ellery's +intellectual sermons, and especially what a treat it had been to +have him as a guest. + +"You must dine here every Sunday," she said. "It will be no +trouble at all, and if you say no, I shall feel that it is because +you don't want to see me--FATHER and me, of course, I mean." + +The minister didn't accept this pressing invitation; on the other +hand, he could not refuse it absolutely. He did not like Miss +Daniels overmuch, but she was the daughter of his leading +parishioner and she and her parent did seem to like him. So he +dodged the issue and said she was very kind. + +He left the big house as soon as he could without giving offense, +and started back toward the parsonage. But the afternoon was so +fine and the early summer air so delightful that he changed his +mind and, jumping the fence at the foot of Cannon Hill, set off +across the fields toward the bluffs and the bay shore. + +The sun was low in the west as he entered the grove of pines on the +bluff. The red light between the boughs made brilliant carpet +patterns on the thick pine needles and the smell was balsamy and +sweet. Between the tree trunks he caught glimpses of the flats, +now partially covered, and they reminded him of his narrow escape +and of Nat Hammond, his rescuer. He had met the captain twice +since then, once at the store and again on the main road, and had +chatted with him. He liked him immensely and wished he might count +him as an intimate friend. But intimacy between a Regular +clergyman and the son of the leader of the Come-Outers was out of +the question. Partisans on both sides would shriek at the idea. + +Thinking of the Hammond family reminded him of another member of +it. Not that he needed to be reminded; he had thought of her often +enough since she ran away from him in the rain that night. And the +picture in the doorway was not one that he could forget--or wanted +to. If she were not a Come-Outer, he could meet her occasionally +and they might become friends. She was a disconcerting young +person, who lacked proper respect for one of his profession and +laughed when she shouldn't--but she was interesting, he admitted +that. + +And then he saw her. She was standing just at the outer edge of +the grove, leaning against a tree and looking toward the sunset. +She wore a simple white dress and her hat hung upon her shoulders +by its ribbons. The rosy light edged the white gown with pink and +the fringes of her dark hair were crinkly lines of fire. Her face +was grave, almost sad. + +John Ellery stood still, with one foot uplifted for a step. The +girl looked out over the water and he looked at her. Then a crow, +one of several whirling above the pines, spied the intruder and +screamed a warning. The minister was startled and stepped back. A +dead limb beneath his foot cracked sharply. Grace turned and saw +him. + +"Oh!" she cried. "Who is it?" + +Ellery emerged from the shadow. + +"Don't be frightened, Miss Van Horne," he said. "It is--er--I." + +This statement was neither brilliant nor original; even as an +identification it lacked considerable. + +"I?" repeated the girl. "Who? Oh! Why--" + +The minister came forward. + +"Good afternoon, Miss Van Horne," he stammered. "I'm afraid I +frightened you." + +She was looking at him with a queer expression, almost as if she +scarcely believed him real. + +"I hope--" he began again. She interrupted him. + +"No," she said confusedly, "you didn't frighten me. I was a little +startled when I saw you there behind me. It seemed so odd, because +I was just thinking-- No, I wasn't frightened. What is there to +be frightened of--in Trumet?" + +He had extended his hand, but partially withdrew it, not sure how +even such a perfunctory act of friendliness might be received. She +saved him embarrassment by frankly offering her own. + +"Not much, that's a fact," he said, in answer to her question. He +would have liked to ask what she had been thinking that made his +sudden appearance seem so odd. + +"You came to see the sunset, I suppose?" she said hurriedly, as if +to head off a question. "So did I. It is a beautiful evening for +a walk, isn't it?" + +She had said precisely the same thing on that other evening, when +they stood in the middle of "Hammond's Turn-off" in the driving +rain. He remembered it, and so, evidently, did she, for she +colored slightly and smiled. + +"I mean it this time," she said. "I'm glad you didn't get cold +from your wetting the other day." + +"Oh! I wasn't very wet. You wouldn't let me lend you the umbrella, +so I had that to protect me on the way home." + +"Not then; I meant the other morning when Nat--Cap'n Hammond--met +you out on the flats. He said you were wading the main channel and +it was over your boots." + +"Over my boots! Is that all he said? Over my head would be the +plain truth. To cross it I should have had to swim and, if what +I've heard since is true, I doubt if I could swim that channel. +Captain Hammond helped me out of a bad scrape." + +"Oh, no! I guess not. He said you were cruising without a pilot +and he towed you into port; that's the way he expressed it." + +"It was worse than that, a good deal worse. It might have been my +last cruise. I'm pretty certain that I owe the captain my life." + +She looked at him uncomprehendingly. + +"Your life?" she repeated. + +"I believe it. That part of the channel I proposed swimming was +exactly where two men have been drowned, so people say. I'm not a +very strong swimmer, and they were. So, you see." + +Grace cried out in astonishment. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed. Then pointing toward the bay, she asked: "Out +there, by the end of that leader, was it?" + +"Yes, that was it." + +She drew a long breath. Then, after a moment: + +"And Nat spoke as if it was all a joke," she said. + +"No doubt he did. From what I hear of your brother, he generally +refers to his own plucky, capable actions as jokes. Other people +call them something else." + +She did not answer, but continued to gaze at the half-submerged +"leader," with the pine bough tied at its landward end to mark the +edge of deep water, and the tide foaming through its lath gratings. + +"Your brother--" went on the minister. + +"He isn't my brother," she interrupted absently. "I wish he was." + +She sighed as she uttered the last sentence. + +"No, of course he isn't your real brother; I forgot. But he must +seem like one." + +"Yes," rather doubtfully. + +"You must be proud of him." + +"I am." There was nothing doubtful this time. + +"Well, he saved me from drowning. I'm almost certain of that." + +"I'm so glad." + +She seemed to mean it. He looked at her. + +"Thank you," he said drily. "I'm rather glad myself." + +"Oh! I didn't mean it exactly that way. Of course I'm glad you +weren't drowned, but I'm especially glad that--that one of our +family saved you. Now you won't believe that Come-Outers are all +bad." + +"I never believed it." + +She shook her head. + +"Oh, yes, you did," she affirmed stubbornly. "You've heard nothing +good of us since you came here. Don't tell fibs, Mr. Ellery." + +"But I assure you--" + +"Nonsense! Does--well, does Cap'n Daniels, or his daughter, say +anything good of us? Be honest, do they?" + +"I hardly think--that is, I shouldn't call their opinions +unprejudiced. And, Miss Van Horne, perhaps the prejudice isn't all +on one side. What did your uncle say about Cap'n Nat's meeting me +the other day?" + +"Uncle Eben doesn't know. Nat didn't tell anyone but me. He +doesn't boast. And uncle would be glad he helped you. As I told +you before, Mr. Ellery, I'm not ashamed of my uncle. He has been +so good to me that I never can repay him, never! When my own +father was drowned he took me in, a little orphan that would +probably have been sent to a home, and no father could be kinder or +more indulgent than he has been. Anything I asked for I got, and +at last I learned not to ask for too much. No self-denial on his +part was too great, if he could please me. When he needed money +most he said nothing to me, but insisted that I should be educated. +I didn't know until afterwards of the self-sacrifice my four years +at the Middleboro Academy meant to him." + +The minister had listened eagerly to this defense of the man whom +he had been led to consider his arch enemy. It was given with +spirit and the girl's head was uplifted and her eyes flashed as she +spoke. Ellery's next remark was uttered without premeditation. +Really, he was thinking aloud. + +"So you went away to school?" he mused. "That is why--" + +"That is why I don't say 'never done nothin'' and 'be you' and +'hain't neither.' Yes, thank you, that's why. I don't wonder you +were surprised." + +The young man blushed. + +"You misunderstand me," he protested. "I didn't mean--" + +"Oh! yes, you did. Not precisely that, perhaps, but pretty near +it. I suppose you expected me to speak like Josiah Badger or Kyan +Pepper. I try not to. And I try not to say 'immejitly,' too," she +added, with a mischievous twinkle. + +Ellery recognized the "immejitly" quotation and laughed. + +"I never heard but one person say that," he observed. "And he +isn't a Come-Outer." + +"No, he isn't. Well, this lesson in English can't be very +interesting to you, Mr. Ellery, and I must go. But I'm very glad +Nat helped you the other day and that you realize the sort of man +he is. And I'm glad I have had the opportunity to tell you more +about Uncle Eben. I owe him so much that I ought to be glad--yes, +glad and proud and happy, too, to gratify his least wish. I must! +I know I must, no matter how I-- What am I talking about? Yes, +Mr. Ellery, I'm glad if I have helped you to understand my uncle +better and why I love and respect him. If you knew him as I do, +you would respect him, too. Good-by." + +She was going, but the minister had something to say. He stepped +forward and walked beside her. + +"Just a minute, please," he urged. "Miss Van Horne, I do +understand. I do respect your uncle. We have a mutual friend, you +and I, and through her I have come to understand many things." + +Grace turned and looked at him. + +"A mutual friend?" she repeated. "Oh! I know. Mrs. Coffin?" + +"Yes; Mrs. Coffin. She's a good woman and a wise one." + +"She's a dear! Do you like her, too?" + +"Indeed, I do." + +"Has she told you about me--about uncle, I mean?" + +"Yes. Why, she told me--" + +He began to enumerate some of the things Keziah had told concerning +the Hammond family. They were all good things, and he couldn't +help seeing that the recital pleased her. So he went on to tell +how his housekeeper had helped him, of her advice, of her many acts +of kindness, of what he owed to her. The girl listened eagerly, +asking questions, nodding confirmation, and, in her delight at +hearing Keziah praised, quite forgetting her previous eagerness to +end the interview. And, as he talked, he looked at her, at the red +light on her hair, the shine of her eyes, like phosphorus in the +curl of a wave at night, at her long lashes, and-- + +"Yes," said Miss Van Horne, "you were saying--" + +The minister awoke with a guilty start. He realized that his +sentence had broken off in the middle. + +"Why! why--er--yes," he stammered. "I was saying that--that I +don't know what I should have done without Mrs. Coffin. She's a +treasure. Frankly, she is the only real friend I have found in +Trumet." + +"I know. I feel the same way about her. She means so much to me. +I love her more than anyone else in the world, except uncle, of +course--and Nat. I miss her very much since--since--" + +"Since I came, you mean. I'm sorry. I wish-- I hate to think I +am the cause which separates you two. It isn't my fault, as you +know." + +"Oh! I know that." + +"Yes, and I object to having others choose my friends for me, +people who, because of a fanatical prejudice, stand in the way of-- +If it wasn't for that, you might call and see Mrs. Coffin, just as +you used to do." + +Grace shook her head. They had moved on to the bend of the bluff, +beyond the fringe of pines, and were now standing at the very edge +of the high bank. + +"If it wasn't for that, you would come," asserted the minister. + +"Yes, I suppose so. I should like to come. I miss my talks with +Aunt Keziah more than you can imagine--now especially. But, +somehow, what we want to do most seems to be what we mustn't, and +what we don't like is our duty." + +She said this without looking at him, and the expression on her +face was the same sad, grave one he had noticed when he first saw +her standing alone by the pine. + +"Why don't you come?" he persisted. + +"I can't, of course. You know I can't." + +"Why not? If my company is objectionable I can go away when you +come. If you dislike me I--" + +"You know I don't dislike you personally." + +"I'm awfully glad of that." + +"But it's impossible. Uncle respects and is fond of Aunt Keziah, +but he wouldn't hear of my visiting the parsonage." + +"But don't you think your uncle might be persuaded? I'm sure he +misunderstands me, just as I should him if it weren't for Mrs. +Coffin--and what you've said. Don't you think if I called on him +and he knew me better it might help matters? I'll do it gladly. I +will!" + +"No, no. He wouldn't listen. And think of your own congregation." + +"Confound my congregation!" + +"Why, Mr. Ellery!" + +She looked at him in amazement; then her lips began to curl. + +"Why, Mr. Ellery!" she repeated. + +The minister turned very red and drew his hand across his forehead. + +"I--I don't mean that exactly," he stammered. "But I'm not a +child. I have the right to exercise a man's discretion. My parish +committee must understand that. They shall! If I choose to see +you-- Look out!" + +She was close to the overhanging edge of the bluff and the sod upon +which she stood was bending beneath her feet. He sprang forward, +caught her about the waist, and pulled her back. The sod broke and +rattled down the sandy slope. She would have had a slight tumble, +nothing worse, had she gone with it. There was no danger; and yet +the minister was very white as he released her. + +She, too, was pale for a moment, and then crimson. + +"Thank you," she gasped. "I--I must go. It is late. I didn't +realize how late it was. I--I must go." + +He did not answer, though he tried to. + +"I must go," she said hurriedly, speaking at random. "Good +afternoon. Good-by. I hope you will enjoy your walk." + +"I have enjoyed it." His answer was unstudied but emphatic. She +recognized the emphasis. + +"Will you come to see Mrs. Coffin?" he asked. + +"No, no. You know I can't. Good-by. The sunset is beautiful, +isn't it?" + +"Beautiful, indeed." + +"Yes. I--I think the sunsets from this point are the finest I have +ever seen. I come here every Sunday afternoon to see them." + +This remark was given merely to cover embarrassment, but it had an +unexpected effect. + +"You DO?" cried the minister. The next moment he was alone. Grace +Van Horne had vanished in the gloom of the pine thickets. + +It was a strange John Ellery who walked slowly back along the path, +one that Keziah herself would not have recognized, to say nothing +of Captain Elkanah and the parish committee. The dignified parson, +with the dignified walk and calm, untroubled brow, was gone, and +here was an absent-minded young fellow who stumbled blindly along, +tripping over roots and dead limbs, and caring nothing, apparently, +for the damage to his Sunday boots and trousers which might result +from the stumbles. He saw nothing real, and heard nothing, not +even the excited person who, hidden behind the bayberry bush, +hailed him as he passed. It was not until this person rushed forth +and seized him by the arm that he came back to the unimportant +affairs of this material earth. + +"Why! Why, Mr. Pepper!" he gasped. "Are you here? What do you +want?" + +"Am I here?" panted Kyan. "Ain't I been here for the last twenty +minutes waitin' to get a chance at you? Ain't I been chasin' you +from Dan to Beersheby all this dummed--excuse me--afternoon? Oh, +my godfreys mighty!" + +"Why, what's the matter?" + +"Matter? Matter enough! It's all your fault. You got me into the +mess, now you git me out of it." + +Usually, when Abishai addressed his clergyman, it was in a tone of +humble respect far different from his present frantic assault. The +Reverend John was astounded. + +"What IS the trouble, Mr. Pepper?" he demanded. "Behave yourself, +man. What IS it?" + +"You--you made me do it," gurgled Kyan. "Yes, sir, 'twas you put +me up to it. When you was at our house t'other day, after Laviny +locked me up, you told me the way to get square was to lock her up, +too. And I done it! Yes, sir, I done it when she got back from +meetin' this noon. I run off and left her locked in. And--and"-- +he wailed, wringing his hands--"I--I ain't dast to go home sence. +WHAT'll I do?" + + +CHAPTER IX + +IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT + + +The hysterical Mr. Pepper doubtless expected his clergyman to be +almost as much upset as he was by the news of his action. But John +Ellery was provokingly calm. As a matter of fact he scarcely +grasped the purport of the little man's disjointed story. He had +been wandering in dreamland, his head among the clouds, and the +explosion of Keziah's bomb disturbed, but did not clear the air. + +"What will you do?" he repeated. "Why--er--I don't know, I'm +sure." + +Kyan was staggered. + +"You don't know?" he shouted. "YOU don't? Then who does, for the +land sakes? Didn't you tell me to lock her up? Didn't I do it +'CAUSE you told me? Didn't--didn't--" + +He seemed to be on the verge of apoplexy. Also he had raised his +voice to a yell. The minister seized him by the arm and shook him +into silence. + +"Hush! hush!" he commanded. "Wait a minute. Let me understand +this thing. Some one is locked up, you say. Who is it? Where--" + +"WHO is it? Ain't I tellin' you. It's Laviny. She went into that +spare room where I was t'other day and I slammed the spring lock to +on her. Then I grabbed the key and run. That was afore three this +afternoon; now it's 'most night and I ain't dast to go home. +What'll she say when I let her out? I got to let her out, ain't I? +She can't starve to death in there, can she? And YOU told me to do +it! YOU did! Oh--" + +The apoplectic attack was once more imminent. + +"Stop it, Mr. Pepper," ordered Ellery. "I don't remember telling +you to lock your sister up, though-- Why, yes, I may have said +something or other, as a joke, but I didn't expect you would +seriously consider doing such a thing. Ha, ha! This is the most +idiotic piece of business that I ever--" + +"Be you laughin'?" demanded the shocked Abishai. "LAUGHIN'? Why, +my godfreys mighty! Idiotic? Well, who's the idiot? 'Tain't me! +I'D never have thought of such a fool trick. But you said--" + +"Hush! Let me think. Have you told anybody?" + +"TOLD anybody! I guess NOT. And nobody'll never know if they wait +for me to tell 'em." + +"Well, then, I don't see why you can't go home and--hum--I don't +like to advise your telling a lie, but you might let her infer that +it was an accident. OR, if you really mean to be your own master, +you can tell her you did it purposely and will do it again if she +ever tries the trick on you." + +"I tell her that! I tell her! O Mr. Ellery, DON'T talk so. You +don't know Laviny; she ain't like most women. If I should tell her +that she'd--I don't know's she wouldn't take and horsewhip me. Or +commit suicide. She's said she would afore now if--if--" + +"Nonsense! She won't do that, you needn't worry." He burst into +another laugh, but checked himself, as he saw the look of absolute +distress on poor Kyan's face. + +"Never mind, Mr. Pepper," he said. "We'll think of some plan to +smooth matters over. I'll go home with you now and we'll let her +out together." + +"Will you, Mr. Ellery? Will you, honest? Say, by godfreys mighty, +I'd get down on my knees and thank you this minute if--if I wa'n't +in such a hurry. Come right on; come quick!" + +It was a silent procession of two that wended its way out of the +pines and across the fields, by the brook and the pond, where the +evening mists were rising and the frogs chanting their good-night +song, through the gathering twilight shades, across the main road +and up the lighthouse lane. Kyan, his mind filled with fearful +forebodings, was busily trying to think of a reasonable excuse for +the "accidental" imprisonment of his sister. John Ellery was +thinking, also, but his thoughts were not of the Peppers. + +The little house was dark and still as they approached it. No +welcoming light in the dining-room windows, no open door, no shrill +voice demanding to know where the wandering brother had been "all +this everlastin' time." Even the hens had gone to roost. Abishai +groaned. + +"Oh, dear!" he wailed. "I'm scart to death. Where is she? You +don't cal'late she's done it, do ye?" + +"Done it? Done what?" + +"Done the suicidin'. She said she would if-- O Laviny!" + +"Hush! Be quiet. She's all right. She's in the room where you +left her, of course. She couldn't get out, could she? You've got +the key. Come in." + +They entered the house. The dining room was dark and quiet. So +was the sitting room. The clock ticked, solemn and slow. Kyan +clutched at his companion's arm. + +"I don't hear her," he whispered. "You don't s'pose she HAS done +it? Godfreys mighty!" + +The gloom and mystery were having their effect, even on Mr. +Ellery's nerves. His answer also was given in a tense whisper, but +with some irritation. + +"Hush!" he murmured. "Let go of my wrist. You've pinched it black +and blue. Which room did you leave her in? Show me at once." + +Kyan's trembling knees managed to carry him to the little hall +leading from the sitting room toward the ell at the side of the +house. This hall was almost pitch black. The minister felt his +guide's chin whisker brush his ear as the following sentence was +literally breathed into it: + +"Here--here 'tis," panted Kyan. "Here's the door. I don't hear +nothin', do you? Listen!" + +They listened. Not a sound, save the dismal tick of the clock in +the room they had left. Ellery knocked on the door. + +"Miss Pepper," he said; "Miss Pepper, are you there?" + +Kyan caught his breath. No answer. + +"Miss Pepper," repeated the minister. "Miss Pepper!" + +Silence, absolute. Abishai could stand it no longer. He groaned +and collapsed on his knees. + +"She has!" he moaned. "She's done it and there ain't nothin' in +there but her remains. Oh, my soul!" + +Ellery, now rather frightened himself, shook him violently. + +"Be quiet, you idiot!" he commanded. "We must go in. Give me the +key." + +After repeated orders and accompanying shakings, Kyan produced a +key. The minister snatched it from his trembling fingers, felt for +the keyhole and threw the door open. The little room was almost as +dark as the hall and quite as still. There was a distinct smell of +old clothes and camphor. + +"A match," demanded Ellery. "Quick!" + +"I ain't got none," quavered Mr. Pepper. "They're all in the box +in the settin' room. Oh, my godfreys mighty! What'll I do? What +undertaker'll I have? Solon Tripp's the reg'lar one, but Laviny +and he had a row and she said she'd come back and ha'nt me if I +ever let him touch her rema-- Where you goin'? DON'T LEAVE ME +HERE!" + +The minister was going after a match, and said so. In a moment he +returned with several. One of these he lit. The brimstone +sputtered, burned blue and fragrant, then burst into a yellow +flame. + +The little room was empty. + +John Ellery drew a breath of relief. Then he laughed. + +"Humph!" he exclaimed. "She's gone." + +"GONE? Why, she ain't nuther! Where could she go?" + +"I don't know, but she has gone--somewhere. At any rate, she's not +here." + +Kyan rose to his feet. His alarm had changed to paralyzed +astonishment. + +"How could she go?" he repeated. "That window won't open more'n +six inches. Laviny ain't what you'd call fleshy, but she never +could squeeze through that in this world. And I locked the door, +'cause I heard the click. I--I--I--do you b'lieve in spirits, Mr. +Ellery?" + +"Nonsense! Come into the sitting room, light a lamp, and let's +talk it over." + +The lamp was found and lighted at last. Its radiance brightened +the dingy sitting room. + +"Do you b'lieve in spirits?" repeated Kyan. "I've heard yarns +about folks bein' spirited away, but I never took much stock in +'em. "And," he added with conviction, "'twould take a pretty husky +spirit to handle Laviny if she had her mad up. She-- Hush! hear +that!" + +The sound of wheels was heard in the lane by the front gate. A +vehicle stopped. Then some one called a hurried good night. Mr. +Pepper's fear returned. + +"It's her!" he cried. "She's been ahuntin' for me. NOW I'll get +it! You stand by me, Mr. Ellery. You got to. You said you would. +But how on earth did she get--" + +The minister motioned him to silence. + +"I'll stand by you," he whispered. "Don't speak. Leave it to me." + +A step sounded on the back step. The dining-room door was +hurriedly thrown open. + +"'Bishy," called Miss Pepper eagerly. "'Bish, where are you?" + +"Here--here I be, Laviny," faltered Kyan. + +His sister appeared on the threshold. She was dressed in her +Sunday best, flowered poke bonnet, mitts, imitation India shawl, +rustling black bombazine gown. She looked at Mr. Pepper then at +the minister. + +"O Mr. Ellery!" she exclaimed, "be you here?" + +The Reverend John admitted his presence. Miss Pepper's demeanor +surprised him. She did not seem angry; indeed, she acted +embarrassed and confused, as if she, and not her brother, were the +guilty party. + +"I'm afraid I'm awful late, 'Bishy," she said. "Have you had your +supper?" + +Kyan was too perturbed to venture a reply. The sword above his +head was quivering on its single hair and he was preparing to dodge +the fall. But it did not fall. + +"You haven't had any supper, have you?" purred Miss Pepper +pityingly. "It's too bad. You poor thing! you must be awful +hungry." + +She moved across the room and kissed him. Abishai, who had +prepared himself for a different sort of greeting, clutched his +chair with both hands. He looked as if he might faint. The +minister gazed open-mouthed. + +"I'm awful sorry, Mr. Ellery," gushed Lavinia, removing the bonnet. +"You see, I was invited out to ride this afternoon and--and--I +went." + +She glanced at her brother, reddened--yes, almost blushed--and +continued. + +"You know, 'Bishy," she said "Thankful Payne's cousin's home +avisitin' her. He come about that cousin's will--the other cousin +that's just died. He's a reel nice man--her live cousin is--keeps +a shoe store up to Sandwich, and I used to know him years ago. +When I was over to Thankful's t'other day, him and me had quite a +talk. We got speakin' of what nice drives there was around Trumet +and--and--er--well, he asked me if I wouldn't like to go to ride +next Sunday afternoon--that's to-day. And a ride bein' a good deal +of a treat to me, I said I would. Thankful was goin', too, but-- +er--er--she couldn't very well. So Caleb--that's his name, you +remember, 'Bishy--he come round with his horse and team about ha'f +past three and we started. But I'd no IDEE 'twas so late. I--I-- +meant to tell you I was goin', 'Bish, but I forgot." + +Kyan had listened to this recital, or explanation, or apology, with +a curious succession of expressions passing over his face. He +swallowed two or three times, but did not interrupt. + +"I'm so sorry I kept you waitin' supper," gushed Lavinia. "I'll +get you a good one now. Oh, well, deary me! I must be gettin' +absent-minded. I ain't asked you where you've been all the +afternoon." + +Abishai's eyes turned beseechingly toward his promised backer. +Ellery could not resist that mute appeal. + +"Your brother has been with me for some time, Miss Pepper," he +volunteered. + +"Oh, has he? Ain't that nice! He couldn't have been in better +comp'ny, I'm sure. But oh, say, 'Bishy! I ain't told you how nigh +I come to not gettin' out at all. Just afore Mr. Payne come, I was +in that spare room and--you remember I put a spring lock on that +door?" + +It was here at last. The long-dreaded explosion was imminent. +Kyan's chin shook. He braced himself for the blow. The minister +prepared to come to the rescue. + +"Yes," went on Lavinia. "I--I put a lock on that door so's I--I +could shut the room up when I wanted to. Well, when I was in there +this afternoon the wind blew the door shut and-- Hey?" + +"I--I never said nothin'," panted Kyan. + +"Yes, it blew to, the lock clicked, and there I was. If I hadn't +had the other key in my pocket I don't know's I wouldn't have been +in there yet. That would have been a pretty mess, wouldn't it! +He! he! he!" + +She laughed shrilly. The minister looked at her, then at her +brother, and he, too, burst into a shout of laughter. Kyan did not +laugh; yet his grip upon the chair relaxed, and over his +countenance was spreading a look of relief, of hope and peace, like +a clear sunrise after a stormy night. + +"Well, I must go and get supper," declared Lavinia. "You'll +forgive me for leavin' you so, won't you, 'Bishy?" + +Mr. Pepper sighed. + +"Yes," he said slowly. "I'll forgive you, Laviny." + +"I knew you would. I hope you ain't been too lonesome. Did you +miss me? Was you worried?" + +"Hey? Yes, I--I missed you consider'ble. I WAS gettin' sort of +worried. I didn't s'pose you'd go off to ride with--with a feller +and leave me all alone. But I forgive you." He stopped, drew his +hand across his forehead, and then added, "I s'pose I hadn't ought +to complain. Maybe I'd better get used to it; I guess likely this +is only the beginnin'." + +Lavinia blushed furiously. + +"Why, 'Bish!" she exclaimed. "How you do talk! Ain't he awful, +Mr. Ellery?" + +The Reverend John did not answer. He could not trust himself to +speak just then. When he did it was to announce that he must be +getting toward home. No, he couldn't stay for supper. + +Miss Pepper went into the kitchen, and Abishai saw the visitor to +the door. Ellery extended his hand and Kyan shook it with +enthusiasm. + +"Wa'n't it fine?" he whispered. "Talk about your miracles! +Godfreys mighty! Say, Mr. Ellery, don't you ever tell a soul how +it really was, will you?" + +"No, of course not." + +"No, I know you won't. You won't tell on me and I won't tell on +you. That's a trade, hey?" + +The minister stopped in the middle of his step. + +"What?" he said, turning. + +Mr. Pepper merely smiled, winked, and shut the door. John Ellery +reflected much during his homeward walk. + + +The summer in Trumet drowsed on, as Trumet summers did in those +days, when there were no boarders from the city, no automobiles or +telephones or "antique" collectors. In June the Sunday school had +its annual picnic. On the morning of the Fourth of July some +desperate spirits among the younger set climbed in at the church +window and rang the bell, in spite of the warning threats of the +selectmen, who had gone on record as prepared to prosecute all +disturbers of the peace to the "full extent of the law." One of +the leading citizens, his name was Daniels, awoke to find the +sleigh, which had been stored in his carriage house, hoisted to the +roof of his barn, and a section of his front fence tastefully +draped about it like a garland. The widow Rogers noticed groups of +people looking up at her house and laughing. Coming out to see +what they were laughing at, she was provoked beyond measure to find +a sign over the front door, announcing "Man Wanted Imediate. +inquire Within." The door of the Come-Outer chapel was nailed fast +and Captain Zeb Mayo's old white horse wandered loose along the +main road ringed with painted black stripes like a zebra. Captain +Zeb was an angry man, for he venerated that horse. + +The storm caused by these outbreaks subsided and Trumet settled +into its jog trot. The stages rattled through daily, the packet +came and went every little while, occasionally a captain returned +home from a long voyage, and another left for one equally long. +Old Mrs. Prince, up at the west end of the town, was very anxious +concerning her son, whose ship was overdue at Calcutta and had not +been heard from. The minister went often to see her and tried to +console, but what consolation is there when one's only child and +sole support is nobody knows where, drowned and dead perhaps, +perhaps a castaway on a desert island, or adrift with a desperate +crew in an open boat? And Mrs. Prince would say, over and over +again: + +"Yes, yes, Mr. Ellery. Thank you. I'm sure you mean to encourage +me, but oh, you don't know the things that happen to seafarin' men. +I do. I went to sea with my husband for fourteen year. He died on +a voyage and they buried him over the vessel's side. I can't even +go to his grave. The sea got him, and now if it's taken my Eddie--" + +The young clergyman came away from these calls feeling very young, +indeed, and woefully inadequate. What DID he know of the great +sorrows of life? + +The Sunday dinners with the Daniels family were almost regular +weekly functions now. He dodged them when he could, but he could +not do so often without telling an absolute lie, and this he would +not do. And, regularly, when the solemn meal was eaten, Captain +Elkanah went upstairs for his nap and the Reverend John was left +alone with Annabel. Miss Daniels did her best to be entertaining, +was, in fact, embarrassingly confidential and cordial. It was hard +work to get away, and yet, somehow or other, at the stroke of four, +the minister always said good-by and took his departure. + +"What is your hurry, Mr. Ellery?" begged Annabel on one occasion +when the reading of Moore's poems had been interrupted in the +middle by the guest's sudden rising and reaching for his hat. "I +don't see why you always go so early. It's so every time you're +here. Do you call at any other house on Sunday afternoons?" + +"No," was the prompt reply. "Oh, no." + +"Then why can't you stay? You know I--that is, pa and I--would +LOVE to have you." + +"Thank you. Thank you. You're very kind. But I really must go. +Good afternoon, Miss Daniels." + +"Mrs. Rogers said she saw you going across the fields after you +left here last Sunday. Did you go for a walk?" + +"Er--er--yes, I did." + +"I wish you had mentioned it. I love to walk, and there are SO few +people that I find congenial company. Are you going for a walk +now?" + +"Why, no--er--not exactly." + +"I'm sorry. GOOD-by. Will you come again next Sunday? Of COURSE +you will. You know how dreadfully disappointed I--we--shall be if +you don't." + +"Thank you, Miss Daniels. I enjoyed the dinner very much. Good +afternoon." + +He hurried down the path. Annabel watched him go. Then she did an +odd thing. She passed through the sitting room, entered the front +hall, went up the stairs, tiptoed by the door of her father's room, +and then up another flight to the attic. From here a steep set of +steps led to the cupola on the roof. In that cupola was a +spyglass. + +Annabel opened a window a few inches, took the spyglass from its +rack, adjusted it, laid it on the sill of the open window and +knelt, the glass at her eye. The floor of the cupola was very +dusty and she was wearing her newest and best gown, but she did not +seem to mind. + +Through the glass she saw the long slope of Cannon Hill, with the +beacon at the top and Captain Mayo's house near it. The main road +was deserted save for one figure, that of her late caller. He was +mounting the hill in long strides. + +She watched him gain the crest and pass over it out of sight. Then +she shifted the glass so that it pointed toward the spot beyond the +curve of the hill, where the top of a thick group of silver-leafs +hid the parsonage. Above the tree tops glistened the white steeple +of the Regular church. If the minister went straight home she +could not see him. But under those silver-leafs was the beginning +of the short cut across the fields where Didama had seen Mr. Ellery +walking on the previous Sunday. + +So Annabel watched and waited. Five minutes, then ten. He must +have reached the clump of trees before this, yet she could not see +him. Evidently, he had gone straight home. She drew a breath of +relief. + +Then, being in a happier frame of mind, and the afternoon clear and +beautiful, she moved the glass along the horizon, watching the +distant white specks across the bay on the Wellmouth bluffs--houses +and buildings they were--the water, the shore, the fish weirs, the +pine groves. She became interested in a sloop, beating into +Wellmouth harbor, and watched that. After a time she heard, in the +house below, her father shouting her name. + +She gave the glass one more comprehensive sweep preparatory to +closing it and going downstairs. As she did this a moving speck +came into view and vanished. + +Slowly she moved the big end of the spyglass back along the arc it +had traveled. She found the speck and watched it. It was a man, +striding across the meadow land, a half mile beyond the parsonage, +and hurrying in the direction of the beach. She saw him climb a +high dune, jump a fence, cross another field and finally vanish in +the grove of pines on the edge of the bluff by the shore. + +The man was John Ellery, the minister. Evidently, he had not gone +home, nor had he taken the short cut. Instead he had walked +downtown a long way and THEN turned in to cross the fields and work +his way back. + +Annabel put down the glass and, heedless of her father's calls, sat +thinking. The minister had deliberately deceived her. More than +that, he had gone to considerable trouble to avoid observation. +Why had he done it? Had he done the same thing on other Sunday +afternoons? Was there any real reason why he insisted on leaving +the house regularly at four o'clock? + +Annabel did not know. Her eyes snapped and her sharp features +looked sharper yet as she descended the steps to the attic. She +did not know; but she intended to find out. + + +CHAPTER X + +IN WHICH KEZIAH'S TROUBLES MULTIPLY + + +Keziah was getting worried about her parson. Not concerning his +popularity with his congregation. She had long since ceased to +worry about that. The young minister's place in his people's +regard was now assured, the attendance was increasing, and the +Regular church was now on a firmer footing, financially and +socially, than it had been in years. Even Mrs. Rogers and Lavinia +Pepper had ceased to criticise, except as pertained to unimportant +incidentals, and were now among the loudest of the praise chanters. +And as Captain Zeb Mayo said: "When Didama and Laviny stops fault- +findin', the millennium's so nigh port a feller ought to be +overhaulin' his saint uniform." + +But what worried Mrs. Coffin was John Ellery's personal appearance +and behavior. He had grown perceptibly thinner during the past +month, his manner was distrait, and, worst of all in the +housekeeper's eyes, his appetite had fallen off. She tried all +sorts of tempting dishes, but the result was discouraging. + +"What!" she exclaimed. "Don't want but one piece of huckleberry +pie? Why, a week ago you ate three and looked kind of disappointed +'cause the dish was empty. What is the matter? Are you sick?" + +"No, Mrs. Coffin," replied the Reverend John. No, I'm not sick. I +just don't feel hungry, that's all." + +"Hum! Well, I've usually noticed that when a healthy man don't +feel hungry at dinner time, 'specially in the huckleberry season, +his healthiness is pretty shaky. What does ail you, Mr. Ellery? +Got somethin' on your mind? If you have, I'd heave it overboard. +Or you might unload it onto me and let me prescribe. I've had +consider'ble experience in that kind of doctorin'." + +But the answer was unsatisfactory. Mr. Ellery laughed, changed the +subject, and wandered out into the garden, where Keziah saw him, +shortly afterwards, intently regarding nothing in particular with a +rapt stare. She watched him for a few moments and then, with a +puzzled shake of the head, returned to her work. She believed that +he was troubled about something and was herself troubled in +consequence. + +His absent-mindedness was most acute on Sunday evenings, before +prayer meeting, and after he had returned from the afternoon at +Captain Elkanah's. + +"Say, Mr. Ellery," she said, on one of these Sunday evenings, "do +you know, it seems to me that Elkanah's meals must go to your head. +Don't have any of his granddad's New England rum, do you? They +tell me he's got some of that down cellar that he doles out +occasional to his very particular friends. That's the common yarn +around town, though I couldn't swear 'twas gospel." + +The minister smiled and denied acquaintanceship with the New +England beverage. + +"Humph! Then it must be the other thing. You ain't in love, are +you?" + +The young man started, colored, and was plainly embarrassed. + +"In love?" he repeated. "In love, Mrs. Coffin?" + +"Yes, in love. Annabel hasn't landed a male at last, has she? +She's a line over the side for a long time." + +The hearty laugh with which this was received settled the question +of Annabel's success. Keziah was relieved. + +"Well, I'm glad of that," she said. "I ain't got any grudge +against Annabel, but neither have I got one against you. Another +man in that family would have an easy time in one way, he wouldn't +have to do any thinkin' for himself--Elkanah and his daughter would +do all that was necessary. So you're not in love. Then I don't +know what does ail you. I'll say this, though, for a body that +ain't in love you certainly stay with the Danielses a long time. +You went there right after meetin' this noon and now it's seven +o'clock and you've just got home. And 'twas the same last Sunday +and the one before. Been there all the time, have you?" + +She knew he had not, because she had seen him pass the parsonage, +on the opposite side of the road, two hours before. But she was +curious to learn what his reply would be. It was noncommittal. + +"No," he said slowly. "Not all the time. I--er--went for a short +walk." + +Before she could inquire concerning that walk he had entered the +study and closed the door after him. + +During the week which followed this particular conversation he was +more absent-minded than ever. There were evenings when he spoke +scarcely a word, but sat silent in his chair, while Keziah, looking +up from her mending, watched him and guessed and wondered. After +he had gone to his room for the night, she would hear him pacing +the floor, back and forth, back and forth. She asked no more +questions, however; minding her own business was a specialty of +Keziah's, and it was a rare quality in Trumet. + +Sunday was a cloudy, warm day, "muggy," so Captain Zeb described +it. After the morning service Mr. Ellery, as usual, went home with +Captain Daniels and Annabel. Keziah returned to the parsonage, ate +a lonely dinner, washed the dishes, and sat down to read a library +book. She read for an hour and then, finding it difficult to keep +her mind on the story, gave it up, closed the book and, rising, +walked to the window. But the misty, hot loneliness of the +afternoon, was neither interesting nor cheerful, so she turned away +and went upstairs to her own room. Her trunk was in one corner of +this room and she unlocked it, taking from a compartment of the +tray a rosewood writing case, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, a +present from her father, who had brought it home from sea when she +was a girl. + +From the case she took a packet of letters and a daguerreotype. +The latter was the portrait of a young man, in high-collared coat, +stock, and fancy waistcoat. His hair, worn long over the ears, was +smooth with a shine that suggested oil, and in his shirt front was +a large pin, which might possibly have been mistaken by a credulous +observer for a diamond. Mrs. Coffin looked at the daguerreotype, +sighed, shuddered, and laid it aside. Then she opened the packet +of letters. Selecting one from the top of the pile, she read it +slowly. And, as she read, she sighed again. + +She did not hear the back door of the parsonage open and close +softly. Nor did she hear the cautious footsteps in the rooms +below. What aroused her from her reading was her own name, spoken +at the foot of the stairs. + +"Keziah! Keziah, are you there?" + +She started, sprang up, and ran out into the hall, the letter still +in her hand. + +"Who is it?" she asked sharply. "Mr. Ellery, is that you?" + +"No," was the answer. "It's me--Nat. Are you busy, Keziah? I +want to see you for a minute." + +The housekeeper hurriedly thrust the letter into her waist. + +"I'll be right down, Nat," she answered. "I'm comin'." + +He was in the sitting room when she entered. He was wearing his +Sunday suit of blue and his soft felt hat was on the center table. +She held out her hand and he shook it heartily. + +"Well!" she observed, smiling, "I declare if I don't believe you've +got the tiptoe habit. This is the second time you've sneaked into +the house and scared me 'most to death. I asked you before if you +wa'n't ashamed of yourself and now I ask it again." + +Before he could reply she caught a glimpse of his face. + +"What is it?" she asked. "What is the matter? Is anybody sick? +Is your father--" + +"No, he's all right. That is, he's as well as he has been lately, +though that isn't sayin' much." + +"Is Grace--" + +"No, she's all right, too, I guess. Been sort of quiet and +sorrowful for the last few weeks--or I've seemed to notice that she +has--but I cal'late it's nothin' serious. I wouldn't wonder if the +same thing that's troublin' her is what ails me." + +"But what is it? Why don't you tell me?" + +"I'm goin' to tell you, Keziah. That's what I come here for. I--" + +"Sit down, can't you? Don't stand up there like a lighthouse, +shuttin' out the whole broadside of the room. You are the BIGGEST +thing!" + +Captain Hammond selected the most substantial chair in the +apartment and sat down upon it. He looked at his friend and shook +his head. + +"No use, Keziah," he said. "If I was as deep down in the blues as +the bottom of the Whale Deep, a look at that face of yours would +pull me to the top again. You're a good woman!" + +"Thanks! When I have spare time on my hands I'll practice tryin' +to believe that. But what is the trouble, Nat? Out with it." + +"Well, Keziah, it's trouble enough. Dad and I have had a fallin' +out." + +Mrs. Coffin's mouth and eyes opened. + +"What?" she cried, in utter astonishment. + +"Yes. It's true. We had what was next door to a real quarrel +after dinner to-day. It would have been a real one if I hadn't +walked off and left him. He's as set as the rock of Gibraltar, +and--" + +"And your foundations ain't given to slippin' much. Nat Hammond, +I'm surprised at you! What was it all about? Religion?" + +"No, not a sliver of religion in it. If 'twas that, I could dodge, +or haul down my colors, if I had to. But it's somethin' worse, +enough sight worse. Somethin' I can't do--even for dad--and won't +either. Keziah, he's dead set on my marryin' Grace. Says if I +don't he'll know that I don't really care a tin nickel for him, or +for his wishes, or what becomes of the girl after he's gone." + +"Nat!" + +"It's a fact. You see, dad realizes, better'n I thought he did, +that his health is pretty shaky and that he is likely to founder +'most any time. He says that don't worry him; if he knew Grace and +I were provided for he'd slip his cable with a clean manifest. But +the dream of his life, he says, has been that we should marry. And +he wants to see it done." + +Keziah was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly: + +"And Grace herself? How does she feel about it? Has he spoken to +her?" + +"I don't know. I guess likely he has. Perhaps that's why she's +been so sort of mournful lately. But never mind whether he has or +not; I won't do it and I told him so. He got red hot in a jiffy. +I was ungrateful and stubborn and all sorts of things. And I, +bein' a Hammond, with some of the Hammond balkiness in me, I set my +foot down as hard as his. And we had it until--until--well, until +I saw him stagger and tremble so that I actually got scared and +feared he was goin' to keel over where he stood. + +"'Why can't you?' he kept sayin'. 'But WHY can't you? Ain't she a +girl anyone would be proud to have for a wife?' 'Course there was +no answer to that but yes. Then back he comes again with 'Then why +can't you?' At last, bein' frightened, as I said, that he might +have another shock or somethin', I said I'd think it over and come +away and left him. And I come straight to you. Keziah, what shall +I do? What can you say to help me?" + +Keziah was silent. She was looking, not at her companion, but at +the carpet center of one of the braided rugs on the floor. Her +face was very grave and the lines about her mouth seemed to deepen. +Her hands, clasped in her lap, tightened one upon the other. But +her voice was calm when, at last, she spoke. + +"Nat," she said, "there's only one thing I can say. And that's +what your father said: Why can't you?" + +The captain sprang from his chair. + +"What?" he cried incredulously. "What are you sayin'?" + +"Just what your father said, Nat. Why can't you marry Grace? +She's a dear, good girl and--" + +"That be--keelhauled! Keziah Coffin, you sit there and ask me why +I can't marry her! YOU do?" + +"Yes, Nat." + +"Keziah, you're crazy! Don't talk to me like that. We're not +jokin' now. You know why I can't marry her, nor anyone else in +this round world but you." + +"Nat, I can't marry you." + +"I know, I know. You're always sayin' that. But you don't mean +it. You can't mean it. Why, you and me have been picked out for +each other by the Almighty, Keziah. I swear I believe just that. +We went together when we were boy and girl, to parties and such. +We was promised when I first went to sea. If it hadn't been for +that fool row we had--and 'twas all my fault and I know it--you +never would have let that da--that miserable Anse Coffin come near +you. And when 'twas too late and you'd married him, the mean, +drunken, cruel--" + +"Hush, Nat! hush! Stop it!" + +"He was, and you know he was. Yes, and worse besides. Runnin' off +and leavin' a wife like you to-- Oh, my God! when I think I might +have been your husband to look out for you and take care of you! +That you might have been with me on board my ships. That, when I +come down the companion on stormy nights I might have found you +there to comfort me and-- O Keziah! we aren't young any more. +What's the use of foolin'? I want you. I'm goin' to have you. +Coffin is dead these ten years. When I heard he was drowned off +there in Singapore, all I could say was: 'Serve him right!' And I +say it now. I come home then more determined to get you. Say yes, +and let's be happy. Do!" + +"I can't, Nat." + +"Why not? For Heaven sakes! why not? Don't you care for me? +You've let me think--well, at any rate, I have thought you did. +You used to. Don't you?" + +"Nat, I--I care for you more than anybody else on earth. But I +can't marry you. Oh, don't keep askin' it! Please don't. I can't +marry you, Nat. No!" + +"Well, not now, maybe. Not this month, or even this year, perhaps, +but some day--" + +"No, Nat. You must listen. There's no use of this goin' on any +longer. I mean it. I can't marry you." + +"You won't, you mean." + +"Well, if you wish to think so. Then I won't." + +"But by and by--" + +"No, not by and by. Never, Nat. Never." + +He drew his hand across his forehead. + +"Never!" he repeated, more to himself than to her. + +"Never. Yes, Nat." + +"Then, by the everlastin'! I'll do somethin'--" + +"No, no, you won't. Nat Hammond, I know you. You're a great big, +brave-hearted, sensible man. You won't be foolish. You'll do-- +yes, I think you'd better do just what your father asks you to do. +Marry Grace, if she wants you and will have you. She'll make you a +good wife; you'll learn to care for her, and I know she'll have the +best husband that a girl could hope for. And you and I will be +friends, just as we've always been, and--" + +"Keziah, stop that! Stop it, do you hear! I don't want to listen +to such stuff. I tell you I'm past soft soap, and I didn't think +you'd give it to me." + +"Nat!" + +"Oh, yes, 'Nat'! A lot you care for 'Nat'! Not a reason on God's +footstool why you won't have me--except one, and that one that you +don't want me." + +"Please, Nat! I can hardly believe this is you. This trouble with +your father has upset you. You don't mean what you say. You're +not talkin' like yourself and--" + +"Stop it, I tell you. I don't feel like myself. I banked on you, +Keziah. I've lived for you. And now-- O Keziah, take it back! +Give me a little hope, just enough to keep my head above water." + +"I'd like to, Nat. I only wish I could. But 'twouldn't be any +use. I can't do it." + +He snatched his hat from the table and strode to the door. +Turning, he looked at her. + +"All right," he said chokingly. "All right. Good-by." + +His steps sounded on the oilcloth of the kitchen. Then the back +door slammed. He was gone. + +Keziah started, as if the slam of the door had been an electric +shock. During the interview she had been pale and grave but +outwardly calm. Now she sank wearily down in the chair from which +she had risen and her head dropped forward upon her arms on the +table. The letter she had been reading before Captain Nat's +arrival fell from her waist to the floor and lay there, its badly +spelled and blotted lines showing black and fateful against the +white paper. And she cried, tears of utter loneliness and despair. + +The clouds thickened as the afternoon passed. The setting sun was +hidden behind them; over the horizon of ocean and bay the fog banks +were rolling in tumbled, crumpled masses. The shadows in the +lonely sitting room deepened. There came a knock at the dining- +room door. + +Keziah sprang from her chair, smoothed her hair, hastily wiped her +eyes, picked up the dropped letter and went to admit the visitor, +whoever he or she might be. She was glad of the shadows, they +prevented her face from being seen too plainly. + +"Good afternoon," she said, opening the door. "Oh! it's you, is +it?" + +"Yes," admitted Abishai Pepper, standing on the stone step, and +shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. "Yes, Keziah, it's-- +it's me, thank you." + +"Don't mention it. Well, is Laviny with you?" + +"No--o, she ain't. She--she didn't come." + +"Hum! Did she know you was comin'?" + +"No--o, I don't cal'late she did." + +"I see. Well, what do you want?" + +Mrs. Coffin's welcome was not too cordial. She had laughed many +times over Abishai's proposal of marriage, but she had never quite +forgiven him for making her ridiculous on that occasion. +Incidentally, she did not feel like laughing. + +"What do you want?" she repeated. + +Kyan was plainly nervous. + +"I only wanted to see Mr. Ellery," he announced. "It's all right, +Keziah. You needn't be afraid." + +"Afraid! What on earth should I be afraid of?" + +"Why--why, I didn't know but you might be afraid I was goin' to--to +talk about what we talked about when I--I talked to you that day up +at--" + +"There! that'll do. It ain't me that would have reason to be +afraid if THAT was what you come for. What do you want? Don't +stand there dancin' a jig." + +"I only wanted to see Mr. Ellery." + +"He's out. Good day." + +"But I won't keep him but a minute." + +"He's out, I tell you. Do you want to leave a message?" + +"No--o. No, I guess not." + +"Was it important?" + +"Oh! I don't know. Kind of, maybe. I wanted to ask his advice +about somethin'. It's a secret. Only him and me know about it. +Good-by." + +"Shall I tell him you'll call again? Or ask him to come up to your +house?" + +Mr. Pepper, who had started to go, now hurried back to the steps. + +"No, no," he protested, in alarm. "Don't you tell him that. I +wouldn't have him come there for no money. Why, Laviny, she--" + +"Oh, Laviny isn't in the secret, then?" Keziah smiled in spite of +herself. + +"Not exactly. That is, not much. Don't you tell her I come here, +will you? I'll find Mr. Ellery. I know where he is." + +"I wouldn't go to the Danielses', if I was you. Elkanah might not +like to have you chasin' after his visitors." + +"Oh, the minister ain't at the Danielses', not as late's this, he +ain't. I know where he is." + +"You do?" The housekeeper looked at him keenly. + +"Yes, sir, I do. I know where he goes Sunday afternoons--and why +he goes, too. Mr. Ellery and me's good friends. We understand +each other." + +"Look here, Kyan Pepper! What are you talkin' about?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. Good day." + +"Stop! Stand still! Come in the house here. I want you to." + +"No, no, Keziah. Really, I'd love to, but I can't stop." + +"Come in, I tell you." + +Reluctantly, but lacking the strength of mind to refuse, Mr. Pepper +entered the dining room. Then Mrs. Coffin turned upon him. + +"What do you mean," she demanded, "by throwin' out hints that the +minister and you are in some sort of secret? How dare you go round +tellin' people such yarns as that?" + +"They ain't yarns. And I never told nobody afore, anyhow. I got +to move along. I'll--" + +"Stay where you are. I guess I'll run right up and ask your sister +about this. Perhaps she might--" + +"Ss-sh! ss-sh! don't talk that way, Keziah. Don't! Laviny don't +know what I mean. Don't go askin' HER things." + +"But you said--" + +"I just said I knew where Mr. Ellery goes every Sunday afternoon. +He don't know anybody knows, but I do. That's all there is to it. +I shan't tell. So--" + +"Tell? Do you mean there's somethin' Mr. Ellery wouldn't want +told? Don't you dare--I WILL see Laviny!" + +"No, no, no, no! 'Tain't nothin' much. I just know where he goes +after he leaves Elkanah's and who he goes to meet. I-- Lordy! I +hadn't ought to said that! I-- Keziah Coffin, don't you ever tell +I told you. I've said more'n I meant to. If it comes out there'd +be the biggest row in the church that ever was. And I'd be +responsible! I would! I'd have to go on the witness stand and +then Laviny'd find out how I-- Oh, oh, oh! what SHALL I do?" + +The poor frightened creature's "jig" had, by this time, become a +distracted fandango. But the housekeeper had no mercy on him. She +was beginning to fear for her parson and, for the time, everything +else, her own trouble and the recent interview with Nat, was pushed +aside. + +"What is it?" she persisted. "WHAT would bring on the row in the +church? WHO does Mr. Ellery meet? Out with it! What do you +mean?" + +"I mean that the minister meets that Van Horne girl every Sunday +afternoon after he leaves Elkanah's. There, now! It's out, and I +don't give a darn if they hang me for it." + +Keziah turned white. She seized Mr. Pepper by the lapel of his +Sunday coat and shook him. + +"Grace Van Horne!" she cried. "Mr. Ellery meets Grace Van Horne on +Sunday afternoons? Where?" + +"Down in them pines back of Peters's pastur', on the aidge of the +bank over the beach. He's met her there every Sunday for the last +six weeks--longer, for what I know. I've watched 'em." + +"You HAVE? YOU have! You've dared to spy on-- I think you're +lyin' to me. I don't believe it." + +"I ain't lyin'! It's so. I'll bet you anything they're there now, +walkin' up and down and talkin'. What would I want to lie for? +You come with me this minute and I'll show 'em to you." + +In the desire to prove his veracity he was on his way to the door. +But Keziah stepped in front of him. + +"'Bish Pepper," she said slowly and fiercely, shaking a forefinger +in his face, "you go straight home and stay there. Don't you +breathe a word to a livin' soul of what you say you've seen. Don't +you even think it, or--or dream it. If you do I'll--I'll march +straight to Laviny and tell her that you asked me to marry you. I +will, as sure as you're shakin' in front of me this minute. Now +you swear to me to keep still. Swear!" + +"How--HOW'll I swear?" begged Kyan. "What do you say when you +swear? I'll say it, Keziah! I'll say anything! I'll--" + +"All right. Then mind you remember. Now clear out quick. I want +to think. I MUST think. GO! Get out of my sight!" + +Kyan went, glad to escape, but frightened to the soul of him. +Keziah watched him until he turned from the main road into the +lighthouse lane. Then, certain that he really was going straight +home, she re-entered the parsonage and sat down in the nearest +chair. For ten minutes she sat there, striving to grasp the +situation. Then she rose and, putting on her bonnet and shawl, +locked the dining-room door, and went out through the kitchen. On +the step she looked cautiously back to see if any of the neighbors +were at their windows. But this was Sunday, the one day when +Trumet people sat in their front parlors. The coast was clear. +She hurried through the back yard, and down the path leading across +the fields. She was going to the pine grove by the shore, going to +find out for herself if Kyan's astonishing story was true. + +For if it was true, if the Rev. John Ellery was meeting +clandestinely the adopted daughter of Eben Hammond, it meant--what +might it not mean, in Trumet? If he had fallen in love with a +Come-Outer, with Grace Van Horne of all people, if he should dare +think of marrying her, it would mean the utter wreck of his career +as a Regular clergyman. His own society would turn him out +instantly. All sorts of things would be said, lies and scandal +would be invented and believed. His character would be riddled by +the Trumet gossips and the papers would publish the result +broadcast. + +And Grace! If she loved a Regular minister, what would happen to +her? Captain Eben would turn her from his door, that was certain. +Although he idolized the girl, Keziah knew that he would never +countenance such a marriage. And if Nat stood by Grace, as he +would be almost sure to do, the breach between father and son would +widen beyond healing. If it were merely a matter of personal +selection, Mrs. Coffin would rather have seen her parson marry +Grace than anyone else on earth. As it was, such a match must not +be. It meant ruin for both. She must prevent the affair going +further. She must break off the intimacy. She must save those two +young people from making a mistake which would-- She wrung her +hands as she thought of it. Of her own sorrow and trouble she +characteristically thought nothing now. Sacrifice of self was a +part of Keziah's nature. + +The pines were a deep-green blotch against the cloudy sky and the +gloomy waters of the bay. She skirted the outlying clumps of +bayberry and beach plum bushes and entered the grove. The pine +needles made a soft carpet which deadened her footfalls, and the +shadows beneath the boughs were thick and black. She tiptoed on +until she reached the clearing by the brink of the bluff. No one +was in sight. She drew a breath of relief. Kyan might be +mistaken, after all. + +Then she heard low voices. As she crouched at the edge of the +grove, two figures passed slowly across the clearing, along the +bush-bordered path and into the shrubbery beyond. John Ellery was +walking with Grace Van Horne. He was holding her hand in his and +they were talking very earnestly. + +Keziah did not follow. What would have been the use? This was not +the time to speak. She KNEW now and she knew, also, that the +responsibility was hers. She must go home at once, go home to be +alone and to think. She tiptoed back through the grove and across +the fields. + +Yet, if she had waited, she might have seen something else which +would have been, at least, interesting. She had scarcely reached +the outer edge of the grove when another figure passed stealthily +along that narrow path by the bluff edge. A female figure treading +very carefully, rising to peer over the bushes at the minister and +Grace. The figure of Miss Annabel Daniels, the "belle" of Trumet. +And Annabel's face was not pleasant to look upon. + + +CHAPTER XI + +IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN RECEIVES A CALLER + + +At the edge of the bluff, just where the pines and the bayberry +bushes were thickest, where the narrow, crooked little footpath +dipped over the rise and down to the pasture land and the salt +meadow, John Ellery and Grace had halted in their walk. It was +full tide and the miniature breakers plashed amid the seaweed on +the beach. The mist was drifting in over the bay and the gulls +were calling sleepily from their perch along the breakwater. A +night hawk swooped and circled above the tall "feather grass" by +the margin of the creek. The minister's face was pale, but set and +determined, and he was speaking rapidly. + +"I can't help it," he said. "I can't help it. I have made up my +mind and nothing can change it, nothing but you. It rests with +you. If you say yes, then nothing else matters. Will you say it?" + +He was holding both her hands now, and though she tried to withdraw +them, he would not let her. + +"Will you?" he pleaded. + +"I can't," she answered brokenly. "I can't. Think of your church +and of your people. What would they say if--" + +"I don't care what they say." + +"Oh! yes, you do. Not now, perhaps, but later you will. You don't +know Trumet as I know it. No, it's impossible." + +"I tell you there is only one impossible thing. That is that I +give you up. I won't do it. I CAN'T do it! Grace, this is life +and death for me. My church--" + +He paused in spite of himself. His church, his first church! He +had accepted the call with pride and a determination to do his +best, the very best that was in him, for the society and for the +people whom he was to lead. Some of those people he had learned to +love; many of them, he felt sure, loved him. His success, his +popularity, the growth of the organization and the praise which had +come to him because of it, all these had meant, and still meant, +very much to him. No wonder he paused, but the pause was +momentary. + +"My church," he went on, "is my work and I like it. I believe I've +done some good here and I hope to do more. But no church shall say +whom I shall marry. If you care for me, Grace, as I think and hope +you do, we'll face the church and the town together. and they will +respect us for it." + +She shook her head. + +"Some of them might respect you," she said. "They would say you +had been led into this by me and were not so much to blame. But I--" + +"They shall respect my wife," he interrupted, snapping his teeth +together, "or I'll know the reason why." + +She smiled mournfully. + +"I think they'll tell you the reason," she answered. "No, John, +no! we mustn't think of it. You can see we mustn't. This has all +been a mistake, a dreadful mistake, and I am to blame for it." + +"The only mistake has been our meeting in this way. We should have +met openly; I realize it, and have felt it for sometime. It was my +fault, not yours. I was afraid, I guess. But I'll not be a coward +any longer. Come, dear, let's not be afraid another day. Only say +you'll marry me and I'll proclaim it openly, to-night-- Yes, from +the pulpit, if you say so." + +She hesitated and he took courage from her hesitation. + +"Say it," he pleaded. "You WILL say it?" + +"I can't! I can't! My uncle--" + +"Your uncle shall hear it from me. We'll go to him together. I'll +tell him myself. He worships you." + +"Yes, I know. He does worship me. That's why I am sure he had +rather see me dead than married to you, a Regular, and a Regular +minister." + +"I don't believe it. He can't be so unreasonable. If he is, then +you shouldn't humor such bigotry." + +"He has been my father for years, and a dear, kind father." + +"I know. That's why I'm so certain we can make him understand. +Come, dear! come! Why should you consider everyone else? Consider +your own happiness. Consider mine." + +She looked at him. + +"I am considering yours," she said. "That is what I consider most +of all. And, as for uncle, I know--I KNOW he would never consent. +His heart is set on something else. Nat--" + +"Nat? Are you considering him, too? Is HE to stand between us? +What right has he to say--" + +"Hush! hush! He hasn't said anything. But--but he and uncle have +quarreled, just a little. I didn't tell you, but they have. And I +think I know the reason. Nat is Uncle Eben's idol. If the quarrel +should grow more serious, I believe it would break his heart. I +couldn't bear to be the cause of that; I should never forgive +myself." + +"You the cause? How could you be the cause of a quarrel between +those two? Grace, think of me." + +Here was the selfishness of man and the unselfishness of woman +answered. + +"John," she said, "it is of you I am thinking. Everything else +could--might be overcome, perhaps. But I must think of your future +and your life. I MUST. That is why--" + +He did not wait to hear more. He seized her in his arms and kissed +her. + +"Then you DO care!" he cried joyfully. "You will marry me?" + +For an instant she lay quiet in his embrace, receiving, if not +responding to his caresses. Then she gently but firmly freed +herself. He saw that there were tears in her eyes. + +"Grace," he urged, "don't--don't hesitate any longer. You were +meant to be my wife. We were brought together for just that. I +know it. Come." + +She was crying softly. + +"Won't you?" he begged. + +"I don't know," she sobbed. "Oh, I don't know! I must think--I +MUST! Wait, please wait, John. Perhaps by to-morrow I can answer. +I'll try--I'll try. Don't ask me again, now. Let me think. Oh, +do!" + +Doubtless he would have asked her again. He looked as if he meant +to. But just then, drifting through the twilight and the mist, +came the sound of a bell, the bell of the Regular church, ringing +for the Sunday evening meeting. They both heard it. + +"Oh!" exclaimed Grace, "that is your bell. You will be late. You +must go, and so must I. Good night." + +She started down the path. He hesitated, then ran after her. + +"To-morrow?" he questioned eagerly. "Tomorrow, then, you'll say +that you will?" + +"Oh, perhaps, perhaps! I mustn't promise. Good night." + +It was after seven when Grace reached the old tavern. The +housekeeper, Mrs. Poundberry, was anxiously awaiting her. She wore +her bonnet and Sunday gown and was evidently ready to go out. + +"Land sakes alive!" she sputtered. "Where in the name of goodness +have you been to? I was gettin' scairt. Didn't know but you'd run +off and got married, or sunthin' dreadful." + +Grace was thankful that the cloudy twilight made it impossible to +see her face distinctly. The housekeeper rattled on without +waiting for an answer. + +"Supper's on the table and the kittle's abilin'. You better eat in +a hurry, 'cause it's meetin' time now. Your uncle, he started ten +minutes ago. I'm agoin' right along, too, but I ain't goin' to +meetin'; I'm agoin' up to Betsy E.'s to stay all night. She's got +a spine in her back, as the feller said, and ain't feelin' good, so +I told her I'd come and stay a little spell. S'pose you can get +along to-morrow without me?" + +"Betsy E." was Mrs. Poundberry's second cousin, an elderly spinster +living alone in a little house near the salt works. Grace assured +her questioner that she could attend to the house and the meals +during the following day, longer if the troublesome "spine" needed +company. Mrs. Poundberry sighed, groaned, and shook her head. + +"I shan't stay no longer," she affirmed; "not if Betsy's all over +spines, like one of them Mexican cactus plants. No, marm, my place +is right here and I know it. Your Uncle Eben's mighty feeble and +peaked lately. He ain't long for this world, I'm afraid. You'd +ought to be awful good to him, Gracie." + +"I know it," was the hurried reply. "Where's Nat?" + +"I don't know. Can't keep track of HIM. Might's well try to put +your finger on a flea. He's here to-day and gone yesterday, as the +Scriptur' says. He ate a little mite of supper, but not much, and +then off he puts. Says he's goin' to walk the fog out'n his head. +I told him, s' I, 'You'll walk a plaguey sight more in than you do +out, THIS night,' but he went just the same. He was dreadful kind +of dumpy and blue this evenin'. Seemed to be sort of soggy in his +mind. And why he never went to meetin' with his dad and why his +dad never asked him TO go is more'n I can tell. Land of livin', +how I do gabble! My grandmarm used to say my tongue was loose at +both ends and hung in the middle, and I guess she wa'n't fur off +the course. Good-by. Take care of yourself. You can put what's +left of that mock mince pie on the top shelf in the butt'ry and +you'd better heave a dish towel or sunthin' over it to keep the +ants out. There's more ants in this house than there is dollars, a +good sight. Betsy B., she's got a plan for keepin' of 'em out by +puttin' sassers of brimstone round the shelves, but I told her, s' +I, 'THEM ants don't care for no brimstone. They're used to it. +Sometimes I b'lieve they're sent by the everlastin' father of +brimstone,' and she--" + +She had reached the gate by this time, and Grace shut off the flow +of conversation by closing the door. Then she took a candle from +the row on the dining-room mantel, lighted it, and went up to her +own room. Standing before the old-fashioned bureau with its little +oval mirror, she hastily arranged her hair. She did not wish to go +to the prayer meeting at the chapel, but she felt that she must. +The Come-Outer gatherings, with their noisy singing and shouting, +had grown more and more repugnant to her. + +And to-night, of all nights! How could she meet those people who +had known her since she was a child, who boasted of her as one of +their staunchest adherents, who believed in her and trusted her? +How could she meet them and talk with them, knowing what she knew +and realizing that they, too, would know it on the morrow? But her +uncle would miss her and be worried about her if she did not come. +She could not bear to trouble him now; she never loved him so +dearly, was never so anxious to humor his every wish as on this, +perhaps the last evening they would spend together. For, though +she would not yet admit it, even to herself, her decision was made, +had really been made the first time John Ellery asked her weeks +before. Only the thought of what might happen to him if she +consented had caused her to hesitate so long. + +She blew out the candle and came out into the hall at the head of +the stairs. She was about to descend when she heard voices. The +door of the dining room opened and closed. She felt certain that +Nat had returned and wondered who was with him. Then she heard her +uncle's voice, speaking sharply and with unwonted sternness. + +"I don't know what 'tis you want to see me about," said Captain +Eben. "You say it's important; well, it's got to be to keep me +from my meetin'. I ought to be on the Lord's business this minute +and nothin' worldly's goin' to keep me from servin' Him. So speak +quick. What is it?" + +The voice that answered was one that Grace recognized, though she +had never before heard in it the note of agitation and undignified +excitement. There were no ponderous pauses and "Hum--ha's" now. + +"Don't be a fool, Hammond!" it said. "And don't stand there +preaching. Lock that door! Get a lamp! Are you sure there's +nobody but us in the house?" + +Captain Elkanah Daniels! Captain Elkanah visiting a Come-Outer! +and the leader of the Come-Outers!! Grace caught her breath. What +in the world-- She started to descend and then a thought flashed +to her mind. She stopped short. + +"I ain't the fool, Elkanah," she heard her uncle retort sternly. +"The fools are them who are deef to the call from on high. My foot +was on the threshold of His house when you led me astray. It's +never halted there afore. I warn you--" + +"Hush! Shut up! Can't you forget that--that Come-Outer circus of +yours for a minute?" + +"Elkanah Daniels, I'll have no blasphemy here. Another word like +that and--" + +"WILL you be still and hear me? The Lord's business! I guess +you'll think it's the Lord's business when you understand what I'm +going to tell you! The Lord's business! The devil's business, you +better say! Will you lock that door?" + +"My church is waitin' for me and--" + +"Let it wait. What's a parcel of yelling Come-Outers compared to +the decency of this town? Stop! Shut up! Eben Hammond, I tell +you that your precious church--yes and mine, the Regular church of +Trumet--will go to rack and ruin if you and me don't pull together +this night." + +"And I tell you, Elkanah Daniels, I'll have no blasphemy here. +That little sanctuary up the road is founded on a rock and neither +you nor any of your Phariseein' priest-worshipin' crew can shake +it. The Almighty'll protect His own. As for the Reg'lar church, +that's no concern of mine." + +"But I tell you 'tis your concern. Or if the church isn't, your +own family is." + +"My--my family?" + +"Yes, your own family. Huh! that makes you listen, don't it?" + +There was an instant of silence. Grace, crouching on the stairs, +noticed the change in her uncle's voice as he answered. + +"My own family?" he repeated slowly. "My own-- And the Reg'lar +church-- What do you mean? Has Nat--" + +"No, he ain't. But that cussed girl of yours--" + +"Stop!" Eben's shout rang through the house. The listener heard +it, rose, and then sank slowly to her knees. + +"Stop!" shouted Captain Hammond. "Elkanah Daniels, for your own +sake now, be careful. If you dast to say a word, another word like +that, I'll--" + +"If I dast! The hussy! But there's no use talkin' to you. You're +as crazy as a Bedlamite. Either that, or you're in the game with +her. If you are, I warn you--" + +"Stop! What game? What do you mean? Gracie! My Grace! What is +it? For mercy sakes, Elkanah--" + +"Humph! I wondered if I couldn't get some sense into you, finally. +Lock that door!" + +"I will! I will! But Elkanah--" + +"Lock it! Give me the key!" + +The click of the lock sounded sharply. + +"Where's the lamp?" demanded Daniels. "And the matches? Don't +stand there shaking." + +A smell of sulphur floated out into the hall. Then the sickly glow +of the "fluid" lamp shone through the doorway. + +"What ails you?" asked Elkanah. "Are you struck dumb? Now go and +see if there's anybody else in the house." + +"But--but there ain't. I know there ain't. Hannah's gone and +Gracie's at meetin' by this time." + +"She? Humph! Well, maybe she's at meeting and maybe she isn't. +Maybe she's over in Peters's pines, hugging and kissing that man +she's met there every Sunday for I don't know how long-- Here! let +go, you old fool! Let go, I tell you!" + +A chair fell to the floor with a bang. There was the sound of hard +breathing and rapid footsteps. + +"Let go!" panted Daniels. "Are you crazy? Take your hands off +me!" + +"You liar!" snarled Captain Eben. "You low-lived liar! By the +Almighty, Elkanah Daniels! I'll-- You take that back or I'll +choke the everlastin' soul out of you. I will--" + +"Let go, you lunatic! You'll kill yourself. Listen! I'm not +lying. It's the truth. She's met a man, I tell you. Been meeting +him for months, I guess. There! now will you listen?" + +The footsteps had ceased, but the heavy breathing continued. + +"A man!" gasped Eben. "A man! Gracie! It's a-- Who is he? +What's his name?" + +"His name's John Ellery, and he's minister of the Regular church in +this town; that's who he is! Here! hold up! Good Lord! are you +dying? Hold up!" + +The girl on the stairs sprang to her feet. Her head was reeling +and she could scarcely stand, but she blindly began the descent. +She must go to her uncle. She must. But Captain Daniels's voice +caused her to halt once more. + +"There! there!" it said in a tone of relief. "That's better. Set +still now. Be quiet, that's it. Shall I get some water?" + +"No, no! let me be. Just let me be. I ain't what I used to be and +this-- I'm all right, I tell you. Grace! And--and-- What was it +you just said? I--I don't b'lieve I heard it right." + +"I said that daughter of yours, or niece, or whatever she is, this +Grace Van Horne, has been meeting young Ellery, our minister, in +Peters's grove. Been meeting him and walking with him, and kissing +him, and--" + +"It's a lie! It ain't so, Elkanah! Prove it or-- It--it CAN'T be +so, can it? Please--" + +"It is so. She's met him in those pines every Sunday afternoon for +a long time. She was seen there with him this afternoon." + +"Who--who saw her?" + +"Never mind. The one that did'll never tell--unless it's +necessary. They're fixing to be married, and--" + +"MARRIED! She marry a Reg'lar minister! Oh--" + +"Hush! Listen! They ain't married yet. We can stop 'em, you and +I, if we get right to work. It isn't too late. Will you help?" + +"Will I--I-- Go on! tell me more." + +"We can stop 'em. I know it would be a good catch for her, the +sneaking, designing-- Well, never mind. But it can't be. It +shan't be. You've got to tell her so, Hammond. We folks of the +Regular church have pride in our society; we won't have it +disgraced. And we have been proud of our minister, the young, +rattle-headed fool! We'll save him if we can. If we can't"--the +speaker's teeth grated--"then we'll send him to eternal smash or +die trying." + +"But I can't believe it's true. It's a mistake; some other girl +and not Gracie. Why, she don't even know him. She wouldn't-- But +she HAS been out every Sunday afternoon for weeks. If it SHOULD +be!" + +"It is. I tell you it is. Don't waste time rolling your eyes and +talking stuff. We've got to work and you've got to work first. I +don't know whether you're only making believe or not. I realize +that 'twould be a good thing for your girl to marry a promising +young chap like him, but-- Hush! let me go on. I tell you, +Hammond, it can't be. We won't let her. I won't let her. I'm a +man of influence in this town, and outside of it, too. I'm head of +the parish committee and a member of the National Regular Society. +I can't reach your precious ward, maybe, but I can reach the fellow +she's after, and if he marries her, I'll drive 'em both to the +poorhouse. + +"Here's where you come in, Hammond. It may be she does really care +for him. Or maybe she's after position and money. Well, you talk +to her. You tell her that if she keeps on going with him, if she +doesn't break off this damnable business now, tomorrow, I'll ruin +John Ellery as sure as I'm a living man. He'll be ruined in +Trumet, anyhow. He'll be thrown out by the parish committee. I'm +not sure that his church people won't tar and feather him. +Marrying a low-down Come-Outer hussy! As if there wa'n't decent +girls of good families he might have had! But losing this church +won't be the only thing that'll happen to him. The committee'll +see that he doesn't get another one. I'll use my influence and +have him thrown out of the Regular ministry. Think I can't? What +sort of yarns do you suppose will be told about him and her, +meeting the way they did? Won't the county papers print some fine +tales? Won't the Boston ones enjoy such a scandal? I tell you, +Eben Hammond, that young chap's name will be dragged so deep in the +mud it'll never get clean again." + +He stopped for breath. His companion was silent. After a moment, +he continued: + +"You tell her that, Hammond," he went on. "If she really cares for +him, it'll be enough. She won't let him ruin his life. And I'll +keep quiet till I hear from you. If she's sensible and really +decent, then she can give him his clearance papers without his +knowing why she did it and everything will be a secret and kept so. +Nobody else'll ever know. If she won't do that, then you tell me +and I'll have a session with HIM. If THAT'S no good, then out he +goes and she with him; and it's ruination for both of 'em, +reputations and all. Why am I doing this? I'll tell you. I like +him. He isn't orthodox enough to suit me, but I have liked him +mighty well. And Annab-- Humph! that's neither here nor there. +What I'm fighting for is the Trumet Regular church. That's MY +church and I'll have no dirty scandal with Come-Outers dragging it +down. Now you understand. Will you tell her what I've said?" + +The chair creaked. Evidently, Captain Eben was rising slowly to +his feet. + +"Well?" repeated Elkanah. + +"Elkanah Daniels," said Eben slowly, his voice shaking from nervous +exhaustion and weakness, but with a fine ring of determination in +every word, "Elkanah Daniels, you listen to me. I've heard you +through. If your yarn is true, then my heart is broke, and I wish +I might have died afore I heard it. But I didn't die and I have +heard it. Now listen to me. I love that girl of mine better'n the +whole wide world and yet I'd ruther see her dead afore me than +married to a Reg'lar minister. Disgrace to HIM! Disgrace to your +miser'ble church! What about the disgrace to MINE? And the +disgrace to HER? Ruin to your minister! Ruin to my girl here and +hereafter is what I'm thinkin' of; that and my people who worship +God with me. I'll talk to Grace. I'll talk to her. But not of +what'll happen to him or you--or any of your cantin', lip-servin' +crew. I'll tell her to choose between him and me. And if she +chooses him, I'll send her out of that door. I'll do my duty and +read her out of my congregation. And I'll know she's gone to +everlastin' hell, and that's worse'n the poorhouse. That's all to- +night, Elkanah. Now you better go." + +"Humph! Well, I declare! you ARE a bigoted--" + +"Stop it! I've kept my hands off you so fur, because I'm the +Lord's servant. But I'm fightin' hard to keep down my old salt- +water temper. You go! There's the door." + +"All right, all right! I don't care what you say, so long as it's +said so as to stop her from getting him--and said soon." + +"It'll be said to-night. Now go! My people are waitin' at the +chapel." + +"You're not going to that prayer meeting after THIS?" + +"Where else should I go? 'Come unto Me all ye that labor and are +heavy laden.' And--and"--his voice broke--"He knows that I AM +heavy laden. Lord! Lord! do help me, for this is more'n I can bear +alone." + +The lock turned; the door opened and closed. Grace, clinging to +the balusters, heard Captain Hammond cross the room, slowly and +feebly. She heard him enter the sitting room. Then she heard +nothing more, not another sound, though the minutes dragged on and +on, endlessly, eternally, and each with a message, a sentence +repeated over and over again in her brain. "If she really cares +for him, she won't let him ruin his life." + +By and by, pale, but more composed, and with her mind made up, she +came down into the hall. Drawing a long breath, she turned into +the sitting room to face her uncle. By the light shining through +the dining-room door she saw him on his knees by the haircloth +sofa. She spoke his name. He did not answer nor look up. +Alarmed, she touched him on the shoulder. At her touch his arm +slid from the couch and he fell gently over upon his side on the +carpet. + + +CHAPTER XII + +IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN MAKES PORT + + +Half past eight. In the vestry of the Regular church John Ellery +was conducting his prayer meeting. The attendance was as large as +usual. Three seats, however, were vacant, and along the settees +people were wondering where Captain Elkanah Daniels and his +daughter might be. They had not missed a service for many a day. +And where was Keziah Coffin? + +At the Come-Outer chapel the testifying and singing were in full +blast. But Ezekiel Bassett was leading, for Captain Eben Hammond +had not made his appearance. Neither had Grace Van Horne, for that +matter, but Captain Eben's absence was the most astonishing. + +"Somethin's the matter," whispered Josiah Badger to his right-hand +neighbor. "Somethin's wrong d-d-d-down to the tavern, sartin' +sure. I'm goin' down there just soon's meetin's over and f-f-f- +find out. Eben wouldn't no more miss leadin' his meetin' from +choice than I'd go without a meal's v-v-vi-vittles. Somethin's +happened and I'm goin' to know what 'tis. You'll go along with me, +won't ye, Lot?" + +The answer was an affirmative. In fact, almost every worshiper in +that chapel had determined to visit the Hammond tavern as soon as +the service was at an end. + + +In the Regular parsonage Keziah sat alone by the sitting-room +table. Prayer meeting and supper she had forgotten entirely. The +minister had not come home for his evening meal, and food was +furthest from the housekeeper's thoughts. What should she do? +What ought she to do? How could she avert the disaster so certain +to overwhelm those two young people the moment their secret became +known? + +It was in vain that she tried to encourage herself with the hope +that Kyan had exaggerated--that the meetings in the grove had not +been as frequent as he said they were, or that they had been merely +casual. She knew better. She had seen the pair together and the +look in John Ellery's eyes. No, the mischief was done, they loved +each other; or, at least, he loved her. There was the great +trouble. + +Keziah, in spite of her worldly common sense, was an idealist at +heart. Love matches she believed in thoroughly. If the man had +not been a Regular minister, or if he had been a minister in any +other town than narrow, gossiping, squabbling Trumet, where +families were divided on "religious" grounds, neighbors did not +speak because their creeds were different, and even after death +were buried in cemeteries three miles apart; if the girl had been +other than the ward of bigoted old Eben Hammond--then, though they +were poor as poverty itself, Keziah would have joined their hands +and rejoiced. Even as it was, she was strongly tempted to do it. +Her sense of right and her every inclination urged her toward that +course. "Face the world together and fight it out," that was the +advice she would like to give them. But no, the battle was too +uneven. The odds were too great. They must not think of marriage, +for the present, and they must cease to meet. Perhaps some day-- +she tried to comfort herself with the thought--perhaps some day, +years afterwards and under different circumstances, they might-- + +With Ellery she felt certain she could accomplish nothing by +argument or persuasion. She knew him well enough by this time to +realize that, if his mind was made up, all Trumet and all creation +could not change it. He would keep on his course, and, if wrecked, +would go down with colors set and helm lashed. But Grace, perhaps +she did not fully realize the situation. She might be made to see, +to listen to reason. And, perhaps, it was possible--perhaps, on +her part, matters were not as serious. The minister had not acted +like a triumphant lover, assured of success; he had seemed, now +that she thought of it, more like a pleader, a supplicant. +Perhaps, if she could see Grace and talk plainly with the girl, it +might not be too late. She determined to try that very night. + +She rose and again donned her bonnet and shawl. She was about to +blow out the lamp when she heard rapid footsteps, the sound of some +one running along the sidewalk in front of the house. As she +listened, the footsteps sounded on the path. Whoever the runner +was he was coming to the parsonage. She stepped to the door and +opened it. + +The runner was a boy, Maria Higgins's boy Isaac, whose widowed +mother lived down by the shore. He did the chores at the Hammond +tavern. His freckled face was dripping with perspiration and he +puffed and blew like a stranded whale. + +"What's the matter, Ike?" demanded Keziah. "What is it?" + +"Have ye--have ye," panted Ike, "have ye seen the doctor anywheres, +Mis Coffin?" + +"Who? Dr. Parker? Have I seen--what in the world are you comin' +HERE after the doctor for?" + +"'Cause--'cause I didn't know where else to come. I been to his +house and he ain't to home. Nobody ain't to home. His wife, Mis +Parker, she's gone up to Boston yes'day on the coach, and--and it's +all dark and the house door's open and the shay's gone, so--" + +"Who's sick? Who wants him?" + +"And--and--all the rest of the houses round here was shut up 'cause +everybody's to meetin'. I peeked in at the meetin' house and he +ain't there, and I see your light and--" + +"Who's sick? Tell me that, won't you?" + +"Cap'n Eben. He's awful sick. I cal'late he's goin' to die, and +Gracie, she--" + +"Cap'n Eben? Eben Hammond! Dyin'? What are you talkin' about?" + +"Huh! huh!" puffed the messenger impatiently. "Didn't I tell ye? +Cap'n Eben's adyin'. I seen him. All white and still and--and +awful. And Gracie, she's all alone and--" + +"Alone? Where's Nat?" + +"She don't know. He ain't to home. But I got to find Dr. Parker." + +"Hold on! Stop! I'll tell you where the doctor is most likely. +Up to Mrs. Prince's. She's been poorly and he's prob'ly been +called there. Run! run fast as ever you can and get him and I'll +go to Grace this minute. The poor thing! Have you told anybody +else?" + +"No, no! ain't seen nobody but you to tell. They was prayin' over +to meetin', and the fellers that waits outside to keep comp'ny with +the girls ain't got there yet. And I never met nobody. And 'twas +so blasted dark I fell down four times and tore my best pants and--" + +"S-sh-sh! Listen to me! Don't tell anybody. Not a soul but the +doctor. Half this town'll be runnin' to find out if you do, and +that poor girl must be distracted already. I'll go to her. You +get Dr. Parker and tell him to hurry." + +"I'll tell him; don't you fret." + +He was gone, running harder than ever. A moment later Keziah +followed him, running also. + +It was a misty, black night, and Trumet sidewalks were uneven and +hard to navigate. But she stumbled on, up the main road to the +Corners, down the "Turn-off," past the chapel of the Come-Outers, +from the open window of which sounded the drone of a high, nasal +voice. Josiah Badger was "testifying," and Keziah caught a +fragment of the testimony as she hurried by. + +"I says to 'em, says I, I says to 'em, 'I don't care about your +smart mum-mum-minister and what fine sermons he preaches. Let him +BE smart,' I says. Says I, 'Smartness won't g-g-g-git ye into +heaven.' ("Amen!") 'No, sirree! it takes more'n that. I've seen +smart folks afore and they got c-c-cuk-catched up with sooner or +later. Pride goes ahead of a tumble, I've heard tell, and--" + +This was all that Keziah heard of Mr. Badger's testimony, for, as +she ran on, a rattle of wheels and the thud of hoofs came from +behind her. Then a rocking chaise, drawn by a galloping horse, +shot by. Dr. Parker's carriage, she was sure. The Higgins boy +must have met the doctor and delivered his message. + +The horse and chaise were standing by the front gate of the tavern +as she pantingly drew near it. The side door of the house was ajar +and she opened it softly and entered. The dining room was empty. +There was a light on the sitting-room table and low voices came +from the little bedroom adjoining. Then, from the bedroom, emerged +Dr. Parker and Grace Van Horne. The girl was white and there were +dark circles under her eyes. The doctor was very grave. + +Keziah stepped forward and held out both hands. Grace looked, +recognized her, and with a cry ran toward her. Keziah took her in +her arms and soothed her as if she were a child. + +"There! there! deary," she said, stroking her hair. "There! there! +deary, don't take it so hard. Poor thing! you're worn out. If I'd +only known sooner." + +"O Aunt Keziah!" sobbed the girl. "I'm so glad you've come. It +was so good of you." + +"Good! Land of mercy! If I hadn't come, I'd have been worse than +the beasts that perish. Don't cry, don't. How is he now? Some +better?" + +She looked at the doctor as she asked it. He shook his head +emphatically. + +"Well, well, dear," went on Mrs. Coffin hurriedly. "He will be +pretty soon, we'll hope. You mustn't give up the ship, you know. +Now you go and lay down somewheres and I'll get my things off and +see what there is to do. Some good strong tea might be good for +all hands, I guess likely. Where's Hannah Poundberry?" + +"She's gone to her cousin's to stay all night. I suppose I ought +to send for her, but I--" + +"No, no, you hadn't. Might's well send for a poll parrot, the +critter would be just as much good and talk less. I'll look out +for things, me and the doctor. Where's--where's Nat?" + +"He came in just after I sent the boy for the doctor. He's in +there with--with him," indicating the bedroom. "Poor Nat!" + +Keziah looked longingly toward the door. + +"Yes," she said slowly. "Poor fellow, it's an awful shock to him. +He and his father are-- But there! you lay down on that lounge." + +"I can't lie down. I can't do anything but think. Oh, what a +dreadful day this has been! And I thought it was going to be such +a happy one!" + +"Yes, yes, deary, I know." + +Grace raised her head. + +"You know?" she repeated, looking up into the housekeeper's face. + +"I mean I know it's been a dreadful day," explained Keziah quickly. +"Yes, indeed it has," with a sigh. "But there! our moanin' over it +don't cheer it up any. Will you lay down? No? Well, then, SET +down, there's a good girl." + +Grace, protesting that she couldn't sit down, she couldn't leave +uncle, and there were so many things to do, was at last persuaded +by Keziah and the doctor to rest for a few moments in the big +rocker. Then Mrs. Coffin went into the kitchen to prepare the tea. +As she went, she beckoned to Dr. Parker, who joined her a moment +later. + +"Well, doctor?" she asked anxiously. + +The stout, gray-haired old physician--he had practiced in Trumet +for nearly thirty years--shook his head. + +"Not a single chance," he whispered. "He may possibly live till +morning, but I doubt if he lasts an hour. It's his heart. I've +expected it at any time. Ever since he had that shock, I've been +at him to take things easy; but you might as well talk to a graven +image. That Come-Outer foolishness is what really killed him, +though just what brought on this attack I can't make out. Grace +says she found him lying on the floor by the sofa. He was +unconscious then. I'm rather worried about her. She was very near +to fainting when I got here." + +"No wonder. All alone in this ark of a house and nobody to help or +to send. Lucky she found that Ike Higgins. Say, I wonder if the +young one's around here now? If he is, he must stand at the gate +and scare off Come-Outers. The whole chapel, mates, crew, and +cabin boy, 'll be down here soon's meetin's over to see what kept +Eben. And they mustn't get in." + +"I should say not. I'll hunt up Ike. If a Come-Outer gets into +this house to-night I'll eat him, that's all." + +"Some of 'em would give you dyspepsy, I guess. Yes, Grace, I'll be +there in a jiffy." + +The doctor left the house to find young Higgins and post him at the +gate. The boy, who had been listening under the window, was proud +of his new responsibility. + +"I'll fix 'em, doctor," he declared. "I only hope old Zeke Bassett +comes. He lammed me with a horsewhip t'other day, 'cause I was +ridin' behind his ox cart. If he tried to git by me, I'll bounce a +rock off'n his Sunday hat." + +"Doctor," whispered Keziah from the kitchen window. "Doctor, come +quick. Nat wants you." + +Captain Nat was standing at the door of the bedroom. His face was +drawn and he had seemingly grown years older since noon. + +"He's come to himself, doc," he whispered. "He don't remember how +it happened or anything. And he wants us all. Why! why, Keziah! +are you here?" + +"Yes, Nat. I've been here a little while." + +He looked at her steadily and his eyes brightened just a trifle. + +"Did you come to see me?" he asked. "Was it about what I said +this--" + +"No, no, Nat; no. I heard the news and that Grace was alone; so I +come right down." + +He nodded wearily. + +"You can come in, too," he said. "I know dad likes you and I +guess-- Wait a minute; I'll ask him." He stepped back into the +bedroom. "Yes," he nodded, returning, "you come, too. He wants +you." + +The little room, Captain Eben's own, was more like a skipper's +cabin than a chamber on land. A narrow, single bed, a plain +washstand, a battered, painted bureau and a single chair--these +made up the list of furniture. Two pictures, both of schooners +under full sail, hung on the walls. Beside them hung a ship's +barometer, a sextant, and a clock that struck the "bells," instead +of the hours as the landsman understands them. In the corner stood +the captain's big boots and his oilskins hung above them. His +Sunday cane was there also. And on the bureau was a worn, heavy +Bible. + +Dr. Parker brushed by the others and bent over the bed. + +"Well, cap'n," he said cheerily, "how's she headed? How are you +feeling now?" + +The old face on the pillow smiled feebly. + +"She's headed for home, I guess, doc," said Captain Eben. "Bound +for home, and the harbor light broad abeam, I cal'late." + +"Oh, no! you'll make a good many voyages yet." + +"Not in this hulk, I won't, doctor. I hope I'll have a new command +pretty soon. I'm trustin' in my owners and I guess they'll do the +fair thing by me. Halloo, Gracie, girl! Well, your old uncle's on +his beam ends, ain't he?" + +Grace glanced fearfully at his face. When he spoke her name she +shrank back, as if she feared what he might say. But he only +smiled as, with the tears streaming down her face, she bent over +and kissed him. + +"There! there!" he protested. "You mustn't cry. What are you +cryin' about me for? We know, you and me, who's been lookin' out +for us and keepin' us on the course all these years. We ain't got +anything to cry for. You just keep on bein' a 'good girl, Gracie, +and goin' to the right church and-- I s'pose Ezekiel'll lead in +meetin' now," he added. "I do wish he was a stronger man." + +The doctor, whose fingers had been upon the old man's wrist, looked +up at Nat significantly. + +"There, dad," said the latter, "don't you worry about Zeke Bassett, +nor anything else. You just lay in dry dock and let Parker here +overhaul your runnin' riggin' and get you fit for sea. That's what +you've got to do." + +"I'm fit and ready for the sea I'm goin' to sail," was the answer. +His eyes wandered from his son to Mrs. Coffin. For an instant he +seemed puzzled. Then he said: + +"'Evenin', Keziah. I don't know why you're here, but--" + +"I heard that Grace was alone and that you was sick, Eben. So I +come right down, to help if I could." + +"Thank ye. You're a good-hearted woman, Keziah, even though you +ain't seen the true light yet. And you're housekeeper for that +hired priest--a--a--" He paused, and a troubled look came over his +face. + +"What is it, dad?" asked Nat. + +"I--I-- Where's Gracie? She's here, ain't she?" + +"Yes, uncle, I'm here. Here I am," said the girl. His fingers +groped for her hand and seized it. + +"Yes, yes, you're here," murmured Captain Eben. "I--I--for a +minute or so, I--I had an awful dream about you, Gracie. I +dreamed-- Never mind. Doc, answer me this now, true and honest, +man to man: Can you keep me here for just a little spell longer? +Can you? Try! Ten minutes, say. Can you?" + +"Of course I can. Cap'n Hammond, what are you--" + +"I know. That's all right. But I ain't a young one to be petted +and lied to. I'm a man. I've sailed ships. I've been on blue +water. I'm goin' to make port pretty soon, and I know it, but I +want to get my decks clear fust, if I can. Gracie, stand still. +Nat, run alongside where I can see you plainer. Keziah, you and +the doctor stay where you be. I want you to witness this." + +"Cap'n," protested Dr. Parker, "if I were you I wouldn't--" + +"Belay! Silence there, for'ard! Nat, you're my boy, ain't you? +You set some store by the old man, hey?" + +"I--I guess I do, dad." + +"Yes, I guess you do, too. You've been a pretty good boy; stubborn +and pig-headed sometimes, but, take you by and large, pretty good. +And Gracie, you've been a mighty good girl. Never done nothin' I +wouldn't like, nothin' mean nor underhand nor--" + +"Hush, uncle! Hush! Please hush!" + +"Well, you ain't; so why should I hush? In this--this dream I had, +seems 'sif you--seems as if a man come to me and said that you was-- +It WAS a dream, wa'n't it?" + +He tried to rise. Nat and the doctor started forward. Grace +shrank back. + +"Of course it was, cap'n," said the doctor briskly. "Now you +mustn't fret yourself in this way. Just lie still and--" + +"Belay, I tell you. Yes, I guess 'twas a dream. It had to be, but +'twas so sort of real that I-- How long have I been this way?" + +"Oh, a little while! Now just--" + +"Hush! Don't pull your hand away, Gracie. Nat, give me yours. +That's it. Now I put them two hands together. See, doctor? See, +Keziah?" + +"He's wandering. We must stop this," muttered Parker. Mrs. +Coffin, who began to comprehend what was coming, looked fearfully +at Nat and the girl. + +"No, I ain't wanderin', neither," declared the old Come-Outer +fretfully. "I'm sane as ever I was and if you try to stop me I'll-- +Gracie, your Uncle Eben's v'yage is 'most over. He's almost to +his moorin's and they're waitin' for him on the pier. I--I won't +be long now. Just a little while, Lord! Give me just a little +while to get my house in order. Gracie, I don't want to go till I +know you'll be looked out for. I've spoke to Nat about this, but I +ain't said much to you. Seems if I hadn't, anyhow; I ain't real +sartin; my head's all full of bells ringin' and--and things." + +"Don't, uncle, don't!" pleaded Grace. "Don't worry about me. +Think of yourself, please." + +"S-sh-sh! Don't put me off. Just listen. I want you to marry my +boy, after I'm gone. I want you to say you will--say it now, so's +I can hear it. Will you, Gracie?" + +Grace would have withdrawn her hand, but he would not let her. He +clung to it and to that of his son with all his failing strength. + +"Will you, Gracie?" he begged. "It's the last thing I'm goin' to +ask of you. I've tried to be sort of good to you, in my way, and--" + +"Don't, don't!" she sobbed. "Let me think a minute, uncle, dear. +Oh, do let me think!" + +"I ain't got time, Gracie. You'll have to say it now, or else-- +All right, then, think; but think quick." + +Grace was thinking. "If she really cares for him, she won't let +him ruin his life." That was what Captain Elkanah had said. And +here was a way to save him from ruin. + +"Won't you say it for me, Gracie?" pleaded Captain Eben. She +hesitated no longer. + +"Yes, uncle," she answered through tears, "if Nat wants me he can +have me." + +Keziah clasped her hands. Captain Eben's face lit up with a great +joy. + +"Thank the Almighty!" he exclaimed. "Lord, I do thank you. Nat, +boy, you're consider'ble older than she is and you'll have to plan +for her. You be a good husband to her all her days, won't ye? +Why, what are you waitin' for? Why don't you answer me?" + +Nat groaned aloud. + +"A minute, dad," he stammered. "Just give me a minute, for Heaven +sakes! Keziah--" + +"Keziah!" repeated Eben. "Keziah? What are you talkin' to HER +for? She knows there couldn't be no better match in the world. +You do know it, don't ye, Keziah?" + +"Yes," said Keziah slowly. "I guess--I guess you're right, Eben." + +"Keziah Coffin," cried Nat Hammond, "do you tell me to marry +Grace?" + +"Yes, Nat, I--I think your father's right." + +"Then--then--what difference does-- All right, dad. Just as Grace +says." + +"Thank God!" cried Captain Eben. "Doctor, you and Mrs. Coffin are +witnesses to this. There! now my decks are clear and I'd better +get ready to land. Gracie, girl, the Good Book's over there on the +bureau. Read me a chapter, won't you?" + +An hour later Keziah sat alone in the dining room. She had stolen +away when the reading began. Dr. Parker, walking very softly, came +to her and laid his hand on her shoulder. + +"He's gone," he said simply. + + +CHAPTER XIII + +IN WHICH KEZIAH BREAKS THE NEWS + + +It was nearly five o'clock, gray dawn of what was to be a clear, +beautiful summer morning, when Keziah softly lifted the latch and +entered the parsonage. All night she had been busy at the Hammond +tavern. Busy with the doctor and the undertaker, who had been +called from his bed by young Higgins; busy with Grace, soothing +her, comforting her as best she could, and petting her as a mother +might pet a stricken child. The poor girl was on the verge of +prostration, and from hysterical spasms of sobs and weeping passed +to stretches of silent, dry-eyed agony which were harder to witness +and much more to be feared. + +"It is all my fault," she repeated over and over again. "All my +fault! I killed him! I killed him, Aunt Keziah! What shall I do? +Oh, why couldn't I have died instead? It would have been so much +better, better for everybody." + +"Ss-sh! ss-sh! deary," murmured the older woman. "Don't talk so; +you mustn't talk so. Your uncle was ready to go. He's been ready +for ever so long, and those of us who knew how feeble he was +expected it any time. 'Twa'n't your fault at all and he'd say so +if he was here now." + +"No, he wouldn't. He'd say just as I do, that I was to blame. You +don't know, Aunt Keziah. Nobody knows but me." + +"Maybe I do, Gracie, dear; maybe I do. Maybe I understand better'n +you think I do. And it's all been for the best. You'll think so, +too, one of these days. It seems hard now; it is awful hard, you +poor thing, but it's all for the best, I'm sure. Best for +everyone. It's a mercy he went sudden and rational, same as he +did. The doctor says that, if he hadn't, he'd have been helpless +and bedridden and, maybe, out of his head for another year. He +couldn't have lived longer'n that, at the most." + +"But you DON'T know, Aunt Keziah! You don't know what I-- I AM to +blame. I'll never forgive myself. And I'll never be happy again." + +"Yes, you will. You'll come, some day, to think it was best and +right, for you and--and for others. I know you think you'll never +get over it, but you will. Somehow or other you will, same as the +rest of us have had to do. The Lord tries us mighty hard +sometimes, but He gives us the strength to bear it. There! there! +don't, deary, don't." + +Dr. Parker was very anxious. + +"She must rest," he told Mrs. Coffin. "She must, or her brain will +give way. I'm going to give her something to make her sleep and +you must get her to take it." + +So Keziah tried and, at last, Grace did take the drug. In a little +while she was sleeping, uneasily and with moans and sobbings, but +sleeping, nevertheless. + +"Now it's your turn, Keziah," said the doctor. "You go home now and +rest, yourself. We don't need you any more just now." + +"Where's--where's Cap'n Nat?" asked Keziah. + +"He's in there with his father. He bears it well, although he is +mighty cut up. Poor chap, he seems to feel that he is to blame, +somehow. Says Cap'n Eben and he had disagreed about something or +other and he fears that hastened the old man's death. Nonsense, of +course. It was bound to come and I told him so. 'Twas those +blasted Come-Outers who really did it, although I shan't say so to +anyone but you. I'm glad Nat and the girl have agreed to cruise +together. It's a mighty good arrangement. She couldn't have a +better man to look out for her and he couldn't have a better wife. +I suppose I'm at liberty to tell people of the engagement, hey?" + +"Yes. Yes, I don't see any reason why not. Yes-- I guess likely +you'd better tell 'em." + +"All right. Now you go home. You've had a hard night, like the +rest of us." + +How hard he had no idea. And Keziah, as she wearily entered the +parsonage, realized that the morning would be perhaps the hardest +of all. For upon her rested the responsibility of seeing that the +minister's secret was kept. And she, and no other, must break the +news to him. + +The dining room was dark and gloomy. She lighted the lamp. Then +she heard a door open and Ellery's voice, as he called down the +stairs. + +"Who is it?" he demanded. "Mrs. Coffin?" + +She was startled. "Yes," she said softly, after a moment. "Yes, +Mr. Ellery, it's me. What are you doin' awake at such an hour's +this?" + +"Yes, I'm awake. I couldn't sleep well to-night, somehow. Too +much to think of, I imagine. But where have you been? Why weren't +you at meeting? And where-- Why, it's almost morning!" + +She did not answer at once. The temptation was to say nothing now, +to put off the trying scene as long as possible. + +"It's morning," repeated the minister. "Are you sick? Has +anything happened?" + +"Yes," she answered slowly, "somethin' has happened. Are you +dressed? Could you come down?" + +He replied that he would be down in a moment. When he came he +found her standing by the table waiting for him. The look of her +face in the lamplight shocked him. + +"Why, Mrs. Coffin!" he exclaimed. "What IS it? You look as if you +had been through some dreadful experience." + +"Maybe I have," she replied. "Maybe I have. Experiences like that +come to us all in this life, to old folks and young, and we have to +bear 'em like men and women. That's the test we're put to, Mr. +Ellery, and the way we come through the fire proves the stuff we're +made of. Sorrows and disappointments and heartbreaks and +sicknesses and death--" + +She paused on the word. He interrupted her. + +"Death?" he repeated. "Death? Is some one dead, some one I know? +Mrs. Coffin, what is it you are trying to tell me?" + +Her heart went out to him. She held out both her hands. + +"You poor boy," she cried, "I'm trying to tell you one of the +hardest things a body can tell. Yes, some one is dead, but that +ain't all. Eben Hammond, poor soul, is out of his troubles and +gone." + +"Eben Hammond! Captain Eben? Dead! Why, why--" + +"Yes, Eben's gone. He was took down sudden and died about ten +o'clock last night. I was there and--" + +"Captain Eben dead! Why, he was as well as--as-- She said-- Oh, +I must go! I must go at once!" + +He was on his way to the door, but she held it shut. + +"No," she said gravely, "you mustn't go. You mustn't go, Mr. +Ellery. That's the one thing you mustn't do." + +"You don't understand. By and by I can tell you why I must be +there, but now--" + +"I do understand. I understand it all. Lord help us! if I'd only +understood sooner, how much of this might have been spared. Why +DIDN'T you tell me?" + +"Mrs. Coffin--" + +"John--you won't mind my callin' you John. I'm old enough, pretty +nigh, to be your mother, and I've come to feel almost as if I was. +John, you've got to stay here with me. You can't go to that house. +You can't go to her." + +"Mrs. Coffin, what are you saying? Do you know-- Have you--" + +"Yes, I know all about it. I know about the meetin's in the pines +and all. Oh, why didn't you trust me and tell me? If you had, all +would have been SO much better!" + +He looked at her in utter amazement. The blood rushed to his face. + +"You know THAT?" he whispered. + +"Yes, I know." + +"Did she tell--" + +"No, nobody told. That is, only a little. I got a hint and I +suspicioned somethin' afore. The rest I saw with my own eyes." + +He was now white, but his jaw shot forward and his teeth closed. + +"If you do know," he said, "you must realize that my place is with +her. Now, when she is in trouble--" + +"Would you want to make that trouble greater? More than she could +bear?" + +"I think I might help her to bear it. Mrs. Coffin, you have been +my truest friend, but one, in Trumet. You HAVE been like a mother +to me. But I have thought this out to the end and I shall go +through with it. It is my affair--and hers. If my own mother were +alive and spoke as you do, I should still go through with it. It +is right, it is my life. I'm not ashamed of anything I've done. +I'm proud. I'm proud of her. And humble only when I think how +unworthy I am to be her husband. I suppose you are fearful of what +my congregation will say. Well, I've thought of that, too, and +thought it through. Whatever they say and whatever they do will +make no difference. Do you suppose I will let THEM keep me from +her? Please open that door." + +He was very tragic and handsome--and young, as he stood there. The +tears overflowed the housekeeper's eyes as she looked at him. If +her own love story had not been broken off at its beginning, if she +had not thrown her life away, she might have had a son like that. +She would have given all that the years had in store for her, given +it gladly, to have been able to open the door and bid him go. But +she was firm. + +"It ain't the congregation, John," she said. "Nor Trumet, nor your +ministry. That means more'n you think it does, now; but it ain't +that. You mustn't go to her because--well, because she don't want +you to." + +"Doesn't want me? I know better." He laughed in supreme scorn. + +"She doesn't want you, John. She wouldn't see you if you went. +She would send you away again, sure, sartin sure. She would. And +if you didn't go when she sent you, you wouldn't be the man I hope +you are. John, you mustn't see Grace again. She ain't yours. She +belongs to some one else." + +"Some one else!" He repeated the words in a whisper. "Some one +ELSE? Why, Mrs. Coffin, you must be crazy! If you expect me to--" + +"Hush! hush! I ain't crazy, though there's times when I wonder I +ain't. John, you and Grace have known each other for a few months, +that's all. You've been attracted to her because she was pretty +and educated and--and sweet; and she's liked you because you were +about the only young person who could understand her and--and all +that. And so you've been meetin' and have come to believe--you +have, anyway--that 'twas somethin' more than likin'. But you +neither of you have stopped to think that a marriage between you +two was as impossible as anything could be. And, besides, there's +another man. A man she's known all her life and loved and +respected--" + +"Stop, Mrs. Coffin! stop this wicked nonsense. I won't hear it." + +"John, Grace Van Horne is goin' to marry Cap'n Nat Hammond. There! +that's the livin' truth." + +In his absolute confidence and faith he had again started for the +door. Now he wheeled and stared at her. She nodded solemnly. + +"It's the truth," she repeated. "She and Nat are promised to each +other. Cap'n Eben, on his deathbed, asked Dr. Parker and me to be +witnesses to the engagement. Now you see why you mustn't go nigh +her again." + +He did not answer. Instead, he stood silently staring. She +stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. + +"Set down, John," she said. "Set down and let me tell you about +it. Yes, yes, you must. If I tell you, you'll understand better. +There! there! don't you interrupt me yet and don't you look that +way. Do set down." + +She led him over to the rocking-chair and gently forced him into +it. He obeyed, although with no apparent realization of what he +was doing. Still with her hand on his shoulder she went on +speaking. She told him of her visit to the Hammond tavern, saying +nothing of Mr. Pepper's call nor of her own experience in the +grove. She told of Captain Eben's seizure, of what the doctor +said, and of the old Come-Outer's return to consciousness. Then +she described the scene in the sick room and how Nat and Grace had +plighted troth. He listened, at first stunned and stolid, then +with growing impatience. + +"So you see," she said. "It's settled; they're engaged, and Dr. +Parker will tell everybody of the engagement this very mornin'. It +wa'n't any great surprise to me. Those two have been brought up +together; 'twas the natural thing that was almost bound to happen. +Eben's heart was set on it for years. And she'll have a good +husband, John, that I know. And she'll do her best to make him +happy. He's a good man and--" + +The minister sprang to his feet. + +"A good man!" he cried furiously. "A good man! One who will make +use of a dying father to drive a girl into-- Stand aside, Mrs. +Coffin!" + +"John, you mustn't speak that way of Nat Hammond. He ain't the +kind to drive a girl against her will. And Grace is not one to be +driven." + +"Are you blind? Can't you see? Why, only yesterday, she-- Do you +think I shall permit such a wicked crime as that to--" + +"Ss-sh! No, it ain't wicked, it's right. Right and best for +everybody, for her especial. Yesterday she might have forgot for a +minute. But think, just think what would have happened if she +cared for you." + +"But she does! I know she does. Mrs. Coffin, stand away from that +door." + +"No, John; if you go out of that door now, to go to her, you'll +have to go by main strength. You shan't wreck yourself and that +girl if I can help it. Be a man." + +The pair looked at each other. Keziah was determined, but so, +evidently, was he. She realized, with a sinking heart, that her +words had made absolutely no impression. He did not attempt to +pass, but he slowly shook his head. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "perhaps you believe you're doing right. I +hope--yes, I'll give you credit for that belief. But I KNOW I am +right and I shall go to her. Such a--a BARGAIN as that you have +just told me of is no more to be regarded than--" + +"John, I beg you--" + +"NO." + +"Then go. Go this minute and break her heart and ruin her life and +spoil her good name in this village where she's lived since she was +eight years old. Go! be selfish. I suppose that's part of a man's +make-up. Go! Never mind her. Go!" + +"I do 'mind' her, as you call it. I AM thinking of her." + +"No, you're not. It's yourself." + +"If it was myself--and God knows it is the only happiness on earth +for me--if it was only myself, and I really thought she wished me +to stay away, I'd stay, I'd stay, though I'd pray to die before +this hour was over." + +"I know, I know. I've prayed to die myself afore now, but I'm here +yet; and so will you be. We can't die so easy." + +"But I know--" + +"Do you suppose SHE would come to YOU if she knew it would be your +ruin?" + +He hesitated. The last time they met, ages before--no, only the +previous afternoon--she had told him it was his happiness and his +future only that she thought of. He choked and drew his hand +across his eyes. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "you tell me it will be her ruin. YOU tell +me so. You SAY she doesn't want me. I tell you that the only +thing that will keep me from her is hearing that from her own lips. +When she tells me to leave her I will, and not before." + +"She'll tell you, John; she'll tell you. I know you must despise +me, pretty nigh. I cal'late you think I'm a worldly old woman, +carin' nothin' for your feelin's. Maybe I've talked pretty hard in +the last few minutes, but I haven't meant to be hard. To be +honest, I didn't think you'd listen to me. I expected you'd insist +on seein' her yourself. Well, then, go and see her, if you must, +though what will come of it can only be more trouble, for you run +the risk of folks knowin' it and beginnin' to wonder. And I know +Grace. She's made up her mind and won't change it. But I do ask +you this: I ask you not to go now. Wait a little while, do. I +left her asleep, worn out by what she's been through and under the +effects of the doctor's sleepin' medicine. He said she must rest +or he was afraid her brain would give out. For her sake, then, +wait a little. Then, if you don't hear from her, maybe I can +arrange a meetin' place where you can see her without anyone's +knowin' it. I'll try. But do wait a little while, for her sake, +won't you?" + +At last he was listening and hesitating. + +"Won't you?" begged Keziah. + +"Yes," he answered slowly. "I'll wait. I'll wait until noon, +somehow, if I can. I'll try. But not a minute later. Not one. +You don't know what you're asking, Mrs. Coffin." + +"Yes, I do. I know well. And I thank you for her sake." + +But he did not have to wait until noon. At six o'clock, through +the dew-soaked grass of the yard, came the Higgins boy. For the +first time in his short life he had been awake all night and he +moved slowly. + +The housekeeper opened the door. Ike held up an envelope, clutched +in a grimy hand. + +"It's for you, Mrs. Keziah," he said. "Gracie, she sent it. There +ain't no answer." + +Keziah took the letter. "How is she? And how's Nat?" she asked. + +"They're doin' pretty well, so ma says. Ma's there now and they've +sent for Hannah Poundberry. Gee!" he added, yawning, "I ain't +slept a wink. Been on the jump, now I tell ye. Didn't none of +them Come-Outers git in, not one. I sent 'em on the home tack +abilin'. You ought to hear me give old Zeke Bassett Hail Columby! +Gosh! I was just ahopin' HE'D come." + +Mrs. Coffin closed the door and tore open the envelope. Within was +another addressed, in Grace's handwriting, to Mr. Ellery. The +housekeeper entered the study, handed it to him and turned away. + +The minister, who had been pacing the floor, seized the note +eagerly. It was written in pencil and by a hand that had trembled +much. Yet there was no indecision in the written words. + + +"Dear John," wrote Grace. "I presume Aunt Keziah has told you of +uncle's death and of my promise to Nat. It is true. I am going to +marry him. I am sure this is right and for the best. Our +friendship was a mistake and you must not see me again. Please +don't try. + +"GRACE VAN HORNE." + + +Beneath was another paragraph. + + +"Don't worry about me. I shall be happy, I am sure. And I shall +hope that you may be. I shall pray for that." + + +The note fell to the floor with a rustle that sounded loud in the +stillness. Then Keziah heard the minister's step. She turned. He +was moving slowly across the room. + +"John," she cried anxiously, "you poor boy!" + +He answered without looking back. + +"I'm--going--up--to--my--room," he said, a pause between each word. +"I want to be alone awhile, Mrs. Coffin." + +Wearily Keziah set about preparing breakfast. Not that she +expected the meal would be eaten, but it gave her something to do +and occupied her mind. The sun had risen and the light streamed in +at the parsonage windows. The breeze blew fresh and cool from the +ocean. It was a magnificent morning. + +She called to him that breakfast was ready, but he did not answer. +She could eat nothing herself, and, when the table was cleared, +prepared to do the week's washing, for Monday is always washday in +Trumet. Noon came, dinner time, but still he did not come down. +At last Keziah could stand it no longer. She determined to go to +him. She climbed the steep stairs and rapped on the door of his +room. + +"Yes?" she heard him say. + +"It's me," was the reply. "Mr. Ellery, can I come in? I know you +want to be alone, but I don't think you'd ought to be, too much. +I'd like to talk with you a few minutes; may I?" + +A moment passed before he told her to enter. He was sitting in a +chair by the window, dressed just as he had been when she returned +from the tavern. She looked sharply at his face as it was turned +toward her. His eyes were dry and in them was an expression so +hopeless and dreary that the tears started to her own. + +"John," she said, "I couldn't bear to think of your facin' it alone +up here. I just had to come." + +He smiled, and the smile was as hopeless as the look in his eyes. + +"Face it?" he repeated. "Well, Mrs. Coffin, I must face it, I +suppose. I've been facing it ever since--since I knew. And I find +it no easier." + +"John, what are you goin' to do?" + +He shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "Go away somewhere, +first of all, I guess. Go somewhere and--and try to live it down. +I can't, of course, but I must try." + +"Go away? Leave Trumet and your church and your congregation?" + +"Did you suppose I could stay here?" + +"I hoped you would." + +"And see the same people and the same places? And do the same +things? See--see HER! Did you"--he moved impatiently--"did you +expect me to attend the wedding?" + +She put out her hand. "I know it'll be hard," she said, "stayin' +here, I mean. But your duty to others--" + +"Don't you think we've heard enough about duty to others? How +about my duty to myself?" + +"I guess that's the last thing we ought to think about in the +world, if we do try to be fair and square. Your church thinks a +heap of you, John. They build on you. You've done more in the +little while you've been here than Mr. Langley did in his last +fifteen years. We've grown and we're doin' good--doin' it, not +talkin' it in prayer meetin'. The parish committee likes you and +the poor folks in the society love you. Old Mrs. Prince was +tellin' me, only a little spell ago, that she didn't know how she'd +have pulled through this dreadful time if 'twa'n't for you. And +there's lots of others. Are you goin' to leave them? And what +reason will you give for leavin'?" + +He shook his head. "I don't know," he answered. "I may not give +any. But I shall go." + +"I don't believe you will. I don't believe you're that kind. I've +watched you pretty sharp since you and I have been livin' together +and I have more faith in you than that comes to. You haven't acted +to me like a coward and I don't think you'll run away." + +"Mrs. Coffin, it is so easy for you to talk. Perhaps if I were in +your place I should be giving good advice about duty and not +running away and so on. But suppose you were in mine." + +"Well, suppose I was." + +"Suppose-- Oh, but there! it's past supposing." + +"I don't know's 'tis. My life hasn't been all sunshine and fair +winds, by no means." + +"That's true. I beg your pardon. You have had troubles and, from +what I hear, you've borne them bravely. But you haven't had to +face anything like this." + +"Haven't I? Well, what is it you're asked to face? Disappointment? +I've faced that. Sorrow and heartbreak? I've faced them." + +"You've never been asked to sit quietly by and see the one you love +more than all the world marry some one else." + +"How do you know I ain't? How do you know I ain't doin' just that +now?" + +"Mrs. Coffin!" + +"John Ellery, you listen to me. You think I'm a homely old woman, +probably, set in my ways as an eight-day clock. I guess I look +like it and act like it. But I ain't so awful old--on the edge of +forty, that's all. And when I was your age I wa'n't so awful +homely, either. I had fellers aplenty hangin' round and I could +have married any one of a dozen. This ain't boastin'; land knows +I'm fur from that. I was brought up in this town and even when I +was a girl at school there was only one boy I cared two straws +about. He and I went to picnics together and to parties and +everywhere. Folks used to laugh and say we was keepin' comp'ny, +even then. + +"Well, when I was eighteen, after father died, I went up to New +Bedford to work in a store there. Wanted to earn my own way. And +this young feller I'm tellin' you about went away to sea, but every +time he come home from a voyage he come to see me and things went +on that way till we was promised to each other. The engagement +wa'n't announced, but 'twas so, just the same. We'd have been +married in another year. And then we quarreled. + +"'Twas a fool quarrel, same as that kind gen'rally are. As much my +fault as his and as much his as mine, I cal'late. Anyhow, we was +both proud, or thought we was, and neither would give in. And he +says to me, 'You'll be sorry after I'm gone. You'll wish me back +then.' And says I, BEIN' a fool, 'I guess not. There's other fish +in the sea.' He sailed and I did wish him back, but I wouldn't +write fust and neither would he. And then come another man." + +She paused, hesitated, and then continued. + +"Never mind about the other man. He was handsome then, in a way, +and he had money to spend, and he liked me. He wanted me to marry +him. If--if the other, the one that went away, had written I never +would have thought of such a thing, but he didn't write. And, my +pride bein' hurt, and all, I finally said yes to the second chap. +My folks did all they could to stop it; they told me he was +dissipated, they said he had a bad name, they told me twa'n't a fit +match. And his people, havin' money, was just as set against his +takin' a poor girl. Both sides said ruin would come of it. But I +married him. + +"Well, for the first year 'twa'n't so bad. Not happiness exactly, +but not misery either. That come later. His people was well off +and he'd never worked much of any. He did for a little while after +we was married, but not for long. Then he begun to drink and carry +on and lost his place. Pretty soon he begun to neglect me and at +last went off to sea afore the mast. We was poor as poverty, but I +could have stood that; I did stand it. I took in sewin' and kept +up an appearance, somehow. Never told a soul. His folks come +patronizin' around and offered me money, so's I needn't disgrace +them. I sent 'em rightabout in a hurry. Once in a while he'd come +home, get tipsy and abuse me. Still I said nothin'. Thank God, +there was no children; that's the one thing I've been thankful for. + +"You can't keep such things quiet always. People are bound to find +out. They come to me and said, 'Why don't you leave him?' but I +wouldn't. I could have divorced him easy enough, there was reasons +plenty, but I wouldn't do that. Then word came that he was dead, +drowned off in the East Indies somewheres. I come back here to +keep house for Sol, my brother, and I kept house for him till he +died and they offered me this place here at the parsonage. There! +that's my story, part of it, more'n I ever told a livin' soul +afore, except Sol." + +She ceased speaking. The minister, who had sat silent by the +window, apathetically listening or trying to listen, turned his +head. + +"I apologize, Mrs. Coffin," he said dully, "you have had trials, +hard ones. But--" + +"But they ain't as hard as yours, you think? Well, I haven't quite +finished yet. After word come of my husband's death, the other man +come and wanted me to marry him. And I wanted to--oh, how I wanted +to! I cared as much for him as I ever did; more, I guess. But I +wouldn't--I wouldn't, though it wrung my heart out to say no. I +give him up--why? 'cause I thought I had a duty laid on me." + +Ellery sighed. "I can see but one duty," he said. "That is the +duty given us by God, to marry the one we love." + +Keziah's agitation, which had grown as she told her story, suddenly +flashed into flame. + +"Is that as fur as you can see?" she asked fiercely. "It's an easy +duty, then--or looks easy now. I've got a harder one; it's to +stand by the promise I gave and the man I married." + +He looked at her as if he thought she had lost her wits. + +"The man you married?" he replied. "Why, the man you married is +dead." + +"No, he ain't. You remember the letter you saw me readin' that +night when you come back from Come-Outers' meetin'? Well, that +letter was from him. He's alive." + +For the first time during the interview the minister rose to his +feet, shocked out of his despair and apathy by this astounding +revelation. + +"Alive?" he repeated. "Your husband ALIVE? Why, Mrs. Coffin, this +is--" + +She waved him to silence. "Don't stop me now," she said. "I've +told so much; let me tell the rest. Yes, he's alive. Alive and +knockin' round the world somewheres. Every little while he writes +me for money and, if I have any, I send it to him. Why? Why +'cause I'm a coward, after all, I guess, and I'm scared he'll do +what he says he will and come back. Perhaps you think I'm a fool +to put up with it; that's what most folks would say if they knew +it. They'd tell me I ought to divorce him. Well, I can't, I +CAN'T. I walked into the mess blindfold; I married him in spite of +warnin's and everything. I took him for better or for worse, and +now that he's turned out worse, I must take my medicine. I can't +live with him--that I can't do--but while HE lives I'll stay his +wife and give him what money I can spare. That's the duty I told +you was laid on me, and it's a hard one, but I don't run away from +it." + +John Ellery was silent. What could he say? Keziah went on. + +"I don't run away from it," she exclaimed, "and you mustn't run +away from yours. Your church depends on you, they trust you. Are +you goin' to show 'em their trust was misplaced? The girl you +wanted is to marry another man, that's true, and it's mighty hard. +But she'll marry a good man, and, by and by, she'll be happy." + +"Happy!" he said scornfully. + +"Yes, happy. I know she'll be happy because I know she's doin' +what'll be best for her and because I know him that's to be her +husband. I've known him all my life; he's that other one that-- +that--and I give him up to her; yes, I give him up to her, and try +to do it cheerful, because I know it's best for him. Hard for YOU? +Great Lord A'mighty! do you think it ain't hard for ME? I--I--" + +She stopped short; then covering her face with her apron, she ran +from the room. John Ellery heard her descending the stairs, +sobbing as she went. + +All that afternoon he remained in his chair by the window. It was +six o'clock, supper time, when he entered the kitchen. Keziah, +looking up from the ironing board, saw him. He was white and worn +and grim, but he held out his hand to her. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "I'm not going away. You've shown me what +devotion to duty really means. I shall stay here and go on with my +work." + +Her face lit up. "Will you?" she said. "I thought you would. I +was sure you was that kind." + + +CHAPTER XIV + +IN WHICH THE SEA MIST SAILS + + +They buried Captain Eben in the little Come-Outer cemetery at the +rear of the chapel. A bleak, wind-swept spot was that cemetery, +bare of trees and with only a few graves and fewer headstones, for +the Come-Outers were a comparatively new sect and their graveyard +was new in consequence. The grave was dug in the yellow sand +beside that of Mrs. Hammond, Nat's mother, and around it gathered +the fifty or sixty friends who had come to pay their last tribute +to the old sailor and tavern keeper. + +The Come-Outers were there, all of them, and some members of the +Regular society, Captain Zeb Mayo, Dr. Parker, Keziah Coffin, Mrs. +Higgins, and Ike. Mrs. Didama Rogers was there also, not as a +mourner, but because, in her capacity as gatherer of gossip, she +made it a point never to miss a funeral. The Rev. Absalom Gott, +Come-Outer exhorter at Wellmouth, preached the short sermon, and +Ezekiel Bassett added a few remarks. Then a hymn was sung and it +was over. The little company filed out of the cemetery, and +Captain Eben Hammond was but a memory in Trumet. + +Keziah lingered to speak a word with Grace. The girl, looking very +white and worn, leaned on the arm of Captain Nat, whose big body +acted as a buffer between her and over-sympathetic Come-Outers. +Mrs. Coffin silently held out both hands and Grace took them +eagerly. + +"Thank you for coming, Aunt Keziah," she said. "I was sure you +would." + +"Least I could do, deary," was the older woman's answer. "Your +uncle and I was good friends once; we haven't seen each other so +often of late years, but that ain't changed my feelin's. Now you +must go home and rest. Don't let any of these"--with a rather +scornful glance at Josiah Badger and Ezekiel and the Reverend +Absalom--"these Job's comforters bother you. Nat, you see that +they let her alone, won't you?" + +Captain Nat nodded. He, too, looked very grave and worn. "I'll +tend to them," he said shortly. "Come, Grace," he added; "let's +go." + +But the girl hung back. "Just a minute, Nat," she said. "I--I-- +would you mind if I spoke to Aunt Keziah--alone? I only want to +say a word." + +Nat strode off to the cemetery gate, where Josiah Badger stood, +brandishing a red cotton handkerchief as a not too-clean emblem of +mourning. Mr. Badger eagerly sprang forward, but ran into an +impossible barrier in the form of the captain's outstretched arm. +Josiah protested and the captain replied. Grace leaned forward. + +"Auntie," she whispered, "tell me: Did a letter-- Did he--" + +"Yes, it came. I gave it to him." + +"Did--did he tell you? Do you know?" + +"Yes, I know, deary." + +"Did he--is he--" + +"He's well, deary. He'll be all right. I'll look out for him." + +"You will, won't you? You won't let him do anything--" + +"Not a thing. Don't worry. We've had a long talk and he's going +to stay right here and go on with his work. And nobody else'll +ever know, Gracie." + +"How-- O Aunt Keziah! how he must despise me." + +"Despise you! For doin' what was your duty? Nonsense! He'll +respect you for it and come to understand 'twas best for both of +you, by and by. Don't worry about him, Gracie. I tell you I'll +look out for him." + +"I guess it will be better if he does despise me. And hate me, +too. He can't despise and hate me more than I do myself. But it +IS right--what I'm doing; and the other was wrong and wicked. +Auntie, you'll come and see me, won't you? I shall be so +lonesome." + +"Yes, yes; I'll come. Perhaps not right away. There's reasons why +I'd better not come right away. But, by and by, after it's all +settled and you and Nat"--she hesitated for an instant in spite of +herself--"after you and Nat are married I'll come." + +"Don't talk about that NOW. Please don't." + +"All right, I won't. You be a good, brave girl and look out for +Nat; that's your duty and I'm sure you'll do it. And I'll do my +best for John." + +"Do you call him John?" + +"Yup. We had a sort of--of adoptin' ceremony the other mornin' and +I-- Well, you see, I've got to have somebody to call by their +front name and he's about all I've got left." + +"O Aunt Keziah! if I could be one half as patient and brave and +sweet as you are--" + +"Sssh! here comes Nat. Be kind to him. He's sufferin', too; maybe +more'n you imagine. Here she is, Nat. Take her back home and be +good to her." + +The broad-shouldered skipper led his charge out of the gate and +down the "Turn-off." Josiah Badger looked after them disgustedly. +As Keziah approached, he turned to her. + +"I swan to man!" he exclaimed, in offended indignation, "if I ain't +losin' my respect for that Nat Hammond. He's the f-f-fuf- +for'ardest critter ever I see. I was just agoin' to hail Gracie +and ask her what she thought about my leadin' some of the meetin's +now her uncle has been called aloft. I wanted to ask her about it +fust, afore Zeke Bassett got ahead of me, but that Nat wouldn't let +me. Told me she mustn't be b-b-b-bothered about little things now. +LITTLE things! Now, what do you think of that, Mrs. Coffin? And I +spoke to Lot Taylor, one of our own s-s-sas-sassiety, and asked +what he thought of it, and he said for me to go home set d-d-down +and let my h-h-h-hah-hair grow. Of all--" + +"I tell you what you do, Josiah," broke in the voice of Captain Zeb +Mayo, "you go home or somewhere else and set down and have it cut. +That'll take pretty nigh as long, and'll keep it from wearin' out +your coat collar. Keziah, I've been waitin' for you. Get in my +shay and I'll drive you back to the parsonage." + +Mrs. Coffin accepted the invitation and a seat in the chaise beside +Captain Zeb. The captain spoke of the dead Come-Outer and of his +respect for him in spite of the difference in creed. He also spoke +of the Rev. John Ellery and of the affection he had come to feel +for the young man. + +"I like that young feller, Keziah," he said. "Like him for a lot +of reasons, same as the boy liked the hash. For one thing, his +religion ain't all starch and no sugar. He's good-hearted and kind +and--and human. He seems to get just as much satisfaction out of +the promise of heaven as he does out of the sartainty of t'other +port. He ain't all the time bangin' the bulkhead and sniffin' +brimstone, like parsons I have seen. Sulphur's all right for a +spring medicine, maybe, but when June comes I like to remember that +God made roses. Elkanah, he comes to me a while ago and he says, +'Zebedee,' he says, 'don't you think Mr. Ellery's sermons might be +more orthodox?' 'Yes,' says I, 'they might be, but what a mercy +'tis they ain't.' He, he, he! I kind of like to poke Elkanah in +the shirt front once in a while, just to hear it crackle. Say, +Keziah, you don't think the minister and Annabel are--" + +"No," was the emphatic interruption; "I know they ain't; he ain't, +anyway." + +"Good! Them Danielses cal'late they own the most of this town +already; if they owned the minister they'd swell up so the rest of +us would have to go aloft or overboard; we'd be crowded off the +decks, sure." + +"No one owns him. Haven't you found that out?" + +"Yup, I cal'late I have and I glory in his spunk." + +"I'm glad to hear you say so. Of course Cap'n Elkanah is boss of +the parish committee and--" + +"What? No, he ain't nuther. He's head of it, but his vote counts +just one and no more. What makes you say that?" + +"Oh, nuthin'. Only I thought maybe, long as Elkanah was feelin' +that Mr. Ellery wa'n't orthodox enough, he might be goin' to make a +change." + +"He might? HE might! Say, Keziah Coffin, there was Mayos in this +town and in this church afore the fust Daniels ever washed ashore; +and they'll be here when the last one blows up with his own +importance. I'm on that parish committee--you understand?--and +I've sailed ships and handled crews. I ain't so old nor feeble but +what I can swing a belayin' pin. Boss! I'll have you to know that +no livin' man bosses me." + +"All right! I didn't mean to stir you up, Zebedee. But from +things Cap'n Daniels has said I gathered that he was runnin' the +committee. And, as I'm a friend of Mr. Ellery, it--" + +"Friend! Well, so'm I, ain't I? If you ever hear of Daniels +tryin' any tricks against the minister, you send for me, that's +all. I'LL show him. Boss! Humph!" + +The wily Keziah alighted at the parsonage gate with the feeling +that she had sown seed in fertile ground. She was quite aware of +Captain Zeb's jealousy of the great Daniels. And the time might +come when her parson needed an influential friend on the committee +and in the Regular society. + +The news of the engagement between Captain Nat Hammond and Grace +Van Horne, told by Dr. Parker to one or two of his patients, spread +through Trumet like measles through a family of small children. +Didama Rogers learned it, so did Lavinia Pepper, and after that it +might as well have been printed on the walls for all to read. It +was talked over and gossiped about in every household from the +lighthouse keeper's family to that of George Washington Cash, who +lived in the one-room hovel in the woods near the Wellmouth line, +and was a person of distinction, in his way, being the sole negro +in the county. And whenever it was discussed it was considered a +fine thing for both parties concerned. Almost everyone said it was +precisely what they expected. + +Annabel Daniels and her father had not expected it. They were, +however, greatly pleased. In their discussion, which lasted far +into the night, Captain Elkanah expressed the opinion that the +unexpected denouement was the result of his interview with Eben. +He had told the old Come-Outer what would happen to his ward if she +persisted in her impudent and audacious plot to entrap a Regular +clergyman. She, being discovered, had yielded, perforce, and had +accepted Nat as the next best catch. + +Annabel was not satisfied with this explanation. Of course, she +said, she did not pretend to believe Grace's statement that she had +found her uncle unconscious. No doubt the pair had had an +interview and all that. But she believed the minister himself had +come to his senses and had dismissed the brazen creature. She did +not blame Mr. Ellery so much. He was a young man, with a kind +heart, and no doubt the "Van Horne person" had worked upon his +sympathies and had taken advantage of his inexperience of feminine +wiles. + +"I think, pa," she said, "that it's our duty, yours and mine, to +treat him just as we always have. He doesn't know that we know, +and we will keep the secret. And, as Christians, we should forget +and forgive. We'll invite him here as we always have, keep him +under our good influence, and be very kind to him, poor innocent. +As for Captain Hammond, I'm sorry for him, knowing the kind of wife +he is going to have, but no doubt Come-Outers are not particular." + +Kyan Pepper was another whom the news of the engagement surprised +greatly. When Lavinia told him of it, at the dinner table, he +dropped the knife he was holding and the greasy section of fish- +ball balanced upon it. + +"'Bishy," said Miss Pepper, "what do you s'pose has happened down +to the Hammond tavern?" + +"Oh, I know that," was the reply. "I heard that long ago; Cap'n +Eben's dead." + +"'Course he's dead; and I knew you knew it. Land sakes! don't be +such a ninny. Why, I told you myself." + +"Well, I didn't know but you'd forgot. Anybody's li'ble to forget +who they've told things to. Why, I've forgot more things--" + +"Yes, there ain't no doubt about that. I've told you a million +times, if I have once, to tuck your napkin round your neck when +you've got your Sunday clothes on. And there you be this minute +without a sign of a napkin." + +"Why, Laviny! I MUST have it round my neck. I know I--" + +"Don't be so foolish! Think I'm blind? Can't I see you ain't got +it? Now where is it?" + +Kyan began a futile hunt for the missing napkin, in his lap, on the +table, and finally under it. + +"I don't understand," he stammered, "where that napkin can be. I'm +just as sure I had it and now I'm just as sure I ain't got it. +What do you s'pose I done with it?" + +"Goodness knows! 'Twouldn't surprise me if you'd et it, you're +that absent-minded. Here! what's that stickin' out of your breast +pocket?" + +Her brother put his hand to the pocket indicated and produced the +missing napkin, much crumpled. + +"There!" he exclaimed, in a tone of relief. "Now I remember. It +must have dropped on the floor and I thought 'twas my handkerchief +and picked it up and--" + +"What did you think you'd be carryin' a white handkerchief for, on +a week day?" + +"Well, I had on my Sunday suit and--" + +"Yes, and for the dear mercy sakes WHY have you got it on?" + +Kyan saw an opportunity for self-justification. + +"You TOLD me to put it on," he declared triumphantly. "You said +yourself I'd better rig out in my Sunday clothes 'cause we might go +to Eben's funeral. You know you did." + +"Hear the man! And then, after you've dressed up to go to his +funeral, you pretend to believe I'm goin' to tell you he's dead. I +never--" + +"Well, what IS it, then? He ain't come to life, has he?" + +"Grace Van Horne's engaged to be married, that's what it is. Look +out! Oh, you--" + +Just here occurred the accident already described. Knife and fish +ball descended upon the waistcoat belonging to the "Sunday suit." +Lavinia flew for warm water, ammonia, and a cloth, and the soiled +waistcoat was industriously scrubbed. The cleansing process was +accompanied by a lively tongue lashing, to which Kyan paid little +attention. + +"Engaged?" he kept repeating. "Gracie Van Horne engaged? Engaged? +En--" + +"Be still, you poll parrot! Dear! dear! dear! look at them spots. +Yes, yes; don't say it again; she's engaged." + +"Who--who--who--" + +"Now you've turned to an owl, I do believe. 'Hoo! hoo!' She's +engaged to Nat Hammond, that's who. Nothin' very surprisin' about +that, is there?" + +Kyan made no answer. He rubbed his forehead, while his sister +rubbed the grease spots. In jerky sentences she told of the +engagement and how the news had reached her. + +"I can't believe it," faltered Abishai. "She goin' to marry Nat! +Why, I can't understand. I thought--" + +"What did you think? See here! you ain't keepin' anything from me, +be you?" + +The answer was enthusiastically emphatic. + +"No, no, no, no!" declared Kyan. "Only I didn't know they was-- +was--" + +"Neither did anybody else, but what of it? Folks don't usually +advertise when they're keepin' comp'ny, do they?" + +"No--o. But it's gen'rally found out. I know if I was keepin' +comp'ny--or you was, La-viny--" + +His sister started. + +"What makes you say that?" she demanded, looking quickly up from +her rubbing. + +"Why, nothin'. Only if I was--or you was, somebody'd see somethin' +suspicious and kind of drop a hint, and--" + +"Better for them if they 'tended to their own affairs," was the +sharp answer. "I ain't got any patience with folks that's always +talkin' about their neighbor's doin's. There! now you go out and +stand alongside the cook stove till that wet place dries. Don't +you move till 'TIS dry, neither." + +So to the kitchen went Kyan, to stand, a sort of living +clotheshorse, beside the hot range. But during the drying process +he rubbed his forehead many times. Remembering what he had seen in +the grove he could not understand; but he also remembered, even +more vividly, what Keziah Coffin had promised to do if he ever +breathed a word. And he vowed again that that word should not be +breathed. + +The death and funeral of Captain Eben furnished Trumet with a +subject of conversation for a week or more. Then, at the sewing +circle and at the store and after prayer meeting, both at the +Regular meeting house and the Come-Outer chapel, speculation +centered on the marriage of Nat and Grace. When was it to take +place? Would the couple live at the old house and "keep packet +tavern" or would the captain go to sea again, taking his bride with +him? Various opinions, pro and con, were expressed by the +speculators, but no one could answer authoritatively, because none +knew except those most interested, and the latter would not tell. + +John Ellery heard the discussions at the sewing circle when, in +company with some of the men of his congregation, he dropped in at +these gatherings for tea after the sewing was over. He heard them +at church, before and after the morning service, and when he made +pastoral calls. People even asked his opinion, and when he changed +the subject inferred, some of them, that he did not care about the +doings of Come-Outers. Then they switched to inquiries concerning +his health. + +"You look awful peaked lately, Mr. Ellery," said Didama Rogers. +"Ain't you feelin' well?" + +The minister answered that he was as well as usual, or thought he +was. + +"No, no, you ain't nuther," declared Didama. "You look's if you +was comin' down with a spell of somethin'. I ain't the only one +that's noticed it. Why, Thankful Payne says to me only yesterday, +'Didama,' says she, 'the minister's got somethin' on his mind and +it's wearin' of him out.' You ain't got nothin' on your mind, have +you, Mr. Ellery?" + +"I guess not, Mrs. Rogers. It's a beautiful afternoon, isn't it? + +"There! I knew you wa'n't well. A beautiful afternoon, and it +hotter'n furyation and gettin' ready to rain at that! Don't tell +me! 'Tain't your mind, Mr. Ellery, it's your blood that's gettin' +thin. My husband had a spell just like it a year or two afore he +died, and the doctor said he needed rest and a change. Said he'd +ought to go away somewheres by himself. I put my foot down on THAT +in a hurry. 'The idea!' I says. 'You, a sick man, goin' off all +alone by yourself to die of lonesomeness. If you go, I go with +you.' So him and me went up to Boston and it rained the whole week +we was there, and we set in a little box of a hotel room with a +window that looked out at a brick wall, and set and set and set, +and that's all. I kept talkin' to him to cheer him up, but he +never cheered. I'd talk to him for an hour steady and when I'd +stop and ask a question he'd only groan and say yes, when he meant +no. Finally, I got disgusted, after I'd asked him somethin' four +or five times and he'd never answered, and I told him, I believed +he was gettin' deef. 'Lordy!' he says, ' I wish I was!' Well, +that was enough for ME. Says I, 'If your mind's goin' to give out +we'd better be home.' So home we come. And that's all the good +change and rest done HIM. Hey? What did you say, Mr. Ellery?" + +"Er--oh, nothing, nothing, Mrs. Rogers." + +"Yes. So home we come and I'd had enough of doctors to last. I +figgered out that his blood was thinnin' and I knew what was good +for that. My great Aunt Hepsy, that lived over to East Wellmouth, +she was a great hand for herbs and such and she'd give me a receipt +for thickenin' the blood that was somethin' wonderful. It had more +kind of healin' herbs in it than you could shake a stick at. I +cooked a kittleful and got him to take a dose four times a day. He +made more fuss than a young one about takin' it. Said it tasted +like the Evil One, and such profane talk, and that it stuck to his +mouth so's he couldn't relish his vittles; but I never let up a +mite. He had to take it and it done him a world of good. Now I've +got that receipt yet, Mr. Ellery, and I'll make some of that +medicine for you. I'll fetch it down to-morrow. Yes, yes, I will. +I'm agoin' to, so you needn't say no. And perhaps I'll have heard +somethin' about Cap'n Nat and Grace by that time." + +She brought the medicine, and the minister promptly, on her +departure, handed it over to Keziah, who disposed of it just as +promptly. + +"What did I do with it?" repeated the housekeeper. "Well, I'll +tell you. I was kind of curious to see what 'twas like, so I took +a teaspoonful. I did intend to pour the rest of it out in the +henyard, but after that taste I had too much regard for the hens. +So I carried it way down to the pond and threw it in, jug and all. +B-r-r-r! Of all the messes that--I used to wonder what made Josh +Rogers go moonin' round makin' his lips go as if he was crazy. I +thought he was talkin' to himself, but now I know better, he was +TASTIN'. B-r-r-r!" + +Keziah was the life of the gloomy parsonage. Without her the +minister would have broken down. Time and time again he was +tempted to give up, in spite of his promise, and leave Trumet, but +her pluck and courage made him ashamed of himself and he stayed to +fight it out. She watched him and tended him and "babied" him as +if he was a spoiled child, pretending to laugh at herself for doing +it and at him for permitting it. She cooked the dishes he liked +best, she mended his clothes, she acted as a buffer between him and +callers who came at inopportune times. She was cheerful always +when he was about, and no one would have surmised that she had a +sorrow in the world. But Ellery knew and she knew he knew, so the +affection and mutual esteem between the two deepened. He called +her "Aunt Keziah" at her request and she continued to call him +"John." This was in private, of course; in public he was "Mr. +Ellery" and she "Mrs. Coffin." + +In his walks about town he saw nothing of Grace. She and Mrs. +Poundberry and Captain Nat were still at the old home and no one +save themselves knew what their plans might be. Yet, oddly enough, +Ellery was the first outsider to learn these plans and that from +Nat himself. + +He met the captain at the corner of the "Turnoff" one day late in +August. He tried to make his bow seem cordial, but was painfully +aware that it was not. Nat, however, seemed not to notice, but +crossed the road and held out his hand. + +"How are you, Mr. Ellery?" he said. "I haven't run across you for +sometime. What's the matter? Seems to me you look rather under +the weather." + +Ellery answered that he was all right and, remembering that he had +not met the captain since old Hammond's death, briefly expressed +his sympathy. His words were perfunctory and his manner cold. His +reason told him that this man was not to blame--was rather to be +pitied, if Keziah's tale was true. Yet it is hard to pity the one +who is to marry the girl you love. Reason has little to do with +such matters. + +"Well, Mr. Ellery," said Captain Nat, "I won't keep you. I see +you're in a hurry. Just thought I'd run alongside a minute and say +good-by. Don't know's I'll see you again afore I sail." + +"Before you sail? You--you are going away?" + +"Yup. My owners have been after me for a good while, but I +wouldn't leave home on account of dad's health. Now he's gone, +I've got to be gettin' back on salt water again. My ship's been +drydocked and overhauled and she's in New York now loadin' for +Manila. It's a long vy'age, even if I come back direct, which +ain't likely. So I may not see the old town again for a couple of +years. Take care of yourself, won't you? Good men, especially +ministers, are scurse, and from what I hear about you I cal'late +Trumet needs you." + +"When are you going?" + +"Last of next week, most likely." + +"Will you--shall you go alone? Are you to be--to be--" + +"Married? No. Grace and I have talked it over and we've agreed +it's best to wait till I come back. You see, dad's been dead such +a little while, and all, that--well, we're goin' to wait, anyhow. +She'll stay in the old house with Hannah, and I've fixed things so +she'll be provided for while I'm gone. I left it pretty much to +her. If she'd thought it best for us to marry now, I cal'late I +should have--have--well, done what she wanted. But she didn't. +Ah, hum!" he added with a sigh; "she's a good girl, a mighty good +girl. Well, so long and good luck." + +"Good-by, captain." + +"Good-by. Er--I say, Mr. Ellery, how things at the parsonage? All +well there, are you?" + +"Yes." + +"Er--Keziah--Mrs. Coffin, your housekeeper, is she smart?" + +"Yes. She's well." + +"That's good. Say, you might tell her good-by for me, if you want +to. Tell her I wished her all the luck there was. And--and--just +say that there ain't any--well, that her friend--say just that, +will you?--her FRIEND said 'twas all right. She'll understand; +it's a--a sort of joke between us." + +"Very good, captain; I'll tell her." + +"Much obliged. And just ask her to keep an eye on Grace while I'm +gone. Tell her I leave Gracie under her wing. Keziah and me are +old chums, in a way, you see." + +"Yes. I'll tell her that, too." + +"And don't forget the 'friend' part. Well, so long." + +They shook hands and parted. + +Didama and her fellow news-venders distributed the tale of Captain +Nat's sailing broadcast during the next few days. There was much +wonderment at the delayed marriage, but the general verdict was +that Captain Eben's recent death and the proper respect due to it +furnished sufficient excuse. Hannah Poundberry, delighted at being +so close to the center of interest, talked and talked, and thus +Grace was spared the interviews which would have been a trouble to +her. Nat left town, via the packet, on the following Wednesday. +Within another week came the news that his ship, the Sea Mist, had +sailed from New York, bound for Manila. Her topsails sank beneath +the horizon, and she vanished upon the wild waste of tumbling waves +and out of Trumet's knowledge, as many another vessel, manned and +officered by Cape Cod men, had done. The village talked of her and +her commander for a few days and then forgot them both. Only at +the old home by the landing and at the parsonage were they +remembered. + + +CHAPTER XV + +IN WHICH TRUMET TALKS OF CAPTAIN NAT + + +Summer was over, autumn came, passed, and it was winter--John +Ellery's first winter in Trumet. Fish weirs were taken up, the bay +filled with ice, the packet ceased to run, and the village settled +down to hibernate until spring. The stage came through on its +regular trips, except when snow or slush rendered the roads +impassable, but passengers were very few. Occasionally there were +northeast gales, with shrieking winds, driving gusts of sleet and +hail and a surf along the ocean side that bellowed and roared and +tore the sandy beach into new shapes, washing away shoals and +building others, blocking the mouth of the little inlet where the +fish boats anchored and opening a new channel a hundred yards +farther down. Twice there were wrecks, one of a fishing schooner, +the crew of which were fortunate enough to escape by taking to the +dories, and another, a British bark, which struck on the farthest +bar and was beaten to pieces by the great waves, while the +townspeople stood helplessly watching from the shore, for launching +a boat in that surf was impossible. + +The minister was one of those who watched. News of the disaster +had been brought to the village by the lightkeeper's assistant, and +Ellery and most of the able-bodied men in town had tramped the +three miles to the beach, facing the screaming wind and the cutting +blasts of flying sand. As they came over the dunes there were +times when they had to dig their heels into the ground and bend +forward to stand against the freezing gale. And, as they drew +nearer, the thunder of the mighty surf grew ever louder, until they +saw the white clouds of spray leap high above the crazily tossing, +flapping bunches of beach grass that topped the last knoll. + +Three masts and a broken bowsprit sticking slantwise up from a +whirl of creamy white, that was all they could see of the bark, at +first glance. But occasionally, as the breakers drew back for +another cruel blow, they caught glimpses of the tilted deck, +smashed bare of houses and rail. + +"Those black things on the masts?" asked Ellery, bending to scream +the question into the ear of Gaius Winslow, his companion. "Are +they--it can't be possible that they're--" + +"Yup," shrieked Gaius in reply, "they're men. Crew lashed in the +riggin'. Poor fellers! it'll soon be over for 'em. And they're +most likely frozen stiff a'ready and won't sense drownin', that's a +comfort." + +"Men!" repeated the minister in horror. Men! Great God! and are +we to stand by here and see them die without lifting a hand? Why, +it's barbarous! It's--" + +Winslow seized his arm and pointed. + +"Look!" he shouted. "Look at them! How much good would our +liftin' hands do against them?" + +Ellery looked. The undertow, that second, was sucking the beach +dry, sucking with such force that gravel and small stones pattered +down the slope in showers. And behind it a wave, its ragged top +raveled by the wind into white streamers, was piling up, up, up, +sheer and green and mighty, curling over now and descending with a +hammer blow that shook the land beneath their feet. And back of it +reared another, and another, and another, an eighth of a mile of +whirling, surging, terrific breakers, with a yelling hurricane +whipping them on. + +It was soon over, as Gaius had said it would be. A mighty leap of +spray, a section of hull broken off and tossed into view for an +instant, then two of the masts went down. The other followed +almost at once. Then the watchers, most of them, went back to the +village, saying little or nothing and dispersing silently to their +homes. + +During the next fortnight John Ellery conducted six funeral +services, brief prayers beside the graves of unknown men from that +wreck. The bodies, as they were washed ashore, were put into plain +coffins paid for by the board of selectmen, and buried in the +corner of the Regular cemetery beside other waifs thrown up by the +sea in other years. It was a sad experience for him, but it was an +experience and tended to make him forget his own sorrow just a +little. Or, if not to forget, at least to think of and sympathize +more keenly with the sorrows of others. Somewhere, in England or +Ireland or scattered over the wide world, there were women and +children waiting for these men, waiting anxiously for news of their +safe arrival in port, praying for them. When he mentioned this +thought to the townspeople they nodded philosophically and said +yes, they "presumed likely." As Captain Zeb put it, "Most sailors +are fools enough to get married, prob'ly this lot wa'n't any +exception." It was no new thought to him or to any other dweller +in that region. It was almost a fixed certainty that, if you went +to sea long enough, you were bound to be wrecked sometime or other. +The chances were that, with ordinary luck and good management, you +would escape with your life. Luck, good or bad, was the risk of +the trade; good management was expected, as a matter of course. + +Mr. Pepper made no more calls at the parsonage, and when the +minister met him, at church or elsewhere, seemed anxious to avoid +an interview. + +"Well, Abishai," asked Ellery, on one of these occasions, "how are +you getting on at home? Has your sister locked you up again?" + +"No, sir, she ain't," replied Kyan. "Laviny, she's sort of +diff'rent lately. She ain't nigh so--so down on a feller as she +used to be. I can get out once in a while by myself nowadays, when +she wants to write a letter or somethin'." + +"Oh, she's writing letters, is she?" + +"Um--hm. Writes one about every once in a week. I don't know who +they're to, nuther, but I have my suspicions. You see, we've got a +cousin out West--out Pennsylvany way--and he ain't very well and +has got a turrible lot of money. I'm sort of surmisin' that +Laviny's writin' to him. We're about his only relations that's +left alive and--and so--" + +"I see." The minister smiled. + +"Yup. Laviny's a pretty good navigator, fur's keepin' an eye to +wind'ard is concerned. She was awful down on Phineas--that's his +name--'cause he married a Philadelphy woman, but he's a widower man +now, so I s'pose she feels better toward him. She's talkin' of +goin' up to Sandwich pretty soon." + +"She IS? Alone?" + +"So she says." + +"To leave you here? Why! well, I'm surprised." + +"Godfreys mighty! so be I. But she says she b'lieves she needs a +change and there's church conference up there, you know, and she +figgers that she ain't been to conference she don't know when. I +s'pose you'll go, won't you, Mr. Ellery?" + +"Probably." + +"Um--hm. I kind of wisht I was goin' myself. 'Twill be kind of +lonesome round home without her." + +Considering that that variety of lonesomeness had been Abishai's +dream of paradise for years, Ellery thought his change of heart a +good joke and told Keziah of it when he returned to the parsonage. +The housekeeper was greatly surprised. + +"Well! well! well!" she exclaimed. "Miracles'll never cease. I +don't wonder so much at Laviny wantin' to go to conference, but her +darin' to go and leave Kyan at home is past belief. Why, every +time she's had a cold her one fear was that she'd die and leave +'Bish behind to be kidnaped by some woman. Kyan himself was sick +once, and the story was that his sister set side of the bed night +and day and read him over and over again that chapter in the Bible +that says there's no marryin' or givin' in marriage in heaven. Dr. +Parker told me that he didn't believe 'Bish got ha'f the comfort +out of that passage that she did. And now she's goin' to Sandwich +and leave him. I can't think it's true." + +But it was true, and Lavinia got herself elected a delegate and +went, in company with Captain Elkanah, Mrs. Mayo, and others, to +the conference. She was a faithful attendant at the meetings and +seemed to be having a very good time. She introduced the minister +to one Caleb Pratt, a resident of Sandwich, whom she said she had +known ever since she was a girl. + +"Mr. Pratt's a cousin to Thankful Payne over to home," volunteered +Lavinia. "You know Thankful, Mr. Ellery." + +Ellery did know Mrs. Payne and said so. Mr. Pratt, who was dressed +in a new suit of black which appeared to hurt him, imparted the +information that he'd heard tell consider'ble of Mr. Ellery. + +"I enjoyed your sermon to-night fust--rate," he added solemnly. +"Fust--rate, sir--yes." + +"Did you, indeed? I'm glad." + +"Yes, sir. You used words in that sermon that I never heard afore +in my life. 'Twas grand." + +Lavinia confided to her pastor that Mr. Pratt made the best shoes +in Ostable County. He could fit ANY kind of feet, she declared, +and the minister ought to try him sometime. She added that he had +money in the bank. + +The Reverend John rode home in the stage beside Miss Annabel, not +from choice, but because the young lady's father insisted upon it. +Miss Daniels gushed and enthused as she always did. As they drove +by the Corners the minister, who had been replying absently to +Annabel's questions, suddenly stopped short in the middle of a +sentence. His companion, leaning forward to look out of the +window, saw Grace Van Horne entering the store. For an instant +Annabel's face wore a very unpleasant expression. Then she smiled +and said, in her sweetest manner: + +"Why, there's the tavern girl! I haven't seen her for sometime. +How old she looks! I suppose her uncle's death has aged her. +Well, she'll be married soon, just as soon as Cap'n Nat gets back. +They perfectly worship each other, those two. They say she writes +him the longest letters. Hannah Poundberry told me. Hannah's a +queer creature and common, but devoted to the Hammonds, Mr. Ellery. +However, you're not interested in Come-Outers, are you? Ha, ha!" + +Ellery made some sort of an answer, but he could not have told what +it was. The sight of Grace had brought back all that he was trying +so hard to forget. Why couldn't one forget, when it was so +painful--and so useless--to remember? + +Spring once more; then summer. And now people were again speaking +of Captain Nat Hammond. His ship was overdue, long overdue. Even +in those days, when there were no cables and the telegraph was +still something of a novelty, word of his arrival should have +reached Trumet months before this. But it had not come, and did +not. Before the summer was over, the wise heads of the retired +skippers were shaking dubiously. Something had happened to the Sea +Mist, something serious. + +As the weeks and months went by without news of the missing vessel, +this belief became almost a certainty. At the Come-Outer chapel, +where Ezekiel Bassett now presided, prayers were offered for the +son of their former leader. These prayers were not as fervent as +they might have been, for Grace's nonattendance at meetings was +causing much comment and a good deal of resentment. She came +occasionally, but not often. "I always said she was stuck-up and +thought she was too good for the rest of us," remarked "Sukey B." +spitefully. "'And, between you and me, pa says he thinks Nat +Hammond would be one to uphold her in it. He wa'n't a bit +spirituous and never experienced religion. If anything HAS +happened to him, it's a punishment sent, that's what pa thinks." + +Those were gloomy days at the parsonage. Keziah said little +concerning the topic of which all the village was talking, and John +Ellery forebore to mention it. The housekeeper was as faithful as +ever in the performance of her household duties, but her smile had +gone and she was worn and anxious. The minister longed to express +his sympathy, but Keziah had not mentioned Nat's name for months, +not since he, Ellery, gave her the message intrusted to him by the +captain before sailing. He would have liked to ask about Grace, +for he knew Mrs. Coffin visited the Hammond home occasionally, but +this, too, he hesitated to do. He heard from others that the girl +was bearing the suspense bravely, that she refused to give up hope, +and was winning the respect of all the thinking class in Trumet by +her courage and patience. Even the most bigoted of the Regulars, +Captain Daniels and his daughter excepted of course, had come to +speak highly of her. "She's a spunky girl," declared Captain Zeb, +with emphasis. "There's nothing of the milk-sop and cry-baby about +her. She's fit to be a sailor's wife, and I only hope Nat's alive +to come back and marry her. He was a durn good feller, too--savin' +your presence, Mr. Ellery--and if he was forty times a Come-Outer +I'd say the same thing. I'm 'fraid he's gone, though, poor chap. +As good a seaman as he was would have fetched port afore this if he +was atop of water. As for Gracie, she's a brick, and a lady, every +inch of her. My old girl went down t'other day to call on her and +that's the fust Come-Outer she's been to see sence there was any. +Why don't you go see her, too, Mr. Ellery? 'Twould be a welcome +change from Zeke Bassett and his tribe. Go ahead! it would be the +Almighty's own work and the society'd stand back of you, all them +that's wuth considerin', anyhow." + +This was surprising advice from a member of the Regular and was +indicative of the changed feeling in the community, but the +minister, of course, could not take it. He had plunged headlong +into his church work, hoping that it and time would dull the pain +of his terrible shock and disappointment. It had been dulled +somewhat, but it was still there, and every mention of her name +revived it. + +One afternoon Keziah came into his study, where he was laboring +with his next Sunday sermon, and sat down in the rocking-chair. +She had been out and still wore her bonnet and shawl. + +"John," she said, "I ask your pardon for disturbin' you. I know +you're busy." + +Ellery laid down his pen. "Never too busy to talk with you, Aunt +Keziah," he observed. "What is it?" + +"I wanted to ask if you knew Mrs. Prince was sick?" + +"No. Is she? I'm awfully sorry. Nothing serious, I hope?" + +"No, I guess not. Only she's got a cold and is kind of under the +weather. I thought p'r'aps you'd like to run up and see her. She +thinks the world and all of you, 'cause you was so good when she +was distressed about her son. Poor old thing! she's had a hard +time of it." + +"I will go. I ought to go, of course. I'm glad you reminded me of +it." + +"Yes. I told her you hadn't meant to neglect her, but you'd been +busy fussin' with the fair and the like of that." + +"That was all. I'll go right away. Have you been there to-day?" + +"No. I just heard that she was ailin' from Didama Rogers. Didama +said she was all but dyin', so I knew she prob'ly had a little +cold, or somethin'. If she was really very bad, Di would have had +her buried by this time, so's to be sure her news was ahead of +anybody else's. I ain't been up there, but I met her t'other +mornin'." + +"Didama?" + +"No; Mrs. Prince. She'd come down to see Grace." + +"Oh." + +"Yes. The old lady's been awful kind and sympathizin' since--since +this new trouble. It reminds her of the loss of her own boy, I +presume likely, and so she feels for Grace. John, what do they say +around town about--about HIM?" + +"Captain Hammond?" + +"Yes." + +The minister hesitated. Keziah did not wait for him to answer. + +"I see," she said slowly. "Do they all feel that way?" + +"Why, if you mean that they've all given up hope, I should hardly +say that. Captain Mayo and Captain Daniels were speaking of it in +my hearing the other day and they agreed that there was still a +chance." + +"A pretty slim one, though, they cal'lated, didn't they?" + +"Well, they were--were doubtful, of course. There was the +possibility that he had been wrecked somewhere and hadn't been +picked up. They cited several such cases. The South Pacific is +full of islands where vessels seldom touch, and he and his crew may +be on one of these." + +"Yes. They might, but I'm afraid not. Ah, hum!" + +She rose and was turning away. Ellery rose also and laid his hand +on her arm. + +"Aunt Keziah," he said, "I'm very sorry. I respected Captain +Hammond, in spite of--of--in spite of everything. I've tried to +realize that he was not to blame. He was a good man and I haven't +forgotten that he saved my life that morning on the flats. And I'm +so sorry for YOU." + +She did not look at him. + +"John," she answered, with a sigh, "sometimes I think you'd better +get another housekeeper." + +"What? Are you going to leave me? YOU?" + +"Oh, 'twouldn't be because I wanted to. But it seems almost as if +there was a kind of fate hangin' over me and that," she smiled +faintly, "as if 'twas sort of catchin', as you might say. +Everybody I ever cared for has had somethin' happen to 'em. My +brother died; my--the man I married went to the dogs; then you and +Grace had to be miserable and I had to help make you so; I sent Nat +away and he blamed me and--" + +"No, no. He didn't blame you. He sent you word that he didn't." + +"Yes, but he did, all the same. He must have. I should if I'd +been in his place. And now he's dead, and won't ever understand-- +on this earth, anyhow. I guess I'd better clear out and leave you +afore I spoil your life." + +"Aunt Keziah, you're my anchor to windward, as they say down here. +If I lost you, goodness knows where I should drift. Don't you ever +talk of leaving me again." + +"Thank you, John. I'm glad you want me to stay. I won't leave yet +awhile; never--unless I have to." + +"Why should you ever have to?" + +"Well, I don't know. Yes, I do know, too. John, I had another +letter t'other day." + +"You did? From--from that man?" + +"Yup, from--" For a moment it seemed as if she were about to +pronounce her husband's name, something she had never done in his +presence; but if she thought of it, she changed her mind. + +"From him," she said. "He wanted money, of course; he always does. +But that wa'n't the worst. The letter was from England, and in it +he wrote that he was gettin' sick of knockin' around and guessed +he'd be for comin' to the States pretty soon and huntin' me up. +Said what was the use of havin' an able-bodied wife if she couldn't +give her husband a home." + +"The scoundrel!" + +"Yes, I know what he is, maybe full as well as you do. That's why +I spoke of leavin' you. If that man comes to Trumet, I'll go, sure +as death." + +"No, no. Aunt Keziah, you must free yourself from him. No power +on earth can compel you to longer support such a--" + +"None on earth, no. But it's my punishment and I've got to put up +with it. I married him with my eyes wide open, done it to spite +the--the other, as much as anything, and I must bear the burden. +But I tell you this, John: if he comes here, to this town, where +I've been respected and considered a decent woman, if he comes +here, I go--somewhere, anywhere that'll be out of the sight of them +that know me. And wherever I go he shan't be with me. THAT I +won't stand! I'd rather die, and I hope I do. Don't talk to me +any more now--don't! I can't stand it." + +She hurried out of the room. Later, as the minister passed through +the dining room on his way to the door, she spoke to him again. + +"John," she said, "I didn't say what I meant to when I broke in on +you just now. I meant to tell you about Grace. I knew you'd like +to know and wouldn't ask. She's bearin' up well, poor girl. She +thought the world of Nat, even though she might not have loved him +in the way that--" + +"What's that? What are you saying, Aunt Keziah?" + +"I mean--well, I mean that he'd always been like an own brother to +her and she cared a lot for him." + +"But you said she didn't love him." + +"Did I? That was a slip of the tongue, maybe. But she bears it +well and I don't think she gives up hope. I try not to, for her +sake, and I try not to show her how I feel." + +She sewed vigorously for a few moments. Then she said: + +"She's goin' away, Gracie is." + +"Going away?" + +"Yup. She's goin' to stay with a relation of the Hammonds over in +Connecticut for a spell. I coaxed her into it. Stayin' here at +home with all this suspense and with Hannah Poundberry's tongue +droppin' lamentations like kernels out of a corn sheller, is enough +to kill a healthy batch of kittens with nine lives apiece. She +didn't want to go; felt that she must stay here and wait for news; +but I told her we'd get news to her as soon as it come, and she's +goin'." + +Ellery took his hat from the peg and opened the door. His foot was +on the step when Keziah spoke again. + +"She--it don't mean nothin', John, except that she ain't so hard- +hearted as maybe you might think--she's asked me about you 'most +every time I've been there. She told me to take good care of you." + +The door closed. Keziah put down her sewing and listened as the +minister's step sounded on the walk. She rose, went to the window +and looked after him. She was wondering if she had made a mistake +in mentioning Grace's name. She had meant to cheer him with the +thought that he was not entirely forgotten, that he was, at least, +pitied; but perhaps it would have been better to have remained +silent. Her gaze shifted and she looked out over the bay, blue and +white in the sun and wind. When she was a girl the sea had been +kind to her, it had brought her father home safe, and those +homecomings were her pleasantest memories. But she now hated it. +It was cruel and cold and wicked. It had taken the man she loved +and would have loved till she died, even though he could never have +been hers, and she had given him to another; it had taken him, +killed him cruelly, perhaps. And now it might be bringing to her +the one who was responsible for all her sorrow, the one she could +not think of without a shudder. She clung to the window sash and +prayed aloud. + +"Lord! Lord!" she pleaded, "don't put any more on me now. I +couldn't stand it! I couldn't!" + +Ellery, too, was thinking deeply as he walked up the main road on +his way to Mrs. Prince's. Keziah's words were repeating themselves +over and over in his brain. She had asked about him. She had not +forgotten him altogether. And what did the housekeeper mean by +saying that she had not loved Captain Hammond in the way that-- +Not that it could make any difference. Nothing could give him back +his happiness. But what did it mean? + +Mrs. Prince was very glad to see him. He found her in the big +armchair with the quilted back and the projecting "wings" at each +side of her head. She was wrapped in a "Rising Sun" quilt which +was a patchwork glory of red and crimson. A young girl, a +neighbor, who was apparently acting in the dual capacity of nurse +and housekeeper, admitted him to the old lady's presence. + +"Well, well!" she exclaimed delightedly. "Then you ain't forgot me +altogether. I'm awful glad to see you. You'll excuse me for not +gettin' up; my back's got more pains in it than there is bones, a +good sight. Dr. Parker says it's nothin' serious, and all I had to +do was set still and take his medicine. I told him that either the +aches or the medicine made settin' still serious enough, and when +your only amusement is listenin' to Emeline Berry--she's the girl +that's takin' care of me--when your only fun is listenin' to +Emeline drop your best dishes in the kitchen sink, it's pretty nigh +tragic. There! there! don't mind an old woman, Mr. Ellery. Set +down and let's talk. It's a comfort to be able to say somethin' +besides 'Don't, Emeline!' and 'Be sure you pick up all the +pieces!'" + +Mrs. Prince's good spirits were of short duration. Her +conversation soon shifted to the loss of her son and she wept, +using the corner of the quilt to wipe away her tears. "Eddie" had +been her idol and, as she said, it was hard to believe what folks +kept tellin' her, that it was God's will, and therefore all for the +best. + +"That's so easy to say," she sobbed. "Maybe it is best for the +Lord, but how about me? I needed him more than they did up there, +or I think I did. O Mr. Ellery, I don't mean to be irreverent, but +WHY was it all for the best?" + +Questions like this are hard to answer. The young minister tried, +but the answers were unsatisfactory, even to him. + +"And there's Nat Hammond," continued Mrs. Prince. "A fine man--no +better anywhere, even though his father was a Come-Outer--just +goin' to be married and all, now they say he's drowned--why? Why +was that necessary?" + +Ellery could not reply. The old lady did not wait for him to do +so. The mention of Captain Nat's name reminded her of other +things. + +"Poor Gracie!" she said. "It's turrible hard on her. I went down +to see her two or three times afore I was took with this backache. +She's an awful nice girl. And pretty as a pink, too. Don't you +think so? Hey? don't you?" + +"Yes." + +"Yes. I've been kind of expectin' she might get up to see me. +Hannah Poundberry told the Berrys that she said she was comin'. I +don't care about her bein' a Come-Outer. I ain't proud, Mr. +Ellery. And there's Come-Outers and COME-Outers. Proud! Lord 'a' +mercy! what has an old woman, next door to the poorhouse, got to be +proud over? Yes, she told Hannah she was comin', and the Berry +folks thought it might be to-day. So I've been watchin' for her. +What! you ain't agoin', Mr. Ellery?" + +"I think I must, Mrs. Prince." + +"Oh, don't! Do stay a spell longer. Gracie might come and I'd +like for you to meet her. She needs sympathy and comfort an awful +lot, and there's no tellin', you might convert her to bein' a +Reg'lar. Oh, yes, you might. You've got the most persuadin' way, +everybody says so. And you don't know her very well, do you? Land +sakes alive! talk about angels! I snum if she ain't comin' up the +road this blessed minute." + +John Ellery had risen. Now he seized his hat and moved hastily +toward the door. Mrs. Prince called to him to remain, but he would +not. However, her good-bys delayed him for a minute, and before he +reached the yard gate Grace was opening it. They were face to face +for the first time since they had parted in the grove, so many +months before. + +She was thinner and paler, he saw that. And dressed very quietly +in black. She looked at him, as he stood before her in the path, +and her cheeks flushed and her eyes fell. He stepped aside and +raised his hat. + +She bowed gravely and murmured a "Good afternoon." Then she passed +on up the path toward the door. He watched her for an instant and +then stepped quickly after her. The black gown and the tired look +in her eyes touched him to the heart. He could not let her go +without a word. + +She turned at the sound of his step behind her. + +"Er--Miss Van Horne," he stammered, "I merely wanted to tell you +how deeply I--we all feel for you in your trouble. I--I--I am so +sorry." + +"Thank you," she said simply, and after a moment's hesitation. + +"I mean it sincerely. I--I did not know Captain Hammond very well, +but I respected and liked him the first time we met. I shall hope +that--that--it is not so serious as they fear." + +"Thank you," she said again. "We are all hoping." + +"Yes. I--I--" It was dreadfully hard to get words together. "I +have heard so much of the captain from--" + +"From Aunt Keziah? Yes, she was Nat's warmest friend." + +"I know. Er--Mrs. Coffin tells me you are going away. I hope you +may hear good news and soon. I shall think of you--of him-- I +want you to understand that I shall." + +The door opened and Emeline Berry appeared on the threshold. + +"Come right in, Grace," she called. "Mrs. Prince wants you to. +She's ahollerin' for you to hurry up." + +"Good-by," said the minister. + +"Good-by. Thank you again. It was very kind of you to say this." + +"No, no. I mean it." + +"I know; that was why it was so kind. Good-by." + +She held out her hand and he took it. He knew that his was +trembling, but so, too, was hers. The hands fell apart. Grace +entered the house and John Ellery went out at the gate. + +That night Keziah, in the sitting room, trying to read, but finding +it hard to keep her mind on the book, heard her parson pacing back +and forth over the straw-matted floor of his chamber. She looked +at the clock; it was nearly twelve. She shut the book and sighed. +Her well-meant words of consolation had been a mistake, after all. +She should not have spoken Grace Van Horne's name. + + +CHAPTER XVI + +IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE + + +"Hey, Mr. Ellery!" + +It was Captain Zeb Mayo who was calling. The captain sat in his +antique chaise, drawn by the antique white horse, and was hailing +the parsonage through a speaking trumpet formed by holding both his +big hands before his mouth. The reins he had tucked between the +edge of the dashboard and the whip socket. If he had thrown them +on the ground he would still have been perfectly safe, with that +horse. + +"Mr. Ellery, ahoy!" roared Captain Zeb through his hands. + +The window of Zoeth Peters's house, next door to the Regular +church, was thrown up and Mrs. Peters's head, bound with a blue- +and-white handkerchief in lieu of a sweeping cap, was thrust forth +into the crisp March air. + +"What is it, Cap'n Mayo?" screamed Mrs. Peters. "Hey?" + +"Hey?" repeated Captain Zeb, peering round the chaise curtain. +"Who's that?" + +"It's me. Is somebody dead?" + +"Who's me? Oh! No, Hettie, nobody's dead, though I'm likely to +bust a blood vessel if I keep on yellin' much longer. Is the +parson to home?" + +"Hey?" + +"Oh, heavens alive! I say is-- Ha, there you be, Mr. Ellery. +Mornin', Keziah." + +The minister and Mrs. Coffin, the former with a napkin in his hand, +had emerged from the side door of the parsonage and now came +hurrying down to the gate. + +"Land of Goshen!" exclaimed the captain, "you don't mean to tell me +you ain't done breakfast yet, and it after seven o'clock. Why, +we're thinkin' about dinner up to our house." + +Keziah answered. "Yes," she said, "I shouldn't wonder. Your wife +tells me, Zeb, that the only time you ain't thinkin' about dinner +is when you think of breakfast or supper. We ain't so hungry here +that we get up to eat in the middle of the night. What's the +matter? Hettie Peters is hollerin' at you; did you know it?" + +"Did I know it? Tut! tut! tut! I'd known it if I was a mile away, +'less I was paralyzed in my ears. Let her holler; 'twill do her +good and keep her in practice for Come-Outer meetin'. Why, Mr. +Ellery, I tell you: Em'lous Sparrow, the fish peddler, stepped up +to our house a few minutes ago. He's just come down from the +shanties over on the shore by the light--where the wreck was, you +know--and he says there's a 'morphrodite brig anchored three or +four mile off and she's flyin' colors ha'f mast and union down. +They're gettin' a boat's crew together to go off to her and see +what's the row. I'm goin' to drive over and I thought maybe you'd +like to go along. I told the old lady--my wife, I mean--that I +thought of pickin' you up and she said 'twas a good idee. Said my +likin' to cruise with a parson in my old age was either a sign that +I was hopeful or fearful, she didn't know which; and either way it +ought to be encouraged. He, he, he! What do you say, Mr. Ellery? +Want to go?" + +The minister hesitated. "I'd like to," he said. "I'd like to very +much. But I ought to work on my sermon this morning." + +Keziah cut in here. "Cat's foot!" she sniffed. "Let your sermon +go for this once, do. If it ain't long enough as it is, you can +begin again when you've got to the end and preach it over again. +Didama Rogers said, last circle day, that she could set still and +hear you preach right over n' over. I'd give her a chance, +'specially if it did keep her still. Keepin' Didama still is good +Christian work, ain't it, Zeb?" + +Captain Mayo slapped his knee. "He, he, he!" he chuckled. +"Cal'late you're right, Keziah." + +"Indeed, I am. I believe it would be Christianity and I KNOW +'twould be work. There! there! run in and get your coat and hat, +Mr. Ellery. I'll step across and ease Hettie's mind and--and +lungs." + +She went across the road to impart the news of the vessel in +distress to the curious Mrs. Peters. A moment later the minister, +having donned his hat and coat, ran down the walk and climbed into +the chaise beside Captain Zeb. The white horse, stimulated into a +creaky jog trot by repeated slappings of the reins and roars to +"Get under way!" and "Cast off!" moved along the sandy lane. + +During the drive the captain and his passenger discussed various +topics of local interest, among them Captain Nat Hammond and the +manner in which he might have lost his ship and his life. It was +now taken for granted, in Trumet and elsewhere, that Nat was dead +and would never be heard from again. The owners had given up, so +Captain Zeb said, and went on to enumerate the various accidents +which might have happened--typhoons, waterspouts, fires, and even +attacks by Malay pirates--though, added the captain, "Gen'rally +speakin', I'd ruther not bet on any pirate gettin' away with Nat +Hammond's ship, if the skipper was alive and healthy. Then there's +mutiny and fevers and collisions, and land knows what all. And, +speakin' of trouble, what do you cal'late ails that craft we're +goin' to look at now?" + +They found a group on the beach discussing that very question. A +few fishermen, one or two lobstermen and wreckers, and the +lightkeeper were gathered on the knoll by the lighthouse. They had +a spyglass, and a good-sized dory was ready for launching. + +"Where is she, Noah?" asked Captain Zeb of the lightkeeper. "That +her off back of the spar buoy? Let me have a squint through that +glass; my eyes ain't what they used to be, when I could see a whale +spout two miles t'other side of the sky line and tell how many +barrels of ile he'd try out, fust look. Takes practice to keep +your eyesight so's you can see round a curve like that," he added, +winking at Ellery. + +"She's a brigantine, Zeb," observed the keeper, handing up the +spyglass. "And flyin' the British colors. Look's if she might be +one of them salt boats from Turk's Islands. But what she's doin' +out there, anchored, with canvas lowered and showin' distress +signals in fair weather like this, is more'n any of us can make +out. She wa'n't there last evenin', though, and she is there now." + +"She ain't the only funny thing along shore this mornin', nuther," +announced Theophilus Black, one of the fishermen. "Charlie Burgess +just come down along and he says there's a ship's longboat hauled +up on the beach, 'bout a mile 'n a half t'other side the mouth of +the herrin' crick yonder. Oars in her and all. And she ain't no +boat that b'longs round here, is she, Charlie?" + +"No, Thoph, she ain't," was the reply. "Make anything out of her, +cap'n?" + +Captain Zeb, who had been inspecting the anchored vessel through +the spyglass, lowered the latter and seemed puzzled. "Not much," +he answered. "Blessed if she don't look abandoned to me. Can't +see a sign of life aboard her." + +"We couldn't neither," said Thoph. "We was just cal'latin' to go +off to her when Charlie come and told us about the longboat. I +guess likely we can go now; it's pretty nigh smooth as a pond. +You'll take an oar, won't you, Noah?" + +"I can't leave the light very well. My wife went over to the +village last night. You and Charlie and Bill go. Want to go, too, +Zeb?" + +"No, I'll stay here, I guess. The old lady made me promise to keep +my feet dry afore I left the house." + +"You want to go, Mr. Ellery? Lots of room." + +The minister was tempted. The sea always had a fascination for him +and the mystery of the strange ship was appealing. + +"Sure I won't be in the way?" + +"No, no! 'course you won't," said Burgess. "Come right along. You +set in the bow, if you don't mind gettin' sprinkled once in a +while. I'll steer and Thoph and Bill'll row. That'll be enough +for one dory. If we need more, we'll signal. Heave ahead." + +The surf, though low for that season of the year, looked dangerous +to Ellery, but his companions launched the dory with the ease which +comes of experience. Burgess took the steering oar and Thoph and +"Bill," the latter a lobsterman from Wellmouth Neck, bent their +broad backs for the long pull. The statement concerning the +pondlike smoothness of the sea was something of an exaggeration. +The dory climbed wave after wave, long and green and oily, at the +top of each she poised, tipped and slid down the slope. The +minister, curled up in the bow on a rather uncomfortable cushion of +anchor and roding, caught glimpses of the receding shore over the +crests behind. One minute he looked down into the face of Burgess, +holding the steering oar in place, the next the stern was high +above him and he felt that he was reclining on the back of his +neck. But always the shoulders of the rowers moved steadily in the +short, deep strokes of the rough water oarsman, and the beach, with +the white light and red-roofed house of the keeper, the group +beside it, and Captain Zeb's horse and chaise, grew smaller and +less distinct. + +"Humph!" grunted Charlie. + +"What's the matter?" asked Thoph. + +The steersman, who was staring hard in the direction they were +going, scowled. + +"Humph!" he grunted again. "I swan to man, fellers, I believe she +IS abandoned!" + +"Rubbish!" panted Bill, twisting his neck to look over his +shoulder. "'Course she ain't! Who'd abandon a craft such +weather's this, and Province-town harbor only three hours' run or +so?" + +"When it comes to that," commented Burgess, "why should they anchor +off here, 'stead of takin' her in by the inlet? If there's anybody +aboard they ain't showed themselves yet. She might have been +leakin', but she don't look it. Sets up out of water pretty well. +Well, we'll know in a few minutes. Hit her up, boys!" + +The rowers "hit her up" and the dory moved faster. Then Burgess, +putting his hand to his mouth, hailed. + +"Ship ahoy!" he roared. "Ahoy!" + +No reply. + +"Ahoy the brig!" bellowed Burgess. "What's the matter aboard +there? All hands asleep?" + +Still no answer. Thoph and Bill pulled more slowly now. Burgess +nodded to them. + +"Stand by!" he ordered. "Easy! Way enough! Let her run." + +The dory slackened speed, turned in obedience to the steering oar, +and slid under the forequarter of the anchored vessel. Ellery, +looking up, saw her name in battered gilt letters above his head-- +the San Jose. + +"Stand by, Thoph!" shouted Charlie. "S'pose you can jump and grab +her forechains? Hold her steady, Bill. Now, Thoph! That's the +time!" + +Thoph had jumped, seized the chains, and was scrambling aboard. A +moment later he appeared at the rail amidships, a rope in his hand. +The dory was brought alongside and made fast; then one after the +other the men in the boat climbed to the brig's deck. + +"Ahoy!" yelled Burgess. "All hands on deck! tumble up, you +lubbers! Humph! She is abandoned, sure and sartin." + +"Yup," assented Bill. "Her boats are gone. See? Guess that +explains the longboat on the beach, Charlie." + +"Cal'late it does; but it don't explain why they left her. She +ain't leakin' none to speak of, that's sure. Rides's light's a +feather. Christmas! look at them decks; dirty hogs, whoever they +was." + +The decks were dirty, and the sails, sloppily furled, were dirty +likewise. The brig, as she rolled and jerked at her anchor rope, +was dirty--and unkempt from stem to stern. To Ellery's mind she +made a lonesome picture, even under the clear, winter sky and +bright sunshine. + +Thoph led the way aft. The cabin companion door was open and they +peered down. + +"Phew!" sniffed Burgess. "She ain't no cologne bottle, is she? +Well, come on below and let's see what'll we see." + +The cabin was a "mess," as Bill expressed it. The floor was +covered with scattered heaps of riff-raff, oilskins, coats, empty +bottles, and papers. On the table a box stood, its hinged lid +thrown back. + +"Medicine chest," said Burgess, examining it. "And rum bottles +aplenty. Somebody's been sick, I shouldn't wonder." + +The minister opened the door of one of the little staterooms. The +light which shone through the dirty and tightly closed "bull's-eye" +window showed a tumbled bunk, the blankets soiled and streaked. +The smell was stifling. + +"Say, fellers," whispered Thoph, "I don't like this much myself. +I'm for gettin' on deck where the air's better. Somethin's +happened aboard this craft, somethin' serious." + +Charlie and Bill nodded an emphatic affirmative. + +"Hadn't we better look about a little more?" asked Ellery. +"There's another stateroom there." + +He opened the door of it as he spoke. It was, if possible, in a +worse condition than the first. And the odor was even more +overpowering. + +"Skipper's room," observed Burgess, peeping in. "And that bunk +ain't been slept in for weeks. See the mildew on them clothes. +Phew! I'm fair sick to my stomach. Come out of this." + +On deck, in the sunlight, they held another consultation. + +"Queerest business ever I see," observed Charlie. "I never--" + +"I see somethin' like it once," interrupted Bill. "Down in the +Gulf 'twas. I was on the old Fishhawk. Eben Salters's dad from +over to Bayport skippered her. We picked up a West Injy schooner, +derelict, abandoned same as this one, but not anchored, of course. +Yeller jack was the trouble aboard her and-- Where you bound, +Thoph?" + +"Goin' to take a squint at the fo'castle," replied Theophilus, +moving forward. The minister followed him. + +The fo'castle hatchway was black and grim. Ellery knelt and peered +down. Here there was practically no light at all and the air was +fouler than that in the cabin. + +"See anything, Mr. Ellery?" asked Thoph, looking over his shoulder. + +"No, I don't see anything. But I thought--" + +He seemed to be listening. + +"What did you think?" + +"Nothing. I--" + +"Hold on! you ain't goin' down there, be you? I wouldn't. No +tellin' what you might find. Well, all right. I ain't curious. +I'll stay up here and you can report." + +He stepped over and leaned against the rail. Bill came across the +deck and joined him. + +"Where's Charlie?" asked Thoph. + +"Gone back to the cabin," was the answer. "Thought likely he might +find some of her papers or somethin' to put us on the track. I +told him to heave ahead; I didn't want no part of it. Too much +like that yeller-jack schooner to suit me. What's become of the +parson?" + +Thoph pointed to the open hatch. + +"Down yonder, explorin' the fo'castle," he replied. "He can have +the job, for all me. Phew! Say, Bill, what IS this we've struck, +anyhow?" + +Ellery descended the almost perpendicular ladder gingerly, holding +on with both hands. At its foot he stopped and tried to accustom +his eyes to the darkness. + +A room perhaps ten feet long, so much he could make out. The floor +strewn, like that of the cabin, with heaps of clothing and odds and +ends. More shapes of clothes hanging up and swaying with the roll +of the brig. A little window high up at the end, black with dirt. +And cavities, bunks in rows, along the walls. A horrible hole. + +He took a step toward the center of the room, bending his head to +avoid hitting the fo'castle lantern. Then in one of the bunks +something stirred, something alive. He started violently, +controlled himself with an effort, and stumbled toward the sound. + +"What is it?" he whispered. "Who is it? Is anyone there?" + +A groan answered him. Then a voice, weak and quavering, said: + +"Gimme a drink! Gimme a drink! Can't none of you God-forsaken +devils give me a drink?" + +He stooped over the bunk. A man was lying in it, crumpled into a +dreadful heap. He stooped lower, looked, and saw the man's face. + +There was a shout from the deck, or, rather, a yell. Then more +yells and the sound of running feet. + +"Mr. Ellery!" screamed Burgess, at the hatchway. "Mr. Ellery, for +the Almighty's sake, come up here! Come out of that this minute. +Quick!" + +The minister knew what was coming, was sure of it as he stepped to +the foot of the ladder, had known it the instant he saw that face. + +"Mr. Ellery!" shrieked Burgess. "Mr. Ellery, are you there?" + +"Yes, I'm here," answered the minister, slowly. He was fighting +with all his might to keep his nerves under control. His impulse +was to leap up those steps, rush across that deck, spring into the +dory and row, anywhere to get away from the horror of that +forecastle. + +"Come up!" called Burgess. "Hurry! It's the smallpox! The darned +hooker's rotten with it. For God sakes, come quick!" + +He ran to the rail, yelling order to Bill and Thoph, who were +frantically busy with the dory. Ellery began to climb the ladder. +His head emerged into the clean, sweet air blowing across the deck. +He drew a breath to the very bottom of his lungs. + +Then from behind and below him came the voice again. + +"Gimme a drink!" it wailed. "Gimme a drink of water. Ain't one of +you cussed swabs got decency enough to fetch me a drink? I'm dyin' +for a drink, I tell you. I'm dyin'!" + +The minister stood still, his feet on the ladder. The three men by +the rail were working like mad, their faces livid under the sunburn +and their hands trembling. They pushed each other about and swore. +They were not cowards, either. Ellery knew them well enough to +know that. Burgess had, that very winter, pulled a skiff through +broken ice in the face of a wicked no'theaster to rescue an old +neighbor whose dory had been capsized in the bay while he was +hauling lobster pots. But now Burgess was as scared as the rest. + +Thoph and Bill sprang over the rail into the boat. Burgess turned +and beckoned to Ellery. + +"Come on!" he called. "What are you waitin' for?" + +The minister remained where he was. + +"Are you sure--" he faltered. + +"Sure! Blast it all! I found the log. It ain't been kept for a +fortni't, but there's enough. It's smallpox, I tell you. Two men +died of it three weeks ago. The skipper died right afterwards. +The mate-- No wonder them that was left run away as soon as they +sighted land. Come on! Do you want to die, too?" + +From the poison pit at the foot of the ladder the man in the bunk +called once more. + +"Water!" he screeched. "Water! Are you goin' to leave me, you d--n +cowards?" + +"For Heaven sakes!" cried Burgess, clutching the rail, "what's +that?" + +Ellery answered him. "It's one of them," he said, and his voice +sounded odd in his own ears. "It's one of the crew." + +"One of the-- Down THERE? Has he--" + +"Yes, he has." + +"Help! help!" screamed the voice shrilly. "Are you goin' to leave +me to die all alone? He-elp!" + +The minister turned. "Hush!" he called, in answer to the voice, +"hush! I'll bring you water in a minute. Burgess," he added, "you +and the rest go ashore. I shall stay." + +"You'll stay? You'll STAY? With THAT? You're crazy as a loon. +Don't be a fool, man! Come on! We'll send the doctor and somebody +else--some one that's had it, maybe, or ain't afraid. I am and I'm +goin'. Don't be a fool." + +Thoph, from the dory, shouted to know what was the matter. Ellery +climbed the ladder to the deck and walked over to the rail. As he +approached, Burgess fell back a few feet. + +"Thoph," said the minister, addressing the pair in the dory, "there +is a sick man down in the forecastle. He has been alone there for +hours, I suppose, certainly since his shipmates ran away. If he is +left longer without help,, he will surely die. Some one must stay +with him. You and the rest row ashore and get the doctor and +whoever else you can. I'll stay here till they come." + +Thoph and his companions set up a storm of protest. It was +foolish, it was crazy, the man would die anyhow, and so on. They +begged the minister to come with them. But he was firm. + +"Don't stop to argue," he urged. "Hurry and get the doctor." + +"Come on, Charlie," ordered Bill. "No use talkin' to him, he's +set. Come on! I won't stay alongside this craft another minute +for nobody. If you be comin', come." + +Burgess, still protesting, clambered over the rail. The dory swung +clear of the brig. The rowers settled themselves for the stroke. + +"Better change your mind, Mr. Ellery," pleaded Charlie. "I hate to +leave you this way. It seems mean, but I'm a married man with +children, like the rest of us here, and I can't take no risks. +Better come, too. No? Well, we'll send help quick as the Lord'll +let us. By the Almighty!" he added, in a sudden burst, "you've got +more spunk than I have--yes, or anybody I ever come across. I'll +say that for you, if you are a parson. Give way, fellers." + +The oars dipped, bent, and the dory moved off. The sound of the +creaking thole pins shot a chill through Ellery's veins. His knees +shook, and involuntarily a cry for them to come back rose to his +lips. But he choked it down and waved his hand in farewell. Then, +not trusting himself to look longer at the receding boat, he turned +on his heel and walked toward the forecastle. + +The water butts stood amidships, not far from the open door of the +galley. Entering the latter he found an empty saucepan. This he +filled from the cask, and then, with it in his hand, turned toward +the black hatchway. Here was the greatest test of his courage. To +descend that ladder, approach that bunk, and touch the terrible +creature in it, these were the tasks he had set himself to do, but +could he? + +Vaccination in those days was by no means the universal custom that +it now is. And smallpox, even now, is a disease the name of which +strikes panic to a community. The minister had been vaccinated +when he was a child, but that was--so it seemed to him--a very long +time ago. And that forecastle was so saturated with the plague +that to enter it meant almost certain infection. He had stayed +aboard the brig because the pitiful call for help had made leaving +a cowardly impossibility. Now, face to face, and in cold blood, +with the alternative, it seemed neither so cowardly or impossible. +The man would die anyhow, so Thoph had said; was there any good +reason why he should risk dying, too, and dying in that way? + +He thought of a great many things and of many people as he stood by +the hatchway, waiting; among others, he thought of his housekeeper, +Keziah Coffin. And, somehow, the thought of her, of her pluck, and +her self-sacrifice, were the very inspirations he needed. "It's +the duty that's been laid on me," Keziah had said, "and it's a hard +one, but I don't run away from it." He began to descend the +ladder. + +The sick man was raving in delirium when he reached him, but the +sound of the water lapping the sides of the saucepan brought him to +himself. He seized Ellery by the arm and drank and drank. When at +last he desisted, the pan was half empty. + +The minister laid him gently back in the bunk and stepped to the +foot of the ladder for breath. This made him think of the +necessity for air in the place and he remembered the little window. +It was tightly closed and rusted fast. He went up to the deck, +found a marlin spike, and, returning, broke the glass. A sharp, +cold draught swept through the forecastle, stirring the garments +hanging on the nails. + +An hour later, two dories bumped against the side of the San Jose. +Men, talking in low tones, climbed over the rail. Burgess was one +of them; ashamed of his panic, he had returned to assist the others +in bringing the brigantine into a safer anchorage by the inlet. + +Dr. Parker, very grave but businesslike, reached the deck among the +first. + +"Mr. Ellery," he shouted, "where are you?" + +The minister's head and shoulders appeared at the forecastle +companion. "Here I am, doctor," he said. "Will you come down?" + +The doctor made no answer in words, but he hurried briskly across +the deck. One man, Ebenezer Capen, an old fisherman and ex-whaler +from East Trumet, started to follow him, but he was the only one. +The others waited, with scared faces, by the rail. + +"Get her under way and inshore as soon as you can," ordered Dr. +Parker. "Ebenezer, you can help. If I need you below, I'll call." + +The minister backed down the ladder and the doctor followed him. +Parker bent over the bunk for a few moments in silence. + +"He's pretty bad," he muttered. "Mighty little chance. Heavens, +what a den! Who broke that window?" + +"I did," replied Ellery. "The air down here was dreadful." + +The doctor nodded approvingly. "I guess so," he said. "It's bad +enough now. We've got to get this poor fellow out of here as soon +as we can or he'll die before to-morrow. Mr. Ellery," he added +sharply, "what made you do this? Don't you realize the risk you've +run?" + +"Some one had to do it. You are running the same risk." + +"Not just the same, and, besides, it's my business. Why didn't you +let some one else, some one we could spare-- Humph! Confound it, +man! didn't you know any better? Weren't you afraid?" + +His tone rasped Ellery's shaken nerves. + +"Of course I was," he snapped irritably. "I'm not an idiot." + +"Humph! Well, all right; I beg your pardon. But you oughtn't to +have done it. Now you'll have to be quarantined. And who in +thunder I can get to stay with me in this case is more than I know. +Just say smallpox to this town and it goes to pieces like a smashed +egg. Old Eb Capen will help, for he's had it, but it needs more +than one." + +"Where are you going to take--him?" pointing to the moaning +occupant of the bunk. + +"To one of the empty fish shanties on the beach. There are beds +there, such as they are, and the place is secluded. We can burn it +down when the fuss is over." + +"Then why can't I stay? I shall have to be quarantined, I know +that. Let me be the other nurse. Why should anyone else run the +risk? I HAVE run it. I'll stay." + +Dr. Parker looked at him. "Well!" he exclaimed. "Well! I must +say, young man, that you've got-- Humph! All right, Mr. Ellery; +I'm much obliged." + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED + + +Before sunset that afternoon the San Jose was anchored behind the +point by the inlet. The fishing boats changed moorings and moved +farther up, for not a single one of their owners would trust +himself within a hundred yards of the stricken brigantine. As soon +as the anchors were dropped, the volunteer crew was over side and +away, each of its members to receive a scolding from his family for +taking such a risk and to have his garments sulphur-smoked or +buried. Charlie Burgess, whose wife was something of a Tartar, +observed ruefully that he "didn't take no comfort 'round home +nowadays; between the smell of brimstone and the jawin's 'twas the +hereafter ahead of time." + +The largest of the beach shanties, one which stood by itself a +quarter of a mile from the light, was hurriedly prepared for use as +a pesthouse and the sick sailor was carried there on an improvised +stretcher. Dr. Parker and Ellery lifted him from his berth and, +assisted by old Ebenezer Capen, got him up to the deck and lowered +him into the dory. Ebenezer rowed the trio to the beach and the +rest of the journey was comparatively easy. + +The shanty had three rooms, one of which was given up to the +patient, one used as a living room, and, in the third, Capen and +the minister were to sleep. Mattresses were procured, kind-hearted +and sympathizing townspeople donated cast-off tables and chairs, +and the building was made as comfortable as it could be, under the +circumstances. Sign boards, warning strangers to keep away, were +erected, and in addition to them, the Trumet selectmen ordered +ropes stretched across the lane on both sides of the shanty. But +ropes and signs were superfluous. Trumet in general was in a blue +funk and had no desire to approach within a mile of the locality. +Even the driver of the grocery cart, when he left the day's supply +of provisions, pushed the packages under the ropes, yelled a +hurried "Here you be!" and, whipping up his horse, departed at a +rattling gallop. + +The village sat up nights to discuss the affair and every day +brought a new sensation. The survivors of the San Jose's crew, a +wretched, panic-stricken quartette of mulattos and Portuguese, were +apprehended on the outskirts of Denboro, the town below Trumet on +the bay side, and were promptly sequestered and fumigated, pending +shipment to the hospital at Boston. Their story was short but +grewsome. The brigantine was not a Turks Islands boat, but a +coaster from Jamaica. She had sailed with a small cargo for +Savannah. Two days out and the smallpox made its appearance on +board. The sufferer, a negro foremast hand, died. Then another +sailor was seized and also died. The skipper, who was the owner, +was the next victim, and the vessel was in a state of +demoralization which the mate, an Englishman named Bradford, could +not overcome. Then followed days and nights of calm and terrible +heat, of pestilence and all but mutiny. The mate himself died. +There was no one left who understood navigation. At last came a +southeast gale and the San Jose drove before it. Fair weather +found her abreast the Cape. The survivors ran her in after dark, +anchored, and reached shore in the longboat. The sick man whom +they had left in the forecastle was a new hand who had shipped at +Kingston. His name was Murphy, they believed. They had left him +because he was sure to die, like the others, and, besides, they +knew some one would see the distress signals and investigate. That +was all, yes. Santa Maria! was it not enough? + +This tale was a delicious tidbit for Didama and the "daily +advertisers," but, after all, it was a mere side dish compared to +Mr. Ellery's astonishing behavior. That he, the minister of the +Regular church, should risk his life, risk dying of the smallpox, +to help a stranger and a common sailor, was incomprehensible. +Didama, at least, could not understand it, and said so. "My soul +and body!" she exclaimed, with uplifted hands. "I wouldn't go nigh +my own grandfather if he had the smallpox, let alone settin' up +with a strange critter that I didn't know from Adam's cat. And a +minister doin' it! He ought to consider the congregation, if he +done nothin' else. Ain't we more important than a common water rat +that, even when he's dyin', swears, so I hear tell, like a ship's +poll parrot? I never heard of such foolishness. It beats ME!" + +It "beat" a good many who, like the Widow Rogers, could not +understand self-sacrifice. But there were more, and they the +majority of Trumet's intelligent people, who understood and +appreciated. Dr. Parker, a man with a reputation for dangerously +liberal views concerning religious matters and an infrequent +attendant at church, was enthusiastic and prodigal of praise. + +"By George!" vowed the doctor. "That's MY kind of Christianity. +That's the kind of parson I can tie to. I'm for John Ellery after +this, first, last, and all the time. And if he don't get the +smallpox and die, and if he does live to preach in the Regular +church, you'll see me in one of the front pews every Sunday. +That's what I think of him. Everybody else ran away and I don't +blame 'em much. But he stayed. Yes, sir, by George! he stayed. +'Somebody had to do it,' says he. I take off my hat to that young +fellow." + +Captain Zeb Mayo went about cheering for his parson. Mrs. Mayo +cooked delicacies to be pushed under the ropes for the minister's +consumption. The parish committee, at a special session, voted an +increase of salary and ordered a weekly service of prayer for the +safe delivery of their young leader from danger. Even Captain +Elkanah did not try to oppose the general opinion; "although I +cannot but feel," he said, "that Mr. Ellery's course was rash and +that he should have considered us and our interest in his welfare +before--" + +"Dum it all!" roared Captain Zeb, jumping to his feet and +interrupting, "he didn't consider himself, did he? and ain't he as +important TO himself as you, Elkanah Daniels, or anybody else in +this meetin' house? Bah! don't let's have no more talk like that +or I'll say somethin' that won't be fit to put in the minutes." + +Even at Come-Outers' meeting, when Ezekiel Bassett hinted at a +"just punishment fallin' on the head of the leader of the +Pharisees," Thoph Black rose and defended Ellery. + +Keziah Coffin was, perhaps, the one person most disturbed by her +parson's heroism. She would have gone to the shanty immediately +had not Dr. Parker prevented. Even as it was, she did go as far as +the ropes, but there she was warded off by Ebenezer until Ellery +came running out and bade her come no nearer. + +"But you shan't stay here, Mr. Ellery," vowed Keziah. "Or, if you +do, I'll stay, too. I ain't afraid of smallpox." + +"I am," confessed the minister, "and I'm not going to let anyone I +care for expose themselves to it unnecessarily. If you try to come +in here I shall"--he smiled--"well, Capen and I will put you off +the premises by force. There!" + +Keziah smiled, too, in spite of herself. "Maybe you'd have your +hands full," she said. "O John, what in the world made you do this +thing? It's dreadful. I shan't sleep a wink, thinkin' of you. I +just must come here and help." + +"No, you mustn't. You can come as far as the--the dead line once +in a while, if Captain Mayo will drive you over, but that's all. +I'm all right. Don't worry about me. I'm feeling tiptop and I'm +not going to be sick. Now go home and make me some of that--some +of those puddings of yours. We can use them to advantage, can't +we, Capen?" + +"Bet yer!" replied Ebenezer with enthusiasm. Keziah, after more +expostulation, went back to the parsonage, where the puddings were +made and seasoned with tears and fervent prayers. She wrote to +Grace and told her the news of the San Jose, but she said nothing +of the minister's part in it. "Poor thing!" sighed Keziah, "she's +bearin' enough already. Her back ain't as strong as mine, maybe, +and mine's most crackin'. Well, let it crack for good and all; I +don't know but that's the easiest way out." + +The sick sailor grew no better. Days and nights passed and he +raved and moaned or lay in a stupor. Ebenezer acted as day nurse +while Ellery slept, and, at night, the minister, being younger, +went on watch. The doctor came frequently, but said there was no +hope. A question of time only, and a short time, he said. + +Capen occupied his mind with speculations concerning the patient. + +"Do you know, parson," he said, "seem's if I'd seen the feller +somewheres afore. 'Course I never have, but when I used to go +whalin' v'yages I cruised from one end of creation to t'other, +pretty nigh, and I MIGHT have met him. However, his own folks +wouldn't know him now, would they? so I cal'late I'm just gettin' +foolish in my old age. Said his name's Murphy, them ha'f-breeds +did, didn't they? I know better'n that." + +"How do you know?" asked Ellery, idly listening. + +"'Cause when he's floppin' round on the bed, out of his head, he +sings out all kinds of stuff. A good deal of it's plain cussin', +but there's times when he talks respectable and once I heard him +say 'darn' and another time 'I cal'late.' Now no Irishman says +THAT. That's Yankee, that is." + +"Well, he ought to know his own name." + +"Prob'ly he does--or used to--but 'most likely he don't want nobody +else to know it. That's why he said 'twas Murphy and, bein' as he +DID say it, I know 'tain't it. See my argument, don't you, Mr. +Ellery?" + +"Yes, I guess so." + +"Um--hm! Why, land sakes, names don't mean nothin' with seafarin' +men. I've seen the time when I had more names-- Humph! Looks +kind of squally off to the east'ard, don't it?" + +That night the sick man was much worse. His ravings were +incessant. The minister, sitting in his chair in the living room, +by the cook stove, could hear the steady stream of shouts, oaths, +and muttered fragments of dialogue with imaginary persons. +Sympathy for the sufferer he felt, of course, and yet he, as well +as Dr. Parker and old Capen, had heard enough to realize that the +world would be none the worse for losing this particular specimen +of humanity. The fellow had undoubtedly lived a hard life, among +the roughest of companions afloat and ashore. Even Ebenezer, who +by his own confession, was far from being a saint, exclaimed +disgustedly at the close of a day's watching by the sick bed: +"Phew! I feel's if I'd been visiting state's prison. Let me set +out doors a spell and listen to the surf. It's clean, anyhow, and +that critter's talk makes me want to give my brains a bath." + +The wooden clock, loaned by Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife, ticked +steadily, although a half hour slow. Ellery, glancing at it to see +if the time had come for giving medicine, suddenly noticed how loud +its ticking sounded. Wondering at this, he was aware there was no +other sound in the house. He rose and looked in at the door of the +adjoining room. The patient had ceased to rave and was lying quiet +on the bed. + +The minister tiptoed over to look at him. And, as he did so, the +man opened his eyes. + +"Halloo!" he said faintly. "Who are you?" + +Ellery, startled, made no answer. + +"Who are you?" demanded the man again. Then, with an oath, he +repeated the question, adding: "What place is this? This ain't the +fo'castle. Where am I?" + +"You're ashore. You've been sick. Don't try to move." + +"Sick? Humph! Sick? 'Course I been sick. Don't I know it? The +d--n cowards run off and left me; blast their eyes! I'll fix 'em +for it one of these days, you hear--" + +"Sshh!" + +"Hush up yourself. Where am I?" + +"You're ashore. On Cape Cod. At Trumet." + +"Trumet! TRUMET!" + +He was struggling to raise himself on his elbow. Ellery was +obliged to use force to hold him down. + +"Hush! hush!" pleaded the minister, "you mustn't try to--" + +"Trumet! I ain't. You're lyin'. Trumet! Good God! Who brought +me here? Did she-- Is she--" + +He struggled again. Then his strength and his reason left him +simultaneously and the delirium returned. He began to shout a +name, a name that caused Ellery to stand upright and step back from +the bed, scarcely believing his ears. + +All the rest of that night the man on the bed raved and muttered, +but of people and places and happenings which he had not mentioned +before. And the minister, listening intently to every word, caught +himself wondering if he also was not losing his mind. + +When the morning came, Ebenezer Capen was awakened by a shake to +find John Ellery standing over him. + +"Capen," whispered the minister, "Capen, get up. I must talk with +you." + +Ebenezer was indignant. + +"Judas priest!" he exclaimed; "why don't you scare a feller to +death, comin' and yankin' him out of bed by the back hair?" Then, +being more wide awake, he added: "What's the row? Worse, is he? +He ain't--" + +"No. But I've got to talk with you. You used to be a whaler, I +know. Were you acquainted in New Bedford?" + +"Sartin. Was a time when I could have located every stick in it, +pretty nigh, by the smell, if you'd set me down side of 'em +blindfold." + +"Did you ever know anyone named--" He finished the sentence. + +"Sure and sartin, I did. Why?" + +"Did you know him well?" + +"Well's I wanted to. Pretty decent feller one time, but a fast +goer, and went downhill like a young one's sled, when he got +started. His folks had money, that was the trouble with him. Why, +'course I knew him! He married--" + +"I know. Now, listen." + +Ellery went on talking rapidly and with great earnestness. +Ebenezer listened, at first silently, then breaking in with +ejaculations and grunts of astonishment. He sat up on the edge of +the bed. + +"Rubbish!" he cried at last. "why, 'tain't possible! The feller's +dead as Methusalem's grandmarm. I remember how it happened and--" + +"It wasn't true. That much I know. I KNOW, I tell you." + +He went on to explain why he knew. Capen's astonishment grew. + +"Judas priest!" he exclaimed again. "That would explain why I +thought I'd seen-- There! heave ahead. I've got to see. But it's +a mistake. I don't believe it." + +The pair entered the sick room. The sailor lay in a stupor. His +breathing was rapid, but faint. Capen bent over him and gently +moved the bandage on his face. For a full minute he gazed +steadily. Then he stood erect, drew a big red hand across his +forehead, and moved slowly back to the living room. + +"Well?" asked Ellery eagerly. + +Ebenezer sat down in the rocker. "Judas priest!" he said for the +third time. "Don't talk to ME! When it comes my time they'll have +to prove I'm dead. I won't believe it till they do. Ju-das +PRIEST!" + +"Then you recognize him?" + +The old man nodded solemnly. + +"Yup," he said, "it's him. Mr. Ellery, what are you goin' to do +about it?" + +"I don't know. I don't know. I must go somewhere by myself and +think. I don't know WHAT to do." + +The minister declined to wait for breakfast. He said he was not +hungry. Leaving Ebenezer to put on the coffeepot and take up his +duties as day nurse, Ellery walked off along the beach. The "dead +line" prevented his going very far, but he sat down in the lee of a +high dune and thought until his head ached. What should he do? +What was best for him to do? + +He heard the rattle of the doctor's chaise and the voices of +Ebenezer and Parker in conversation. He did not move, but remained +where he was, thinking, thinking. By and by he heard Capen calling +his name. + +"Mr. Ellery!" shouted Ebenezer. "Mr. Ellery, where be you?" + +"Here!" replied the minister. + +The old man came scrambling over the sand. He was panting and much +excited. + +"Mr. Ellery!" he cried, "Mr. Ellery! it's settled for us--one part +of it, anyhow. He's slipped his cable." + +"What?" The minister sprang up. + +"Yup. He must have died just a little while after you left and +after I gave him his medicine. I thought he looked kind of queer +then. And when the doctor came we went in together and he was +dead. Yes, sir, dead." + +"Dead!" + +"Um--hm. No doubt of it; it's for good this time. Mr. Ellery, +what shall we do? Shall I tell Dr. Parker?" + +Ellery considered for a moment. "No," he said slowly. "No, Capen, +don't tell anyone. I can't see why they need ever know that he +hasn't been dead for years, as they supposed. Promise me to keep +it a secret. I'll tell--her--myself, later on. Now promise me; I +trust you." + +"Land sakes, yes! I'll promise, if you want me to. I'm a widower +man, so there'll be nobody to coax it out of me. I guess you're +right, cal'late you be. What folks don't know they can't lie +about, can they? and that's good for your business--meanin' nothin' +disreverent. I'll promise, Mr. Ellery; I'll swear to it. Now come +on back to the shanty. The doctor wants you." + +The next day the body of "Murphy," foremast hand on the San Jose, +was buried in the corner of the Regular graveyard, near those who +were drowned in the wreck of that winter. There was no funeral, of +course. The minister said a prayer at the shanty, and that was +all. Ebenezer drove the wagon which was used as hearse for the +occasion, and filled in the grave himself. So great was the fear +of the terrible smallpox that the sexton would not perform even +that service for its victim. + +Capen remained at the shanty another week. Then, as the minister +showed no symptoms of having contracted the disease and insisted +that he needed no companion, Ebenezer departed to take up his +fishing once more. The old man was provided with a new suit of +clothes, those he had worn being burned, and having been, to his +huge disgust, fumigated until, as he said, he couldn't smell +himself without thinking of a match box, went away. The room which +the dead sailor had occupied was emptied and sealed tight. The San +Jose was to stay at her anchorage a while longer. Then, when all +danger was past, she was to be towed to Boston and sold at auction +for the benefit of the heirs of her dead skipper and owner. + +Ellery himself was most urgent in the decision that he should not +go back to the parsonage and his church just yet. Better to wait +until he was sure, he said, and Dr. Parker agreed. "I'd be willing +to bet that you are all right," declared the latter, "but I know +Trumet, and if I SHOULD let you go and you did develop even the +tail end of a case of varioloid--well, 'twould be the everlasting +climax for you and me in this county." + +Staying alone was not unpleasant, in a way. The "dead line" still +remained, of course, and callers did not attempt to pass it, but +they came more frequently and held lengthy conversations at a +respectful distance. Ellery did his own cooking, what little there +was to do, but so many good things were pushed under the ropes that +he was in a fair way to develop weight and indigestion. Captain +Zeb Mayo drove down at least twice a week and usually brought Mrs. +Coffin with him. From them and from the doctor the prisoner +learned the village news. Once Captain Elkanah and Annabel came, +and the young lady's gushing praise of the minister's "heroism" +made its recipient almost sorry he had ever heard of the San Jose. + +Dr. Parker told him of Grace Van Horne's return to the village. +She had come back, so the doctor said, the day before, and was to +live at the tavern for a while, at least. Yes, he guessed even she +had given up hope of Captain Nat now. + +"And say," went on Parker, "how are you feeling?" + +"Pretty well, thank you," replied the minister. "I seem to be +rather tired and good for nothing. More so than I was during the +worst of it." + +"No wonder. A chap can't go through what you did and not feel some +reaction. I expected that. Don't get cold, that's all. But what +I want to know is whether you think I could leave you for a couple +of days? The Ostable County Medical Society meets at Hyannis +to-morrow and I had promised myself to take it in this year. +But I don't want to leave you, if you need me." + +Ellery insisted that he did not need anyone, was getting along +finely, and would not hear of his friend's missing the medical +society's meeting. So the physician went. + +"Good-by," he called as he drove off. "I guess your term is pretty +nearly over. I shall let you out of jail inside of four or five +days, if you behave yourself." + +This should have been cheering news, but, somehow, John Ellery did +not feel cheerful that afternoon. The tired feeling he had spoken +of so lightly was worse than he had described it, and he was +despondent, for no particular reason. That night he slept +miserably and awoke with a chill to find a cold, pouring rain +beating against the windows of the shanty. + +He could not eat and he could not keep warm, even with the cook- +stove top red hot and a blanket over his shoulders. By noon the +chill had gone and he was blazing with fever. Still the rain and +the wind, and no visitors at the ropes, not even the light-keeper. + +He lay down on his bed and tried to sleep, but though he dozed a +bit, woke always with a start and either a chill or fever fit. His +head began to ache violently. And then, in the lonesomeness and +misery, fear began to take hold of him. + +He remembered the symptoms the doctor had warned him against, +headache, fever, and all the rest. He felt his wrists and arms and +began to imagine that beneath the skin were the little bunches, +like small shot, that were the certain indications. Then he +remembered how that other man had looked, how he had died. Was he +to look that way and die like that? And he was all alone, they had +left him alone. + +Night came. The rain had ceased and stars were shining clear. +Inside the shanty the minister tossed on the bed, or staggered back +and forth about the two rooms. He wondered what the time might be; +then he did not care. He was alone. The smallpox had him in its +grip. He was alone and he was going to die. Why didn't some one +come? Where was Mrs. Coffin? And Grace? She was somewhere near +him--Parker had said so--and he must see her before he died. He +called her name over and over again. + +The wind felt cold on his forehead. He stumbled amidst the beach +grass. What was this thing across his path? A rope, apparently, +but why should there be ropes in that house? There had never been +any before. He climbed over it and it was a climb of hundreds of +feet and the height made him giddy. That was a house, another +house, not the one he had been living in. And there were lights +all about. Perhaps one of them was the light at the parsonage. +And a big bell was booming. That was his church bell and he would +be late for the meeting. + +Some one was speaking to him. He knew the voice. He had known it +always and would know it forever. It was the voice he wanted to +hear. "Grace!" he called. "Grace! I want you. Don't go! Don't +go! Grace! oh, my dear! don't go!" + +Then the voice had gone. No, it had not gone. It was still there +and he heard it speaking to him, begging him to listen, pleading +with him to go somewhere, go back, back to something or other. And +there was an arm about his waist and some one was leading him, +helping him. He broke down and cried childishly and some one cried +with him. + + +Early the next morning, just as day was breaking, a buggy, the +horse which drew it galloping, rocked and bumped down the +lighthouse lane. Dr. Parker, his brows drawn together and his lips +set with anxiety, was driving. He had been roused from sleep in +the hotel at Hyannis by a boy with a telegram. "Come quick," it +read. "Mr. Ellery sick." The sender was Noah Ellis, the +lightkeeper. The doctor had hired a fast horse, ridden at top +speed to Bayport, gotten a fresh horse there and hurried on. He +stopped at his own house but a moment, merely to rouse his wife and +ask her if there was any fresh news. But she had not even heard of +the minister's seizure. + +"My soul, Will!" she cried, "you don't think it's the smallpox, do +you?" + +"Lord knows! I'm afraid so," groaned her husband. "WHAT made me +leave him? I ought to have known better. If that boy dies, I'll +never draw another easy breath." + +He rushed out, sprang into the buggy, and drove on. At the ropes, +early as it was, he found a small group waiting and gazing at the +shanty. The lightkeeper was there and two or three other men. +They were talking earnestly. + +"How is he, Noah?" demanded the doctor, jumping to the ground. + +"I don't know, doc," replied Ellis. "I ain't heard sence last +night when I telegraphed you." + +"Haven't heard? What do you mean by that? Haven't you been with +him?" + +"No-o," was the rather sheepish reply. "You see, I--I wanted to, +but my wife's awful scart I'll catch it and--" + +"The devil!" Dr. Parker swore impatiently. "Who is with him then? +You haven't left him alone, have you?" + +"No-o," Noah hesitated once more. "No-o, he ain't alone. She's +there." + +"She? Who? Keziah Coffin?" + +"I don't cal'late Keziah's heard it yet. We was waitin' for you +'fore we said much to anybody. But she's there--the--the one that +found him. You see, he was out of his head and wanderin' up the +lane 'most to the main road and she'd been callin' on Keziah and +when she come away from the parsonage she heard him hollerin' and +goin' on and--" + +"Who did?" + +"Why"--the lightkeeper glanced at his companions--"why, doc, 'twas +Grace Van Horne. And she fetched him back to the shanty and then +come and got me to telegraph you." + +"Grace Van Horne! Grace Van-- Do you mean to say she is there +with him NOW?" + +"Yes. She wouldn't leave him. She seemed 'most as crazy's he was. +My wife and me, we--" + +But Parker did not wait to hear the rest. He ran at full speed to +the door of the shanty. Grace herself opened it. + +"How is he?" demanded the doctor. + +"I think he seems a little easier; at any rate, he's not delirious. +He's in there. Oh, I'm so thankful you've come." + +"Is that the doctor?" called Ellery weakly from the next room. "Is +it?" + +"Yes," replied Parker, throwing off his coat and hat. "Coming, Mr. +Ellery." + +"For God's sake, doctor, send her away. Don't let her stay. Make +her go. Make her GO! I've got the smallpox and if she stays she +will die. Don't you understand? she MUST go." + +"Hush, John," said Grace soothingly. "Hush, dear." + +Dr. Parker stopped short and looked at her. She returned the look, +but without the slightest semblance of self-consciousness or +embarrassment. She did not realize that she had said anything +unusual, which must sound inexplicably strange to him. Her +thoughts were centered in that adjoining room and she wondered why +he delayed. + +"Well?" she asked impatiently. "What is it? Why do you wait?" + +The doctor did not answer. However, he waited no longer, but +hurried in to his new patient. + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT + + +The news was flying from house to house along the main road. +Breakfasts were interrupted as some neighbor rushed in to tell the +story which another neighbor had brought to him or her. Mr. Ellery +was very sick and it was feared he had the smallpox, that was what +Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife, told those who lived near her. By +the time the Corners heard of it the tale had grown until the +minister was said to be dying. And when it reached Gaius Winslow's +home at the upper end of the town he was reported dead. This was +denied, upon investigation, but soon another rumor grew and spread; +Grace Van Horne was with him, had taken him back to the shanty, and +insisted upon staying there until the doctor came. Facing that +dreadful disease and-- It was wonderful--and queer. + +At the Danielses' house the servant girl rushed into the dining +room to serve the toast and the story at one swoop. Captain +Elkanah's dignity deserted him for an instant and his egg spoon +jingled to the floor. Annabel's face turned a dull red. Her eyes +flashed sparks. + +"Pa!" she cried, "I--I--if you don't do something now I'll never--" + +Her father shook his head warningly. "Debby," he said to the maid, +"you needn't wait." + +Debby departed reluctantly. After the kitchen door had closed, +Captain Elkanah said: "My dear, we mustn't be too hasty in this +matter. Remember, Mr. Ellery is very sick. As for--for the Van +Horne girl, we haven't heard the whole truth yet. She may not be +there at all, or it may be just an accident--" + +"Accident! Pa, you make me boil. Accident! Accidents like that +don't happen. If you let her stay there, or if-- Oh, to think of +it! And we were calling him a hero and--and everything! Hero! he +stayed there just so she might--" + +"Hush! hush, child!" + +"I shan't hush. Pa, are you going to let him disgrace himself with +HER?" + +"No, no. Probably there ain't any idea of his marrying her. If +there is--" + +"If there is you put him out of the church and out of this town. +And as for HER-- O-oh! And we've been having him here at dinner +and--and I have-- Oh, I shall die! I wish I WAS dead!" + +Then followed hysterics and agony, greedily listened to by Debby, +whose ear was at the crack of the door. Captain Elkanah soothed +and pleaded and tried to pacify. It ended by his promising to +investigate and, if necessary, take steps 'immejitly.' + +Lavinia Pepper sprung the mine on her brother. Kyan was horrified. +He had grown to be one of Ellery's most devoted worshipers. + +"Smallpox!" he groaned. "The minister got the smallpox. Oh! +that's turrible." + +"Ain't it?" observed his sister, also horrified, but rather +relishing the horror. "And if it hadn't been for Gracie Van Horne--" + +"WHAT?" + +"What's the matter with you? I say, if Gracie Van Horne hadn't +happened to meet him, wanderin' around, crazy as a coot, and toted +him back--" + +"Gracie--Van--Horne! Godfreys mighty! She--she met him? Where? +Down to Peters's grove, was it?" + +"Peters's grove! No. What on earth made you think 'twas there? +She'd been visitin' Keziah Coffin at the parsonage, and when she +come out on the main road she heard him aravin' down the lane. +Must have passed right by this house and we never heard him. I +never see such a dead man as you be when you're asleep. You don't +SOUND dead, I'll say that for you, but nothin' wakes you up." + +"Why, Laviny! you never woke up yourself." + +"That's right, lay it onto me. I expected you would; it's just +like you. But why in time did you think Grace met the minister way +down to Peters's grove? That's the most loony notion ever I heard, +even from you. What made you think of it?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. I guess I WAS loony, maybe. Dear! dear! dear! +have you heard how's he's gettin' on? Is he took bad?" + +"I ain't heard nothin' yet, nobody has. But see here, 'Bish +Pepper, you act funny to me. I want to know more about that +Peters's grove notion. WHY did you say it?" + +Kyan wriggled upon the rack and dodged and squirmed for the next +twenty minutes. He tried his best to keep the fateful secret, but +he admitted too much, or not enough, and his sister kept up the +cross-examination. At the end of the session she was still +unsatisfied, but she was on the scent and her brother knew it. He +fled to the woodshed and there punctuated his morning task of +kindling chopping with groans and awful forebodings. + +One of the very first to hear of the minister's illness was Keziah +Coffin. Mrs. Parker told her and Keziah started for the beach +before the tale of Grace's part in the night's happenings reached +the village. She did not wait for a conveyance, hardly waited to +throw a shawl over her shoulders, but began to cover the three +miles on foot. She had walked nearly two thirds of the distance +when Captain Zeb Mayo overtook her and gave her a seat in his +chaise. + +They said little during the drive, the shock and anxiety forbidding +conversation. At the ropes was the same group, larger now, and Dr. +Parker's horse was hitched to one of the posts. + +"You can't go in, Mrs. Coffin," said Thoph Black. "The doctor give +us his orders not to let nobody get by. I guess nobody wants to, +but all the same--" + +Keziah paid not the slightest attention to Mr. Black. She stooped +beneath his arm, under the rope and was on her way to the shanty +before they realized her intention. Captain Zeb roared a command +for her to return, but she kept on. No one followed, not even the +captain. Mrs. Mayo had strictly forbidden his passing the dead +line. + +Keziah opened the door and entered the little building. The living +room was empty, but at the sound of her step some one came from the +room adjoining. That some one was Grace. + +"Aunt Keziah!" she cried. "What did you come here for? Why did +you?" + +"Gracie!" exclaimed the housekeeper. "You?--YOU?" + +Dr. Parker appeared, holding up a hand for silence. + +"Hush!" he cried. "He's quiet now and I think he will sleep. +Don't talk here. Go outside, if you must talk--and I suppose you +must." + +Grace led the way. Fortunately, the door was on the side not +visible from the spot where Captain Zeb and the rest were standing. +Keziah, bewildered and amazed at the girl's presence, followed +dumbly. + +"Now, auntie," whispered Grace, turning to her, "you want to know +how he is, of course. Well, I think he is better. The doctor +thinks so, too. But why did you come here?" + +"Why did I come? I? Why, because my place was here. I belonged +here. For the love of mercy's sakes what are YOU doin' here? With +HIM? And the smallpox!" + +"Hush. I can't help it. I don't care. I don't care for anything +any more. I'm glad I came. I'm glad I was the one to find him and +help him. No matter what happens--to me--I'm glad. I never was so +glad before. I love him, Aunt Keziah. I can say it to you, for +you know it--you must know it. I LOVE him and he needed me and I +came. He was calling my name when I found him. He might have died +there, alone in the wet and cold, and I saved him. Think what that +means to me." + +The girl was in a sort of frenzy of excitement and hysterical +exaltation. All the night she had been calm and quiet, repressing +her feelings, and tending the man she loved. Now, with some one to +whom she could confide, she was calm no longer. Keziah answered +her soothingly, questioning her from time to time, until, at last, +she learned the whole story. + +The door opened softly and Dr. Parker came out. + +"He's asleep," he said. "And he's better, much better. And I'll +tell you something else, if you won't make too much noise about it-- +he hasn't got the smallpox." + +The two women looked at him. + +"Fact," he said, with an emphatic nod. "Not a symptom of it. I'd +have bet my best hat that he wasn't going to have it and I won't +have to go bareheaded yet awhile. He is pretty close to brain +fever, though, but I guess he'll dodge that this time, with care. +On the whole, Keziah, I'm glad you came. This young lady," with a +movement of the head toward Grace, "has done her part. She really +saved his life, if I'm not mistaken. Now, I think she can go away +and leave him to you and me. I'll pretty nearly guarantee to have +him up and out of this--this pesthole in a fortnight." + +Here was joyful tidings, the better for being so unexpected. +Keziah leaned against the boards and drew a long breath. Grace +said nothing, but, after a moment, she went into the house. + +"That's a good thing, too," commented Parker, watching her as she +went. "I wanted to talk with you, Keziah Coffin, and right away. +Now, then, there's something up, something that I don't know about, +and I rather guess you do. Young women--even when they're her kind +and that's as good a kind as there is--don't risk smallpox for any +young man they pick up casually. They don't carry--I guess it was +pretty nearly carrying--him home and put him to bed and care for +him and cry over him and call him 'dear.' And he doesn't beg them +to run away and let him die rather than to stay there and risk +dying, too. No, not to any great extent. Now, Keziah, you and I +are fairly good friends and we ought to know each other by this +time. I see a light--a little one. Now, then, if you turn up the +lamp, so that I can see the whole blaze, maybe I can help those two +in yonder." + +Keziah considered. "All right, doctor," she said, when she reached +a decision, "all right; I'll tell you the whole thing, and you can +see one of the reasons why my hair is gettin' grayer. This thing +has reached the point now where there's no keepin' it quiet. +Folk'll know--I s'pose they know already--that she's been here with +him. They'll suspect a lot more and the truth is better than +suspicion--that is, it can't be worse than the suspicions that come +natural to a good many minds in this town. I am glad I can tell +you, for I guess the time's come to step out in broad daylight and +h'ist our colors. Now, you listen. Here 'tis, from beginnin' to +end." + +She went on to tell all she knew of her parson's love story. + +Dr. Parker listened. + +"Hum!" he said thoughtfully, "I see. What made her change her mind +so suddenly? You say, or you gather from what Mr. Ellery told you, +that she had all but agreed to marry him. She cares for him, +that's sure. Then, all at once, she throws him over and accepts +Nat. Of course her uncle's sudden seizure was a shock and he +wanted Nat to have her, but she isn't the kind of girl to be easily +swayed. Why did she do it?" + +"Well, doctor, that's kind of a puzzle to me. All I can think is +that she come to realize what it might mean to him, the minister, +if he married a Come-Outer. I think she done it for his sake, to +save him, though what made her realize it all at once I don't know. +There's the part we ain't heard." + +"I guess you're right. Something happened between the time she +left Ellery and when you and I reached the tavern. But never mind +that, that doesn't count now. Let's look at things as they are +this minute. She's here and folks know it. As they do know it +they'll begin to talk, and the more they talk the farther from the +truth they'll get--most of 'em. Nat, poor chap, is dead, so her +promise to him is canceled. Ellery will get well if he isn't +troubled, and her being with him will help more than anything else. +I can understand now why he broke down." + +"Yes, he ain't been himself since it happened." + +"Of course, and the last few weeks of worry and night work have +helped to wreck his nerves. Well, as I see it, there's only one +thing to do. If she leaves him he'll go to pieces again, so she +mustn't leave. And she can't stay without an explanation. I say +let's give the explanation; let's come right out with the +announcement that they're engaged." + +"Whew! that'll stir things up." + +"You bet! But let it stir. I like that parson of yours; he's a +trump. And I always liked her, although, generally speaking, I +don't love Come-Outers. And I like her more than ever now, when +she risked what she thought was smallpox to care for him. As I +said, she saved his life, and she ought to have him. She SHALL +have him." + +"But she's a Come-Outer and--there's the church." + +"Well, I know it. But he never was so popular as he is now. And +she isn't by any means a steady-going Come-Outer. Why, Zeke +Bassett and the rest have been finding fault with her and calling +her a backslider. That'll help. Then you trust me to whoop up her +heroism and the fact that without her he would have died. We can +do it, Keziah. Come on! I've tackled a good many jobs, but +matchmaking isn't one of 'em. Here goes to tackle that." + +Keziah was delighted; here was work after her own heart. But she +still hesitated. + +"Doctor," she said, "you've forgot one thing, that's Gracie +herself. Would she marry him now, knowing it may mean the loss of +his ministry and all, any more than she would at first? I don't +believe it." + +"That's your part, Keziah. You've got to show her she MUST marry +him or he'll die; see? Call on me to back you up in any fairy yarn +you spin. You prove to her it's her duty to marry him. You'll +have to stay, here and help nurse, of course, and that's easy +because his disease isn't contagious. You convince her and I'll +take care of the congregation. He'll live to be minister here for +the rest of his life, if he wants to, and she'll be a minister's +wife and sit in the front pew. I'll guarantee the church if you'll +guarantee the girl. Why, it's your duty! Come, now, what do you +say?" + +Keziah's hesitation was at an end. Her face lit up. + +"I say good!" she cried. "And I'll be thankful to you all the rest +of my life. But for the dear mercy sakes, don't say 'duty' to me +again. Oh, doctor, if you only knew what it means to me to be +fightin' at last for somethin' that ain't just duty, but what I +really want! I do honestly believe we can win. Glory, hallelujah! +And now I want to give you a piece of advice, your course for the +first leg, as you might say: you see Cap'n Zebedee Mayo." + +"Humph! Cap'n Zeb is the first man I mean to see." + +Captain Zeb listened with his mouth and eyes and ears open. Mrs. +Mayo was with him when the doctor called, and she, too, listened. + +"Well!" exclaimed the captain, when the plea for support was ended. +"Well, by the flukes of Jonah's whale! Talk about surprises! Old +lady, what do you say?" + +"I say go ahead, Zebedee. Go ahead! If Mr. Ellery wanted to marry +Jezebel's sister, and I knew he really wanted to, I'd--I do believe +I'd help him get her. And Grace Van Horne is a good girl. Go +ahead." + +"Of course," put in Parker, profiting by a hint of Mrs. Coffin's, +"of course Daniels will fight tooth and nail against us. He'll be +for discharging Ellery at once. And he really runs the parish +committee." + +"He does, hey? Well, I cal'late he don't. Not if I'm on deck, he +don't. All right, doctor, I'm with you. He, he, he!" he chuckled. +"Say, doc, do you know I sort of love a good lively row. That's +been the only trouble with our society sence Mr. Ellery took +command of it--there ain't been any rows. He, he, he! Well, +there'll be one now." + +There was, and it was lively enough to suit even Captain Zeb. Dr. +Parker, on his calls that day, was assailed with a multitude of +questions concerning Grace's presence at the shanty. He answered +them cheerfully, dilating upon the girl's bravery, her good sense, +and the fact that she had saved Mr. Ellery's life. Then he +confided, as a strict secret, the fact that the two were engaged. +Before his hearers had recovered from the shock of this explosion, +he was justifying the engagement. Why shouldn't they marry if they +wanted to? It was a free country. The girl wasn't a Come-Outer +any longer, and, besides--and this carried weight in a good many +households--what a black eye the marriage would be for that no- +account crowd at the chapel. + +Captain Zebedee, having shipped with the insurgents, worked for +them from sunrise to sunset and after. Zeb was something of a +politician and knew whom to "get at." He sought his fellows on the +parish committee and labored with them. Mrs. Mayo and the doctor's +wife championed the cause at sewing circle. They were lively, +those sewing meetings, and the fur flew. Didama Rogers and Lavinia +Pepper were everywhere and ready to agree with whichever side +seemed likely to win. Lavinia was so deeply interested that she +forgot to catechise Abishai further about his untimely reference to +Peters's grove. And Kyan, puzzled but thankful, kept silence. + +It was by no means a one-sided struggle. Captain Elkanah, spurred +on by the furious Annabel, marshaled his forces and proclaimed that +Ellery, having disgraced the Regular Society, should no longer +occupy its pulpit. + +"If he does," thundered Elkanah, "I shall never cross the threshold +of that church. And I've worshiped there for fifty years. Hum-- +ha! I should like to know whose money has gone more liberal for +that meeting house than mine! But not another cent--no, sir! not +one--if that licentious young scamp continues to blaspheme there." + +He hinted concerning a good-sized contribution toward a parish +house, something the society needed. If Ellery was discharged, the +contribution would probably be made, not otherwise. And this was a +point worth considering. + +Daniels also wrote to his influential friends of the National +Regular Society. But Captain Zebedee had forestalled him there and +both letters were laid on the table to await further developments. +As for the Come-Outers, they were wild with rage and Grace was +formally read out of their communion. + +"I wonder," shrieked Ezekiel Bassett, in prayer meeting, "what the +sperrit of the good and great man who used to lead us from this +'ere platform would say if he was here now? Hey? what would he +say?" + +Josiah Badger upreared his lanky person. "I dreamed about Cap'n +Eben t'other n-nin-nun-night," he stammered. "I see him just as-- +p-pup-pup-plain as you hear me n-n-now. And he says to me, he +says, Josiah,' he says, 'I-I-I-I--'" + +"Ki yi!" broke in Thoph Baker, from the shadow of the rear seat. +Josiah turned to berate Thoph, who, being in disgrace because of +his defense of Ellery, was reckless, and the communication from the +dead leader of the Come-Outers was lost in the squabble which +followed. + +Meantime Keziah, installed as head nurse at the shanty, was having +her troubles. The minister was getting better, slowly but surely +getting better. The danger of brain fever was at an end, but he +was very weak and must not be excited, so the doctor said. He knew +nothing of the struggle for and against him which was splitting +Trumet in twain, and care was taken that he should not know it. He +was not allowed to talk, and, for the most part, was quite +contented to be silent, watching Grace as she moved about the room. +If he wondered why she was still with him, he said nothing, and the +thought of what his congregation might say did not vex him in the +least. She was there, he saw her every day, that was enough. + +He had expressed a wish to talk with his housekeeper. "I've got +something to tell you, Aunt Keziah," he said weakly. "Some news +for you and--and--" + +"Cat's foot!" snapped Keziah briskly, "don't start in tellin' me +news now. I've got my hands full as 'tis. News'll keep and you +won't, if you talk another minute." + +"But this is important." + +"So are you, though you may not think so. If you don't believe it +ask Grace." + +"Well," the minister sighed. "Well, perhaps I won't tell it now. +I'd rather wait until I feel stronger. You won t care, will you? +It will be hard to tell and I--" + +"No, no! Care? No. If it's bad news I don't want to hear it, and +if it's good I can wait, I cal'late. You turn over and take a +nap." + +She could manage him; it was with Grace that she had her struggle. +John was safe now; he would be himself again before very long, and +the girl had begun to think of his future and his reputation. She +knew that gossip must be busy in the village, and, much as she +wished to remain by his side, she decided that she should not do +so. And then Keziah began to fulfill her agreement with Dr. +Parker. + +First, and bluntly, she told the girl that her leaving now was +useless. The secret was out; it had been made public. Everyone +knew she was in love with John and he with her. Their engagement +was considered an established certainty. Grace was greatly +agitated and very indignant. + +"Who dared say so?" she demanded. "Who dared say we were engaged? +It's not true. It's a wicked lie and-- Who is responsible, Aunt +Keziah?" + +"Well, I suppose likely I am, much as anybody, deary." + +"You? You, Aunt Keziah?" + +"Yup; me. You are in love with him; at any rate, you said so. And +you're here with him, ain't you? If you two ain't engaged you +ought to be." + +"Aunt Keziah, how can you speak so? Don't you realize--" + +"Look here. Don't you want to marry him?" + +"WANT to? Oh, please-- How can you? I--" + +"S-s-sh! There! there! I am a bull-headed old thing, for sure. +But I'm like the dog that chased the rat across the shelf where +they kept the best china, my intentions are good. Don't cry, +deary. Let's get to the bottom of this thing, as the man said when +he tumbled into the well. When I first knew that you and John were +in love with each other, I felt dreadful. I knew your uncle and I +knew Trumet. If you had married then, or let people know that you +thought of it, 'twould have been the end, and ruin for John and +you. But things are diff'rent now, a good deal diff'rent. John is +worshiped pretty nigh, since his pluck with that smallpox man. He +could go into church and dance a jig in the pulpit and nobody--or +precious few, at least--would find fault. And you've stood by him. +If it wa'n't for you he wouldn't be here to-day, and people know +that. Dr. Parker and Captain Zebedee and Gaius Winslow and dozens +more are fighting for him and for you. And the doctor says they +are going to win. Do you want to spoil it all?" + +"Aunt Keziah, that night before uncle died I was upstairs in my +room and I heard uncle and Captain Elkanah Daniels talking." + +"Elkanah? Was he there at your house?" + +"Yes. Somehow or other--I don't know how--he had learned about-- +about John and me. And he was furious. Aunt Keziah, I heard him +say that unless I broke off with John he would drive him from the +ministry and from Trumet and disgrace him forever. He said that if +I really cared for him I would not ruin his life. That brought me +to myself. I realized how wicked I had been and what I was doing. +That was why I--I--" + +"There! there! Tut! tut! tut! hum! Now I see. But, Gracie, you +ain't goin' to ruin his life. No, nor Elkanah ain't goin' to do +it, either. He can't, no matter how hard he tries. I've lived to +see the day when there's a bigger man in the Reg'lar church than +Elkanah Daniels, and I thank the good Lord for it." + +"I never should have come here. I know it. But he needed me. +Aunt Keziah, he was sick and dying almost, and I couldn't leave +him. I came, and now he will be ruined and disgraced." + +"He won't, I tell you; he won't. Listen to me. I ain't talkin' +for my health. Listen!" + +She argued and pleaded and coaxed, and, at last, when she began to +think she had prevailed, Grace brought forward another objection. +She had given her word to her uncle. How could she break that +promise made to a dying man? She would feel like a traitor. + +"Traitor to who?" demanded the housekeeper, losing patience. "Not +to poor Nat, for he's gone. And don't you suppose that he and Eben +understand things better now, where they are? Do you suppose that +Nat wouldn't want you to be happy? I know he would, for I knew +him." + +It was still unsettled when the long talk was over, but Grace +agreed not to leave the minister at present. She would stay where +she was until he was himself again, at least. Keziah was satisfied +with the preliminary skirmish. She felt confident of winning the +victory, and in the prospect of happiness for others, she was +almost happy herself. Yet each time the mail was brought to the +shanty she dreaded to look at it, and the sight of a stranger made +her shake with fear. Ansel Coffin had threatened to come to +Trumet. If he came, she had made up her mind what to do. + +The parish committee was to meet. Captain Elkanah had announced +his intention of moving that John Ellery be expelled from the +Regular church. There was to be no compromise, no asking for a +resignation; he must be discharged, thrown out in disgrace. The +county papers were full of the squabble, but they merely reported +the news and did not take sides. The fight was too even for that. + +Captain Zeb chuckled. "It's all right, Keziah," he said. "We know +what's what and who's who. The Rev. Mr. Ellery can preach here for +the next hundred year, if he lives that long and wants to, and he +can marry whoever he darn pleases, besides. Elkanah's licked and +he knows it. He ain't got enough backers to man a lobster dory. +Let him holler; noise don't scare grown folks." + +One afternoon a few days before the date set for the meeting +Elkanah and two or three of his henchmen were on the piazza of the +Daniels home, discussing the situation. They were blue and +downcast. Annabel was in the sitting room, shedding tears of +humiliation and jealous rage on the haircloth sofa. + +"Well," observed her father, "there's one thing we can do. If the +vote in committee goes against us, I shall insist on the calling of +a congregational meeting. Hum--ha! Yes, I shall insist on that." + +"Won't be no good, cap'n," sniffed Beriah Salters dolefully. "The +biggest part of the congregation's for Ellery, and you know it. +They're as sot on him as if he was the angel Gabriel. If you'd +only told what you knew afore this smallpox business, we'd have +been able to give him and his Come-Outer woman what b'longs to 'em. +But not now." + +Captain Daniels shifted uneasily in his chair. + +"Hum--ha!" he barked, to cover confusion. Hum--ha! It seemed to me +more--er--charitable to give the misguided young man another +chance, and I did it. But-- What's that?" + +Some one was talking excitedly on the sidewalk beyond the lilac +bushes at the border of the Daniels property. Voices answered. +Didama Rogers darted out of her yard and past the house in the +direction of the sounds. Salters rose and walked down to the gate. + +"Hey!" he shouted. "Halloo! Ahoy there! You, Em'lous, what is +it?" + +Emulous Sparrow, the fish peddler, was seated in his cart, which +was surrounded by men and women, neighbors of the Danielses. There +was a perfect storm of questionings and ejaculations. Salters +opened the gate and joined the group. A moment later he came +running back, up the walk toward the piazza. + +"Cap'n," he shouted. "Cap'n Elkanah, here's news! What do you +think? A telegram's just come from Nat Hammond. He's safe and +sound in New York, and he'll be here day after to-morrow." + +They could not believe it and rushed out to hear more. Emulous, +glowing with importance, affirmed that it was so. He had seen the +telegram at the store. It was for Grace Van Horne and they were +just going to send a boy over to the shanty with it. + +"No details nor nothin'," he declared. "Just said 'Am all right. +Arrived to-day. Will be in Trumet Thursday.' And 'twas signed +'Nathaniel Hammond.' There!" + +"Well, by thunder!" exclaimed Salters. "If that don't beat all. I +wonder what's happened to him? Two year gone and give up for dead, +and now-- What do you cal'late it means?" + +Captain Elkanah seized him by the arm and led him out of the group. +The old man's face was alight with savage joy and his voice shook +with exultation. + +"I'll tell you one thing it means," he whispered. "It means the +end of Ellery, so far as his marrying her is concerned. She gave +her word to Hammond and she'll keep it. She's no liar, whatever +else she is. He may be minister of the Regular church, though I'LL +never set under him, but he'll never marry her, now." + + +CHAPTER XIX + +IN WHICH A RECEPTION IS CALLED OFF + + +Far out on the Pacific coast there are two small islands, perhaps a +hundred miles distant from one another. The first of these is +uninhabited. On the other is a little colony of English-speaking +people, half-breed descendants of native women and the survivors of +a crew from a British vessel cast away there in the latter part of +the eighteenth century. + +On the first of these islands, the smaller one, the Sea Mist had +been wrecked. Driven out of her course by a typhoon, she staggered +through day after day and night after night of terrific wind and +storm until, at last, there was promise of fair weather. Captain +Nat, nearly worn out from anxiety, care, and the loss of sleep, had +gone to his stateroom and the first mate was in charge. It was +three o'clock, the wind still blowing and the darkness pitchy, when +the forward lookout shrieked a warning, "Breakers under the lee!" +Almost the next instant the ship was on a coral reef, full of +water, and the seas breaking over her from stem to stern. + +Morning came and showed a little patch of land, with palm trees and +tropical vegetation waving in the gusts and green in the sunshine. +Captain Nat ordered the boats to be lowered. Much as he hated the +thought, he saw that the Sea Mist had made her last voyage and must +be abandoned. He went to the cabin, collected papers and charts +and prepared to leave. The ship's money, over ten thousand dollars +in gold belonging to the owner and to be used in trade and +speculation among the East Indies, he took with him. Then the +difficult and dangerous passage through the opening in the reef was +begun. + +Only the captain's boat reached the shore. The mate's was caught +by a huge breaker, dashed against the reef and sunk. Captain Nat, +his second mate and five of his men were all that was left of the +Sea Mist's company. And on that island they remained for nearly +two weeks. Provisions they had brought ashore with them. Water +they found by digging. Nat hid the gold at night, burying it on +the beach below high-water mark. + +Then, having made sure of his location by consulting the chart, he +determined to attempt a voyage to the second island, where he knew +the English colony to be. Provisions were getting short, and to +remain longer where they were was to risk starvation and all its +horrors. So, in the longboat, which was provided with a sail, they +started. Charts and papers and the gold the skipper took with +them. None of the crew knew of the existence of the money; it was +a secret which the captain kept to himself. + +A hundred miles they sailed in the longboat and, at last, the +second island was sighted. They landed and found, to their +consternation and surprise, that it, too, was uninhabited. The +former residents had grown tired of their isolation and, a trading +vessel having touched there, had seized the opportunity to depart +for Tahiti. Their houses were empty, their cattle, sheep, goats, +and fowl roamed wild in the woods, and the fruit was rotting on the +trees. In its way the little island was an Eyeless Eden, flowing +with milk and honey; but to Captain Nat, a conscientious skipper +with responsibilities to his owners, it was a prison from which he +determined to escape. Then, as if to make escape impossible, a +sudden gale came up and the longboat was smashed by the surf. + +"I guess that settles it," ruefully observed the second mate, +another Cape Codder, from Hyannis. Cal'late we'll stay here for a +spell now, hey, Cap'n." + +"For a spell, yes," replied Nat. "We'll stay here until we get +another craft to set sail in, and no longer." + +"Another craft? ANOTHER one? Where in time you goin' to get her?" + +"Build her," said Captain Nat cheerfully. Then, pointing to the +row of empty houses and the little deserted church, he added, +"There's timber and nails--yes, and cloth, such as 'tis. If I +can't build a boat out of them I'll agree to eat the whole +settlement." + +He did not have to eat it, for the boat was built. It took them +six months to build her, and she was a curious-looking vessel when +done, but, as the skipper said, "She may not be a clipper, but +she'll sail anywhere, if you give her time enough." He had been +the guiding spirit of the whole enterprise, planning it, laying the +keel, burning buildings, to obtain nails and iron, hewing trees for +the largest beams, showing them how to spin ropes from cocoa-nut +fiber, improvising sails from the longboat's canvas pieced out with +blankets and odd bits of cloth from the abandoned houses. Even a +strip of carpet from the church floor went into the making of those +sails. + +At last she was done, but Nat was not satisfied. + +"I never commanded a ship where I couldn't h'ist Yankee colors," he +said, "and, by the everlastin'! I won't now. We've got to have a +flag." + +So, from an old pair of blue overalls, a white cotton shirt, and +the red hangings of the church pulpit, he made a flag and hoisted +it to the truck of his queer command. They provisioned her, gave +her a liberal supply of fresh water, and, one morning, she passed +through the opening of the lagoon out to the deep blue of the +Pacific. And, hidden in her captain's stateroom under the head of +his bunk, was the ten thousand dollars in gold. For Nat had sworn +to himself, by "the everlasting" and other oaths, to deliver that +money to his New York owners safe and, necessary expenses deducted +of course, untouched. + +For seven weeks the crazy nondescript slopped across the ocean. +Fair winds helped her and, at last, she entered the harbor of +Nukahiva, over twelve hundred miles away. And there--"Hammond's +luck," the sailors called it--was a United States man-of-war lying +at anchor, the first American vessel to touch at that little French +settlement for five years. The boat they built was abandoned and +the survivors of the Sea Mist were taken on board the man-of-war +and carried to Tahiti. + +From Tahiti Captain Nat took passage on a French bark for Honolulu. +Here, after a month's wait, he found opportunity to leave for New +York on an American ship, the Stars and Stripes. And finally, +after being away from home for two years, he walked into the office +of his New York owners, deposited their gold on a table, and +cheerfully observed, "Well, here I am." + +That was the yarn which Trumet was to hear later on. It filled +columns of the city papers at the time, and those interested may +read it, in all its details, in a book written by an eminent +author. The tale of a Cape Cod sea captain, plucky and resourceful +and adequate, as Yankee sea captains were expected to be, and were, +in those days. + +But Trumet did not hear the yarn immediately. All that it heard +and all that it knew was contained in Captain Nat's brief telegram. +"Arrived to-day. Will be home Thursday." That was all, but it was +enough, for in that dispatch was explosive sufficient to blow to +atoms the doctor's plans and Keziah's, the great scheme which was +to bring happiness to John Ellery and Grace Van Horne. + +Dr. Parker heard it, while on his way to Mrs. Prince's, and, +neglecting that old lady for the once, he turned his horse and +drove as fast as possible to the shanty on the beach. Fast as he +drove, Captain Zebedee Mayo got there ahead of him. Captain Zeb +was hitching his white and ancient steed to the post as the doctor +hove in sight. + +"By mighty!" the captain exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, "I'm +glad enough you've come, doctor. I hated to go in there alone. +You've heard, of course." + +"Yes, I've heard." + +"Say, ain't it wonderful! I'm tickled all up one side and sorry +all down t'other. Nat's a true-blue feller, and I'm glad enough +that he ain't shark bait; but what about the minister and her? +She's promised to Nat, you know, and--" + +"I know. Don't I know! I've been going over the affair and trying +to see a way out ever since I heard of the telegram. Tut! tut! +I'm like you, mighty glad Hammond is safe, but it would have spared +complications if he had stayed wherever he's been for a few months +longer. We would have married those two in there by that time." + +"Sartin we would. But he didn't stay. Are you goin' to tell Mr. +Ellery?" + +"Certainly not. And I hope he hasn't been told. He's getting well +fast now, but he mustn't be worried, or back he'll go again. We +must see Mrs. Coffin. Keziah is our main hold. That woman has got +more sense than all the rest of us put together." + +But it was Grace, not Keziah, who opened the shanty door in answer +to their knock. She was pale and greeted them calmly, but it was +evident that her calmness was the result of sheer will power. + +"Won't you come in, doctor?" she asked. "Good afternoon, Captain +Mayo." + +Dr. Parker entered the building, but Captain Zeb remained outside, +stammering that he cal'lated he'd better stay where he could keep +an eye on his horse. This was such a transparent excuse that it +would have been funny at any other time. No one smiled now, +however. + +"Is--is Mrs. Coffin--er--Keziah aboard?" the captain asked. + +"No, she isn't. She went to the parsonage a few hours ago. Mr. +Ellis brought the mail and there was a letter in it for her. She +said it was important and that she must go home to see about some +things. She'll be back pretty soon, I suppose." + +The doctor whispered her name then and she went inside, closing the +door after her. Captain Zebedee sat down on the step to ponder +over the new and apparently insurmountable difficulty which had +arisen. As he said afterwards, "The more I tried to get an +observation, the thicker it got. Blamed if I could see anything +but fog, but I could hear--I could hear Elkanah and his gang +gigglin', ahead, astern and off both bows." + +Parker found his patient sleeping soundly and had not disturbed +him. Returning to the living room he spoke to Grace. + +"Humph!" he grunted, watching her from under his brows, "everything +seems to be all right in there. He hasn't been excited or anything +like that?" + +"No." + +"That's good. He mustn't be. You understand that? He mustn't be +told anything that will upset him. He's getting well fast and I +want it to continue." + +"Yes, I understand." + +"Hum! Er--have you heard-- Has anyone been here?" + +"Yes. I have heard. The telegram came and I answered it." + +"You did? Well, it's a miracle and we're all thankful, of course. +Did you--er--er--" + +"Doctor, I must go home. I mustn't stay here any longer." + +"Why not?" + +"You know why not. I must be at home when he comes. You must get +some one to take my place. Aunt Keziah will stay, of course, and +perhaps Mrs. Higgins would come, or Hannah Poundberry. She--" + +"Not if I know it. I'd as soon have a hay-cutter running in here +as Hannah's tongue. I could stop a hay-cutter when it got too +noisy. Well, if you must go, you must, I suppose. But stay +through tomorrow, at any rate. Nat won't get here until Thursday, +and I may be able to find another nurse by that time. And what I +shall say to him," motioning toward the other room, "I don't know." + +"Must you say anything? Just say that I have been called away for +a few days on--on some business. Don't tell him. Don't tell him +the truth, doctor, now. He is too weak and I am afraid--" + +She stopped and turned away. The doctor watched her pityingly. + +"Cheer up," he said. "At any rate, this is only for a little +while. When the captain knows, if he's the man I take him for, +he'll--" + +She whirled like a flash. "You're not going to tell him?" she +cried. "No, no! You mustn't. You must promise me you won't. +Promise." + +"Somebody'll tell him. Telling things is Trumet's specialty." + +"Then you must stop it. No one must tell him--no one except me. I +shall tell him, of course. He must hear it from me and not from +anyone else. He would think I was disloyal and ungrateful--and I +am! I have been! But I was--I COULDN'T help it. You know, +doctor, you know--" + +"Yes, yes, I know. Well, I'll promise, but it will all come out +right, you see. You mustn't think I--we--have been interfering in +your affairs, Grace. But we've all come to think a whole lot of +that parson of ours and what he wanted we wanted him to have, +that's all." + +"I know. Thank you very much for all your kindness, and for your +promise." + +He would have liked to say much more, but he could not, under the +circumstances. He stammered a good-by and, with a question +concerning Mrs. Coffin's whereabouts, went out to join Captain Zeb. + +"Well?" queried the latter anxiously. "How is it? What's up? +What's the next tack?" + +"We'll go to the parsonage," was the gloomy answer. "If anybody +can see a glimmer in this cussed muddle Keziah Coffin can." + +Keziah was on her knees in her room, beside a trunk, the same trunk +she had been packing the day of the minister's arrival in Trumet. +She was working frantically, sorting garments from a pile, +rejecting some and keeping others. She heard voices on the walk +below and went down to admit the callers. + +"What's the matter, Keziah?" asked Dr. Parker sharply, after a look +at her face. "You look as if you'd been through the war. Humph! +I suppose you've heard the news?" + +Keziah brushed back the hair from her forehead. "Yes," she answered +slowly. "I've heard it." + +"Well, it's great news, and if it wasn't for--if things weren't as +they are, I'd be crowing hallelujahs this minute. Trumet has got a +good man safe and sound again, and the Lord knows it needs all of +that kind it can get." + +"Yes." + +"Yes. But there's the other matter. I've been to see Grace. She +didn't say so, but it was easy enough to see; the man she promised +to marry and thought was dead, is alive. She's a girl of her word-- +she promised him and she promised her dying uncle--and she'll +marry him. And then what will become of John Ellery? He'll go +downhill so fast that a ship's anchor wouldn't hold him. If he +doesn't die I'll have to send him away somewhere, and the Regular +church will lose the minister we've fought so hard for." + +"Yes," concurred Zebedee, "and them blasted Danielses'll run the +shebang and the rest of us'll have to sing small, I tell you." + +"So we've come to you, Keziah," went on the doctor. "Do you see +any salvation?" + +"Yes, I do." + +"You do? Where?" + +"In Nat Hammond. If he knows Grace doesn't want to marry him, do +you suppose he'll hold her to her promise?" + +"I don't know. I'm not so sure. Men don't give up girls like that +so easy. I wouldn't--by George, I wouldn't! And she won't tell +him the whole truth, I'm afraid. She'll pretend to be glad--hang +it! she IS glad--to have him home again and--" + +"Of course she's glad. Ain't we all glad and happy and thankful? +We ought to be. But"--she hesitated--"doctor, you leave this to +me. So far as John and Grace are concerned you needn't worry. +I'll take it on myself to see that they have each other, as the +Almighty meant 'em to. Leave it to me. Just leave it to me. I +KNOW I can do it." + +She would not say more, nor tell on what grounds she based her +optimism. She would go back to the shanty that evening, she said, +and stay until the following afternoon. Grace would undoubtedly go +to the old tavern to prepare for the homecoming. Let Mrs. Higgins +take her place as nurse. + +"I shall have to leave, myself," she added, "for a little while; so +perhaps you'd better try to get somebody else to help the Higgins +woman. Don't ask me any questions, please don't, and be sure not +to say a word to anybody--most of all to Grace. Just do as I tell +you and leave it to me. And don't come and see me again until +after--after he comes home. Good-by, doctor. Good-by, Cap'n Zeb." + +She shook hands with each of them, a rather unusual proceeding as +they thought of it afterwards. Then they went away and left her. + +"Humph!" mused Parker, as they came out at the gate. "Humph! She +seems sure, doesn't she. And yet she doesn't act like herself. +Did you notice that?" + +"Yup. I noticed it. But I expect Nat's droppin' out of the clouds +shook her up, same as it done the rest of us. Well, never mind. +She's a bully good, capable woman and what she says she'll do she +gen'rally does. I'm bettin' on her. By time! I feel better." + +Captain Elkanah Daniels and his friends were feeling better also, +and they were busy. Trumet had a new hero now. On Wednesday the +Boston papers printed excerpts from Captain Hammond's story, and +these brief preliminary accounts aroused the admiration of every +citizen. It was proposed to give him a reception. Elkanah was the +moving spirit in the preparations. Captain Nat, so they learned by +telegraphing, would arrive on the noon train Thursday. His was not +to be a prosaic progress by stage all the way from Sandwich. A +special carriage, drawn by the Daniels span and escorted by other +vehicles, was to meet the coach at Bayport and bring him to Trumet +in triumphant procession. All this was to be a surprise, of +course. + +Wednesday afternoon the Daniels following was cheered by the +tidings that Grace Van Horne had left the beach and was at her old +home, the Hammond tavern. And Mrs. Poundberry reported her busy as +a bee "gettin' things ready." This was encouraging and indicated +that the minister had been thrown over, as he deserved to be, and +that Nat would find his fiancee waiting and ready to fulfill her +contract. "Reg'lar whirligig, that girl," sniffed Didama Rogers. +"If she can't have one man she'll take the next, and then switch +back soon's the wind changes. However, most likely she never was +engaged to Mr. Ellery, anyhow. He's been out of his head and might +have said some fool things that let Dr. Parker and the rest b'lieve +he was in love with her. As for pickin' of him up and totin' him +back to the shanty that night, that wa'n't nothin' but common +humanity. She couldn't let him die in the middle of the lighthouse +lane, could she?" + +Thursday was a perfect day, and the reception committee was on hand +and waiting in front of the Bayport post office. The special +carriage, the span brushed and curried until their coats glistened +in the sunshine, was drawn up beside the platform. The horses had +little flags fastened to their bridles, and there were other and +larger flags on each side of the dashboard. Captain Daniels, +imposing in his Sunday raiment, high-collared coat, stock, silk hat +and gold-headed cane, sat stiffly erect on the seat in the rear. +The other carriages were alongside, among them Captain Zebedee +Mayo's ancient chaise, the white horse sound asleep between the +shafts. Captain Zeb had not been invited to join the escort, but +had joined it without an invitation. + +"I guess likely I'd better be on hand," the captain confided to Dr. +Parker. "Maybe I can stop Elkanah from talkin' too much about-- +well, about what we don't want him to talk about, and besides, I'm +just as anxious to give Nat a welcome home as the next feller. +He's a brick and we're all proud of him. By mighty! I'd like to +have seen that craft he built out of cocoanuts and churches--I +would so." + +Kyan Pepper was there also, not yet fully recovered from the +surprise which Lavinia's gracious permission had given him. +Abishai had been leaning disconsolately over his front gate early +that morning when Noah Ellis, the lightkeeper, jogged down the +lane. + +"'Mornin', 'Bish," hailed Noah, pulling up his horse. "What's the +matter? You look bluer'n a spiled mack'rel. What's the row? +Breakfast disagree with you?" + +"Naw," replied Kyan shortly. "Where you bound, all rigged up in +your shore duds?" + +"Bound to Bayport, to see Nat Hammond land," was the cheerful +answer. "I ain't had a day off I don't know when, and I thought +I'd take one. Be great doin's over there, they tell me. Elkanah's +goin' to make a speech and there's eighteen teams of folks goin'." + +"I know it. I wisht I was goin', too, but I never have no fun. +Have to stay to home and work and slave over them consarned tax +papers. Sometimes I wish there wa'n't no taxes." + +"Humph! I've wished that, myself, more'n once. Why don't you go, +if you want to? Climb right aboard here with me. Plenty of room." + +"Hey? You mean that? By godfreys mighty! I'd like to." + +"Sartin, I mean it. Come ahead." + +Mr. Pepper sadly shook his head. "I guess likely I'd better not," +he sighed. "Laviny might not like to have me leave her." + +"Oh, fiddlesticks! she won't mind. I'll take care of you. It's +perfectly safe. There ain't goin' to be no women around. Haw! +haw! haw!" + +He was still laughing at his own joke when through the slats of the +closed blinds shading the Pepper house parlor a shrill voice was +heard speaking. + +"Go ahead, 'Bishy dear," called Lavinia. "Go ahead and go. A +change of air'll do you good." + +Kyan whirled and clutched at the gate. + +"HEY?" he shouted in amazement. + +"Are you deef? Or is Mr. Ellis laughin' so hard that you can't +hear? What is it that's so funny, Mr. Ellis?" + +The light-keeper shut off his laughter by a sudden and rather +frightened gulp. + +"Oh, nothin', nothin', Miss Pepper. "Nice day, ain't it?" + +"I guess so. I ain't had time to look at it yet. I have to work. +I can't let my wife do it for me, like some folks, and take 'days +off.' What was it you was laughin' at, Mr. Ellis?" + +"Nothin', nothin' at all." + +"Hum! They used to tell me there was only one kind of person who +laughed at nothin'. Well, 'Bish Pepper, what are you standin' +there for? If you're goin', come right into the house and change +your clothes this minute." + +Kyan obeyed. Shortly he reappeared, clothed like a lily of the +field, one that had long since gone to seed. He clambered up +beside Noah and they drove off. + +"Jerushy!" exclaimed the lightkeeper. "This is kind of unexpected, +ain't it? What's got into her to make her so accommodatin'?" + +"Godfreys mighty!" was the dazed reply, "I don't know. This as +fast as you can drive? Hurry up, afore she changes her mind." + +So it happened that Mr. Pepper was in Bayport with the rest, +awaiting the stage which was bringing Trumet's latest celebrity +from Sandwich. + +"Here she comes!" shouted Ezra Simmons, the postmaster. "Right on +time, too." + +Sure enough! A cloud of dust in the distance, rising on the spring +wind, and the rattle of rapidly turning wheels. The reception +committee prepared for action. Captain Elkanah descended from the +carriage and moved in stately dignity to the front of the post- +office platform. + +"Hum--ha!" he barked, turning to his followers. "Be ready now. +Give him a good cheer, when I say the word. Let it be hearty-- +hearty, yes." + +The stage, its four horses at a trot, swung up to the platform. + +"Whoa!" roared the driver. + +"Now!" ordered Elkanah. "One--two--Hurrah!" + +"Hurrah!" shouted the committee, its uninvited guests and the +accompanying crowd of Bayport men and boys which had gathered to +assist in the welcome. "Hurrah!" + +"Hooray!" yelled Kyan, a little behind, as usual. + +A passenger or two peered from the coach window. The stage driver +ironically touched his cap. + +"Thank ye," he said. "Thank ye very much. I've been hopin' for +this for a long time, though I'd about given up expectin' it. I'm +very much obliged. Won't somebody please ask me to make a speech?" + +Captain Elkanah frowned his disapproval. + +"We are cheering Cap'n Nathaniel Hammond of Trumet," he explained +haughtily. "We are here to meet him and escort him home." + +The driver sighed. "You don't say," he said. "And I thought my +merits had been recognized at last. And 'twas all for Cap'n +Hammond? Dear! dear!" + +He winked at Simmons, who wanted to laugh, but did not dare. + +"Come! come!" said Captain Elkanah. "Where is he? Where's Cap'n +Hammond?" + +"Well, now, I'll tell ye; I don't know where he is." + +"You DON'T? Isn't he with you?" + +"No, he ain't. And he didn't come on the train, nuther. He WAS on +it. The conductor told me he see him and set along with him +between stations as fur as Cohasset Narrows. But after that he +never see hide nor hair of him. Oh, that's so! Here's the mail +bag, Ezry." + +Captain Elkanah looked at the reception committee and it looked at +him. Here was a most disconcerting setback for all the plans. The +committee, after asking more, and fruitless questions, went into +executive session. + +Captain Zeb stepped beside the stage and put one foot on the wheel. + +"Say, Thad," he whispered, "is that all you know? Where did he go +to?" + +"Can't tell you, cap'n. The conductor says he see him afore they +got to Cohasset Narrows and not after. Naturally, we s'pose he got +off there. Pretty good joke on old Daniels, I call it. Serve him +right, figgerin' to take a passenger away from me. He, he!" + +"But you do know more, now don't you? Tell a feller--come! I +don't like Elkanah any better'n you do." + +"Well," the driver's voice dropped still lower. "Well," he +whispered, "I did hear this much, though don't you tell none of +them: A chap I know was on the train and he said he see Cap'n Nat +get off the cars at the Cohasset Narrows depot and there was a +woman with him." + +"A woman? A WOMAN? What woman?" + +"Blessed if I know! And he didn't nuther. So long! Git dap!" + +The reception committee and its escort drove slowly back to Trumet. +The Daniels following was disgusted and disappointed. Captain +Elkanah had figured upon keeping Hammond under his own wing until +he was safely deposited at the old tavern. Grace was there and +Elkanah meant that these two should meet before any inkling of +Ellery's story reached Nat's ears. Incidentally, he could drop a +few damaging hints concerning the minister's character. To hurt +Ellery all he could and prejudice Hammond against him--that was the +plan, and now it was frustrated. The captain had not put in an +appearance and no one knew where he was or when he would come home. +Obviously, there was nothing to do except give up the reception and +await further news from the missing man. + +Some of those present wished to remain in Bayport until night. +Another train was due in Sandwich and, possibly, Nat might come on +that. They could telegraph and find out whether or not he did +come, and if he did, could send a carriage for him. But this +suggestion was overruled. The reception was off. + +The homeward journey had some unpleasant incidents. Several Come- +Outers had driven over. Nat belonged to them, so they felt--he was +the son of their dead founder and leader--and they determined the +Regulars should not have him all to themselves. They had come to +bid him welcome on behalf of the worshipers at the chapel. Now +they took advantage of the general disappointment to make sarcastic +and would-be-humorous remarks loud enough for the majestic occupant +of the decorated carriage to hear. + +"Seems to me," said Thoph Black, "that them flags ought to be ha'f +mast. That craft's in distress." + +"S-sh-h!" counciled his companion, another Come-Outer. "Don't be +irreverent. Look who's cruisin' under 'em. That's the King of +Trumet. Let's you and me go ahead and fire salutes, Thoph." + +Captain Elkanah wrathfully ordered the flags to be removed from the +horses' heads and from the dashboard. + +As Noah Ellis and his passenger turned into the lighthouse lane +another vehicle turned out of it. + +"Who was that?" queried Kyan. "Looked like one of the livery +stable horses to me." + +"'Twa'n't. 'Twas Thankful Payne's and that was her carriage, too. +It's gettin' so dark I couldn't see who was drivin' it, but 'twas a +man, anyhow." + +Kyan seemed to be pondering. "I wonder," he said slowly, "I wonder +if that cousin of hers from Sandwich is here visitin'. That Caleb +Pratt, seems to me his name is." + +"Don't know. Why?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. I just wondered, that was all. That might +explain why she let me--" + +"Hey?" + +"Nothin'. Good night, Noah. I'm much obliged to you for takin' me +over, even if there wa'n't no reception." + +Trumet spent that evening wondering what had become of Nat Hammond. +Captain Zeb Mayo wondered most of all. Yet his wonderment was +accompanied by vague suspicions of the truth. And, at eleven +o'clock, when the village was in bed, a horse and buggy moved down +the Turn-off and stopped before the Hammond gate. A man alighted +from the buggy and walked briskly up to the side door. There he +knocked and then whistled shrilly. + +A window overhead was opened. + +"Who is it?" asked a feminine voice. + +"Don't be frightened, Gracie," replied the man at the door. "It's +me--Nat. I've come home again." + + +CHAPTER XX + +IN WHICH THE MINISTER RECEIVES A LETTER + + +John Ellery was uneasy. Physically he was very much better, so +much better that he was permitted to sit up a while each day. But +mentally he was disturbed and excited, exactly the condition which +the doctor said he must not be in. Keziah and Grace had gone away +and left him, and he could not understand why. + +Mrs. Higgins, Ike's mother, was at the shanty and she did her best +to soothe and quiet him. She was a kind soul and capable, in her +way, but she could not answer his questions satisfactorily. + +"Where are they?" he demanded. "Why did they go? Has anything +happened? When are they coming back?" + +"I can't tell you just when, Mr. Ellery," replied Mrs. Higgins. +"Grace had to go home for a--a day or so and Keziah had things to +attend to at the parsonage. Don't you fret yourself about them." + +"I'm not fretting, but it does seem strange. I could understand +why one should go, perhaps, but not both. Didn't Gra-- Miss Van +Horne tell you why she went?" + +"Well, now, Mr. Ellery, don't let's worry about Gracie. She's a +good girl with lots of common sense and--" + +"I know that. But that doesn't answer me. Why did she go?" + +"Keziah hadn't been to the parsonage sence that day when you was +fust took sick, and I expect likely she felt that she'd ought to--" + +"Please, Mrs. Higgins, tell me the truth. I'm not asking about +Mrs. Coffin. Didn't Miss Van Horne tell you her reason for +leaving?" + +"No, she didn't." + +"But you know the reason? You're keeping something from me. Did +she say when she would come back?" + +"No, not exactly, but, of course--" + +"I know you're keeping something from me. What has happened?" + +"Happened? Land sakes! does anything ever happen in Trumet?" + +"I think a good many things have happened lately. And the longer +you keep the truth from me the more I shall suspect." + +"Mr. Ellery, you set still in that chair, or, when the doctor +comes, he'll put you to bed. I've got some cookin' to do and I +can't set here gossipin' no longer. You behave yourself and stop +frettin'. I'm skipper here now--er--for a while, anyhow--and +you've got to take orders from me. There! now I cal'late you're +scared, ain't you?" + +He did not seem greatly frightened, nor in awe of his new skipper. +Instead, he was evidently preparing to ask more questions. Mrs. +Higgins hurriedly fled to the living room and closed the door +behind her. + +The minister heard her rattling pans and dishes at a great rate. +The noise made him nervous and he wished she might be more quiet. +He moved to the chair nearest the window and looked out over the +dunes and the wide stretch of tumbling blue sea. The surf was +rolling up the shore, the mackerel gulls were swooping and dipping +along the strand, the beach grass was waving in the wind. A +solitary fish boat was beating out past the spar buoy. She was +almost over the spot when the San Jose had first anchored. + +The view was a familiar one. He had seen it in all weathers, +during a storm, at morning when the sun was rising, at evening when +the moon came up to tip the watery ridges with frosted silver. He +had liked it, tolerated it, hated it, and then, after she came, +loved it. He had thought it the most beautiful scene in all the +world and one never to be forgotten. The dingy old building, with +its bare wooden walls, had been first a horror, then a prison, and +at last a palace of contentment. With the two women, one a second +mother to him, and the other dearest of all on earth, he could have +lived there forever. But now the old prison feeling was coming +back. He was tired of the view and of the mean little room. He +felt lonely and deserted and despairing. + +His nerves were still weak and it was easy, in his childish +condition, to become despondent. He went over the whole situation +and felt more and more sure that his hopes had been false ones and +that he had builded a fool's paradise. After all, he remembered, +she had given him no promise; she had found him ill and delirious +and had brought him there. She had been kind and thoughtful and +gracious, but that she would be to anyone, it was her nature. And +he had been content, weak as he was, to have her near him, where he +would see her and hear her speak. Her mere presence was so +wonderful that he had been satisfied with that and had not asked +for more. And now she had gone. Mrs. Higgins had said "for a day +or two," but that was indefinite, and she had not said she would +return when those two days had passed. He was better now, almost +well. Would she come back to him? After all, conditions in the +village had not changed. He was still pastor of the Regular church +and she was a Come-Outer. The man she had promised to marry was +dead--yes. But the other conditions were the same. And Mrs. +Higgins had refused to tell him the whole truth; he was certain of +that. She had run away when he questioned her. + +He rose from the chair and started toward the living room. He +would not be put off again. He would be answered. His hand was on +the latch of the door when that door was opened. Dr. Parker came +in. + +The doctor was smiling broadly. His ruddy face was actually +beaming. He held out his hand, seized the minister's, and shook +it. + +"Good morning, Mr. Ellery," he said. "It's a glorious day. Yes, +sir, a bully day. Hey? isn't it?" + +Ellery's answer was a question. + +"Doctor," he said, "why have Mrs. Coffin and--and Miss Van Horne +gone? Has anything happened? I know something has, and you must +tell me what. Don't try to put me off or give me evasive answers. +I want to know why they have gone." + +Parker looked at him keenly. "Humph!" he grunted. "I'll have to +get into Mrs. Higgins's wig. I told her not to let you worry, and +you have worried. You're all of a shake." + +"Never mind that. I asked you a question." + +"I know you did. Now, Mr. Ellery, I'm disappointed in you. I +thought you were a sensible man who would take care of his health, +now that he'd got the most of it back again. I've got news for +you--good news--but I'm not sure that I shall tell it to you." + +"Good news! Dr. Parker, if you've got news for me that is good, +for Heaven's sake tell it. I've been imagining everything bad that +could possibly happen. Tell me, quick. My health can stand that." + +"Ye-es, yes, I guess it can. They say joy doesn't kill, and that's +one of the few medical proverbs made by unmedical men that are +true. You come with me and sit down in that chair. Yes, you will. +Sit down." + +He led his patient back to the chair by the window and forced him +into it. + +"There!" he said. "Now, Mr. Ellery, if you think you are a man, a +sensible man, who won't go to pieces like a ten-year-old youngster, +I'll--I'll let you sit here for a while." + +"Doctor?" + +"You sit still. No, I'm not going to tell you anything. You sit +where you are and maybe the news'll come to you. If you move it +won't. Going to obey orders? Good! I'll see you by and by, Mr. +Ellery." + +He walked out of the room. It seemed to Ellery that he sat in that +chair for ten thousand years before the door again opened. And +then-- + +"Grace!" he cried. "O Grace! you--you've come back." + +She was blushing red, her face was radiant with quiet happiness, +but her eyes were moist. She crossed the room, bent over and +kissed him on the forehead. + +"Yes, John," she said; "I've come back. Yes, dear, I've come back +to--to you." + + +Outside the shanty, on the side farthest from the light and its +group of buildings, the doctor and Captain Nat Hammond were talking +with Mrs. Higgins. The latter was wildly excited and bubbling with +joy. + +"It's splendid!" she exclaimed. "It's almost too fine to believe. +Now we'll keep our minister, won't we?" + +"I don't see why not," observed the doctor, with quiet +satisfaction. "Zeb and I had the Daniels crowd licked to a +shoestring and now they'll stay licked. The parish committee is +three to one for Mr. Ellery and the congregation more than that. +Keep him? You bet we'll keep him! And I'll dance at his wedding-- +that is, unless he's got religious scruples against it." + +Mrs. Higgins turned to Captain Nat. + +"It's kind of hard for you, Nat," she said. "But it's awful noble +and self-sacrificin' and everybody'll say so. Of course there +wouldn't be much satisfaction in havin' a wife you knew cared more +for another man. But still it's awful noble of you to give her +up." + +The captain looked at the doctor and laughed quietly. + +"Don't let my nobility weigh on your mind, Mrs. Higgins," he said. +"I'd made up my mind to do this very thing afore ever I got back to +Trumet. That is, if Gracie was willin'. And when I found she was +not only willin' but joyful, I--well, I decided to offer up the +sacrifice right off." + +"You did? You DID? Why, how you talk! I never heard of such a +thing in my born days." + +"Nor I neither, not exactly. But there!" with a wink at Parker, +"you see I've been off amongst all them Kanaka women and how do you +know but I've fell in love?" + +"Nat HAMMOND!" + +"Oh, well, I-- What is it, Grace?" + +She was standing in the doorway and beckoning to him. Her cheeks +were crimson, the breeze was tossing her hair about her forehead, +and she made a picture that even the practical, unromantic doctor +appreciated. + +"By George, Nat!" he muttered, "you've got more courage than I +have. If 'twas my job to give her up to somebody else I'd think +twice, I'll bet." + +The captain went to meet her. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"Nat," she whispered, "will you come in? He wants to see you." + +John Ellery was still seated in the chair by the window, but he no +longer looked like an invalid. There was no worry or care in his +countenance now, merely a wondrous joy and serene happiness. + +He held out his hands and the captain shook them heartily. + +"Mr. Ellery," he said, "as they used to say at the circus, 'Here we +are again.' And you and I have been doing all kinds of circus +acrobatics since we shook last, hey? I'm glad you're pretty nigh +out of the sick bay--and the doctor says you are." + +"Captain," began Ellery. Hammond interrupted him. + +"Hold on!" he said. "Belay right there. If you and I are to +cruise in the same family--and that's what I hear is likely to +happen--I cal'late we'll heave overboard the cap'ns and Misters. +My name's 'Nathaniel'--'Nat' for short." + +"All right. And mine is 'John.' Captain--Nat, I mean--how can I +ever thank you?" + +"Thank me? What do you want to thank me for? I only handed over +somethin' that wasn't mine in the first place and belonged to you +all along. I didn't know it, that was the only trouble." + +"But your promise to your father. I feel--" + +"You needn't. I told dad that it was just as Grace said. She says +she's got a better man, or words to that effect. And--I don't know +how you feel about such things, John--but I b'lieve there's a +broader outlook up aloft than there is down here and that dad would +want me to do just what I have done. Don't worry about me. I'm +doin' the right thing and I know it. And don't pity me, neither. +I made up my mind not to marry Grace--unless, of course, she was +set on it--months ago. I'm tickled to death to know she's goin' to +have as good a man as you are. She'll tell you so. Grace! Hello! +she's gone." + +"Yes. I told her I wanted to talk with you alone, for a few +minutes. Nat, Grace tells me that Aunt Keziah was the one who--" + +"She was. She met me at the Cohasset Narrows depot. I was settin' +in the car, lookin' out of the window at the sand and sniffin' the +Cape air. By the everlastin'! there ain't any air or sand like 'em +anywheres else. I feel as if I never wanted to see a palm tree +again as long as I live. I'd swap the whole of the South Pacific +for one Trumet sandhill with a huckleberry bush on it. Well, as I +started to say, I was settin' there lookin' out of the window when +somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up and 'twas her. + +"You could have blown me over with a fan. By the jumpin' Moses, +you could! You see, I'd been thinkin' about her--that is, I was--" + +He hesitated, turned red, coughed, and went on. + +"I was surprised enough to see her, I tell you. Way up there at +the Narrows! I couldn't have said a word, anyway, and she never +gave me a chance. 'Nat,' she says, 'don't talk now. Come with me, +quick, afore the train starts.' + +"Still I didn't say anything, nothin' sane anyhow. 'Keziah!' I +managed to stutter. 'KEZIAH!' + +"'Come!' says she. 'Hurry! I want you to get off here. I've come +here on purpose to meet you. I must talk with you; it's important. +You can go to Trumet on the next train, to-night. But now I must +talk with you. I MUST. Won't you please come, Nat?' + +"Well, I went. The engine bell was beginnin' to ring and we had to +move lively, I tell you. I swung her off the step just as the car +begun to move. After the smoke had faded away around the next bend +I realized that my hat had faded away along with it. Yes, sir! +I'd left it on the seat. Ha! ha! ha!" + +He laughed uproariously. Ellery laughed in sympathy. + +"However, I wa'n't worryin' about hats, just then. All I wanted to +do was stand still, like a frozen image, and stare at her. You +see, John, I hadn't laid eyes on a friend, one of the real homemade +kind, for more days than I wanted to count; and here was one of +'em, one of the best, passed out to me unexpected and ahead of +time, like a surprise party present. So I just pumped her hand up +and down and stared. I didn't have any exclusive mortgage on the +starin' by no means, for the depot master and a dozen or so loafers +was lookin' at us with their mouths wide open. + +"I guess she noticed it, for she says, 'Don't stay here, Nat. Come +in the waitin' room or somewheres where we can talk.' + +"So into the waitin' room we went and come to anchor on the settee. +Six or eight of the loafers settled themselves handy to the door, +so's they could peek in occasionally. I remember I told one of +them not to stretch his neck that way 'cause he might never get it +back into shape again and in the gunnin' season that would be +dangerous. 'Some nearsighted feller might take you for a goose,' I +says. Ho! ho! + +"And then, John, we had our talk. Seems she left Trumet Wednesday +afternoon. Got the livery stable man to drive her as fur as +Bayport, hired another team there and come on to Sandwich. Stayed +overnight there and took the mornin' train which got to Cohasset +Narrows just ahead of the one I was comin' on. She'd been so +afraid of bein' late, she said. She must see me afore I got to +Trumet. + +"Well, she saw me and told me the whole yarn about you and Grace. +She tried to break it to me gently, so I wouldn't feel too bad. +She knew it would be a shock to me, she said. It was a shock, in a +way, but as for feelin' bad, I didn't. I think the world of Grace. +I'd do anything she wanted me to do; but most the way down on the +train--yes, and long afore that--I'd been dreadin' my comin' home +on one account. I dreaded tellin' her that, unless she was real +set on it, she'd better not marry me. + +"You see, John, I've thought a lot sence I've been away. Had +consider'ble time to do it in. And the more I thought the less +that promise to dad seemed right. I'd have bet my sou-wester +Gracie never cared for me in the way a girl ought to care for a +chap she's goin' to ship as pilot for the rest of her days. And, +as for me--well, I--I had my reasons for not wantin' to marry her." + +He paused again, sighed, started to speak, and then sat silent, +looking out of the window. Ellery laid a hand on his knee. + +"Nat," said the minister, "you saved my life once, do you remember +that? I do, if you don't." + +"Saved your life? What are you talkin' about? Oh! that time on +the flats? That wasn't savin' your life, 'twas savin' your clothes +from gettin' a wettin'." + +"No, it was more than that. And now I guess you've saved it again, +you and Grace between you. Yes, and Aunt Keziah. Bless her! to +think of her going way up there to meet you and help us!" + +"Yes. 'Twas like her, wasn't it? She said she knew I'd hear the +yarn when I got to Trumet, but she wanted me to hear it just as it +was, and nobody but she and Grace and you knew the whole truth +about it. So she come. I'm glad she did; not that I shouldn't +have done the same, whoever told me, but--" + +"Nat, I want to tell you something. Something that only one other +person knows. Grace doesn't know it yet. Neither does Aunt +Keziah--the whole of it. And if she knew I told you even a part +I'm afraid she would, as she would say, 'skin me alive.' But I owe +her--and you--more than I could repay if I lived a thousand years. +So I'm going to tell and take the consequences. + +The captain looked at him. "Well!" he exclaimed. "What's comin' +now? More secrets? Blessed if this ain't gettin' more excitin' +than the South Seas. I used to think excitement in Trumet was +scurcer than cream in poorhouse coffee, but I'll have to change my +mind." + +"Nat, when--that morning after your father died and after you and +Grace had agreed to--to--" + +"To do somethin' neither of us wanted to do? Yes, I know. Go +ahead." + +"That morning Aunt Keziah came home to the parsonage and broke the +news to me. She did it as only she could do such a thing, kindly +and pityingly and--" + +"Of course. That's Keziah." + +"Yes. Well, as you can imagine, I was almost crazy. I made a fool +of myself, I expect; refused to believe her, behaved disgracefully, +and at last, when I had to believe it, threatened to run away and +leave my work and Trumet forever, like a coward. She made me +stay." + +"Did, hey?" + +"Yes. She showed me it was my duty to face the music. When I +whimpered about my troubles she told me her own story. Then I +learned what trouble was and what pluck was, too. She told me +about her marriage and--excuse me for speaking of what isn't my +business; yet it is mine, in a way--she told me about you." + +Captain Hammond did not answer. His good natured face clouded and +he shifted in his chair. + +"She told me of you, Nat, all about you--and herself. And she told +me something else, which explains why she felt she must send you +away, why she thought your marriage to Grace would be a good +thing." + +"I know. She told you that that darn scamp Anse Coffin was alive." + +The minister started violently. He gasped in surprise. + +"You knew it? You KNEW it?" he stammered. + +"I know it now. Have known it for over a year. My findin' it out +was one of the special Providences that's been helpin' along this +last voyage of mine. My second mate was a Hyannis man, name of +Cahoon. One day, on that pesky island, when we was eatin' dinner +together, he says to me, 'Cap'n,' he says, 'you're from Trumet, +ain't you?' I owned up. 'Know anybody named Coffin there?' says +he. I owned up to that, too. 'Well,' he says, 'I met her husband +last trip I was in the Glory of the Wave.' I stared at him. 'Met +his ghost, you mean,' I says. 'He's been dead for years, and a +good thing, too. Fell overboard and, not bein' used to water, it +killed him.' + +"But he wouldn't have it so. 'I used to know Anse Coffin in New +Bedford,' he says. 'Knew him well's I know you. And when we was +in port at Havre I dropped in at a gin mill down by the water front +and he come up and touched me on the arm. I thought same as you, +that he was dead, but he wa'n't. He was three sheets in the wind +and a reg'lar dock rat to look at, but 'twas him sure enough. We +had a long talk. He said he was comin' back to Trumet some day. +Had a wife there, he said. I told him, sarcastic, that she'd be +glad to see him. He laughed and said maybe not, but that she knew +he was alive and sent him money when he was hard up. Wanted me to +promise not to tell any Cape folks that I'd seen him, and I ain't +till now.' + +"Well, you can imagine how I felt when Cahoon spun me that yarn. +First I wouldn't b'lieve it and then I did. It explained things, +just as you say, John. I could see now why Keziah gave me my +walkin' papers. I could see how she'd been sacrificin' her life +for that scum." + +"Yes. She wouldn't divorce him. She said she had taken him for +better or worse, and must stand by him. I tried to show her she +was wrong, but it was no use. She did say she would never live +with him again." + +"I should say not. LIVE with him! By the everlastin'! if he ever +comes within reach of my hands then--there's times when good honest +murder is justifiable and righteous, and it'll be done. It'll be +done, you hear me!" + +He looked as if he meant it. Ellery asked another question. + +"Did you tell her--Aunt Keziah--when you met her at the Narrows?" +he asked. + +"No. But I shall tell her when I see her again. She shan't spoil +her life--a woman like that! by the Lord! WHAT a woman!--for any +such crazy notion. I swore it when I heard the story and I've +sworn it every day since. That's what settled my mind about Grace. +Keziah Coffin belongs to me. She always has belonged to me, even +though my own pig-headedness lost her in the old days." + +"She cares for you, Nat. I know that. She as much as told me so." + +"Thank you, John. Thank you. Well, I can wait now. I can wait, +for I've got something sure to wait for. I tell you, Ellery, I +ain't a church-goin' man--not as dad was, anyway--but I truly +believe that this thing is goin' to come out right. God won't let +that cussed rascal live much longer. He won't! I know it. But if +he does, if he lives a thousand years, I'll take her from him." + +He was pacing the floor now, his face set like granite. Ellery +rose, his own face beaming. Here was his chance. At last he could +pay to this man and Keziah a part of the debt he owed. + +Nat stopped in his stride. "Well!" he exclaimed. "I almost +forgot, after all. Keziah sent a note to you. I've got it in my +pocket. She gave it to me when she left me at Cohasset." + +"Left you? Why! didn't she come back with you on the night train?" + +"No. That's funny, too, and I don't understand it yet. We was +together all the afternoon. 'I was feelin' so good at seein' her +that I took her under my wing and we cruised all over that town +together. Got dinner at the tavern and she went with me to buy +myself a new hat, and all that. At first she didn't seem to want +to, but then, after I'd coaxed a while, she did. She was lookin' +pretty sad and worn out, when I first met her, I thought; but she +seemed to get over it and we had a fine time. It reminded me of +the days when I used to get home from a voyage and we were +together. Then, when 'twas time for the night train we went down +to the depot. She gave me this note and told me to hand it to you +to-day. + +"'Good-by, Nat,' she says. 'We've had a nice day, haven't we?' + +"'We have, for a fact,' I says. 'But what are you sayin' good-by +for?' + +"'Because I'm not goin' to Trumet with you,' says she. 'I'm goin' +to the city. I've got some business to see to there. Good-by.' + +"I was set back, with all my canvas flappin'. I told her I'd go to +Boston with her and we'd come home to Trumet together to-morrow, +that's to-day. But she said no. I must come here and ease your +mind and Grace's. I must do it. So at last I agreed to, sayin' +I'd see her in a little while. She went on the up train and I took +the down one. Hired a team in Sandwich and another in Bayport and +got to the tavern about eleven. That's the yarn. And here's your +note. Maybe it tells where she's gone and why." + +The minister took the note and tore open the envelope. Within was +a single sheet of paper. He read a few lines, stopped, and uttered +an exclamation. + +"What's the matter?" asked the captain. + +Ellery did not answer. He read the note through and then, without +a word, handed it to his friend. + +The note was as follows: + + +"DEAR JOHN: + +"I am going away, as I told you I would if he came. He is coming. +Tuesday I got a letter from him. It was written at Kingston, +Jamaica, almost three months ago. I can't think why I haven't got +it sooner, but suppose it was given to some one to mail and +forgotten. In it he said he was tired of going to sea and was +coming home to me. I had money, he said, and we could get along. +He had shipped aboard a brig bound for Savannah, and from there he +was going to try for a berth on a Boston-bound vessel. So I am +going away and not coming back. I could not stand the disgrace and +I could not see him. You and Grace won't need me any more now. +Don't worry about me. I can always earn a living while I have my +strength. Please don't worry. If he comes tell him I have gone +you do not know where. That will be true, for you don't. I hope +you will be very happy. I do hope so. Oh, John, you don't know +how I hate to do this, but I must. Don't tell Nat. He would do +something terrible to him if he came, and Nat knew. Just say I +have been called away and may be back some time. Perhaps I may. +Love to you all. Good-by. + +"Yours truly, + +"KEZIAH COFFIN." + + +The captain stared at the note. Then he threw it to the floor and +started for the door. The minister sprang from his chair and +called to him. + +"Nat," he cried. "Nat! Stop! where are you going?" + +Hammond turned. + +"Goin'?" he growled. "Goin'? I'm goin' to find her, first of all. +Then I'm comin' back to wait for him." + +"But you won't have to wait. He'll never come. He's dead." + +"Dead? DEAD? By the everlastin'! this has been too much for you, +I ought to have known it. I'll send the doctor here right off. I +can't stay myself. I've got to go. But--" + +"Listen! listen to me! Ansel Coffin is dead, I tell you. I know +it. I know all about it. That was what I wanted to see you about. +Did Keziah tell you of the San Jose and the sailor who died of +smallpox in this very building? In that room there?" + +"Yes. John, you--" + +"I'm not raving. It's the truth. That sailor was Ansel Coffin. I +watched with him and one night, the night before he died, he spoke +Keziah's name. He spoke of New Bedford and of Trumet and of her, +over and over again. I was sure who he was then, but I called in +Ebenezer Capen, who used to know Coffin in New Bedford. And he +recognized him. Nat, as sure as you and I are here this minute, +Ansel Coffin, Aunt Keziah's husband, is buried in the Trumet +cemetery." + + +CHAPTER XXI + +IN WHICH MR. STONE WASHES HIS HANDS + + +Mr. Abner Stone, of Stone & Barker, marine outfitters and ship +chandlers, with a place of business on Commercial Street in Boston, +and a bank account which commanded respect throughout the city, was +feeling rather irritable and out of sorts. Poor relations are +always a nuisance. They are forever expecting something, either +money--in Mr. Stone's case this particular expectation was usually +fruitless--or employment or influence or something. Mr. Stone was +rich, he had become so by his own ability and unaided effort. He +was sure of that--often mentioned it, with more or less modesty, in +the speeches which he delivered to his Sunday-school class and at +the dinners of various societies to which he belonged. He was a +self-made man and was conscious that he had done a good job. + +Therefore, being self-made, he saw no particular reason why he +should aid in the making of others. If people were poor they ought +to get over it. Poverty was a disease and he was no doctor. He +had been poor once himself, and no one had helped him. "I helped +myself," he was wont to say, with pride. Some of his rivals in +business, repeating this remark, smiled and added that he had been +"helping himself" ever since. + +Mr. Stone had "washed his hands" of his cousin, Keziah Coffin, or +thought he had. After her brother Solomon died she had written to +him, asking him to find her a position of some kind in Boston. "I +don't want money, I don't want charity," wrote Keziah. "What I +want is work. Can you get it for me, Abner? I write to you +because father used to tell of what you said to him about gratitude +and how you would never rest until you had done something in return +for what he did for you." + +Captain Ben Hall's kindness was the one thing Mr. Stone forgot when +he said no one had ever helped him. He disliked to be reminded of +it. It was a long while ago and the captain was dead. However, +being reminded, he had called upon a friend in the tailoring line +and had obtained for Keziah the place of sewing woman. She decided +to become housekeeper at the Trumet parsonage and so notified him. +Then he washed his hands of her. + +But now he was compelled to soil them again. Keziah had appeared +at his office, without warning, and demanded that he find her a +position. "Demanded" was the proper word. Certainly she had not +begged. She seemed to feel that her demand was right and proper, +and his acceding to it the least he could do. + +"What a fine place you've got here, Abner!" she said, inspecting +the office and the store. "I declare it's finer than the one you +had when you first went into business, afore you failed. I wish +father could have lived to see it. He'd have realized that his +judgment was good, even though his investment wasn't." + +Captain Hall had invested largely in that first business, the one +which failed. Mr. Stone changed the subject. Later in the day he +again sought his friend, the tailor, and Keziah was installed in +the loft of the latter's Washington Street shop, beside the other +women and girls who sewed and sewed from seven in the morning until +six at night. Mr. Stone had left her there and come away, feeling +that an unpleasant matter was disposed of. He had made some +inquiries as to where she intended staying, even added a half- +hearted invitation to dinner that evening at his home. But she +declined. + +"No, thank you, Abner," she said, "I'm goin' to find a boardin' +place and I'd just as soon nobody knew where I was stayin', for the +present. And there's one thing I want to ask you: don't tell a +soul I am here. Not a soul. If anyone should come askin' for me, +don't give 'em any satisfaction. I'll tell you why some day, +perhaps. I can't now." + +This was what troubled Mr. Stone as he sat in his office. Why +should this woman wish to have her whereabouts kept a secret? +There was a reason for this, of course. Was it a respectable +reason, or the other kind? If the latter, his own name might be +associated with the scandal. He wished, for the fiftieth time, +that there were no poor relations. + +A boy came into the office. "There is some one here to see you, +Mr. Stone," he said. + +"Who is it?" + +"I don't know, sir. Looks like a seafaring man, a sea captain, I +should say--but he won't give his name. Says it's important and +nobody but you'll do." + +"Humph! All right. Tell him to wait. I'll be out in a minute." + +Sea captains and ship owners were Stone & Barker's best customers. +The senior partner emerged from the office with a smile on his +face. + +"Ah!" he said, extending his hand. "Glad to see you, Captain--er--" + +"Hammond," replied the visitor. "Same to you, Mr. Stone." + +"Fine weather for this time of year." + +"Fine enough, Mr. Stone." + +"Well, Captain Hammond, what can we do for you? Going to sail +soon?" + +"Not right away. Just made port, less'n a week ago. Home looks +good to me, for a spell, anyhow." + +"So? Yes, I have no doubt. Let me see--where is your home, +captain? I should remember, of course, but--" + +"Don't know why you should. This is my first trip in your +latitude, I guess. My home's at Trumet." + +"Trumet?" Mr. Stone's tone changed. + +"Yes. Trumet, down on the Cape. Ever been there? We think it's +about as good a place as there is." + +"Hu-u-m! Trumet? Well, Captain Hammond, you wished to see me, I +understand." + +"Yes. Fact is, Mr. Stone, I want to ask you where I can find Mrs. +Keziah Coffin. She's a relation of yours, I b'lieve, and she's +come to Boston lately. Only yesterday or the day afore. Can you +tell me where she is?" + +"Why do you wish to see her?" + +"Oh, for reasons, personal ones. She's a friend of mine." + +"I see. No, captain, I can't tell you where she is. Good +morning." + +Captain Nat was greatly disappointed. + +"Hold on there, just a minute," he begged. "This is important, you +understand, Mr. Stone. I'm mighty anxious to find Kezi--Mrs. +Coffin. We thought, some of her friends and I, that most likely +you'd know where she was. Can't you give us any help at all? +Hasn't she been here?" + +"Good morning, Captain Hammond. You must excuse me, I'm busy." + +He went into the office and closed the door. Captain Nat rubbed +his forehead desperately. He had been almost sure that Abner Stone +would put him on Keziah's track. Grace had thought so, too. She +remembered what the housekeeper had told concerning her Boston +cousin and how the latter had found employment for her when she +contemplated leaving Trumet, after her brother's death. Grace +believed that Keziah would go to him at once. + +Nat walked to the door and stood there, trying to think what to do +next. A smart young person, wearing a conspicuous suit of clothes, +aided and abetted by a vivid waistcoat and a pair of youthful but +promising side whiskers, came briskly along the sidewalk and +stopped in front of him. + +"Well, sir?" observed this person, with cheerful condescension. +"Anything I can do for you?" + +Captain Nat turned his gaze upon the side whiskers and the +waistcoat. + +"Hey?" he queried. + +"I say, is there anything I can do for you?" + +The captain shook his head. "No-o," he drawled dryly, "I'm afraid +not, son. I admit that don't seem scarcely possible, but I am +afraid it's so." + +"Looking for something in our line, was you?" + +"Well, I don't know. What might be on your line--clothes?" + +The bewhiskered one drew himself up. "I am connected with Stone & +Barker," he said sharply. "And, seeing you standing in our +doorway, I thought possibly--" + +"Yes, yes. Beg your pardon, I'm sure. No, I don't want to buy +anything. I come to see Mr. Stone on a personal matter." + +"He's busy, I suppose." + +"So he says." + +The young man smiled with serene satisfaction. "I'm not +surprised," he observed complacently. "We ARE a busy house, +Mr--er--" + +"Hammond's my name. Are you Mr. Barker?" + +"No-o, my name is Prince." + +"So? Silent partner in the firm, hey?" + +"No-o, not exactly. Mr. Prince was slightly embarrassed. "No, I +am a--a salesman--at present. Was the matter you wished to see Mr. +Stone about a very private one?" + +"Middlin'.'" + +"Well, I asked because Mr. Stone is a busy man and we like to save +him all the--the--" + +"Trouble you can, hey? That's nice of you, you must save him a +lot, Mr--er--King, was it?" + +"No, Prince." + +"Sure and sartin', Prince, of course. I knew 'twas connected with +the royal family. Well, Mr. Prince, I'm afraid even you can't help +me nor him out this time. I'm lookin' up a friend of mine, a widow +lady from down the Cape. She's a relation of Mr. Stone's, and +she's come to Boston durin' the last day or so. I thought likely +he might know where she was, that's all. That would be a little +out of your latitude, hey?" + +"I don't know. Her name wasn't Coffin, was it?" + +Captain Nat started. "It certainly was," he answered eagerly. +"How'd you know that?" + +Mr. Prince's complacence was superb. "Oh," he answered with +condescension, "Mr. Stone trusts me with a good many of his +personal affairs." + +"I should think likely he would. But about Mrs. Coffin? You was +goin' to say?" + +"She is with James Hallett & Co., the tailors, on Washington +Street. Mr. Stone found a place for her there, I believe. I--er-- +er--superintended the carrying of her valise and-- What?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. Hum! Hallett & Co., tailors? What number +Washin'ton Street did you say?" + +Mr. Prince gave the number. + +"Thank you a lot," said Captain Nat, with fervor. "Good-by, Mr. +Prince. Hope the next time I come you'll be in the firm. Good +day, sir." + +"Good day. Nothing else I can do? And you won't wait for Mr. +Stone? Very good. Is there any message for him that you would +like to leave?" + +"Hey?" Nat had started to go, but now he paused and turned. There +was a grim twinkle in his eye. "Message?" he repeated. "Why, ye- +es, I don't know but there is. You just give Mr. Stone Cap'n +Hammond's compliments and tell him I'm lookin' forward to +interviewin' him some time. Just tell him that, will you?" + +"I'll tell him. Glad to have met you, Captain Hammond." + +The captain nodded solemnly. "Say, Mr. King," he said, "you ain't +half so glad as I am." + +Mr. Prince strutted into the store. + +"Who was that chap you were talking with?" asked a fellow-clerk. + +"Oh, a hayseed who wanted to see the old man. Poor relation, I +guess. I headed him off. Stone is always telling us that time is +money, so I saved both of 'em for him. He ought to thank me. +Wouldn't be surprised if I got the raise I've been asking for." + +Mr. Prince did not get the raise, nor the thanks. But he was +surprised. + + +In the workshop of Hallett & Co., Keziah sat sewing busily. The +window near her was closed, stuck fast, and through the dingy panes +she could see only roofs and chimneys. The other women and girls +near her chatted and laughed, but she was silent. She did not feel +like talking, certainly not like laughing. The garment she was at +work on was a coat, a wedding coat, so the foreman had told her, +with a smile; therefore she must be very particular. + +She wondered idly whose coat it might be and who its future wearer +was to marry. This reminded her of the minister and Grace. They +would be happy now, her talk with Nat had assured her of that, and +they, too, would be married one of these days. But she would not +attend the wedding. She wondered what John had said when he read +her note. He and Grace would be sorry for her, of course; but +there was nothing they could do to help. No one could help her, no +one. Perhaps by this time the man she had run away from had +reached Trumet and her secret was known. How Didama and the rest +would spread the tale! How Captain Elkanah and Annabel would sneer +and exult! They hated her because she was the minister's friend. +And Nat, poor fellow, what would he do? Well, at least he would +understand now. + +The narrow stairway leading up to the workshop ended in a little +boxed-in room where the finished garments were hung to await the +final pressing. From behind the closed door of this room came the +sound of voices, apparently in heated argument. One of these +voices was that of Larry, the errand boy. Larry was speaking +shrilly and with emphasis. The other voice was lower in key and +the words were inaudible. + +"No, sir, you can't," declared Larry. "You can't, I tell you. The +boss don't let nobody in there and-- Hold on! Hold on!" + +The other voice made a short but evidently earnest answer. Larry +again expostulated. The workers looked up from their sewing. The +door opened and Larry appeared, flushed and excited. + +"Where's Mr. Upham?" he demanded. "Mr. Upham!" + +Upham was the foreman of the workroom. At the moment he was +downstairs in conversation with the head of the house. A half +dozen gave this information. + +"What's the matter? Who is it?" asked several. + +"I don't know who 'tis. It's a man and he's crazy, I think. I +told him he couldn't come in here, but he just keeps comin'. He +wants to see somebody named Coffin and there ain't no Coffins +here." + +Keziah bent lower over the wedding coat. Her hand shook and she +dropped the needle. + +"I told him we didn't keep coffins," declared Larry. "This ain't +no undertaker's. Where's Mr. Upham?" + +Keziah's nearest neighbor leaned toward her. + +"I guess it's somebody to see you," she said. "Your name is +Coffin, ain't it?" + +"No, no. That is, it can't be anybody to see me. I don't want to +see anybody. Tell him so, whoever it is. I can't see anybody. +I--NAT!" + +He stood in the doorway, beckoning to her. + +"Keziah," he said, "come here. I want you. I'll tell you why in a +minute. Come!" + +She hesitated. In a measure she was relieved, for she had feared +the man at the door might be her husband. But she was greatly +agitated and troubled. Everyone in the place was looking at her. + +"Nat," she said, trying to speak firmly, "I can't see you now. I'm +very busy. Please go away." + +"Come!" + +"I can't come. Go away. Please!" + +"Keziah, I'm waitin'. And I'm goin' to wait if I stay here all +night. Come!" + +She obeyed then. She could not have a scene there, before all +those strangers. She stepped past him into the little room. He +followed and closed the door. + +"Nat," she said, turning to him, "why did you come? How could you +be so cruel? I--" + +He interrupted her, but not with words. The next moment his arms +were about her and she was pressed tight against the breast of his +blue jacket. + +"Keziah," he whispered, "I've come to take you home. Home for +good. No, stay where you are and I'll tell you all about it. +Praise be to God! we're off the rocks at last. All that's left is +to tow you into port, and, by the everlastin', that's what I'm here +for!" + + +When Upham came up the stairs after his long interview with "the +boss," he found the door at the top closed. When he rattled the +latch that door was opened by a stranger. + +"Are you Mr. Hallett?" asked Captain Nat briskly. + +"No, I'm not. Mr. Hallett is in his office on the first floor. +But what--" + +"On the main deck, hey? Well, all right; we won't trouble him. +You'll do just as well; I judge you're one of the mates of this +craft. You tell Mr. Hallett that this lady here has decided not to +cruise with him any longer. No fault to find, you understand, but +she's got a better berth. She's goin' to ship along with me. +Ain't that so, Keziah?" + +Keziah, pale, trembling, scarcely realizing the situation even yet, +did not speak. But Captain Nat Hammond seemed to find his answer +in her silence. A few minutes later, her arm in his, they +descended the gloomy, dusty stairs, and emerged into the sunshine +together. + +That afternoon Mr. Abner Stone again "washed his hands" of his poor +relation--this time, as he indignantly declared, "for good and +all." + + +CHAPTER XXII + +IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON PREACHES ONCE MORE + + +Time has wrought many changes in Trumet. The packet long since +ceased to ply between the village and Boston, the stage has been +superseded by the locomotive, the old "square-riggers," commanded +by Cape Cod men, no longer sail the seas. Along the main road the +houses have changed hands. Didama Rogers peers no more from her +parlor window; that parlor is now profaned by the frivolous and +irreverent summer boarder. But the old residents love to talk of +the days that are gone and if you happen to catch Mr. Isaac +Higgins, now postmaster and a dignified member of the board of +selectmen, in a reminiscent mood he will very likely tell you of +the meeting of the parish committee called by its chairman, Elkanah +Daniels, to oust the Rev. John Ellery from the pulpit of the +Regular church. + +"I'll never forget," says Mr. Higgins, "that parish committee +meetin' if I live a thousand year. I, and two or three other young +shavers, was hid in the little room off the vestry--the room where +they kept the dishes they used for church suppers--and we heard the +whole business. Of course nobody knew that Nat was goin' to marry +Keziah then, but they did know that he wa'n't goin' to marry Grace +Van Horne, and had given her up to the minister of his own accord. +So Daniels's guns was spiked and he didn't stand no chance at all. +However, you'd never have guessed it to look at him. He marched +into that meetin' and up to the platform as stiff and dignified as +if he'd swallered a peck of starch. He called the meetin' to +order--'twas a full one, for all hands and the cook was there--and +then got up to speak. + +"He opened fire right off. He raked John Ellery fore and aft. The +parson, he said, had disgraced the society and his sacred +profession and should be hove overboard immediate. 'Twas an open +secret, he said. Everybody knew how he, minister of a Reg'lar +church, had been carryin' on with a Come-Outer girl, meetin' her +unbeknownst to anyone, and so on. As he got warmed up on this +subject he got more bitter and, though he didn't come out open and +say slanderous things, his hints was as nigh that as a pig's snout +is to his squeal. Even through the crack of the dish-closet door I +could see the bristles risin' on the back of Cap'n Zeb Mayo's neck. + +"At last Cap'n Zeb couldn't stand it no longer. + +"'Belay there!' he sings out, jumpin' to his feet. 'I want to ask +you one question, Elkanah Daniels: Are you tryin' to say somethin' +against Grace Van Horne's character?' + +"Well, that was a sort of sticker, in a way, and I cal'late Daniels +realized it. He 'hum-ha'd' and barked a little and then give in +that he couldn't swear the Van Horne person's character wa'n't all +right, but--" + +"'Couldn't swear!' snorts Zeb. 'You better not try to, not when +the minister or Nat's around. Aw, belay! you want us to fire John +Ellery out of this society--the best minister it ever had or ever +will have--because he had the sense to get sweet on a good clean +girl and the spunk to ask her to marry him. And you're down on her +because she's been brought up in a Come-Outer family--at least, +that's the reason you give out, though some of us have suspicions +'tain't the real one. Why! she risked what she thought was +smallpox to keep him from dyin' that night she picked him up, +ravin' distracted, in the middle of the lighthouse lane, and if he +hadn't married her after that I, for one, would have been willin' +to vote to give him his walkin' papers, Come-Outer she may have +been, but, by time, she's got religion that's good enough for me +and I'll be proud to see her the wife of my minister. Don't let's +have no more chin music. We know what you want and what you called +this meetin' for; now let's vote on it.' + +"Three or four sung out 'Question' and 'Vote.' But Elkanah held up +his hand. + +"'Gentlemen,' says he, 'before I ask for the vote I want to say +just one word. I've worshiped in this meetin' house ever sence I +was a child. I was christened in it; my father worshiped here +afore me; I've presided over the meetin's of this body for years. +But I tell you now that if you vote to keep that rascally hypocrite +in your pulpit I shall resign from the committee and from the +society. It'll be like cuttin' off my right hand, but I shall do +it. Are you ready for the vote? Those in favor of retaining the +present minister of this parish will rise. Those opposed will +remain seated.' + +"Every man on the floor stood up. Daniels himself was the only one +that stayed settin' down. + +"'It is a vote,' says he, white as a sheet, and his voice +trembling. 'Gentlemen, I bid you good day.' + +"He took up his hat and cane, give one look around the vestry, as +if he was sayin' good-by to it, and marched down the aisle as +straight and starchy as he'd come into it. Only, when he reached +the door, he put up one hand as if he was steadyin' himself. There +was precious few in that vestry that liked Elkanah Daniels, but I'm +bettin' high there wa'n't a one who didn't feel sorry for him then. + +"'Twas quiet as could be for a minute or so after he'd gone. Then +Cap'n Zeb draws a big breath and flings up his hand. + +"'Shipmates,' says he, 'this is the Almighty's house and we've got +to do it quiet, but I propose three whisperin' cheers for the Rev. +John Ellery and the lady that's goin' to be his wife.' + +"So they give 'em--hearty, too, if they was whispered--and that's +all there is to that meetin' worth tellin' about." + +Captain Daniels and his daughter moved to Boston that summer. They +never came back to Trumet to live. Annabel remained single until +after her father's death; then she married a man very much younger +and poorer than she was. It was remarked by acquaintances of the +couple that the difference in age became less and less apparent as +their married life continued. + +"Humph!" observed Captain Zeb, summing up the situation, "he +started about ten year astern, but he'll beat her on the run into +the cemetery, now you mark my words. Annabel's temper's cal'lated +to keep any average chap drivin' on that course, bows under. +There's a three-reef breeze blowin' off her tongue, day and night." + +On a Sunday morning, a few weeks after the committee meeting, the +Regular church was crowded. John Ellery was to preach his first +sermon since the San Jose came ashore. Every member of the +congregation was present. Even Mrs. Prince, feeble but garrulous, +was there. Gaius Winslow, having delivered his brood of children +at the church door, made a special trip in his carryall to fetch +the old lady. Captain Zebedee and Mrs. Mayo beamed from their pew. +Dr Parker and his wife smiled at them across the aisle. Didama +Rogers's new bonnet was a work of art and her neck threatened to +twist itself off as she turned to see each one who came in. + +Lavinia Pepper sailed to the front. She was dressed in a new black +alpaca which rustled so very much like silk that nearsighted people +might have been deceived by it. With her was a man, apparently +suffering from strangulation because of the height and tightness of +his collar. "It's Caleb Pratt, from Sandwich," whispered Didama. +"Thankful Payne's relation, you know. Have you heard what folks +are sayin'? I guess it's true, because-- Look at Kyan! you'd +think he was goin' to his own funeral." + +Abishai's expression was not cheerful, certainly. He followed Mr. +Pratt and his sister to the Pepper pew and subsided sadly in the +corner next the wall. Occasionally he was observed to wipe his +forehead and once--it was during the prayer--he groaned audibly. +Lavinia's dig in the ribs prevented his repeating the sound, but, +judging by his looks, he continued to groan in spirit. + +There was a stir at the door. All heads swung in that direction-- +all but Mr. Pepper's, that is. The minister and Grace were coming +up the aisle and behind them came Captain Nat Hammond and Keziah +Coffin. Nat was smiling and self-possessed. Never before in his +life had he entered the Regular meeting house as a worshiper, but +he seemed to be bearing the ordeal bravely. It was Grace's first +visit to the church, also, and she was plainly embarrassed. To be +stared at by eighty-odd pairs of eyes, and to catch whispered +comments from the starers' tongues, is likely to embarrass one. + +Yet the comments were all friendly. + +"I declare!" whispered Mrs. Prince, "I never see her look so pretty +afore. I knew she was the best lookin' girl in this town, but I +never realized she was SUCH a beauty. Well, there's one thing +sartin'--we've got the handsomest parson and parson's wife in THIS +county, by about ten mile and four rows of apple trees. And +there's the other bride that's goin' to be. I never see Keziah +look so well, neither." + +Keziah did look well. Her parson had emerged triumphant from his +battle with disease and adverse fate and was more than ever the +idol of his congregation. He was to marry the girl of his choice-- +and hers. The housekeeper's ears were still ringing with the +thanks of John and Grace. Both seemed to feel that to her, Keziah +Coffin, more than anyone else, they owed their great joy. Some of +the things they said she would never forget. And her own life, +too, was freed forever of its burden, the secret which had hung +over her for so many years. Only a very few knew that secret, and +they would not disclose it. Toward the memory of the man buried in +the stranger's lot at the cemetery she felt almost kindly now. +While he lived she had feared and dreaded him, now she was +beginning to forgive. For he had paid his debt with his life, and +with her, beside her, was the other, the one whom she had loved, +had given up, had mourned for, and who was now to be hers always. +No wonder Keziah looked well. She was happy, and happiness is a +wondrous beautifier. + +The minister went up the stairs to the pulpit. He was still white +and thin, but his eyes were bright and his voice clear. He gave +out the opening hymn and the service began. + +They said it was the finest sermon ever preached in that church, +and perhaps it was. When it was over, before the benediction was +pronounced, Ellery stepped out from behind the pulpit to the edge +of the platform. He looked over the friendly faces upturned to his +and, for an instant, it seemed that he could not trust himself to +speak. + +"My friends," he said, "I cannot let you go without a personal +word. I owe you so much, all of you, that nothing I can say will +convey to you my feeling of gratitude and love for this +congregation and this church. You have stood by me all through. +You trusted me and believed in me. I came to Trumet a stranger. I +have found here the truest friends a man could hope to find--yes, +and more than friends. If I live, and while I live, I shall hope +to prove by the best effort that is in me my realization of the +great debt I owe you and my desire to repay it, even though the +payment must, of necessity, be so inadequate. God bless you all-- +and thank you." + +"Wa'n't it lovely!" gushed Didama. "And when he said that about +true friends he was lookin' straight at Gracie all the time." + +"Didn't seem to me so," declared Gaius Winslow. "I thought he was +lookin' at Cap'n Hammond." + +"Well, now, that's queer," put in Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife. +"I would have sworn he was looking at Keziah Coffin." + +Captain Zebedee grinned. "I cal'late you're all right," he +observed. "I wouldn't wonder if he was lookin' at all of 'em." + +There was much hand shaking and congratulation and the church +emptied slowly. Among the last to leave were the Peppers and Mr. +Pratt. Lavinia took the minister aside. + +"Mr. Ellery," she simpered, "I've--that is, Caleb and me--will +prob'ly want you to-- That is, we want you to be the one--" + +"Yes, Miss Pepper?" + +"Oh, my sakes! you see-- 'Bishy dear, come here a minute, won't +you?" + +Kyan approached, the picture of desolation. + +"What do you want?" he asked gruffly. + +"Heavens to Betsy! Don't look so sour. A body'd think you was +goin' to be hung, to look at you. 'Bishy, you tell Mr. Ellery all +about it, there's a dear. He'll tell you, Mr. Ellery; and remember +we count on you. Neither me nor Caleb wont have nobody else." + +She seized Mr. Pratt by the arm and led him hastily away. Kyan +looked after them. + +"Hung?" he muttered. "I wish, by godfreys mighty, I had the +hangin' of SOME folks! I'd put a tighter collar on 'em than +they've got now, I bet you!" + +The minister's lips twitched. He knew what was coming. Hints of a +surprising nature had been circulating about Trumet. + +"What's the matter, Mr. Pepper?" he asked. + +"Matter? Matter enough! You know what she's goin' to do? She's +goin' to marry THAT!" + +The last word was emphasized by a furious gesticulation toward the +back of the gentleman from Sandwich. + +"Who? Mr. Pratt? Is your sister to marry him? Indeed! I +congratulate them both--and you." + +"Me? What in tunket--I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery, for talkin' so +in the meetin' house--but what are you congratulatin' me for?" + +"Why, because your sister is to have a good husband; at least +people speak highly of him." + +"Ugh!" + +"And because--well, Mr. Pepper, you have been quite confidential +with me; we have shared secrets, you know; and I thought possibly +the new arrangement might make it a bit more pleasant for you." + +"Pleasant? How?" + +"I suppose Mr. Pratt will take his bride home to Sandwich, and you, +being here alone, will be more free." + +"Free?" Kyan repeated the word wrathfully. "Free! I'll be about +as free as a settin' hen under a barrel, I will. Is a feller free +when he's got two pickin' at him instead of one? I thought I was +goin' to have a little peace and comfort; I thought that same as +you, Mr. Ellery. I've had my suspicions as to her and him for some +time. That day when I cal'lated I'd locked her up and come back to +find she'd gone buggy ridin', I thought 'twas queer. When she went +to conference and left me alone I smelt a rat. When she took to +letter writin' the smell got stronger; until the last few weeks +I've been sartin of the game she was up to. And I never +complained, no sir! Some brothers would have ripped up the eternal +foundations afore they'd have let their sister break up their home +and desert 'em for a stiff-necked, bald-headed old shoe peddler +like--" + +"Hush! hush! Mr. Pepper. You forget--" + +"No, I don't forget, nuther. Mr. Ellery, you don't know it all. +When Laviny come to me and told me what she was goin' to do, was I +obstinate? Did I stand on my rights as head of the family and tell +her she couldn't do it? No, sir-ee, I didn't! I was resigned. I +says to her, 'Laviny,' I says, 'I won't say that I shan't be +turrible lonesome without you. I won't say that I ain't sort of +shocked and grieved at our partin' after all these years. But +what's my personal feelin's when I compare 'em with your happiness? +Nothin', nothin' at all!' I says. 'Bless you, Laviny,' says I. +'When you goin' to go away?' And what do you s'pose she says to +me? Why, that she wa'n't goin' away at all. That--that Pratt +thing has sold out his shoe store up to Sandwich and is comin' here +to live. Comin' to live at our HOUSE, mind you, with her and with +ME! ''Twill be so nice for you, 'Bishy dear,' she says, 'to have a +man in the house to keep you comp'ny and look out for you when I +ain't round.' Godfreys mighty!" + +This portion of Kyan's disclosure was surprising, if the +announcement of his sister's engagement was not. + +"Mr. Pratt is coming to Trumet?" the minister repeated. "What for? +What is he going to do here?" + +"Keep shoe store, I s'pose likely. Laviny says there's a good +openin' for one in this town. I told her the best openin' I could +think of for him was the well and I hoped to the nation he'd fall +into it. Then she went for me like a dogfish after a herrin' and I +never had a taste of vittles till I'd took it all back and said I +was glad he was goin' to live with us. Free! Don't talk to me +about freedom! Godfreys mighty!" + +Ellery smothered his desire to laugh and expressed sympathy. +Abishai listened in sullen silence. + +"Well," he said, turning to go, "I ain't goin' to stand it, if I +can help it. I've been doin' some thinkin' on my own account and +there's two ways of gettin' even. That Caleb critter is marryin' +into our family 'cause he knows I'm well off. I'll cheat him, by +godfreys! I'll will every cent of my fifteen hundred dollars to +the poor or the heathen or somethin'. I will, sure's taxes." + +The minister was obliged to laugh, then. + +"I wouldn't do that," he said. "From what I hear, Mr. Pratt is +worth several times fifteen hundred." + +"I know it; but he's so dum mean that 'twould break his heart to +see even ten cents gettin' away from him. However, that ain't my +only plan. He and Laviny ain't got any mortgage on the marryin' +business. Other folks can do it as well as them. What do you +think of Hannah Poundberry?" + +"What do I think of her? What do you mean?" + +"Never mind what I mean. Just you keep that in your head, Mr. +Ellery. You remember that I asked you, as man to man, 'What do you +think of Hannah Poundberry?'--Yes, yes, Laviny, I'm a-comin'. They +want me to ask you to marry 'em," he added. "I s'pose you'll have +to. But say, Mr. Ellery, when you do, just tell Pratt that your +usual price for the job is ten dollars. That'll spile his +honeymoon for him, or I miss my guess." + +He turned away and moved sulkily toward his beckoning sister and +her escort; but wheeled once more to add, in a mysterious whisper, +"Don't you forget now, Mr. Ellery. Remember that question I put to +you: 'What do you think of'--Yes, yes, La-viny, I hear you!--of +you know who?'" + + +That evening, at the parsonage, Keziah was clearing the table and +Captain Nat was helping her. A happy party of four had enjoyed the +meal, John and Mrs. Coffin acting as hosts and Grace and the +captain being the invited guests. Now the younger couple had gone +over to the church, the bell of which was ringing for evening +service. + +"Hurry up, Keziah," urged Nat. "If you and me don't get decks +cleared pretty soon we'll be late for meetin', and I'd hate to do +that, considerin' I'm such a brand-new disciple, as you might say. +What do we do next, shorten sail? Like this, hey?" + +He pulled the cloth from the table, sending the crumbs flying in +all directions, and proceeded to fold it, after a fashion. + +"There!" he exclaimed with satisfaction; "there she is, canvas +furled and under bare poles. Now we can clear out, can't we? +What's the matter?" + +Keziah took the cloth from his hands and refolded it. + +"Nat Hammond," she said, laughing, "you may be a good sailor, but +you're an awful poor housekeeper. Look at the mess you've made of +that floor." + +Nat looked at the scattered crumbs and shook his head. + +"By the everlastin'!" he observed, "I did make dirty weather on +that tack, didn't I? Cal'late I ain't much of a housekeeper, same +as you say. Maybe that's why I was so dreadful anxious to get a +good one to cruise along with me. Well, I've got her. I'm +satisfied." + +He walked to the back door of the kitchen, threw it open, and stood +looking out. + +"Keziah," he said, "come here a minute." + +She came from the dining room and stood at his side. He put an arm +about her. + +"Look off there," he said, pointing with his free hand. See that?" + +The sun was just setting and all the west was gorgeous with crimson +and purple and yellow. The bay was spangled with fire, the high +sand bluffs along the shore looked like broken golden ingots. The +fields and swamps and salt meadows, rich in their spring glory of +bud and new leaf, were tinged with the ruddy glow. The Trumet +roofs were bathed in it, the old packet, asleep at her moorings by +the breakwater, was silhouetted against the radiance. The church +bell had ceased to ring and there was not a sound, except the low +music of the distant surf. + +"Look at it, Keziah," urged Captain Nat. + +"I'm lookin', Nat," she answered. "It's beautiful." + +"Ain't it? I love it, you know that, and I never thought I should +be anxious for the time to come when I must leave it. But I am. I +want to go." + +They were to be married in another month. It would be a double +wedding, for Grace and the minister were to be married at the same +time. Then Nat and his wife were to go to New York, where a new +ship, just out of the builders' hands, was to be ready for him. +She was a fine one, this successor to the Sea Mist. She had been +building for more than a year and when Captain Hammond returned, +safe and sound, and with their money in his possession, the owners +decided at once that he should command the addition to their fleet. +She was to sail for Liverpool and Keziah was to be a passenger. + +"I can't hardly wait to get to sea," went on Nat. "Think of it! +No more lonesome meals in the cabin, thinkin' about you and about +home. No, sir! you and home'll be right aboard with me. Think of +the fun we'll have in the foreign ports. London, and you and me +goin' sightseein' through it! And Havre and Gibraltar and +Marseilles and Genoa and--and--by and by, Calcutta and Hong Kong +and Singapore. I've seen 'em all, of course, but you haven't. I +tell you, Keziah, that time when I first saw a real hope of gettin' +you, that time after I'd learned from John that that big trouble of +yours was out of the way forever, on my way up to Boston in the +cars I made myself a promise--I swore that if you did say yes to me +I'd do my best to make the rest of your life as smooth and pleasant +as the past so far had been rough. I ain't rich enough to give you +what you deserve, nowhere near; but I'll work hard and do my best, +my girl--you see." + +Keziah was looking out over the bay, her eyes brighter than the +sunset. Now she turned to look up into his face. + +"Rich!" she repeated, with a little catch in her voice. "Rich! +there never was a woman in this world so rich as I am this minute. +Or so happy, either." + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln + diff --git a/old/kziac10.zip b/old/kziac10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e72cf21 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/kziac10.zip |