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+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 ***
+
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