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+The Project Gutenberg Etext Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln
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+Keziah Coffin
+
+by Joseph C. Lincoln
+
+February, 2000  [Etext #2068]
+
+
+The Project Gutenberg Etext Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln
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+This etext was prepared by Donald Lainson, charlie@idirect.com.
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+
+
+KEZIAH COFFIN
+
+by Joseph C. Lincoln
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+I.--IN WHICH KEZIAH HEARS OF TWO PROPOSALS AND THE BEGINNING OF A
+    THIRD
+
+II.--IN WHICH KEZIAH UNEARTHS A PROWLER
+
+III.--IN WHICH KEZIAH ASSUMES A GUARDIANSHIP
+
+IV.--IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON DECIDES TO RUN IT BLINDFOLD
+
+V.--IN WHICH THE PARSON CRUISES IN STRANGE WATERS
+
+VI.--IN WHICH OLD FRIENDS MEET
+
+VII.--IN WHICH CAPTAIN NAT PICKS UP A DERELICT
+
+VIII.--IN WHICH THE PARSON AND MR. PEPPER DECLARE THEIR INDEPENDENCE
+
+IX.--IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT
+
+X.--IN WHICH KEZIAH'S TROUBLES MULTIPLY
+
+XI.--IN WHICH CAPEN EBEN RECEIVES A CALLER
+
+XII.--IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN MAKES PORT
+
+XIII.--IN WHICH KEZIAH BREAKS THE NEWS
+
+XIV.--IN WHICH THE SEA MIST SAILS
+
+XV.--IN WHICH TRUMET TALKS OF CAPTAIN NAT
+
+XVI--IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE
+
+XVII.--IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED
+
+XVIII.--IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT
+
+XIX.--IN WHICH A RECEPTION IS CALLED OFF
+
+XX.--IN WHICH THE MINISTER RECEIVES A LETTER
+
+XXI.--IN WHICH MR. STONE WASHES HIS HANDS
+
+XXII.--IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON PREACHES ONCE MORE
+
+
+
+
+KEZIAH COFFIN
+
+by Joseph C. Lincoln
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+IN WHICH KEZIAH HEARS TWO PROPOSALS AND THE BEGINNING OF A THIRD
+
+
+Trumet in a fog; a fog blown in during the night by the wind from
+the wide Atlantic.  So wet and heavy that one might taste the salt
+in it.  So thick that houses along the main road were but dim
+shapes behind its gray drapery, and only the gates and fences of
+the front yards were plainly in evidence to the passers-by.  The
+beach plum and bayberry bushes on the dunes were spangled with
+beady drops.  The pole on Cannon Hill, where the beacon was hoisted
+when the packet from Boston dropped anchor in the bay, was shiny
+and slippery.  The new weathervane, a gilded whale, presented to
+the "Regular" church by Captain Zebedee Mayo, retired whaler, swam
+in a sea of cloud.  The lichened eaves of the little "Come-Outer"
+chapel dripped at sedate intervals.  The brick walk leading to the
+door of Captain Elkanah Daniels's fine residence held undignified
+puddles in its hollows.  And, through the damp stillness, the
+muttered growl of the surf, three miles away at the foot of the
+sandy bluffs by the lighthouse, sounded ominously.
+
+Directly opposite Captain Elkanah's front gate, on the other side
+of the main road, stood the little story-and-a-half house, also the
+captain's property, which for fourteen years had been tenanted by
+Mrs. Keziah Coffin and her brother, Solomon Hall, the shoemaker.
+But Solomon had, the month before, given up his fight with debt and
+illness and was sleeping quietly in Trumet's most populous center,
+the graveyard.  And Keziah, left alone, had decided that the rent
+and living expenses were more than her precarious earnings as a
+seamstress would warrant, and, having bargained with the furniture
+dealer in Wellmouth for the sale of her household effects, was now
+busy getting them ready for the morrow, when the dealer's wagon was
+to call.  She was going to Boston, where a distant and
+condescending rich relative had interested himself to the extent of
+finding her a place as sewing woman in a large tailoring
+establishment.
+
+The fog hung like a wet blanket over the house and its small yard,
+where a few venerable pear trees, too conservative in their old age
+to venture a bud even though it was almost May, stood bare and
+forlorn.  The day was dismal.  The dismantled dining room, its
+tables and chairs pushed into a corner, and its faded ingrain
+carpet partially stripped from the floor, was dismal, likewise.
+Considering all things, one might have expected Keziah herself to
+be even more dismal.  But, to all outward appearances, she was not.
+A large portion of her thirty-nine years of life had been passed
+under a wet blanket, so to speak, and she had not permitted the
+depressing covering to shut out more sunshine than was absolutely
+necessary.  "If you can't get cream, you might as well learn to
+love your sasser of skim milk," said practical Keziah.
+
+She was on her knees, her calico dress sleeves, patched and darned,
+but absolutely clean, rolled back, uncovering a pair of plump,
+strong arms, a saucer of tacks before her, and a tack hammer with a
+claw head in her hand.  She was taking up the carpet.  Grace Van
+Horne, Captain Eben Hammond's ward, who had called to see if there
+was anything she might do to help, was removing towels,
+tablecloths, and the like from the drawers in a tall "high-boy,"
+folding them and placing them in an old and battered trunk.  The
+pair had been discussing the subject which all Trumet had discussed
+for three weeks, namely, the "calling" to the pastorate of the
+"Regular" church of the Rev. John Ellery, the young divinity
+student, who was to take the place of old Parson Langley, minister
+in the parish for over thirty years.  Discussion in the village had
+now reached a critical point, for the Reverend John was expected by
+almost any coach.  In those days, the days of the late fifties, the
+railroad down the Cape extended only as far as Sandwich; passengers
+made the rest of their journey by stage.  Many came direct from the
+city by the packet, the little schooner, but Mr. Ellery had written
+that he should probably come on the coach.
+
+"They say he's very nice-looking," remarked Miss Van Horne soberly,
+but with a MISCHIEVOUS glance under her dark lashes at Keziah.  The
+lady addressed paused long enough to transfer several tacks from
+the floor to the saucer, and then made answer.
+
+"Humph!" she observed.  "A good many years ago I saw a theater show
+up to Boston.  Don't be shocked; those circumstances we hear so
+much tell of--the kind you can't control--have kept me from goin'
+to theaters much, even if I wanted to.  But I did see this
+entertainment, and a fool one 'twas, too, all singin' instead of
+talkin'--op'ra, I believe they called it.  Well, as I started to
+say, one of the leadin' folks in it was the Old Harry himself, and
+HE was pretty good-lookin'."
+
+Grace laughed, even though she had been somewhat shocked.
+
+"Why, Aunt Keziah!" she exclaimed--those who knew Keziah Coffin
+best usually called her aunt, though real nephews and nieces she
+had none--"why, Aunt Keziah!  What do you mean by comparing the--
+the person you just mentioned with a MINISTER!"
+
+"Oh, I wasn't comparin' 'em; I'll leave that for you Come-Outers to
+do.  Drat this carpet!  Seems's if I never saw such long tacks; I
+do believe whoever put 'em down drove 'em clean through the center
+of the earth and let the Chinymen clinch 'em on t'other side.  I
+haul up a chunk of the cellar floor with every one.  Ah, hum!" with
+a sigh, "I cal'late they ain't any more anxious to leave home than
+I am.  But, far's the minister's concerned, didn't I hear of your
+Uncle Eben sayin' in prayer meetin' only a fortni't or so ago that
+all hands who wa'n't Come-Outers were own children to Satan?  Mr.
+Ellery must take after his father some.  Surprisin', ain't it, what
+a family the old critter's got."
+
+The girl laughed again.  For one brought up, since her seventh
+year, in the strictest of Come-Outer families, she laughed a good
+deal.  Many Come-Outers considered it wicked to laugh.  Yet Grace
+did it, and hers was a laugh pleasant to hear and distinctly
+pleasant to see.  It made her prettier than ever, a fact which, if
+she was aware of it, should have been an additional preventive, for
+to be pretty smacks of vanity.  Perhaps she wasn't aware of it.
+
+"What do you think Uncle Eben would say if he heard that?" she
+asked.
+
+"Say I took after my father, too, I presume likely.  Does your
+uncle know you come here to see me so often?  And call me 'aunt'
+and all that?"
+
+"Of course he does.  Aunt Keziah, you mustn't think Uncle Eben
+doesn't see the good in people simply because they don't believe as
+he does.  He's as sweet and kind as--"
+
+"Who?  Eben Hammond?  Land sakes, child, don't I know it?  Cap'n
+Eben's the salt of the earth.  I'm a Regular and always have been,
+but I'd be glad if my own society was seasoned with a few like him.
+'Twould taste better to me of a Sunday."  She paused, and then
+added quizzically: "What d'you s'pose Cap'n Elkanah and the rest of
+our parish committee would say if they heard THAT?"
+
+"Goodness knows!  Still, I'm glad to hear you say it.  And uncle
+says you are as good a woman as ever lived.  He thinks you're
+misled, of course, but that some day you'll see the error of your
+ways."
+
+"Humph!  I'll have to hurry up if I want to see 'em without
+spectacles.  See my errors!  Land sakes! much as I can do to see
+the heads of these tacks.  Takin' up carpets is as hard a test of a
+body's eyesight as 'tis of their religion."
+
+Her companion put down the tablecloth she was folding and looked
+earnestly at the other woman.  To an undiscerning eye the latter
+would have looked much as she always did--plump and matronly, with
+brown hair drawn back from the forehead and parted in the middle;
+keen brown eyes with a humorous twinkle in them--this was the
+Keziah Coffin the later generation of Trumet knew so well.
+
+But Grace Van Horne, who called her aunt and came to see her so
+frequently, while her brother was alive and during the month
+following his death, could see the changes which the month had
+wrought.  She saw the little wrinkles about the eyes and the lines
+of care about the mouth, the tired look of the whole plucky,
+workaday New England figure.  She shook her head.
+
+"Religion!" she repeated.  "I do believe, Aunt Keziah, that you've
+got the very best religion of anybody I know.  I don't care if you
+don't belong to our church.  When I see how patient you've been and
+how cheerful through all your troubles, it--"
+
+Mrs. Coffin waved the hammer deprecatingly.  "There! there!" she
+interrupted.  "I guess it's a good thing I'm goin' away.  Here's
+you and I praisin' up each other's beliefs, just as if that wasn't
+a crime here in Trumet.  Sometimes when I see how the two societies
+in this little one-horse place row with each other, I declare if it
+doesn't look as if they'd crossed out the first word of 'Love your
+neighbor' and wrote in 'Fight,' instead.  Yet I'm a pretty good
+Regular, too, and when it comes to whoopin' and carryin' on like
+the Come-Outers, I--  Well! well! never mind; don't begin to
+bristle up.  I won't say another word about religion.  Let's pick
+the new minister to pieces.  ANY kind of a Christian can do that."
+
+But the new minister was destined to remain undissected that
+morning, in that house at least.  Grace was serious now and she
+voiced the matter which had been uppermost in her mind since she
+left home.
+
+"Aunt Keziah," she said, "why do you go away?  What makes you?  Is
+it absolutely necessary?"
+
+"Why do I go?  Why, for the same reason that the feller that was
+hove overboard left the ship--cause I can't stay.  You've got to
+have vittles and clothes, even in Trumet, and a place to put your
+head in nights.  Long's Sol was alive and could do his cobblin' we
+managed to get along somehow.  What I could earn sewin' helped, and
+we lived simple.  But when he was taken down and died, the doctor's
+bills and the undertaker's used up what little money I had put by,
+and the sewin' alone wouldn't keep a healthy canary in bird seed.
+Dear land knows I hate to leave the old house I've lived in for
+fourteen years and the town I was born in, but I've got to, for all
+I see.  Thank mercy, I can pay Cap'n Elkanah his last month's rent
+and go with a clear conscience.  I won't owe anybody, that's a
+comfort, and nobody will owe me; though I could stand that, I
+guess," she added, prying at the carpet edge.
+
+"I don't care!"  The girl's dark eyes flashed indignantly.  "I
+think it's too bad of Cap'n Elkanah to turn you out when--"
+
+"Don't talk that way.  He ain't turnin' me out.  He ain't lettin'
+houses for his health and he'll need the money to buy his
+daughter's summer rigs.  She ain't had a new dress for a month,
+pretty near, and here's a young and good-lookin' parson heavin' in
+sight.  Maybe Cap'n Elkanah would think a minister was high-toned
+enough even for Annabel to marry."
+
+"He's only twenty-three, they say," remarked Grace, a trifle
+maliciously.  "Perhaps she'll adopt him."
+
+Annabel was the only child of Captain Elkanah Daniels, who owned
+the finest house in town.  She was the belle of Trumet, and had
+been for a good many years.
+
+Keziah laughed.
+
+"Well," she said, "anyhow I've got to go.  Maybe I'll like Boston
+first rate, you can't tell.  Or maybe I won't.  Ah, hum! 'twouldn't
+be the first thing I've had to do that I didn't like."
+
+Her friend looked at her.
+
+"Aunt," she said, "I want to make a proposal to you, and you
+mustn't be cross about it."
+
+"A proposal!  Sakes alive!  What'll I say?  'This is so sudden!'
+That's what Becky Ryder, up to the west part of the town, said when
+Jim Baker, the tin peddler, happened to ask her if she'd ever
+thought of gettin' married.  'O James! this is so sudden!' says
+Becky.  Jim said afterwards that the suddenest thing about it was
+the way he cleared out of that house.  And he never called there
+afterwards."
+
+Grace smiled, but quickly grew grave.
+
+"Now, auntie," she said, "please listen.  I'm in earnest.  It seems
+to me that you might do quite well at dressmaking here in town, if
+you had a little--well, ready money to help you at the start.  I've
+got a few hundred dollars in the bank, presents from uncle, and my
+father's insurance money.  I should love to lend it to you, and I
+know uncle would--"
+
+Mrs. Coffin interrupted her.
+
+"Cat's foot!" she exclaimed.  "I hope I haven't got where I need to
+borrow money yet a while.  Thank you just as much, deary, but
+long's I've got two hands and a mouth, I'll make the two keep
+t'other reasonably full, I wouldn't wonder.  No, I shan't think of
+it, so don't say another word.  NO."
+
+The negative was so decided that Grace was silenced.  Her
+disappointment showed in her face, however, and Keziah hastened to
+change the subject.
+
+"How do you know," she observed, "but what my goin' to Boston may
+be the best thing that ever happened to me?  You can't tell.  No
+use despairin', Annabel ain't given up hope yet; why should I?
+Hey?  Ain't that somebody comin'?"
+
+Her companion sprang to her feet and ran to the window.  Then she
+broke into a smothered laugh.
+
+"Why, it's Kyan Pepper!" she exclaimed.  "He must be coming to see
+you, Aunt Keziah.  And he's got on his very best Sunday clothes.
+Gracious!  I must be going.  I didn't know you expected callers."
+
+Keziah dropped the tack hammer and stood up.
+
+"Kyan!" she repeated.  "What in the world is that old idiot comin'
+here for?  To talk about the minister, I s'pose.  How on earth did
+Laviny ever come to let him out alone?"
+
+Mr. Pepper, Mr. Abishai Pepper, locally called "Kyan" (Cayenne)
+Pepper because of his red hair and thin red side whiskers, was one
+of Trumet's "characters," and in his case the character was weak.
+He was born in the village and, when a youngster, had, like every
+other boy of good family in the community, cherished ambitions for
+a seafaring life.  His sister, Lavinia, ten years older than he,
+who, after the death of their parents, had undertaken the job of
+"bringing up" her brother, did not sympathize with these ambitions.
+Consequently, when Kyan ran away she followed him to Boston,
+stalked aboard the vessel where he had shipped, and collared him,
+literally and figuratively.  One of the mates venturing to offer
+objection, Lavinia turned upon him and gave him a piece of her
+mind, to the immense delight of the crew and the loungers on the
+wharf.  Then she returned with the vagrant to Trumet.  Old Captain
+Higgins, who skippered the packet in those days, swore that Lavinia
+never stopped lecturing her brother from the time they left Boston
+until they dropped anchor behind the breakwater.
+
+"I give you my word that 'twas pretty nigh a stark calm, but there
+was such a steady stream of language pourin' out of the Pepper
+stateroom that the draught kept the sails filled all the way home,"
+asserted Captain Higgins.
+
+That was Kyan's sole venture, so far as sailoring was concerned,
+but he ran away again when he was twenty-five.  This time he
+returned of his own accord, bringing a wife with him, one Evelyn
+Gott of Ostable.  Evelyn could talk a bit herself, and her first
+interview with Lavinia ended with the latter's leaving the house in
+a rage, swearing never to set foot in it again.  This oath she
+broke the day of her sister-in-law's funeral.  Then she appeared,
+after the ceremony, her baggage on the wagon with her.  The
+bereaved one, who was sitting on the front stoop of his dwelling
+with, so people say, a most resigned expression on his meek
+countenance, looked up and saw her.
+
+"My land! Laviny," he exclaimed, turning pale.  "Where'd you come
+from?"
+
+"Never mind WHERE I come from," observed his sister promptly.  "You
+just be thankful I've come.  If ever a body needed some one to take
+care of 'em, it's you.  You can tote my things right in," she
+added, turning to her grinning driver, "and you, 'Bishy, go right
+in with 'em.  The idea of your settin' outside takin' it easy when
+your poor wife ain't been buried more'n an hour!"
+
+"But--but--Laviny," protested poor Kyan, speaking the truth
+unwittingly, "I couldn't take it easy AFORE she was buried, could
+I?"
+
+"Go right in," was the answer.  "March!"
+
+Abishai marched, and had marched under his sister's orders ever
+since.  She kept house for him, and did it well, but her one fear
+was that some female might again capture him, and she watched him
+with an eagle eye.  He was the town assessor and tax collector, but
+when he visited dwellings containing single women or widows,
+Lavinia always accompanied him, "to help him in his figgerin'," she
+said.
+
+Consequently, when he appeared, unchaperoned, on the walk leading
+to the side door of the Coffin homestead, Keziah and her friend
+were surprised.
+
+"He's dressed to kill," whispered Grace, at the window.  "Even his
+tall hat; and in this fog!  I do believe he's coming courting, Aunt
+Keziah."
+
+"Humph!" was the ungracious answer.  "He's come to say good-by, I
+s'pose, and to find out where I'm goin' and how much pay I'm goin'
+to get and if my rent's settled, and a few other little things that
+ain't any of his business.  Laviny put him up to it, you see.
+She'll be along pretty quick.  Well, I'll fix him so he won't talk
+much.  He can help us take down that stovepipe.  I said 'twas a job
+for a man, and a half one's better than none--  Why, how d'ye do,
+'Bishy?  Come right in.  Pretty thick outside, isn't it?"
+
+Mr. Pepper entered diffidently.
+
+"Er--er--how d'ye do, Keziah?" he stammered.  "I thought I'd just
+run in a minute and--"
+
+"Yes, yes.  Glad to see you.  Take off your hat.  My sakes! it's
+pretty wet.  How did Laviny come to let you--  I mean how'd you
+come to wear a beaver such a mornin's this?"
+
+Kyan removed the silk hat and inspected its limp grandeur ruefully.
+
+"I--I--" he began.  "Well, the fact is, I come out by myself.  You
+see, Laviny's gone up to Sarah B.'s to talk church doin's.  I--I--
+well, I kind of wanted to speak with you about somethin', Keziah,
+so--  Oh! I didn't see you, Gracie.  Good mornin'."
+
+He didn't seem overjoyed to see Miss Van Horne, as it was.  In
+fact, he reddened perceptibly and backed toward the door.  The
+girl, her eyes twinkling, took up her jacket and hat.
+
+"Oh! I'm not going to stop, Mr. Pepper," she said.  "I was only
+helping Aunt Keziah a little, that's all.  I must run on now."
+
+"Run on--nonsense!" declared Keziah decisively.  "You're goin' to
+stay right here and help us get that stovepipe down.  And 'Bishy'll
+help, too.  Won't you, 'Bish?"
+
+The stovepipe was attached to the "air-tight" in the dining room.
+It--the pipe--rose perpendicularly for a few feet and then extended
+horizontally, over the high-boy, until it entered the wall.  Kyan
+looked at it and then at his "Sunday clothes."
+
+"Why, I'd be glad to, of course," he declared with dubious
+enthusiasm.  "But I don't know's I'll have time.  Perhaps I'd
+better come later and do it.  Laviny, she--"
+
+"Oh, Laviny can spare you for a few minutes, I guess; 'specially as
+she don't know you're out.  Better take your coat off, hadn't you?
+Grace, fetch one of those chairs for Ky--for 'Bishy to stand in."
+
+Grace obediently brought the chair.  It happened to be the one with
+a rickety leg, but its owner was helping the reluctant Abishai
+remove the long-tailed blue coat which had been his wedding garment
+and had adorned his person on occasions of ceremony ever since.
+She did not notice the chair.
+
+"It's real good of you to offer to help," she said.  "Grace and I
+didn't hardly dast to try it alone.  That pipe's been up so long
+that I wouldn't wonder if 'twas chock-full of soot.  If you're
+careful, though, I don't believe you'll get any on you.  Never mind
+the floor; I'm goin' to wash that before I leave."
+
+Reluctantly, slowly, the unwilling Mr. Pepper suffered himself to
+be led to the chair.  He mounted it and gingerly took hold of the
+pipe.
+
+"Better loosen it at the stove hole first," advised Keziah.  "What
+was it you wanted to see me about, 'Bish?"
+
+"Oh, nothin', nothin'," was the hasty response.  "Nothin' of any
+account--that is to say--"
+
+He turned redder than ever and wrenched at the pipe.  It loosened
+at its lower end and the wires holding it in suspension shook.
+
+"I guess," observed the lady of the house, "that you'd better move
+that chest of drawers out so's you can get behind it.  Grace, you
+help me.  There! that's better.  Now move your chair."
+
+Kyan stepped from the chair and moved the latter to a position
+between the high-boy and the wall.  Then he remounted and gripped
+the pipe in the middle of its horizontal section.
+
+"Seems to stick in the chimney there, don't it?" queried Keziah.
+"Wiggle it back and forth; that ought to loosen it.  What was it
+you wanted to say, 'Bish?"
+
+Apparently, Mr. Pepper had nothing to say.  The crimson tide had
+reached his ears, which, always noticeable because of their size
+and spread, were now lit up like a schooner's sails at sunset.  His
+hands trembled on the pipe.
+
+"Nothin', nothin', I tell you," he faltered.  "I--I just run in to
+say how d'ye do, that's all."
+
+"Really, I think I'd better be going," said Grace, glancing from
+Kyan's embarrassed face to that of the unsuspecting Mrs. Coffin.
+"I'm afraid I'm in the way."
+
+"No, no!" shouted the occupant of the chair.  "No, no, you ain't!"
+
+"But I'm afraid I am.  And they'll be expecting me at home.  Aunt
+Keziah, I--"
+
+"Don't be in such a hurry," interrupted Keziah.  "Does stick in the
+chimney, don't it?  Tell you what you can do, Grace; you can go in
+the woodshed and fetch the hammer that's in the table drawer.
+Hurry up, that's a good girl."
+
+Kyan protested that he did not need the hammer, but his protest was
+unheeded.  With one more glance at the couple, Grace departed from
+the kitchen, biting her lips.  She shut the door carefully behind
+her.  Mr. Pepper labored frantically with the pipe.
+
+"No use to shake it any more till you get the hammer," advised
+Keziah.  "Might's well talk while you're waitin'.  What was it you
+wanted to tell me?"
+
+Abishai drew one hand across his forehead, leaving a decorative
+smooch of blacking on his perspiring countenance.  He choked,
+swallowed, and then, with a look at the closed door, seemed to
+reach a desperate resolve.
+
+"Keziah," he whispered hurriedly, "you've known me quite a spell,
+ain't you?"
+
+"Known you?  Known you ever since you were born, pretty nigh.  What
+of it?"
+
+"Yes, yes.  And I've known you, you know.  Fact is, we've known
+each other."
+
+"Hear the man!  Land sakes! don't everybody in Trumet know
+everybody else?  What ARE you drivin' at?"
+
+"Keziah, you're a single woman."
+
+His companion let go of the chair, which she had been holding in
+place, and stepped back.
+
+"I'm a single woman?" she repeated sharply.  "What do you mean by
+that?  Did--did anybody say I wasn't?"
+
+"No, no!  'Course not.  But you're a widow, so you BE single, you
+know, and--"
+
+"Well?  Did you think I was twins?  Get down off there this minute.
+You've gone crazy.  I thought so when I saw that beaver.  Either
+that or you've been drinkin'.  Grace!  What DOES make her so long
+gettin' that hammer?"
+
+Finding the hammer did seem to take a long time.  There was no
+sound from the kitchen.  Kyan, steadying himself with one hand on
+the pipe, waved the other wildly.
+
+"S-s-sh! s-sh-h!" he hissed.  "Hush! be still!  Don't get her in
+here.  Keziah, you're single and so am I.  You ain't got nobody to
+take care of you and I ain't, neither--that is, I don't want to be
+took care of--I mean, I've been took care of too much."
+
+Mrs. Coffin took another step in the direction of the kitchen.
+
+"He IS loony!" she exclaimed under her breath.  "I--"
+
+"No, no! I ain't loony.  I want to make a proposal to you.  I want
+to see if you won't marry me.  I'm sick of Laviny.  Let's you and
+me settle down together.  I could have some peace then.  And I
+think a whole lot of you, too," he added, apparently as an
+afterthought.
+
+Keziah's face was red now, and growing redder every instant.
+
+"Kyan Pepper!" she cried in amazed incredulity.  "Kyan Pepper, do
+you--"
+
+"Hurry up!" pleaded Abishai, in agitated impatience.  "Say yes
+quick.  She'll be back in a minute."
+
+"Say YES!  Why, you--"
+
+"Don't stop to argue, Keziah.  I've got 'most fifteen hundred
+dollars in the bank.  Laviny keeps the pass book in her bureau, but
+you could get it from her.  I own my house.  I'm a man of good
+character.  You're poor, but I don't let that stand in the way.
+Anyhow, you're a first-rate housekeeper.  And I really do think an
+awful lot of you."
+
+Mrs. Coffin stepped no farther in the direction of the kitchen.
+Instead, she strode toward the rickety chair and its occupant.
+Kyan grasped the pipe with both hands.
+
+"You poor--miserable--impudent--" began the lady.
+
+"Why, Keziah, don't you WANT to?"  He spoke as if the possibility
+of a refusal had never entered his mind.  "I cal'lated you'd be
+glad.  You wouldn't have to go away then, nor--  My soul and body!
+some one's knockin' at the door!  AND THIS DUMMED PIPE'S FETCHED
+LOOSE!"
+
+The last sentence was a smothered shriek.  Keziah heeded not.
+Neither did she heed the knock at the door.  Her hands were opening
+and closing convulsively.
+
+"Be glad!" she repeated.  "Glad to marry a good-for-nothin' sand-
+peep like you!  You sassy--  GET down off that chair and out of
+this house!  Get down this minute!"
+
+"I can't!  This stovepipe's loose, I tell you!  Be reason'ble,
+Keziah.  Do--don't you touch me!  I'll fall if you do.  Pl-e-ase,
+Keziah!--  O Lordy! I knew it.  LAVINY!"
+
+The door opened.  On the threshold, arms akimbo and lips set tight,
+stood Lavinia Pepper.  Her brother's knees gave way; in their
+collapse they struck the chair back; the rickety leg wabbled.  Kyan
+grasped at the pipe to save himself and, the next moment, chair,
+sections of stovepipe, and Mr. Pepper disappeared with a mighty
+crash behind the high-boy.  A cloud of soot arose and obscured the
+view.
+
+Keziah, too indignant even to laugh, glared at the wreck.  In the
+doorway of the kitchen Grace Van Horne, hammer in hand, leaned
+against the jamb, her handkerchief at her mouth and tears in her
+eyes.  Lavinia, majestic and rigid, dominated the scene.  From
+behind the high-boy came coughs, sneezes, and emphatic
+ejaculations.
+
+Miss Pepper was the first to speak.
+
+"Abishai Pepper," she commanded, "come out of that this minute."
+
+Her answer was a tremendous sneeze.  Then from the dusky cloud by
+the wall sounded a voice feebly protesting.
+
+"Now, Laviny," began poor Kyan, "I never in my life--"
+
+"Do you hear me?  Come out of that!"
+
+There was a sound of scrambling.  More soot floated in the air.
+Then around the corner of the high-boy appeared Mr. Pepper,
+crawling on his hands and knees.  His hair was streaked with black;
+his shirt front and collar and shirt sleeves were spotted and
+smeared with black; and from his blackened cheeks his red whiskers
+flamed like the last glowing embers in a fire-scarred ruin.
+
+"Laviny," he panted, "I never was so surprised and upsot in all my
+life afore."
+
+This was too much for Grace.  She collapsed in a chair and laughed
+hysterically.  Even the wrathful Keziah smiled.  But Lavinia did
+not smile.  For that matter, neither did her brother.
+
+"Hum!" sneered Miss Pepper.  "Upsot!  Yes, I see you're upsot.  Get
+up, and try to look as much like a Christian as you can!"
+
+Kyan rose from his knees to his feet and rubbed his back.  He
+glanced reproachfully at Grace, then fearfully at his sister.
+
+"I was just tryin' to help Keziah take down her stovepipe," he
+explained.  "You see, she didn't have no man to--"
+
+"Yes, I see.  Well, I judge you got it down.  Now you go out to the
+sink and wash your face.  Heavens and earth!  Look at them
+clothes!"
+
+"I do hope you didn't hurt yourself, Abishai," said the sympathetic
+Keziah.  Then, as remembrance of what had led to the upset came to
+her, she added: "Though I will say 'twas your own fault and nobody
+else's."
+
+Lavinia whirled on her.
+
+"His own fault, was it?" she repeated, her voice shrill and
+trembling.  "Thank you very much, marm.  I cal'late 'twas his own
+fault comin' here, too, wa'n't it?  Nobody led him on, I s'pose.
+Nobody put him up to riggin' out in his best bib and tucker and
+sneakin' here the minute I was out of the house.  No, nobody did!
+Of COURSE not!"
+
+"No, nobody did," said Keziah briskly.  "And you may know what
+you're hintin' at, but I don't."
+
+"Dear me!  Ain't we innocent!  We've got plenty of money, WE have.
+Widowers with property ain't no attraction to US.  Everybody knows
+that--oh, yes!  And they never talk of such a thing--oh, no!  Folks
+don't say that--that--  Well," with a snarl in the direction of the
+kitchen, "are you anywheres nigh clean yet?  Get your coat and hat
+on and come home with me."
+
+She jerked her brother into the blue coat, jammed the tall hat down
+upon his head, and, seizing him by the arm, stalked to the door.
+
+"Good day, marm," she said.  "I do hope the next widower you get to
+take down your stovepipe--yes, indeed! ha! ha!--I hope you'll have
+better luck with him.  Though I don't know who 'twould be; there
+ain't no more idiots in town that I know of.  Good day, and thank
+you kindly for your attentions to our family."
+
+She pulled the door open and was on the step; but Mrs. Coffin did
+not intend to let her go in just that way.
+
+"Laviny Pepper," she declared, her eyes snapping, "I don't know
+what you're talkin' about, but if you dare to mean that I want any
+of your money, or your brother's money, you're mistaken--'cause I
+don't.  And I don't want your brother either--Lord help him, poor
+thing!  And I tell you right now that there's nobody that does;
+though some kind-hearted folks have said 'twould be a Christian act
+to poison him, so's to put him out of his misery.  There!  Good
+mornin' to you."
+
+She slammed the door.  Lavinia was speechless.  As for her brother,
+but one remark of his reached Grace, who was watching from the
+window.
+
+"Laviny," pleaded Kyan, "just let me explain."
+
+At nine o'clock that night he was still "explaining."
+
+Keziah turned from the door she had closed behind her visitor.
+
+"Well!" she ejaculated.  "WELL!"
+
+Her friend did not look at her.  She was still gazing out of the
+window.  Occasionally she seemed to choke.
+
+Keziah eyed her suspiciously.
+
+"Humph!" she mused.  "'Twas funny, wasn't it?"
+
+"Oh, dreadfully!" was the hurried answer.
+
+"Yes.  Seems to me you took an awful long time findin' that
+hammer."
+
+"It was away back in the drawer.  I didn't see it at first."
+
+"Hum!  Grace Van Horne, if I thought you heard what that--that
+THING said to me, I'd--I'd--  Good land of mercy! somebody ELSE is
+comin'."
+
+Steps, measured, dignified steps, sounded on the walk.  From
+without came a "Hum--ha!" a portentous combination of cough and
+grunt.  Grace dodged back from the window and hastily began donning
+her hat and jacket.
+
+"It's Cap'n Elkanah," she whispered.  "I must go.  This seems to be
+your busy morning, Aunt Keziah.  I"--here she choked again--
+"really, I didn't know you were so popular."
+
+Keziah opened the door.  Captain Elkanah Daniels, prosperous,
+pompous, and unbending, crossed the threshold.  Richest man in the
+village, retired shipowner, pillar of the Regular church and
+leading member of its parish committee, Captain Elkanah looked the
+part.  He removed his hat, cleared his throat behind his black
+stock, and spoke with impressive deliberation.
+
+"Good morning, Keziah.  Ah--er--morning, Grace."  Even in the tone
+given to a perfunctory salutation like this, the captain
+differentiated between Regular and Come-Outer.  "Keziah, I--hum,
+ha!--rather expected to find you alone."
+
+"I was just going, Cap'n Daniels," explained the girl.  The captain
+bowed and continued.
+
+"Keziah," he said, "Keziah, I came to see you on a somewhat
+important matter.  I have a proposal I wish to make you."
+
+He must have been surprised at the effect of his words.  Keziah's
+face was a picture, a crimson picture of paralyzed amazement.  As
+for Miss Van Horne, that young lady gave vent to what her friend
+described afterwards as a "squeal," and bolted out of the door and
+into the grateful seclusion of the fog.
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+IN WHICH KEZIAH UNEARTHS A PROWLER
+
+
+The fog was cruel to the gossips of Trumet that day.  Mrs. Didama
+Rogers, who lived all alone, except for the society of three cats,
+a canary, and a white poodle named "Bunch," in the little house
+next to Captain Elkanah's establishment, never entirely recovered
+from the chagrin and disappointment caused by that provoking mist.
+When one habitually hurries through the morning's household duties
+in order to sit by the front window and note each passer-by, with
+various fascinating surmises as to his or her errand and the
+reasons for it, it is discouraging to be able to see only one's own
+front fence and a scant ten feet of sidewalk.  And then to learn
+afterwards of a dozen most exciting events, each distinctly out of
+the ordinary, which might have been used as excuses for two dozen
+calls and as many sensations!  As Captain Zeb Mayo, the irreverent
+ex-whaler, put it, "That fog shook Didama's faith in the judgment
+of Providence.  'Tain't the 'all wise,' but the 'all seein'' kind
+she talks about in meetin' now."
+
+The fog prevented Mrs. Rogers's noting the entrance of Mr. Pepper
+at the Coffin front gate.  Also his exit, under sisterly arrest.
+It shut from her view the majestic approach of Captain Elkanah
+Daniels and Grace's flight, her face dimpled with smiles and
+breaking into laughter at frequent intervals.  For a young lady,
+supposed to be a devout Come-Outer, to hurry along the main road, a
+handkerchief at her mouth and her eyes sparkling with fun, was a
+circumstance calculated to furnish material for enjoyable scandal.
+And Didama missed it.
+
+Other happenings she missed, also.  Not knowing of Captain
+Daniels's call upon Keziah, she was deprived of the pleasure of
+wonder at the length of his stay.  She did not see him, in company
+with Mrs. Coffin, go down the road in the opposite direction from
+that taken by Grace.  Nor their return and parting at the gate, two
+hours later.  She did not see--but there! she saw nothing,
+absolutely nothing--except the scraggy spruce tree in her tiny
+front yard and the lonely ten feet of walk bordering it.  No one
+traversed that section of walk except old Mrs. Tinker, who was
+collecting subscriptions for new hymn books for the Come-Outer
+chapel.  And Didama was particularly anxious NOT to see her.
+
+The dismal day dragged on.  The silver-leaf trees dripped, the
+hedges were shining with moisture.  Through the stillness the
+distant surf along the "ocean side" of the Cape growled and moaned
+and the fog bell at the lighthouse clanged miserably.  Along the
+walk opposite Didama's--the more popular side of the road--shadowy
+figures passed at long intervals, children going to and from
+school, people on errands to the store, and the like.  It was three
+o'clock in the afternoon before a visitor came again to the Coffin
+front gate, entered the yard and rapped at the side door.
+
+Keziah opened the door.
+
+"Halloa!" she exclaimed.  "Back, are you?  I begun to think you'd
+been scared away for good."
+
+Grace laughed as she entered.
+
+"Well, auntie," she said, "I don't wonder you thought I was scared.
+Truly, I didn't think it was proper for me to stay.  First Kyan and
+then Cap'n Elkanah, and both of them expressing their wishes to see
+you alone so--er--pointedly.  I thought it was time for me to go.
+Surely, you give me credit for a little delicacy."
+
+Keziah eyed her grimly.
+
+"Humph!" she sniffed.  "If you'd been a little less delicate about
+fetchin' that hammer, we might have been spared at least one smash-
+up.  I don't s'pose Laviny'll ever speak to me again.  Oh, dear!  I
+guess likely I'll never get the memory of that--that Kyan thing out
+of my mind.  I never was so set back in my born days.  Yes, you can
+laugh!"
+
+She laughed herself as she said it.  As for Grace, it was sometime
+before that young lady became coherent.
+
+"He DID look so funny!" she gasped.  "Hopping up and down on that
+shaky chair and holding on to that pipe and--and--  O Aunt Keziah,
+if you could have seen your face when I opened that door!"
+
+"Yes; well, I will say you was sometime gettin' it open.  And then,
+on top of the whole fool business, in parades Elkanah Daniels and--"
+
+She paused.  Her companion looked delightedly expectant.
+
+"Yes," she cried eagerly.  "Then Cap'n Elkanah came and the very
+first thing he said was--  I almost laughed in his face."
+
+"Almost!  Humph! that's no exaggeration.  The way you put out of
+that door was a caution."
+
+"Yes, but what did the cap'n mean?  Is it a secret?  Ahem! shall I
+congratulate you, auntie?"
+
+"Grace Van Horne! there's born fools enough in this town without
+your tryin' to be one.  You know 'twa'n't THAT.  Though what 'twas
+was surprise enough, I will say," she added.  "Grace, I ain't goin'
+away to-morrow."
+
+"You're not?  Oh, splendid!  Has the cap'n decided to let you stay
+here?"
+
+"I guess his decidin' wouldn't influence me, if twas stayin' in his
+house he meant.  The only way I could live here would be on his
+charity, and that would be as poor fodder as sawdust hasty puddin',
+even if I was fond of charity, which I ain't.  He said to me--
+Well, you take your things off and I'll tell you about it.  You can
+stay a little while, can't you?"
+
+"Yes, I was going to stay all the afternoon and for supper, if
+you'd let me.  I knew you had so much to do and I wanted to help.
+I told uncle and he said certainly I ought to come.  He said he
+should try to see you and say good-by before you left tomorrow."
+
+"You don't say!  And me a Regular!  Well, I'm much obliged, though
+I guess your Uncle Eben won't see me to-morrow--nor speak to me
+again, when he knows what I AM going to do.  Grace, I ain't goin'
+to leave Trumet, not for the present, anyhow.  I've got a way of
+earnin' my livin' right here.  I'm goin' to keep house for the new
+minister."
+
+The girl turned, her hat in her hand.
+
+"Oh!" she cried in utter astonishment.
+
+Keziah nodded.  "Yes," she affirmed.  "That was what Elkanah's
+proposal amounted to.  Ha! ha!  Deary me!  When he said 'proposal,'
+I own up for a minute I didn't know WHAT was comin'.  After Kyan I
+was prepared for 'most anything.  But he told me that Lurany
+Phelps, who the parish committee had counted on to keep house for
+Mr. Ellery, had sent word her sister was sick and couldn't be left,
+and that somebody must be hired right off 'cause the minister's
+expected by day after to-morrow's coach.  And they'd gone over
+every likely candidate in town till it simmered down to Mehitable
+Burgess.  And Cap'n Zeb Mayo spoke right up in the committee
+meetin' and gave out that if Mehitable kept house for Mr. Ellery
+he, for one, wouldn't come to church.  Said he didn't want to hear
+sermons that was inspired by HER cookin'.  Seems she cooked for the
+Mayos one week when Mrs. Mayo had gone to Boston, and Cap'n Zeb
+declares his dreams that week was somethin' awful.  'And I'm a man
+with no nerves and mighty little imagination,' he says.  'Land
+knows what effect a dose of Mehitable's biscuits might have on a
+MINISTER.'
+
+"And so," continued Keziah, "they decided Mehitable wouldn't do,
+and finally somebody thought of me.  I have a notion 'twas Zeb,
+although Cap'n Elkanah did his best to make me think 'twas himself.
+And the cap'n was made a delegate to come and see me about it.
+Come he did, and we settled it.  I went down to the parsonage with
+him before dinner and looked the place over.  There's an awful lot
+of sweepin' and dustin' to be done afore it's fit for a body to
+live in.  I did think that when I'd finished with this house I
+could swear off on that kind of dissipation for a while, but I
+guess, judgin' by the looks of that parsonage, what I've done so
+far is only practice."  She paused, glanced keenly at her friend
+and asked: "Why! what's the matter?  You don't act nigh so glad as
+I thought you'd be."
+
+Grace said of course she was glad; but she looked troubled,
+nevertheless.
+
+"I can hardly make it seem possible," she said.  "Is it really
+settled--your salary and everything?  And what will you do about
+your position in Boston?"
+
+"Oh, I'll write Cousin Abner and tell him.  Lord love you, HE won't
+care.  He'll feel that he did his duty in gettin' me the Boston
+chance and if I don't take it 'tain't his fault.  HIS conscience'll
+be clear.  Land sakes! if I could clean house as easy as some folks
+clear their consciences I wouldn't have a backache this minute.
+Yes, the wages are agreed on, too.  And totin' them around won't
+make my back ache any worse, either," she added drily.
+
+Grace extended her hand.
+
+"Well, Aunt Keziah," she said, "I'm ever and ever so glad for you.
+I know you didn't want to leave Trumet and I'm sure everyone will
+be delighted when they learn that you're going to stay."
+
+"Humph! that includes Laviny Pepper, of course.  I cal'late
+Laviny's delight won't keep her up nights.  But I guess I can stand
+it if she can.  Now, Grace, what is it?  You AIN'T real pleased?
+Why not?"
+
+The girl hesitated.
+
+"Auntie," she said, "I'm selfish, I guess.  I'm glad for your sake;
+you mustn't think I'm not.  But I almost wish you were going to do
+something else.  You are going to live in the Regular parsonage and
+keep house for, of all persons, a Regular minister.  Why, so far as
+my seeing you is concerned, you might as well be in China.  You
+know Uncle Eben."
+
+Keziah nodded understandingly.
+
+"Yes," she said, "I know him.  Eben Hammond thinks that parsonage
+is the presence chamber of the Evil One, I presume likely.  But,
+Grace, you mustn't blame me, and if you don't call I'll know why
+and I shan't blame you.  We'll see each other once in a while; I'll
+take care of that.  And, deary, I HAD to do it--I just had to.  If
+you knew what a load had been took off my mind by this, you'd
+sympathize with me and understand.  I've been happier in Trumet
+than I ever was anywhere else, though I've seen some dark times
+here, too.  I was born here; my folks used to live here.  My
+brother Sol lived and died here.  His death was a heavy trouble to
+me, but the heaviest came to me when I was somewheres else and--
+well, somehow I've had a feelin' that, if there was any real joys
+ever planned out for me while I'm on this earth, they'd come to me
+here.  I don't know when they'll come.  There's times when I can't
+believe they ever will come, but--  There! there! everybody has to
+bear burdens in this life, I cal'late.  It's a vale of tears,
+'cordin' to you Come-Outer folks, though I've never seen much good
+in wearin' a long face and a crape bathin' suit on that account.
+Hey?  What are you listenin' to?"
+
+"I thought I heard a carriage stop, that was all."
+
+Mrs. Coffin went to the window and peered into the fog.
+
+"Can't see anything," she said.  "'Tain't anybody for here, that's
+sure.  I guess likely 'twas Cap'n Elkanah.  He and Annabel were
+goin' to drive over to Denboro this afternoon.  She had some
+trimmin' to buy.  Takes more than fog to separate Annabel Daniels
+from dressmakin'.  Well, there's a little more packin' to do; then
+I thought I'd go down to that parsonage and take a whack at the
+cobwebs.  I never saw so many in my born days.  You'd think all the
+spiders from here to Ostable had been holdin' camp meetin' in that
+shut-up house."
+
+The packing took about an hour.  When it was finished, the carpet
+rolled up, and the last piece of linen placed in the old trunk,
+Keziah turned to her guest.
+
+"Now, Gracie," she said, "I feel as though I ought to go to the
+parsonage.  I can't do much more'n look at the cobwebs to-night,
+but to-morrow those spiders had better put on their ascension
+robes.  The end of the world's comin' for them, even though it
+missed fire for the Millerites when they had their doin's a few
+years ago.  You can stay here and wait, if 'twon't be too lonesome.
+We'll have supper when I get back."
+
+Grace looked tempted.
+
+"I've a good mind to go with you," she said.  "I want to be with
+you as much as I can, and HE isn't there yet.  I'm afraid uncle
+might not like it, but--"
+
+"Sho!  Come along.  Eben Hammond may be a chronic sufferer from
+acute Come-Outiveness, but he ain't a ninny.  Nobody'll see you,
+anyway.  This fog's like charity, it'll cover a heap of sins.  Do
+come right along.  Wait till I get on my things."
+
+She threw a shawl over her shoulders, draped a white knitted
+"cloud" over her head, and took from a nail a key, attached by a
+strong cord to a block of wood eight inches long.
+
+"Elkanah left the key with me," she observed.  "No danger of losin'
+it, is there.  Might as well lose a lumber yard.  Old Parson
+Langley tied it up this way, so he wouldn't miss his moorin's, I
+presume likely.  The poor old thing was so nearsighted and absent-
+minded along toward the last that they say he used to hire Noah
+Myrick's boy to come in and look him over every Sunday mornin'
+before church, so's to be sure he hadn't got his wig on stern
+foremost.  That's the way Zeb Mayo tells the yarn, anyhow."
+
+They left the house and came out into the wet mist.  Then, turning
+to the right, in the direction which Trumet, with unconscious
+irony, calls "downtown," they climbed the long slope where the main
+road mounts the outlying ridge of Cannon Hill, passed Captain
+Mayo's big house--the finest in Trumet, with the exception of the
+Daniels mansion--and descended into the hollow beyond.  Here, at
+the corner where the "Lighthouse Lane" begins its winding way over
+the rolling knolls and dunes to the light and the fish shanties on
+the "ocean side," stood the plain, straight-up-and-down meeting
+house of the Regular society.  Directly opposite was the little
+parsonage, also very straight up and down.  Both were painted white
+with green blinds.  This statement is superfluous to those who
+remember Cape architecture at this period; practically every
+building from Sandwich to Provincetown was white and green.
+
+They entered the yard, through the gap in the white fence, and went
+around the house, past the dripping evergreens and the bare, wet
+lilac bushes, to the side door, the lock of which Keziah's key
+fitted.  There was a lock on the front door, of course, but no one
+thought of meddling with that.  That door had been opened but once
+during the late pastor's thirty-year tenantry.  On the occasion of
+his funeral the mourners came and went, as was proper, by that
+solemn portal.
+
+Mrs. Coffin thrust the key into the keyhole of the side door and
+essayed to turn it.
+
+"Humph!" she muttered, twisting to no purpose; "I don't see why--
+This must be the right key, because--  Well, I declare, if it ain't
+unlocked already!  That's some of Cap'n Elkanah's doin's.  For a
+critter as fussy and particular about some things, he's careless
+enough about others.  Mercy we ain't had any tramps around here
+lately.  Come in."
+
+She led the way into the dining room of the parsonage.  Two of the
+blinds shading the windows of that apartment had been opened when
+she and Captain Daniels made their visit, and the dim gray light
+made the room more lonesome and forsaken in appearance than a
+deeper gloom could possibly have done.  The black walnut extension
+table in the center, closed to its smallest dimensions because
+Parson Langley had eaten alone for so many years; the black walnut
+chairs set back against the wall at regular intervals; the rag
+carpet and braided mats--homemade donations from the ladies of the
+parish--on the green painted floor; the dolorous pictures on the
+walls; "Death of Washington," "Stoning of Stephen," and a still
+more deadly "fruit piece" committed in oils years ago by a now
+deceased boat painter; a black walnut sideboard with some blue-and-
+white crockery upon it; a gilt-framed mirror with another outrage
+in oils emphasizing its upper half; dust over everything and the
+cobwebs mentioned by Keziah draping the corners of the ceiling;
+this was the dining room of the Regular parsonage as Grace saw it
+upon this, her first visit.  The dust and cobwebs were, in her
+eyes, the only novelties, however.  Otherwise, the room was like
+many others in Trumet, and, if there had been one or two paintings
+of ships, would have been typical of the better class.
+
+"Phew!" exclaimed Keziah, sniffing disgustedly.  "Musty and shut up
+enough, ain't it?  Down here in the dampness, and 'specially in the
+spring, it don't take any time for a house to get musty if it ain't
+aired out regular.  Mr. Langley died only three months ago, but
+we've been candidatin' ever since and the candidates have been
+boarded round.  There's been enough of 'em, too; we're awful hard
+to suit, I guess.  That's it.  Do open some more blinds and a
+window.  Fresh air don't hurt anybody--unless it's spiders," with a
+glare at the loathed cobwebs.
+
+The blinds and a window being opened, more light entered the room.
+Grace glanced about it curiously.
+
+"So this is going to be your new home now, Aunt Keziah," she
+observed.  "How queer that seems."
+
+"Um--h'm.  Does seem queer, don't it?  Must seem queer to you to be
+so near the headquarters of everything your uncle thinks is wicked.
+Smell of brimstone any, does it?" she asked with a smile.
+
+"No, I haven't noticed it.  You've got a lot of cleaning to do.  I
+wish I could help.  Look at the mud on the floor."
+
+Keziah looked.
+
+"Mud?" she exclaimed.  "Why, so 'tis!  How in the world did that
+come here?  Wet feet, sure's you're born.  Man's foot, too.  Cap'n
+Elkanah's, I guess likely; though the prints don't look hardly big
+enough for his.  Elkanah's convinced that he's a great man and his
+boots bear him out in it, don't they?  Those marks don't look broad
+enough for his understandin', but I guess he made 'em; nobody else
+could.  Here's the settin' room."
+
+She threw open another door.  A room gloomy with black walnut and
+fragrant with camphor was dimly visible.
+
+"Cheerful's a tomb, ain't it?" was Mrs. Coffin's comment.  "Well,
+we'll get some light and air in here pretty soon.  Here's the front
+hall and there's the front stairs.  The parlor's off to the left.
+We won't bother with that yet a while.  This little place in here
+is what Mr. Langley used to call his 'study.'  Halloa! how this
+door sticks!"
+
+The door did stick, and no amount of tugging could get it open,
+though Grace added her efforts to those of Keziah.
+
+"'Tain't locked," commented Mrs. Coffin, "cause there ain't any
+lock on it.  I guess it's just swelled and stuck from the damp.
+Though it's odd, I don't remember--  Oh, well! never mind.  Let's
+sweeten up this settin' room a little.  Open a window or two in
+here.  We'll have to hurry if we want to do anything before it gets
+dark.  I'm goin' into the kitchen to get a broom."
+
+She hurried out, returning in a moment or two with a broom and a
+most disgusted expression.
+
+"How's a body goin' to sweep with that?" she demanded, exhibiting
+the frayed utensil, the business end of which was worn to a stub.
+"More like a shovel, enough sight.  Well, there's pretty nigh dust
+enough for a shovel, so maybe this'll take off the top layers.
+S'pose I'll ever get this house fit for Mr. Ellery to live in
+before he comes?  I wonder if he's a particular man?"
+
+Grace, who was struggling with a refractory window, paused for
+breath.
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," she replied.  "I've never seen him."
+
+"Nor I either.  Sol was so bad the Sunday he preached that I
+couldn't go to meetin'.  They say his sermon was fine; all about
+those who go down to the sea in ships.  That's what got the parish
+committee, I guess; they're all old salts.  I wonder if he's as
+fine-lookin' as they say?"
+
+Miss Van Horne tossed her head.  She was resting, prior to making
+another assault on the window.
+
+"I don't know," she said.  "And I'm sure I don't care.  I don't
+like good-looking ministers."
+
+"Deary me!  You're different from most females in this town, then.
+And you spoke of his good looks yourself this very mornin'.  Why
+don't you like the good-lookin' ones?"
+
+"Oh, because they're always conceited and patronizing and superior--
+and spoiled.  I can just imagine this Mr. Ellery of yours
+strutting about in sewing circle or sociables, with Annabel and
+Georgianna Lothrop and the rest simpering and gushing and getting
+in his way: 'O Mr. Ellery, I did so enjoy that sermon of yours
+Sunday!' and 'O Mr. Ellery, it was SO good of you to come this
+afternoon!'  Pooh! I'm glad I'm a Come-Outer.  Not that I would
+simper over him if I wasn't.  He couldn't patronize me--not more
+than once, at any rate."
+
+Keziah was greatly amused.
+
+"Sakes alive!" she chuckled.  "You're awfully high and mighty,
+seems to me.  And changeable since mornin'.  You was willin' enough
+to talk about him then.  Now, Gracie, you mustn't take a spite
+against poor Mr. Ellery just because I've got to keep house for
+him.  'Tain't his fault; he don't even know it yet."
+
+"I don't care.  I know he'll be a conceited little snippet and I
+shall hate the sight of him.  There! there!  Auntie, you mustn't
+mind me.  I told you I was a selfish pig.  But don't you ask me to
+LIKE this precious minister of yours, because I shan't do it.  He
+has no business to come and separate me from the best friend I've
+got.  I'd tell him so if he was here--  What was that?"
+
+Both women looked at each other with startled faces.  They listened
+intently.
+
+"Why, wa'n't that funny!" whispered Keziah.  "I thought I heard--"
+
+"You DID hear.  So did I.  What do you suppose--"
+
+"S-s-s-h-h!  It sounded from the front room somewhere.  And yet
+there can't be anybody in there, because--  My soul! there 'tis
+again.  I'm goin' to find out."
+
+She grasped the stubby broom by the handle and moved determinedly
+toward the front hall.  Grace seized her by the arm.
+
+"Don't you do it, auntie!" she whispered frantically.  "Don't you
+DO it!  It may be a tramp."
+
+"I don't care.  Whoever or whatever it is, it has no business in
+this house, and I'll make that plain in a hurry.  Just like as not
+it's a cat got in when Elkanah was here this forenoon.  Don't be
+scared, Grace.  Come right along."
+
+The girl came along, but not with enthusiasm.  They tiptoed through
+the dark, narrow hall and peered into the parlor.  This apartment
+was dim and still and gloomy, as all proper parlors should be, but
+there was no sign of life.
+
+"Humph!" sniffed Keziah.  "It might have been upstairs, but it
+didn't sound so.  What did it sound like to you?"
+
+"Like a footstep at first; and then like something falling--and
+rustling.  Oh, what is the matter?"
+
+Mrs. Coffin was glancing back down the hall with a strange
+expression on her face.  Her grip upon the broom handle tightened.
+
+"What IS it?" pleaded the girl in an agonized whisper.
+
+"Grace," was the low reply, "I've just remembered somethin'.  That
+study door isn't stuck from the damp, because--well, because I
+remember now that it was open this mornin'."
+
+Before her companion could fully grasp the import of this
+paralyzing fact, Keziah strode down the hall and seized the knob of
+the study door.
+
+"Whoever you are in there," she commanded sternly, "open this door
+and come out this minute.  Do you hear?  I'm orderin' you to come
+out."
+
+There was an instant of silence; then a voice from within made
+answer, a man's voice, and its tone indicated embarrassment.
+
+"Madam," it said, "I--I am--I will be out in another minute.  If
+you will just be patient--"
+
+Grace interrupted with a smothered shriek.  Keziah brandished the
+broom.
+
+"Patient!" she repeated sharply.  "Well, I like that!  What do you
+mean by--  Open that door!  Grace, run out and get the--the
+constable."
+
+This command was delivered entirely for effect.  The office of
+constable in Trumet is, generally speaking, a purely honorary one.
+Its occupant had just departed for a week's cruise as mate of a
+mackerel schooner.  However, the effect was instantaneous.  From
+behind the door came sounds of hurry and commotion.
+
+"Don't get the police on my account, please," said the voice.  "If
+you will be patient until I get this--I'm just as anxious to come
+out as you can be to have me.  Of all the ridiculous--"
+
+"Come out then!" snapped Keziah.  "Come out!  If you're so
+everlastin' anxious, then come out.  Patience!  Of all the cheek!
+Why don't you come out NOW?"
+
+The answer was brisk and to the point.  Evidently, the unknown's
+stock of the virtue which he demanded of others was diminishing.
+
+"Well, to be frank, since you insist," snapped the voice, "I'm not
+fully dressed."
+
+This was a staggerer.  For once Keziah did not have a reply ready.
+She looked at Grace and the latter at her.  Then, without words,
+they retreated to the sitting room.
+
+"Shall--shall I go for help?" whispered the girl.  "Hadn't we
+better leave him here and--  He doesn't sound like a tramp, does
+he.  What DO you suppose--"
+
+"I hope you won't be alarmed," continued the voice, broken by
+panting pauses, as if the speaker was struggling into a garment.
+"I know this must seem strange.  You see, I came on the coach as
+far as Bayport and then we lost a wheel in a rut.  There was a--oh,
+dear! where IS that--this is supremely idiotic!--I was saying there
+happened to be a man coming this way with a buggy and he offered to
+help me along.  He was on his way to Wellmouth.  So I left my trunk
+to come later and took my valise.  It rained on the way and I was
+wet through.  I stopped at Captain Daniels's house and the girl
+said he had gone with his daughter to the next town, but that they
+were to stop here at the parsonage on their way.  So--there! that's
+right, at last!--so I came, hoping to find them.  The door was open
+and I came in.  The captain and his daughter were not here, but, as
+I was pretty wet, I thought I would seize the opportunity to change
+my clothes.  I had some dry--er--things in my valise and I--well,
+then you came, you see, and--I assure you I--well, it was the most
+embarrassing--I'm coming now."
+
+The door opened.  The two in the sitting room huddled close
+together, Keziah holding the broom like a battle-ax, ready for
+whatsoever might develop.  From the dimness of the tightly
+shuttered study stepped the owner of the voice, a stranger, a young
+man, his hair rumpled, his tie disarranged, and the buttons of his
+waistcoat filling the wrong buttonholes.  Despite this evidence of
+a hasty toilet in semidarkness, he was not unprepossessing.
+Incidentally, he was blushing furiously.
+
+"I'm--I'm sure I beg your pardon, ladies," he stammered.  "I
+scarcely know what to say to you.  I--"
+
+His eyes becoming accustomed to the light in the sitting room, he
+was now able to see his captors more clearly.  He looked at Keziah,
+then at Miss Van Horne, and another wave of blushes passed from his
+collar up into the roots of his hair.  Grace blushed, too, though,
+as she perfectly well knew, there was no reason why she should.
+
+Mrs. Coffin did not blush.  This young fellow, although evidently
+not a tramp or a burglar, had caused her some moments of distinct
+uneasiness, and she resented the fact.
+
+"Well," she observed rather tartly, "I'm sorry you don't know what
+to say, but perhaps you might begin by telling us who you are and
+what you mean by makin' a--er--dressin' room of a house that don't
+belong to you, just because you happened to find the door unlocked.
+After that you might explain why you didn't speak up when we first
+come, instead of keepin' so mighty quiet.  That looks kind of
+suspicious to me, I must say."
+
+The stranger's answer was prompt enough now.  It was evident he
+resented the suspicion.
+
+"I didn't speak," he said, "because you took me by surprise and I
+wasn't, as I explained--er--presentable.  Besides, I was afraid of
+frightening you.  I assure you I hurried as fast as I could,
+quietly, and when you began to talk"--his expression changed and
+there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth--"I tried to hurry
+still faster, hoping you might not hear me and I could make my
+appearance--or my escape--sooner.  As for entering the house--well,
+I considered it, in a way, my house; at least, I knew I should live
+in it for a time, and--"
+
+"Live in it?" repeated Keziah.  "LIVE in it?  Why! mercy on us! you
+don't mean to say you're--"
+
+She stopped to look at Grace.  That young lady was looking at her
+with an expression which, as it expressed so very much, is beyond
+ordinary powers of description.
+
+"My name is Ellery," said the stranger.  "I am the minister--the
+new minister of the Regular society."
+
+Then even Keziah blushed.
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+IN WHICH KEZIAH ASSUMES A GUARDIANSHIP
+
+
+Didama would have given her eyeteeth--and, for that matter, the
+entire upper set--to have been present in that parsonage sitting
+room when the Rev. John Ellery made his appearance.  But the fates
+were against Didama that day and it was months afterwards before
+she, or any of what Captain Zeb Mayo called the "Trumet Daily
+Advertisers," picked up a hint concerning it.  Keziah and Grace,
+acquainted with the possibilities of these volunteer news
+gatherers, were silent, and the Reverend John, being in some
+respects a discreet young man with a brand-new ministerial dignity
+to sustain, refrained from boasting of the sensation he had caused.
+He thought of it very often, usually at most inconvenient times,
+and when, by all the requirements of his high calling, his thought
+should have been busy with different and much less worldly matters.
+
+"I declare!" said Mrs. Thankful Payne, after the new minister's
+first call at her residence, a week after his arrival at Trumet,
+"if Mr. Ellery ain't the most sympathetic man.  I was readin' out
+loud to him the poem my cousin Huldy B.--her that married Hannibal
+Ellis over to Denboro--made up when my second husband was lost to
+sea, and I'd just got to the p'int in the ninth verse where it
+says:
+
+
+     'The cruel billows crash and roar,
+        And the frail craft is tempest-tossed,
+      But the bold mariner thinks not of life, but says,
+        "It is the fust schooner ever I lost."'
+
+
+And 'twas, too, and the last, poor thing!  Well, I just got fur as
+this when I looked up and there was the minister lookin' out of the
+window and his face was just as red, and he kept scowlin' and
+bitin' his lips.  I do believe he was all but sheddin' tears.
+Sympathy like that I appreciate."
+
+As a matter of fact, Mr. Ellery had just seen Grace Van Horne pass
+that window.  She had not seen him, but for the moment he was back
+in that disgusting study, making a frenzied toilet in the dusk and
+obliged to overhear remarks pointedly personal to himself.
+
+Grace left the parsonage soon after the supposed tramp disclosed
+his identity.  Her farewells were hurried and she firmly refused
+Mrs. Coffin's not too-insistent appeal to return to the house "up
+street" and have supper.  She said she was glad to meet Mr. Ellery.
+The young minister affirmed his delight in meeting her.  Then she
+disappeared in the misty twilight and John Ellery surreptitiously
+wiped his perspiring forehead with his cuff, having in his late
+desire for the primal necessities forgotten such a trifling
+incidental as a handkerchief.
+
+"Well, Mr. Ellery," observed Keziah, turning to her guest, or
+employer, or incumbrance--at present she was more inclined to
+consider him the latter--"well, Mr. Ellery, this has been kind of
+unexpected for all hands, ain't it?  If I'd known you was comin'
+to-day, I'd have done my best to have things ready, but Cap'n
+Elkanah said not before day after to-morrow and--but there, what's
+the use of talkin' that way?  I didn't know I was goin' to keep
+house for you till this very forenoon.  Mercy me, what a day this
+has been!"
+
+The minister smiled rather one-sidedly.
+
+"It's been something of a day for me," he admitted.  "I am ahead of
+time and I've made a lot of trouble, I'm afraid.  But yesterday
+afternoon I was ready and, to tell the truth, I was eager to come
+and see my new home and get at my work.  So I started on the
+morning train.  Then the stage broke down and I began to think I
+was stranded at Bayport.  But this kind-hearted chap from
+Wellmouth--I believe that's where he lived--happened to pull up to
+watch us wrestling with the smashed wheel, and when he found I was
+in a hurry to get to Trumet, offered to give me a lift.  His name
+was--was Bird.  No, that wasn't it, but it was something like Bird,
+or some kind of a bird."
+
+"Bird?" repeated Keziah thoughtfully.  "There's no Birds that I
+know of in Wellmouth.  Hum!  Hey?  'Twa'n't Sparrow, was it?"
+
+"That was it--  Sparrow."
+
+"Good land!  Emulous Sparrow.  Run consider'ble to whiskers and
+tongue, didn't he?"
+
+"Why, yes; he did wear a beard.  As for tongue--well, he was
+conversational, if that's what you mean."
+
+"That's what I mean.  If you rode twelve mile with Emulous, you
+must have had an earache for the last six.  Did he ask a question
+or two about your personal affairs, here and there between times?"
+
+Mr. Ellery laughed.
+
+"Yes, one or two, between times," he admitted.
+
+"I shan't die of surprise.  Did you tell him who you was?"
+
+"No-o, to be honest, I didn't.  He was so very anxious to find out,
+that--well, I dodged.  I think he believed I was going to visit
+Captain Daniels."
+
+"Good enough!  If I was governor of this state I wouldn't send any
+Thanksgivin' proclamations down this way.  I'd just write Em Peters
+and Didama Rogers and a couple more like them and save myself the
+trouble.  They'd have all I wanted to proclaim spread from one end
+of the county to the other in less'n a day, and a peck or two of
+extrys pitched in for good measure.  I'm awful glad you didn't tell
+Emulous you was the minister.  You see, Trumet's Trumet, and,
+considerin' everything, maybe it's just as well nobody knows about
+your bein' shut up in that study.  Not but what 'twas all right,
+you know, but--"
+
+"I understand.  I'm not proud of it.  Still, some one may have seen
+me come here."
+
+"No, no, they didn't.  This fog is as thick as Injun-meal puddin'.
+Nobody saw you."
+
+"Well," with some hesitation, "the young lady who was here with
+you--"
+
+"Oh, Grace Van Horne!  She's all right.  She won't tell.  She ain't
+that kind."
+
+"Van Horne?  That doesn't sound like a New England name."
+
+"'Tisn't.  Her folks come from Jersey somewheres.  But she was
+adopted by old Cap'n Hammond, who keeps the tavern down on the bay
+shore by the packet wharf, and she's lived in Trumet since she was
+six years old.  Her father was Teunis Van Horne, and he was mate on
+Cap'n Eben's coastin' schooner and was drowned off Hatteras.  Eben
+was saved just by the skin of his teeth and got a broken hip and
+religion while it happened.  His hip's better except that he's some
+lame; but his religion's been more and more feverish ever since.
+He's one of the head Come-Outers, and built their chapel with his
+own money.  You mustn't think I'm speakin' lightly of religion, nor
+of Cap'n Eben, either.  He's a dear good soul as ever was, but he
+is the narrowest kind of Come-Outer.  His creed is just about as
+wide as the chapel door, and that's as narrow as the way leadin' to
+salvation; it IS the way, too, so the Come-Outers think."
+
+"What are Come-Outers?  Some new sect?"
+
+"Sakes alive!  Haven't you heard of Come-Outers?  Cat's foot!
+Well, you'll hear of 'em often enough from now on.  They're folks
+who used to go to our church, the Regular, but left because the
+services was too worldly, with organs and choir singin', and the
+road to paradise too easy.  No need for me to tell you any more.
+You'll learn."
+
+Mr. Ellery was interested.  He had been in Trumet but once before,
+on the occasion when he preached his trial sermon, and of that
+memorable visit remembered little except the sermon itself, the
+pews filled with captains and their families, and the awe-inspiring
+personality of Captain Elkanah Daniels, who had been his host.  To
+a young man, the ink upon his diploma from the theological school
+still fresh, a trial sermon is a weighty matter, and the preaching
+of it weightier still.  He had rehearsed it over and over in
+private, had delivered it almost through clinched teeth, and had
+returned to his room in the Boston boarding house with the
+conviction that it was an utter failure.  Captain Elkanah and the
+gracious Miss Annabel, his daughter, had been kind enough to
+express gratification, and their praise alone saved him from
+despair.  Then, to his amazement, the call had come.  Of casual
+conversation at the church and about the Daniels's table he could
+recall nothing.  So there was another religious organization in
+town and that made up of seceders from his own church.  He was
+surprised.
+
+"Er--this Miss Van Horne?" he asked.  "Is she a--Come-Outer?"
+
+Mrs. Coffin nodded.
+
+"Yes," she said.  "She's one.  Couldn't be anything else and live
+with her Uncle Eben, as she calls him."
+
+The minister experienced a curious feeling of disappointment and
+chagrin.  This young person, already predisposed to regard a
+clergyman of his denomination with disapproval, had seen him for
+the first time under most humiliating circumstances.  And he should
+never have the opportunity to regain her favor, or his own self-
+respect, by his efforts in the pulpit.  No matter how well he might
+preach she would never hear him.
+
+"Has this Captain Hammond no children of his own?" he asked.
+
+Keziah's answer was short for her.
+
+"Yes," she said.  "One."
+
+"Ah! another daughter?"
+
+"No, a son.  Name's Nathaniel, and he's a sea captain.  He's on his
+way from Surinam to New York now.  They expect him to make port
+most any time, I believe.  Now, Mr. Ellery, I s'pose we've got to
+arrange for your supper and stayin' overnight; and with this house
+the way 'tis and all, I don't see--"
+
+But the minister was still interested in the Hammond household.
+
+"This Nathaniel Hammond?" he asked.  "You don't seem enthusiastic
+over him.  Is he a black sheep?"
+
+This reply also was short, but emphatic.
+
+"No," said Keziah.  "He's a fine man."
+
+Then she resumed her semisoliloquy concerning her companion's
+entertainment.
+
+"I guess," she said, "that the best thing for you to do will be to
+go to Cap'n Elkanah's.  They'll be real glad to see you, I know,
+and you'll be in time for supper, for Elkanah and Annabel have been
+to Denboro and they'll be late home.  They can keep you overnight,
+too, for it's a big house with lots of rooms.  Then, after
+breakfast to-morrow you come right here.  I'll have things
+somewhere near shipshape by then, I guess, though the cleanin'll
+have to be mainly a lick and a promise until I can really get at
+it.  Your trunk'll be here on the coach, I s'pose, and that'll be
+through early in the forenoon.  Get on your hat and coat and I'll
+go with you to Elkanah's."
+
+The young man demurred a little at thrusting himself upon the
+hospitality of the Daniels's home, but Keziah assured him that his
+unexpected coming would cause no trouble.  So he entered the now
+dark study and came out wearing his coat and carrying his hat and
+valise in his hand.
+
+"I'm sure I'm ever so much obliged to you," he said.  "And, as we
+are going to be more or less together--or at least I guess as much
+from what you say--would you mind if I suggest a mutual
+introduction.  I'm John Ellery; you know that already.  And you--"
+
+Keziah stopped short on her way to the door.
+
+"Well, I declare!" she exclaimed.  "If I ain't the very worst!
+Fact is, you dropped in so ahead of time and in such a irregular
+sort of way, that I never once thought of introducin' anybody; and
+I'm sure Grace didn't.  I'm Keziah Coffin, and Cap'n Elkanah and I
+signed articles, so to speak, this mornin', and I'm goin' to keep
+house for you."
+
+She explained the reason upsetting the former arrangement by which
+Lurania Phelps was to have had the position.
+
+"So I'm to keep house for you," she concluded.  Adding: "For a
+spell, anyhow."
+
+"Why do you say that?" asked the minister.
+
+"Well, you might not like me.  You may be particular, you know."
+
+"I think I can run that risk."
+
+"Yes; well, you can't tell.  Or I might not like you.  You see, I'm
+pretty particular myself," she added with a laugh.
+
+At the Daniels's door Keziah turned her new charge over to Matilda
+Snow, the hired girl.  It was an indication of the family's social
+position that they kept "hired help."  This was unusual in Trumet
+in those days, even among the well to do.
+
+"Good night," said the young man, extending his hand.  "Good night,
+Miss--or is it Mrs.--Coffin?"
+
+"Mrs.  Good night."
+
+"She's a widow," explained Matilda.  "Husband died 'fore she come
+back here to live.  Guess he didn't amount to much; she never
+mentions his name."
+
+"There was one thing I meant to tell her," mused the minister,
+hesitating on the threshold.  "I meant to tell her not to attempt
+any cleaning up at the parsonage to-night.  To-morrow will do just
+as well."
+
+"Heavens to Betsy!" sniffed the "hired help," speaking from the
+depths of personal conviction, "nobody but a born fool would clean
+house in the night, 'specially after the cleanin' she's been doin'
+at her own place.  I guess you needn't worry."
+
+So Mr. Ellery did not worry.  And yet, until three o'clock of the
+following morning, the dull light of a whale-oil lantern
+illuminated the rooms of the parsonage as Keziah scrubbed and swept
+and washed, giving to the musty place the "lick and promise" she
+had prophesied.  If the spiders had prepared those ascension robes,
+they could have used them that night.
+
+After breakfast the wagons belonging to the Wellmouth furniture
+dealer drove in at the gate of the little house opposite Captain
+Elkanah's, and Keziah saw, with a feeling of homesickness which she
+hid beneath smiles and a rattle of conversation, the worn household
+treasures which had been hers, and her brother's before her,
+carried away out of her life.  Then her trunks were loaded on the
+tailboards of the wagons, to be left at the parsonage, and with a
+sigh and a quick brush of her hand across her eyes, she locked the
+door for the last time and walked briskly down the road.  Soon
+afterwards John Ellery, under the eminently respectable escort of
+Captain Elkanah and Miss Annabel, emerged from the Daniels's gate
+and followed her.  Mrs. Didama Rogers, thankful for a clear
+atmosphere and an unobstructed view, saw them pass and recognized
+the stranger.  And, within a quarter of an hour, she, arrayed in a
+hurried calling costume, was spreading the news along the main
+road.  The "Trumet Daily Advertiser" had, so to speak, issued an
+extra.
+
+Thus the new minister came to Trumet and thus Keziah Coffin became
+his housekeeper.  She entered upon her duties with the whole-
+hearted energy peculiar to her.  She was used to hard work, and, as
+she would have said, felt lonesome without it.  She cleaned that
+parsonage from top to bottom.  Every blind was thrown open and the
+spring sunshine poured in upon the braided mats and the rag
+carpets.  Dust flew in clouds for the first day or two, but it flew
+out of windows and doors and was not allowed to settle within.  The
+old black walnut furniture glistened with oil.  The mirrors and the
+crockery sparkled from baths of hot water and soap.  Even St.
+Stephen, in the engravings on the dining-room wall, was forced to a
+martyrdom of the fullest publicity, because the spots and smears on
+the glass covering his sufferings were violently removed.  In the
+sleeping rooms upstairs the feather beds were beaten and aired, the
+sheets and blankets and patchwork comforters exposed to the light,
+and the window curtains dragged down and left to flap on the
+clothesline.  The smell of musty dampness disappeared from the
+dining room and the wholesome odors of outdoors and of good things
+cooking took its place.
+
+Keziah, in the midst of her labors, found time to coach her
+employer and companion in Trumet ways, and particularly in the ways
+which Trumet expected its clergymen to travel.  On the morning
+following his first night in the parsonage, he expressed himself as
+feeling the need of exercise.  He thought he should take a walk.
+
+"Well," said his housekeeper from her station opposite him at the
+breakfast table, "if I was you I wouldn't take too long a one.
+You'd better be back here by ten, anyhow.  Where was you thinkin'
+of goin'?"
+
+Mr. Ellery had no particular destination in mind.  He would like to
+see something of the village and, perhaps, if she could give him
+the names of a few of his parishioners, he might make a few calls.
+Keziah shook her head.
+
+"Gracious goodness!" she exclaimed.  "I wouldn't advise you to do
+that.  You ain't been here long enough to make forenoon calls.  If
+you should catch some of the women in this town with aprons and
+calico on, they'd never forgive you in this world.  Wait till
+afternoon; they'll be expectin' you then and they'll be rigged out
+in their best bibs and tuckers.  S'pose you found Annabel Daniels
+with her hair done up in curl papers; what do you think would
+happen?  Mornin's are no time for ministers' calls.  Even old Mr.
+Langley never made calls in the forenoon--and he'd been here
+thirty-odd years."
+
+"All right, you know best.  Much obliged for the advice.  Then I'll
+simply take my walk and leave the calls until later."
+
+"I'd be back by ten, though.  Folks'll begin callin' on you by that
+time."
+
+"They will?  Doesn't the rule work both ways?"
+
+"Not with new ministers it don't.  Cat's foot!  You don't s'pose
+Didama Rogers and Laviny Pepper and their kind'll wait any longer'n
+they can help afore they come to see what you look like, do you?"
+
+"Well, they must have seen me when I preached here before.  I
+remember--"
+
+"Mercy on us! that was in meetin'.  Meetin's diff'rent.  All they
+could say to you then was how much they liked your sermon.  They
+say that to every minister that comes, no matter how they may pick
+him to pieces afterwards.  But here they can ask you questions;
+about how you came to come here and what you think of it far's
+you've got, and what your views are on certain points in the creed.
+Likewise, who your folks were and whether they was well off, and a
+few things like that.  Then they'll want to see what kind of
+clothes you wear and--"
+
+"Whew!" Ellery whistled.  "You're unfolding a pleasant prospect for
+me, I must say.  Am I supposed to be catechized on all of my
+private affairs?"
+
+"Of course!  A minister hasn't got any private affairs; he's a
+public character.  There!" she laughed, as she poured the coffee,
+"I mustn't discourage you.  But don't you see that every mother's
+son--and, for that matter, every daughter and children's child unto
+the third and fourth generation--feel that, so long as they pay pew
+rent or put a cent in the collection, they own a share in you.  And
+we always keep a watch on our investments down this way.  That's
+the Yankee shrewdness you read so much about, I guess."
+
+The minister absently played with his spoon.
+
+"I'm afraid you're a cynic," he said.
+
+"No, no, I ain't.  Though sometimes, considerin' everything, I feel
+as though I had excuse enough if I wanted to belong to that tribe.
+But you're young.  You mustn't mind my sayin' that; if you was old,
+of course, I wouldn't talk about ages.  But you are young and this
+is your first church.  So you must start right.  I'm no cynic,
+bless you.  I've got trust in human nature left--most kinds of
+human nature.  If I hadn't, I'd have more money, I s'pose.  Perhaps
+you've noticed that those who trust a good deal are usually poor.
+It's all right, Mr. Ellery; you go and take your walk.  And I'll
+walk into that pantry closet.  It'll be a good deal like walkin'
+into the Slough of Despond, but Christian came out on the other
+side and I guess likely I will, if the supply of soapsuds holds
+out."
+
+When, promptly at ten o'clock, the minister returned from his walk,
+he found Mrs. Rogers waiting in the sitting room.  It is a prime
+qualification of an alert reporter to be first on the scene of
+sensation.  Didama was seldom beaten.  Mr. Ellery's catechism
+began.  Before it was over Keziah opened the door to admit Miss
+Pepper and her brother.  "Kyan" was nervous and embarrassed in the
+housekeeper's presence.  Lavinia was a glacier, moving majestically
+and freezing as it moved.  Keziah, however, was not even touched by
+the frost; she greeted the pair cordially, and begged them to "take
+off their things."
+
+It was dinner time before the catechizers departed.  The catechized
+came to the table with an impaired appetite.  He looked troubled.
+
+"Don't let it worry you, Mr. Ellery," observed Keziah calmly.  "I
+think I can satisfy you.  Honest and true, I ain't half as bad as
+you might think."
+
+The minister looked more troubled than before; also surprised.
+
+"Why, Mrs. Coffin!" he cried.  "Could you hear--"
+
+"No, no! I couldn't hear nothin' in that closet except my own
+opinion on dirt and dust.  But if I was as deaf as the man that set
+on the powder keg and dropped his pipe ashes into it, it wouldn't
+have made any difference.  The man said after they picked him up
+that they needn't have been so rough, he'd have moved without bein'
+pushed if they'd have made signs they wanted to use the keg.  And
+if I was out in the next lot I'd have known what you was listenin'
+to in that sittin' room.  They hinted that they were real sorry for
+you, but 'twasn't any of THEIR doin's.  The parish committee, bein'
+just men, was apt to make mistakes in certain matters.  Of course
+everything MIGHT be well enough, and if you wa'n't TOO particular
+about cookin' and so on, why--  Anyhow, you mustn't think that THEY
+were criticisin'.  'Twas only that they took an interest and--
+That was about it, wasn't it?"
+
+"Mrs. Coffin, I--I hope you don't think I paid any attention to
+their remarks--of that kind, I mean.  Honestly, I did my best to
+stop them.  I said--"
+
+"Man alive!  I'm not worried.  Why should you be?  We were talkin'
+about trust just now--or I was.  Well, you and I'll have to take
+each other on trust for a while, until we see whether we're goin'
+to suit.  If you see anything that I'm goin' wrong in, I wish you'd
+tell me.  And I'll do the same by you, if that's agreeable.  You'll
+hear a lot of things said about me, but if they're very bad I give
+you my word they ain't true.  And, to be real frank, I'll probably
+hear some about you, which I'll take for what they're worth and
+considerin' who said 'em.  That's a good wholesome agreement, I
+think, for both of us.  What do you think?"
+
+John Ellery said, with emphasis, that he thought well of it.  He
+began to realize that this woman, with her blunt common sense, was
+likely to be a pilot worth having in the difficult waters which he
+must navigate as skipper of the Regular church in Trumet.  Also,
+he began to realize that, as such a skipper, he was most
+inexperienced.  And Captain Daniels had spoken highly--
+condescendingly but highly--of his housekeeper's qualifications and
+personality.  So the agreement was ratified, with relief on his
+part.
+
+The first Sunday came and with it the first sermon.  He read that
+sermon to Keziah on Saturday evening and she approved of it as a
+whole, though she criticised some of its details.
+
+"Don't be afraid to put in plenty of salt," she said.  "Where
+you've got the Christian life and spirit written down as bein' like
+a quiet, peaceful home, free from all distrust, and like that, why
+don't you change it to a good safe anchorage, where the soul can
+ride forever without fear of breakers or no'theasters or the
+dangers besettin' the mariner on a lee shore.  They'll understand
+that; it gets right home to 'em.  There's scarcely a man or a woman
+in your congregation that ain't been out of sight of land for weeks
+on a stretch."
+
+The breakfast hour on Sunday would be at nine o'clock, instead of
+seven, as on week days, she told him.
+
+"Trumet lays to bed Sunday mornin's," she explained.  "It's almost
+a part of its religion, as you might say, and lived up to more
+conscientious than some other parts, I'm afraid.  Six days shalt
+thou labor and wear comfort'ble clothes; and on the seventh you
+must be lazy and dress up.  Likewise you must have baked beans
+Saturday for supper, as we're havin' 'em, and more beans with fish
+balls next mornin'.  That is, if you want to be orthodox."
+
+The service began at eleven o'clock.  At half past ten the sexton,
+old Mr. Jubal Knowles, rang the "first bell," a clanging five-
+minute reminder.  Twenty minutes later he began on the second and
+final call.  Mr. Ellery was ready--and nervous--before the first
+bell had finished ringing.  But Keziah, entering the sitting room
+dressed in black alpaca and carrying the hymn book with her name in
+gilt letters on the cover, forbade his leaving the parsonage thus
+early.
+
+"I shall go pretty soon," she said, "but you mustn't.  The minister
+ain't expected until the last bell's 'most done.  Parson Langley
+used to wait until the Winslows went in.  Gaius Winslow is a
+widower man who lives up to the west end of the town and he's got
+nine children, all boys.  You'll know 'em because they always drive
+down to meetin' in one carryall with a white horse.  Gaius is as
+punctual as a boardin'-house dinner.  The old parson used to wait
+until the last Winslow had toddled up the meetin'-house steps and
+then he'd come out of this side door with his sermon in his hand.
+It's a pretty good rule to remember and saves watchin' the clock.
+Besides, it's what we've been used to, and that goes a good ways
+with some folks.  Good-by, Mr. Ellery.  You'll see me in the third
+pew from the back, on the right side, wishin' you luck just as hard
+as I can."
+
+So, as in couples or family groups, afoot or in all sorts of
+vehicles, the members of Trumet's Regular society came to the
+church to hear their new minister, that functionary peeped under
+the parlor window shade of the parsonage and waited, fidgetting and
+apprehensive, for the Winslows.  They arrived at last, and were not
+hard to recognize, for ten individuals packed into one carriage are
+hard to overlook anywhere.  As Gaius, with the youngest in his
+arms, passed in at the church door, John Ellery passed out of the
+parsonage gate.  The last bell clanged its final stroke, the
+vibrations ceased, the rustle of skirts and the sounds of decorous
+coughing subsided and were succeeded by the dry rattle of the hymn-
+book pages, the organ, presented by Captain Elkanah and played by
+his daughter, uttered its preliminary groan, the service began.
+
+Outside the spring breeze stirred the budding silver-leafs, the
+distant breakers grumbled, the crows in the pines near Captain Eben
+Hammond's tavern cawed ribald answers to the screaming gulls
+perched along the top of the breakwater.  And seated on one of the
+hard benches of the little Come-Outer chapel, Grace Van Horne heard
+her "Uncle Eben," who, as usual, was conducting the meeting, speak
+of "them who, in purple and fine linen, with organs and trumpets
+and vain shows, are gathered elsewhere in this community to hear a
+hired priest make a mock of the gospel."  (A-MEN!)
+
+But John Ellery, the "hired priest," knew nothing of this.  He did
+know, however, that he was the center of interest for his own
+congregation, the people among whom he had been called to labor.
+Their praise or criticism meant everything to him; therefore he
+preached for dear life.
+
+And Keziah Coffin, in the third pew from the back, watched him
+intently, her mind working in sympathetic unison with his.  She was
+not one to be greatly influenced by first impressions, but she had
+been favorably impressed by this young fellow, and had already
+begun to feel that sense of guardianship and personal
+responsibility which, later on, was to make Captain Zebedee Mayo
+nickname the minister "Keziah's Parson."
+
+The sermon was a success.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON DECIDES TO RUN IT BLINDFOLD
+
+
+On Monday afternoon the minister made a few calls.  Keziah made out
+a short list for him to follow, a "sort of chart of the main
+channel," she called it, "with the safe ports marked and the shoals
+and risky places labeled dangerous."
+
+"You see," she said, "Trumet ain't a course you can navigate with
+your eyes shut.  We divide ourselves into about four sets--
+aristocrats, poor relations, town folks, and scum.  The aristocrats
+are the big bugs like Cap'n Elkanah and the other well-off sea
+captains, afloat or ashore.  They 'most all go to the Regular
+church and the parish committee is steered by 'em.  The poor
+relations are mainly widows and such, whose husbands died or were
+lost at sea.  Most of them are Regulars.  The town folks are those
+that stay ashore and keep store or run salt works or somethin'.
+And the scum work around on odd jobs or go fishin'.  So, if you
+really want to be safe, you must call on the aristocrats first,
+after that on the poor relations, and so on down.  You won't be
+bothered with scum much; they're mainly Come-Outers."
+
+Ellery took the list from her hand and looked it over.
+
+"Hum!" he said musingly.  "Am I supposed to recognize these--er--
+class distinctions?"
+
+"Yes.  That is, not in meetin' or sewin' circle or anything like
+that, or not out and out and open anywhere.  But you want to
+cultivate a sort of different handshake and how-dy-do for each set,
+so's to speak.  Gush all you want to over an aristocrat.  Be
+thankful for advice and always SO glad to see 'em.  With the poor
+relations you can ease up on the gush and maybe condescend some.
+Town folks expect condescension and superiority; give it to 'em.
+When it comes to scum, why--well, any short kind of a bow and a
+''Mornin'' 'll do for them.  'Course the Lord, in His infinite
+mercy, made 'em, same as He did potato bugs, but it's necessary to
+keep both bugs and them down to their proper place."
+
+She delivered this in the intervals between trips to the kitchen
+with the dinner dishes.  The minister listened with a troubled
+expression on his face.
+
+"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "I guess I'm dull.  There was a Scotch
+professor at college and the fellows used to say his bump of humor
+was a dent.  Maybe mine isn't much better.  Are you joking?"
+
+Keziah stacked the cups and saucers.
+
+"I ain't jokin'," she declared.  "I've been a poor relation in this
+village for a good while and my brother was a shoemaker and on the
+upper fringe of the town-folk class.  My humor bump would have to
+stick up like Cannon Hill afore I could see any joke in that."
+
+"But you're not seriously advising me to treat a rich man
+differently from a poor one?"
+
+"Not openly different--no.  But if you want to steer a perfectly
+SAFE course, one that'll keep deep water under your keel the whole
+voyage, why, there's your chart."
+
+Mr. Ellery promptly tore the "chart" into small pieces.
+
+"I'm going out," he said.  "I shall be back by supper time."
+
+Mrs. Coffin eyed him grimly.
+
+"Goin' to run it blindfold, are you?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, I am."
+
+Her grimness disappeared and she smiled.
+
+"I'll have your supper ready for you," she said.  "Bring back a
+good appetite."
+
+The young man hesitated on the threshold.
+
+"Mrs. Coffin," he demanded, "would YOU have called only on the
+aristocrats at first?"
+
+She shook her head, smiling still.
+
+"No," she replied, "not me.  I've always taken risks.  But I didn't
+know but you might be a safe sailor.  It saves a lot of trouble in
+this world."
+
+"How about the next?"
+
+"Oh, well, perhaps even the scum may count for somethin' over
+there."  She turned to face him and her smile vanished.  "Go on,
+Mr. Ellery," she said.  "Go and call where you please.  Far be it
+from me that I should tell you to do anything else.  I suppose
+likely you hope some day to be a great preacher.  I hope you will.
+But I'd enough sight rather you was a good man than the very
+greatest.  No reason why you can't be both.  There was a preacher
+over in Galilee once, so you told us yesterday, who was just good.
+'Twa'n't till years afterwards that the crowd came to realize that
+he was great, too.  And, if I recollect right, he chummed in with
+publicans and sinners.  I'm glad you tore up that fool paper of
+mine.  I hoped you might when I gave it to you.  Now you run along,
+and I'll wash dishes.  If cleanliness is next to godliness, then a
+parson ought to eat out of clean plates."
+
+As a matter of fact, the minister's calls were in the nature of a
+compromise, although an unintentional one.  He dropped in on
+Zebedee Mayo, owner of the big house on the slope of the hill.
+Captain Zeb took him up into what he called his "cupoler," the
+observatory on the top of the house, and showed him Trumet spread
+out like a map.  The main road was north and south, winding and
+twisting its rutted, sandy way.  Along it were clustered the
+principal houses and shops, shaded by silver-leaf poplars, a few
+elms, and some willows and spruces.  Each tree bent slightly away
+from the northeast, the direction from which blew the heavy winter
+gales.  Beyond the main road were green slopes and pastures, with
+swamps in the hollows, swamps which were to be cranberry bogs in
+the days to come.  Then the lower road, with more houses, and,
+farther on, the beach, the flats--partially uncovered because it
+was high tide--and the bay.
+
+Behind the Mayo house was the crest of Cannon Hill, more hills,
+pastures and swamps, scattered houses and pine groves.  Then began
+the tumbled, humped waste of sand dunes, and, over their ragged
+fringes of beach plum and bayberry bushes, the deep blue of the
+wide Atlantic.  The lighthouse was a white dot and the fish
+shanties a blotch of brown.  Along the inner edge of the blue were
+scars of dancing white, the flashing teeth of hungry shoals which
+had torn to pieces and swallowed many a good ship.  And, far out,
+dotted and sprinkled along the horizon, were sails.
+
+"See?" said Captain Zeb, puffing still from the exertion of
+climbing the ladder to the "cupoler," for he was distinctly
+"fleshy."  "See?  The beacon's up.  Packet come in this mornin'.
+There she is.  See her down there by the breakwater?"
+
+Sure enough, the empty barrel, painted red, was hoisted to the top
+of its pole on the crest of Cannon Hill.  And, looking down at the
+bay and following the direction of the stubby pointing finger,
+Ellery saw a little schooner, with her sails lowered, lying,
+slightly on her side, in a shallow pool near a long ridge of piled
+stones--the breakwater.  A small wharf made out from the shore and
+black figures moved briskly upon it.  Carts were alongside the
+schooner and there more dots were busy.
+
+"Eben's pennant's flyin'," said Captain Zeb.  "He always sets
+colors when the packet's in.  Keeps packet tavern, Eben does.
+That's it, that old-fashioned, gambrel-roofed house on the rise by
+the wharf.  Call it 'Saints' Rest,' they do now, 'cause Eben's so
+mighty religious."
+
+The minister saw the long, rambling house, with one lonely, twisted
+tree in its yard, a flag flying from a pole beside it.  So that was
+where the Hammonds lived.  And where the girl lived who was certain
+he was a "conceited snippet."  Whatever he might be in reality he
+hoped it was not that.  "Snippet" was not in his dictionary, but he
+didn't like the sound of it.
+
+"Who owns the packet?" he asked, to make conversation.
+
+"Zach Foster.  Married Freewill Doane's daughter over to Harniss.
+She's dead now."
+
+"A good sailor, is he?"
+
+Captain Zeb spat in supreme disgust.
+
+"Good farmer!" he snorted.  "Zach took over the packet for a debt
+when the chap that used to run her died.  His dad, old man Foster,
+raised garden truck at the same time mine went to sea.  Both of us
+took after our fathers, I guess.  Anyhow, my wife says that when I
+die 'twill be of salt water on the brain, and I'm sure Zach's head
+is part cabbage.  Been better for him if he'd stuck to his garden.
+However, I s'pose he does his best."
+
+"They say angels can do no more."
+
+"Um-m.  Well, Zach'll be an angel pretty soon if he keeps on
+cruisin' with that old hooker as she is.  'Bijah Perry, he's mate
+and the only good seaman aboard, tells me that most of the riggin's
+rotten and the main topmast ain't sound, by a good deal.  The old
+man's put off havin' her overhauled for two reasons, one that
+repairs cost money, and t'other that puttin' off is the main sheet
+of his gospel.  When there's no rain the roof don't leak and long's
+it don't blow too hard 'most any kind of gear'll hold.  That's
+philosophy--cabbage philosophy."
+
+Ellery decided that he should like Captain Zeb, although it was
+evident that the old whaler had decided opinions of his own which
+he did not hesitate to express.  He judged that the Mayos were of
+the so-called aristocracy, but undoubtedly unique specimens.  He
+visited four more households that afternoon.  The last call was at
+Mrs. Thankful Payne's, and while there, listening to the wonderful
+"poem," he saw Miss Van Horne pass the window, as has already been
+told.  He came home to a Cape Cod supper of scalloped clams, hot
+biscuits, and baked Indian pudding, and Keziah greeted him with a
+cheery smile which made him feel that it WAS home.  His summary
+disposal of the "chart" had evidently raised him in his
+housekeeper's estimation.  She did not ask a single question as to
+where he had been.
+
+Next day he had a taste of Trumet's real aristocracy, the genuine
+article.  Captain Elkanah Daniels and his daughter made their first
+formal call.  The captain was majestic in high hat, fur-collared
+cape, tailed coat, and carrying a gold-headed cane.  Miss Annabel
+wore her newest gown and bonnet and rustled as she walked.  They
+entered the sitting room and the lady glanced superciliously about
+the apartment.
+
+"Hum--ha!" barked Captain Elkanah.  "Ahem!  Mr. Ellery, I trust
+you're being made comfortable.  The parish committee are--hum--ah--
+anxious that you should be.  Yes?"
+
+The minister said that he was very comfortable indeed.
+
+"It isn't what you've been used to, we know," observed Miss
+Annabel.  "Mr. Langley, our former pastor, was a sweet old
+gentleman, but he was old-fashioned and his tastes were queer,
+especially in art.  Have you noticed that 'fruit piece' in the
+dining room?  Isn't it too ridiculous?"
+
+Ellery admitted that the fruit piece was rather funny; but no doubt
+it had been a gift and so--
+
+"Yes, indeed.  I guess it was a present, fast enough.  Nobody would
+buy such a thing.  It seems strange to pa and me that, although so
+many of our people have been abroad, they have such strange ideas
+of art.  Do you remember the beautiful marbles in the palaces at
+Florence, Mr. Ellery?  Of course you've seen them?"
+
+The minister was obliged to admit that he had never been abroad.
+
+"Oh, is that so?  I've been so many times with pa that it seems
+almost as if everybody was as familiar with Yurrup as I am.  You
+remember what I said about the marbles, pa?"
+
+Her parent nodded.
+
+"Hum--ha!  Oh, yes, yes," he said.  "That was when I was in the
+fruit-carrying trade and made a voyage to Valenchy."
+
+"Valencia, pa," corrected Annabel.  "And Valencia is in Spain."
+
+"I know it.  But we went to Leghorn afterwards.  I sailed to
+Cronstadt for some years regular.  Cronstadt is in Rooshy, Mr.
+Ellery."
+
+"Russia, pa," snapped his daughter.  Then she changed the subject
+to church and parish affairs.  They spoke of the sewing circle and
+the reading society and the Friday-evening meetings.
+
+"The Come-Outers are so vexed with us," tittered Miss Annabel,
+"that they won't even hold prayer meeting on the same night as
+ours.  They have theirs on Thursday nights and it's as good as a
+play to hear them shout and sing and carry on.  You'll enjoy the
+Come-Outers, Mr. Ellery.  They're a perfect delight."
+
+And as they rose to go Captain Elkanah asked:
+
+"Is there anything you'd like done about the parsonage, Mr. Ellery?
+If so, it shall be done immejitly.  How are you satisfied with your
+housekeeper?"
+
+"Very well, indeed, Captain Daniels," was the prompt reply.
+
+"She's a character, isn't she?" giggled Annabel.  "She was born
+here in Trumet, but went away to New Bedford when she was young and
+grew up there.  Her maiden name was Hall, but while she was away
+she married a man named Ansel Coffin.  They didn't live together
+very long and weren't happy, I guess.  I don't know whose fault it
+was, nobody knows much of anything about it, for that's the one
+thing she won't talk about.  Anyhow, the Coffin man was lost to
+sea, and after a while she came back to keep house for her brother
+Solomon.  She's an awful odd stick, but she's a good cook, I
+believe; though I'm afraid you won't get the meals people such as
+ourselves, who've been so much in the city, are used to."
+
+Ellery thought of the meals at his city boarding house and
+shuddered.  He was an orphan and had boarded for years.
+Incidentally, he had worked his way through college.  Captain
+Elkanah cleared his throat.
+
+"Keziah," he commanded.  "Hum--ha!  Keziah, come in here a minute."
+
+Keziah came in response to the call, her sewing in her hand.  The
+renovation of the parsonage had so far progressed that she could
+now find time for a little sewing, after the dinner dishes were
+done.
+
+"Keziah," said the captain pompously, "we expect you to look out
+for Mr. Ellery in every respect.  The parish committee expects
+that--yes."
+
+"I'll try," said Mrs. Coffin shortly.
+
+"Yes.  Well, that's all.  You can go.  We must be going, too, Mr.
+Ellery.  Please consider our house at your disposal any time.  Be
+neighborly--hum--ha!--be neighborly."
+
+"Yes," purred Annabel.  "DO come and see us often.  Congenial
+society is very scarce in Trumet, for me especially.  We can read
+together.  Are you fond of Moore, Mr. Ellery?  I just dote on him."
+
+The last "hum--ha" was partially drowned by the click of the gate.
+Keziah closed the dining-room door.
+
+"Mrs. Coffin," said the minister, "I shan't trouble the parish
+committee.  Be sure of that.  I'm perfectly satisfied."
+
+Keziah sat down in the rocker and her needle moved very briskly for
+a moment.  Then she said, without looking up:
+
+"That's good.  I own up I like to hear you say it.  And I am glad
+there are some things I do like about this new place of mine.
+Because--well, because there's likely to be others that I shan't
+like at all."
+
+On Friday evening the minister conducted his first prayer meeting.
+Before it, and afterwards, he heard a good deal concerning the
+Come-Outers.  He learned that Captain Eben Hammond had preached
+against him in the chapel on Sunday.  Most of his own parishioners
+seemed to think it a good joke.
+
+"Stir 'em up, Mr. Ellery," counseled Lavinia Pepper.  "Stir 'em up!
+Don't be afraid to answer em from the pulpit and set 'em where they
+belong.  Ignorant, bigoted things!"
+
+Others gave similar counsel.  The result was that the young man
+became still more interested in these people who seemed to hate him
+and all he stood for so profoundly.  He wished he might hear their
+side of the case and judge it for himself.  It may as well be
+acknowledged now that John Ellery had a habit of wishing to judge
+for himself.  This is not always a politic habit in a country
+minister.
+
+The sun of the following Thursday morning rose behind a curtain of
+fog as dense as that of the day upon which Ellery arrived.  A flat
+calm in the forenoon, the wind changed about three o'clock and,
+beginning with a sharp and sudden squall from the northwest, blew
+hard and steady.  Yet the fog still cloaked everything and refused
+to be blown away.
+
+"There's rain astern," observed Captain Zeb, with the air of
+authority which belongs to seafaring men when speaking of the
+weather.  "We'll get a hard, driving rain afore mornin', you see.
+Then, if she still holds from the northwest'ard, it'll fair off
+fine."
+
+"Goin' out in this, Mr. Ellery!" exclaimed Keziah, in amazement, as
+the minister put on his hat and coat about seven that evening.
+"Sakes alive! you won't be able to see the way to the gate.  It's
+as dark as a nigger's pocket and thicker than young ones in a poor
+man's family, as my father used to say.  You'll be wet through.
+Where in the world are you bound for THIS night?"
+
+The minister equivocated.  He said he had been in the house all day
+and felt like a walk.
+
+"Well, take an umbrella, then," was the housekeeper's advice.
+"You'll need it before you get back, I cal'late."
+
+It was dark enough and thick enough, in all conscience.  The main
+road was a black, wet void, through which gleams from lighted
+windows were but vague, yellow blotches.  The umbrella was useful
+in the same way that a blind man's cane is useful, in feeling the
+way.  The two or three stragglers who met the minister carried
+lanterns.  One of these stragglers was Mr. Pepper.  Kyan was
+astonished.
+
+"Well, I snum!" cried Kyan, raising the lantern.  "If 'tain't Mr.
+Ellery.  Where you bound this kind of night?"
+
+Before the minister could answer, a stately figure appeared and
+joined the pair.  Lavinia, of course.
+
+"Well, Mr. Ellery," she said.  "Ain't you lost, out in this fog?
+Anybody sick?"
+
+No, no one was sick.
+
+"That's a mercy.  Goin' callin', be you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Hum!  Queer weather for a walk, I call it.  Won't be many out to-
+night, except Come-Outers goin' to holler their lungs loose at
+prayer meetin'.  He, he!  You ain't turned Come-Outer, have you,
+Mr. Ellery?  You've headed right for the chapel."
+
+Ellery's reply was hurried and a bit confused.  He said good night
+and went on.
+
+"Laviny," whispered the shocked Kyan, "do you think that was a--er--
+polite thing to say to a parson?  That about his turnin' Come-
+Outer?  He didn't make much answer, seemed to me.  You don't think
+he was mad, do ye?"
+
+"I don't care if he was," snorted Miss Pepper.  "He could tell a
+body where he was goin' then.  Nobody can snub me, minister or not.
+I think he's kind of stuck-up, if you want to know, and if he is,
+he'll get took down in a hurry.  Come along, don't stand there with
+your mouth open like a flytrap.  I'd like to know what he was up
+to.  I've a precious good mind to follow him; would if 'twa'n't so
+much trouble."
+
+She didn't.  Yet, if she had, she would have deemed the trouble
+worth while.  For John Ellery stumbled on through the mist till he
+reached the "Corners" where the store was located and the roads
+forked.  There, he turned to the right, into the way called locally
+"Hammond's Turn-off."  A short distance down the "Turn-off" stood a
+small, brown-shingled building, its windows alight.  Opposite its
+door, on the other side of the road, grew a spreading hornbeam tree
+surrounded by a cluster of swamp blackberry bushes.  In the black
+shadow of the hornbeam Mr. Ellery stood still.  He was debating in
+his mind a question: should he or should he not enter that building?
+
+As he stood there, groups of people emerged from the fog and
+darkness and passed in at the door.  Some of them he had seen
+during his fortnight in Trumet.  Others were strangers to him.  A
+lantern danced and wabbled up the "Turn-off" from the direction of
+the bay shore and the packet wharf.  It drew near, and he saw that
+it was carried by an old man with long white hair and chin beard,
+who walked with a slight limp.  Beside him was a thin woman wearing
+a black poke bonnet and a shawl.  In the rear of the pair came
+another woman, a young woman, judging by the way she was dressed
+and her lithe, vigorous step.  The trio halted on the platform of
+the building.  The old man blew out the lantern.  Then he threw the
+door open and a stream of yellow light poured over the group.
+
+The young woman was Grace Van Horne.  The minister recognized her
+at once.  Undoubtedly, the old man with the limp was her guardian,
+Captain Eben Hammond, who, by common report, had spoken of him,
+Ellery, as a "hired priest."
+
+The door closed.  A few moments thereafter the sound of a squeaky
+melodeon came from within the building.  It wailed and quavered and
+groaned.  Then, with a suddenness that was startling, came the
+first verse of a hymn, sung with tremendous enthusiasm:
+
+
+     "Oh, who shall answer when the Lord shall call
+        His ransomed sinners home?"
+
+
+The hallelujah chorus was still ringing when the watcher across the
+street stepped out from the shadow of the hornbeam.  Without a
+pause he strode over to the platform.  Another moment and the door
+had shut behind him.
+
+The minister of the Trumet Regular church had entered the Come-
+Outer chapel to attend a Come-Outer prayer meeting!
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+IN WHICH THE PARSON CRUISES IN STRANGE WATERS
+
+
+The Come-Outer chapel was as bare inside, almost, as it was
+without.  Bare wooden walls, a beamed ceiling, a raised platform at
+one end with a table and chairs and the melodeon upon it, rows of
+wooden settees for the congregation--that was all.  As the minister
+entered, the worshipers were standing up to sing.  Three or four
+sputtering oil lamps but dimly illumined the place and made
+recognition uncertain.
+
+The second verse of the hymn was just beginning as Ellery came in.
+Most of the forty or more grown people in the chapel were too busy
+wrestling with the tune to turn and look at him.  A child here and
+there in the back row twisted a curious neck but twisted back again
+as parental fingers tugged at its ear.  The minister tiptoed to a
+dark corner and took his stand in front of a vacant settee.
+
+The man whom Ellery had decided must be Captain Eben Hammond was
+standing on the low platform beside the table.  A quaint figure,
+patriarchal with its flowing white hair and beard, puritanical with
+its set, smooth-shaven lips and tufted brows.  Captain Eben held an
+open hymn book back in one hand and beat time with the other.  He
+wore brass-bowed spectacles well down toward the tip of his nose.
+Swinging a heavy, stubby finger and singing in a high, quavering
+voice of no particular register, he led off the third verse:
+
+
+     "Oh, who shall weep when the roll is called
+        And who shall shout for joy?"
+
+
+The melodeon and the hymn book were in accord as to the tune, but
+Captain Eben and the various members of the congregation seemed to
+have a desire to improvise.  They sang with spirit, however, and
+the rhythmic pat of feet grew louder and louder.  Here and there
+men and women were swaying and rocking their bodies in time to the
+music.  The chorus for each verse was louder than the one preceding
+it.
+
+Another hymn was given out and sung.  And another and still
+another.  The windows rattled.  The patting grew to a steady
+"thump! thump!"  Momentary pauses between lines were punctuated by
+hallelujahs and amens.  Standing directly in front of the minister
+was a six-foot, raw-boned individual whose clothes smelled strongly
+of fish, and whose hands, each swung at the end of an exposed five
+inches of hairy red wrist, looked like flippers.  At the end of the
+third hymn this personage sprang straight up into the air, cracked
+the heels of a pair of red cowhide boots together, and whooped:
+"Glory be!  Send the PAOWER!" in a voice like the screech of a
+northeast gale.  Mr. Ellery, whom this gymnastic feat had taken by
+surprise, jumped in sympathy, although not as high.
+
+The singing over, the worshipers sat down.  Captain Eben took a
+figured handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead.  The
+thin, nearsighted young woman who had been humped over the keyboard
+of the melodeon, straightened up.  The worshipers relaxed a little
+and began to look about.
+
+Then the captain adjusted his spectacles and opened a Bible, which
+he took from the table beside him.  Clearing his throat, he
+announced that he would read from the Word, tenth chapter of
+Jeremiah:
+
+"'Thus saith the Lord.  Learn not the way of the heathen, and be
+not dismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed
+at them.
+
+"'For the customs of the people are vain: for one cutteth a tree
+out of the forest, the work of the hands of the workmen, with the
+ax.'"
+
+He read in a measured singsong, stopping occasionally to hold the
+book in a better light and peering at the fine print through his
+spectacles.  And as he read, there was a sudden rustle on one of
+the back benches.  A child had turned, stared, and pulled at its
+mother's sleeve.  The rustle grew and spread.
+
+Captain Eben drawled on to the twentieth verse:
+
+"'My tabernacle is spoiled and all my cords are broken: my children
+are gone forth from me, and they are not: there is none to stretch
+forth my tent any more, and to set up my curtains!
+
+"'For the pastors are become brutish and have not sought the Lord:
+therefore they shall not prosper, and--'"
+
+"A-MEN!"
+
+The shout came from the second bench from the front, where Ezekiel
+Bassett, clam digger and fervent religionist, was always to be
+found on meeting nights.  Ezekiel was the father of Susannah B.
+Bassett, "Sukey B." for short, who played the melodeon.  He had
+been, by successive seizures, a Seventh Day Baptist, a Second
+Adventist, a Millerite, a Regular, and was now the most energetic
+of Come-Outers.  Later he was to become a Spiritualist and preside
+at table-tipping seances.
+
+Ezekiel's amen was so sudden and emphatic that it startled the
+reader into looking up.  Instead of the faces of his congregation,
+he found himself treated to a view of their back hair.  Nearly
+every head was turned toward the rear corner of the room, there was
+a buzz of whispering and, in front, many men and women were
+standing up to look.  Captain Eben was scandalized.
+
+"Well!" he exclaimed.  "Is this a prayer meetin' or--or--what?
+Brethren and sisters, I must say--"
+
+Ezekiel Bassett stepped forward and whispered in his ear.  The
+captain's expression of righteous indignation changed to one of
+blank astonishment.  He, too, gazed at the dark corner.  Then his
+lips tightened and he rapped smartly on the table.
+
+"Brethren and sisters," he thundered, in the voice which, of old,
+had enforced obedience aboard his coasting schooner, "remember this
+is the house of the Lord.  Be reverent!"
+
+He waited until every eye had swung about to meet his.  Then he
+regarded his abashed but excited hearers with a steady and
+prolonged stare.
+
+"My friends," he said, "let us bow in prayer."
+
+John Ellery could have repeated that prayer, almost word for word,
+years after that night.  The captain prayed for the few here
+gathered together:  Let them be steadfast.  Let them be constant in
+the way.  The path they were treading might be narrow and beset
+with thorns, but it was the path leading to glory.
+
+"Scoffers may sneer," he declared, his voice rising; "they may make
+a mock of us, they may even come into Thy presence to laugh at us,
+but theirs is the laugh that turns to groanin'.  O Lord, strengthen
+us to-night to speak what's in our hearts, without fear."  ("A-
+men!")  "To prophesy in Thy name!  To bid the mockers and them that
+dare--dare to profane this sanctuary be careful.  Hired singers and
+trumpets and vain shows we have not" ("Thank the Lord!  Amen!"),
+"but the true faith and the joy of it we do have."  ("Hallelujah!
+Hallelujah!  Glory!")
+
+And so on, his remarks becoming more personal and ever pointing
+like a compass needle to the occupant of that seat in the corner.
+The minister's determination to attend a Come-Outer meeting, though
+it had reached the sticking point only a half hour before, was the
+result of considerable deliberation.  He had argued with himself
+and had made up his mind to find out for himself just what these
+people did.  He was finding out, certainly.  His motives were good
+and he had come with no desire to scoff, but, for the life of him,
+he could not help feeling like a criminal.  Incidentally, it
+provoked him to feel that way.
+
+"O Lord," prayed Captain Hammond, the perspiration in beads on his
+forehead, "Thou hast said that the pastors become brutish and have
+not sought Thee and that they shan't prosper.  Help us tonight to
+labor with this one that he may see his error and repent in
+sackcloth and ashes."
+
+They sang once more, a hymn that prophesied woe to the unbeliever.
+Then Ezekiel Bassett rose to "testify."  The testimony was mainly
+to the effect that he was happy because he had fled to the ark of
+safety while there was yet time.
+
+"I found out," he shouted, "that fancy music and--ah--and--ah--sot
+sermons and fine duds and suchlike wa'n't goin' to do ME no good.
+I needed somethin' else.  I needed good times in my religion"
+("Hallelujah!") "and I've found 'em right here.  Yes, sir! right
+here.  And I say this out loud," turning to glare at the intruder,
+"and I don't care who comes to poke fun at me for sayin' it."
+("Amen!")
+
+A sharp-nosed female followed Mr. Bassett.  She spoke with evident
+feeling and in a voice that trembled and shook when her emotion
+carried it aloft.  SHE'D had enough of high-toned religion.  Yes,
+and of them that upheld it.  When her brother Simeon was took bad
+with phthisic, "wheezin' like a busted bellerses" and 'twas "up and
+down, trot, trot, trot," to fetch and carry for him day in and
+night out, did the folks from the Reg'lar church help her?  She
+guessed NOT.  The only one that came nigh her was Laviny Pepper,
+and she came only to gas and gabble and find out things that wa'n't
+none of her business.  What help she got was from a Come-Outer,
+from Eben Hammond, bless his good soul!  ("Amen!")  That phthisic
+settled her for Reg'larism.  Yes, and for them that preached it,
+too.  So there!
+
+Captain Eben called for more testimony.  But the testifiers were,
+to use the old minstrel joke, backward in coming forward that
+evening.  At an ordinary meeting, by this time, the shouts and
+enthusiasm would have been at their height and half a dozen Come-
+Outers on their feet at once, relating their experiences and
+proclaiming their happiness.  But tonight there was a damper; the
+presence of the leader of the opposition cast a shadow over the
+gathering.  Only the bravest attempted speech.  The others sat
+silent, showing their resentment and contempt by frowning glances
+over their shoulders and portentous nods one to the other.
+
+"Come, brethren," commanded the captain sharply; "we are waitin' to
+hear you.  Are you afraid?  If your faith is real, nothin' nor
+nobody should keep you from cryin' it out loud.  Now, if ever, is
+the accepted time.  Speak up for the spirit that's in you."
+
+An elderly man, grave and quiet, arose and said a few words,
+dignified and solemn words of prayer and thankfulness for the
+comfort this little society of true believers had been to him.
+Ellery realized that here was another sort of Come-Outer, one of
+the Hammond type.  Evidently, they were not all like Ezekiel and
+the shrill-voiced woman.
+
+Then, from the settee in front of him, rose the lengthy and fishy
+person with the cowhide boots and enormous hands.  His name was
+Josiah Badger and he was, according to Trumet's estimate, "a little
+mite lackin' in his top riggin'."  He stuttered, and this infirmity
+became more and more apparent as he grew eloquent.
+
+"I--I ain't afraid," he proclaimed.  "They can call me a C-C-Come-
+Outer all they want to.  I--I don't care if they do.  Let 'em, I
+say; l-let 'em!  They can p-p-poke their fun and p-p-p-pup-pup-poke
+it, but I tell 'em to h-heave ahead and p-pup-pup-POKE.  When I
+used to g-go to their old Reg'lar meetin' house, all I done was to
+go to sleep.  But I don't go to sleep here, glory hallelujah!  No,
+sir!  There's too much b-b-blessed noise and we have too g-good
+times to g-go to sleep here.  That old K-Kyan Pepper called me t-
+town f-fool t'other day.  T-tut-town fool's what he called me.
+Says I to him, says I: 'You-you-y-you ain't got spunk enough to be
+a fool,' I says, 'unless Laviny says you c-can be.  You old Reg'lar
+p-p-pepper shaker, you!"
+
+By this time tee-hees from the children and chuckles from some of
+the older members interfered with Mr. Badger's fervent but jerky
+discourse.  Captain Eben struck the table smartly.
+
+"Silence!" he thundered.  "Silence!  Brother Badger, I beg your
+pardon for 'em.  Go on!"
+
+But Josiah's train of thought had evidently been derailed by the
+interruption.
+
+"I--I--I cal'late that's about all," he stammered and sat down.
+
+The captain looked over the meeting.
+
+"I'm ashamed," he said, "ashamed of the behavior of some of us in
+the Lord's house.  This has been a failure, this service of ours.
+We have kept still when we should have justified our faith, and
+allowed the presence of a stranger to interfere with our duty to
+the Almighty.  And I will say," he added, his voice rising and
+trembling with indignation, "to him who came here uninvited and
+broke up this meetin', that it would be well for him to remember
+the words of Scriptur', 'Woe unto ye, false prophets and workers of
+iniquity.'  Let him remember what the Divine wisdom put into my
+head to read to-night: 'The pastors have become brutish and have
+not sought the Lord; therefore they shall not prosper.'"
+
+"Amen!"  "Amen!"  "Amen!"  "So be it!"  The cries came from all
+parts of the little room.  They ceased abruptly, for John Ellery
+was on his feet.
+
+"Captain Hammond," he said, "I realize that I have no right to
+speak in this building, but I must say one word.  My coming here
+to-night may have been a mistake; I'm inclined to think it was.
+But I came not, as you seem to infer, to sneer or to scoff;
+certainly I had no wish to disturb your service.  I came because I
+had heard repeatedly, since my arrival in this town, of this
+society and its meetings.  I had heard, too, that there seemed to
+be a feeling of antagonism, almost hatred, against me among you
+here.  I couldn't see why.  Most of you have, I believe, been at
+one time members of the church where I preach.  I wished to find
+out for myself how much of truth there was in the stories I had
+heard and to see if a better feeling between the two societies
+might not be brought about.  Those were my reasons for coming here
+to-night.  As for my being a false prophet and a worker of
+iniquity"--he smiled--"well, there is another verse of Scripture I
+would call to your attention: 'Judge not, that ye be not judged.'"
+
+He sat down.  There was silence for a moment and then a buzz of
+whispering.  Captain Eben, who had heard him with a face of iron
+hardness, rapped the table.
+
+"We will sing in closin'," he said, "the forty-second hymn.  After
+which the benediction will be pronounced."
+
+The Regular minister left the Come-Outers' meeting with the
+unpleasant conviction that he had blundered badly.  His visit,
+instead of tending toward better understanding and more cordial
+relationship, had been regarded as an intrusion.  He had been
+provoked into a public justification, and now he was quite sure
+that he would have been more politic to remain silent.  He realized
+that the evening's performance would cause a sensation and be
+talked about all over town.  The Come-Outers would glory in their
+leader's denunciation of him, and his own people would perhaps feel
+that it served him right.  If he had only told Mrs. Coffin of what
+he intended to do.  Yet he had not told her because he meant to do
+it anyhow.  Altogether it was a rather humiliating business.
+
+So that old bigot was the Van Horne girl's "uncle."  It hardly
+seemed possible that she, who appeared so refined and ladylike when
+he met her at the parsonage, should be a member of that curious
+company.  When he rose to speak he had seen her in the front row,
+beside the thin, middle-aged female who had entered the chapel with
+Captain Hammond and with her.  She was looking at him intently.
+The lamp over the speaker's table had shone full on her face and
+the picture remained in his memory.  He saw her eyes and the wavy
+shadows of her hair on her forehead.
+
+He stepped off the platform, across the road, out of the way of
+homeward-bound Come-Outers, and stood there, thinking.  The fog was
+as heavy and wet as ever; in fact, it was almost a rain.  The wind
+was blowing hard from the northwest.  The congregation dispersed in
+chattering groups, their lanterns dipping and swinging like
+fireflies.  The chatter dealt entirely with one subject--himself.
+He heard his name mentioned at least twenty times.  Out of the
+gusty, dripping blackness came Mr. Badger's voice.
+
+"By time!" crowed Josiah, "he was took down a few p-p-pup-pegs,
+wa'n't he!  My! how Eben did g-gi-gi-give it to him.  He looked
+toler'ble white under the gills when he riz up to heave out his s-
+s-sus-sassy talk.  And foolish, too.  I cal'late I won't be the
+only town fuf-fuf-fool from now on.  He! he!"
+
+The noises died away in the distance.  Within the chapel the tramp
+of heavy boots sounded as the lights were blown out, one by one.
+The minister frowned, sighed, and turned homeward.  It is not
+pleasant to be called a fool, even by a recognized member of the
+fraternity.
+
+He had taken but a few steps when there was a rustle in the wet
+grass behind him.
+
+"Mr. Ellery," whispered a voice, "Mr. Ellery, may I speak to you
+just a moment?"
+
+He wheeled in surprise.
+
+"Why! why, Miss Van Horne!" he exclaimed.  "Is it you?"
+
+"Mr. Ellery," she began, speaking hurriedly and in a low voice,
+"I--I felt that I must say a word to you before--"
+
+She paused and glanced back at the chapel.  Ezekiel Bassett, the
+janitor, having extinguished the last lamp, had emerged from the
+door and was locking up.  In another moment he clumped past them in
+the middle of the road, the circle of light from his lantern just
+missing them as they stood in the grass at the side under the
+hornbeam and blackberry bushes.  He was alone; Sukey B. had gone on
+before, other and younger masculine escort having been
+providentially provided.
+
+Mr. Bassett was out of hearing before Grace finished her sentence.
+The minister was silent, waiting and wondering.
+
+"I felt," she said, "that I must see you and--explain.  I am SO
+sorry you came here to-night.  Oh, I wish you hadn't.  What made
+you do it?"
+
+"I came," began Ellery, somewhat stiffly, "because I--well, because
+I thought it might be a good thing to do.  As I said--"
+
+"Yes, I know.  But it wasn't.  It was so--so--"
+
+"So foolish.  Thank you, I'm aware of it.  I've heard myself called
+a fool already since I left your church.  Not that I needed to hear
+it.  I realize the fact."
+
+There was a bitterness in his tone, unmistakable.  And a little
+laugh from his companion did not tend to soothe his feelings.
+
+"Thank you," he said.  "Perhaps it is funny.  I did not find it so.
+Good evening."
+
+This was priggish, but it must be borne in mind that John Ellery
+was very, very fresh from the theological school, where young
+divines are taught to take themselves seriously.  He was ashamed of
+himself as soon as he said it, which proved that his case was not
+beyond hope.
+
+The girl detained him as he was turning away.
+
+"I wasn't laughing at that," she said.  "I know who called you
+that--that name.  It was Josiah Badger, and he really is one, you
+know.  I was thinking of his testimony in meeting and how he called
+Ky--Abishai--a pepper shaker.  That was ridiculous enough, but it
+reminded me of something else about Mr. Pepper, and I HAD to laugh.
+It wasn't at you, truly."
+
+So the minister begged her pardon; also he remained where he was,
+and heard the drops from the tree patter hollow on his hat.
+
+"I came after you," went on Grace rapidly and with nervous haste,
+"because I felt that you ought not to misjudge my uncle for what he
+said to-night.  He wouldn't have hurt your feelings for the world.
+He is a good man and does good to everybody.  If you only knew the
+good he does do, you wouldn't--you wouldn't DARE think hardly of
+him."
+
+She stamped her foot in the wet grass as she said it.  She was
+evidently in earnest.  But Ellery was not in the mood to be greatly
+impressed by Eben Hammond's charity or innate goodness.  The old
+tavern keeper's references to himself were too fresh in his mind.
+"False prophet" and "worker of iniquity!"
+
+"I'm not judging your uncle," he declared.  "It seemed to me that
+the boot was on the other leg."
+
+"I know, but you do judge him, and you mustn't.  You see, he
+thought you had come to make fun of him--and us.  Some of the
+Regular people do, people who aren't fit to tie his shoes.  And so
+he spoke against you.  He'll be sorry when he thinks it over.
+That's what I came to tell you.  I ask your pardon for--for him."
+
+"Why--why, that's all right.  I think I understood--"
+
+"I'm not asking it because he's a Come-Outer and you're a Regular
+minister.  He isn't ashamed of his religion.  Neither am I.  I'm a
+Come-Outer, too."
+
+"Yes.  I--I supposed you were."
+
+"Yes, I am.  There, good night, Mr. Ellery.  All I ask is that you
+don't think too hardly of uncle.  He didn't mean it."
+
+She turned away now, and it was the minister who detained her.
+
+"I've been thinking," he said slowly, for in his present state of
+mind it was a hard thing to say, "that perhaps I ought to
+apologize, too.  I'm afraid I did disturb your service and I'm
+sorry.  I meant well, but--  What's that?  Rain?"
+
+There was no doubt about it; it was rain and plenty of it.  It came
+in a swooping downpour that beat upon the trees and bushes and
+roared upon the roof of the chapel.  The minister hurriedly raised
+his umbrella.
+
+"Here!" he cried, "let me--Miss Van Horne!  Where are you?"
+
+The answer came from a short distance down the "Turn-off."
+
+"Good night," called the girl.  "I must run."
+
+Evidently, she WAS running.  Therefore the young man ran after her.
+He caught up with her in a moment, in spite of some stumbles over
+the rough road.
+
+"Here!" he commanded, "you must take the umbrella.  Really, you
+must.  You haven't one and you'll be wet through."
+
+She pushed the umbrella aside.
+
+"No, no," she answered.  "I don't need it; I'm used to wet weather;
+truly I am.  And I don't care for this hat; it's an old one.  You
+have a long way to go and I haven't.  Please, Mr. Ellery, I can't
+take it."
+
+"Very well," was the sternly self-sacrificing reply, "then I shall
+certainly go with you."
+
+"But I don't wish you to."
+
+"I can't help that.  I'm not going to let you go unprotected
+through this flood.  Especially as you might have been at home
+before this if you hadn't stopped to speak with me."
+
+"But you mustn't."
+
+"I shall."
+
+Here was the irresistible force and the immovable object.  They
+stood stock still in the middle of the road, while the rain drops
+jumped as they struck the umbrella top.  The immovable object,
+being feminine, voiced the unexpected.
+
+"All right," she said; "then I suppose I shall have to take it."
+
+"What?"
+
+"The umbrella.  I'm sorry, and you'll get dreadfully wet, but it's
+your own fault."
+
+He could feel her hand near his own on the handle.  He did not
+relinquish his grasp.
+
+"No," he said.  "I think, on the whole, that that is unreasonable.
+I SHOULD get wet and, though I don't mind it when it is necessary,
+I--"
+
+"Well?" rather sharply, "what are you going to do?"
+
+"Go with you as far as your gate.  I'm sorry, if my company is
+distasteful, but--"
+
+He did not finish the sentence, thinking, it may be, that she might
+finish it for him.  But she was silent, merely removing her hand
+from the handle.  She took a step forward; he followed, holding the
+umbrella above her head.  They plashed on, without speaking,
+through the rapidly forming puddles.
+
+Presently she stumbled and he caught her arm to prevent her
+falling.  To his surprise he felt that arm shake in his grasp.
+
+"Why, Miss Van Horne!" he exclaimed in great concern, "are you
+crying?  I beg your pardon.  Of course I wouldn't think of going
+another step with you.  I didn't mean to trouble you.  I only--  If
+you will please take this umbrella--"
+
+Again he tried to transfer the umbrella and again she pushed it
+away.
+
+"I--I'm not crying," she gasped; "but--oh, dear! this is SO funny!"
+
+Mr. Ellery gazed blankly at her through the rain-streaked dark.
+This was the most astonishing young person he had met in his
+twenty-three years of worldly experience.
+
+"Funny!" he repeated.  "Well, perhaps it is.  Our ideas of fun seem
+to differ.  I--"
+
+"Oh, but it IS so funny.  You don't understand.  What do you think
+your congregation would say if they knew you had been to a Come-
+Outers' meeting and then insisted on seeing a Come-Outer girl
+home?"
+
+John Ellery swallowed hard.  A vision of Captain Elkanah Daniels
+and the stately Miss Annabel rose before his mind's eye.  He hadn't
+thought of his congregation in connection with this impromptu
+rescue of a damsel in distress.
+
+"Ha, ha!" he laughed mournfully.  "I guess it is rather funny,
+after all."
+
+"It certainly is.  Now will you leave me and go back to your
+parsonage?"
+
+"Not unless you take the umbrella."
+
+"Very well.  It is a beautiful evening for a walk, don't you think
+so?  Mr. Ellery, I'm afraid we shan't have you with us in Trumet
+very long."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh, because you're so very, very original.  Are your sermons that
+way, too?  Captain Elkanah doesn't like his ministers to be too
+original."
+
+The minister set his teeth.  At that moment he felt an intense
+desire to bid the Daniels family mind their own business.  Then
+another thought struck him.
+
+"Possibly your Uncle Eben might be somewhat--er--surprised if he
+knew you were with me.  Perhaps he might have something to say on
+the subject."
+
+"I guess he would.  We shall know very soon.  I ran away and left
+him with Mrs. Poundberry, our housekeeper.  He doesn't know where I
+am.  I wonder he hasn't turned back to look for me before this.  We
+shall probably meet him at any moment."
+
+She seemed to enjoy the prospect of the meeting.  Ellery wondered
+what on earth he should say to Captain Hammond--that is, provided
+he was allowed to say anything.
+
+Suddenly a heavier gust of rain and wind beat upon them.  The
+minister struggled with the umbrella.  The gust passed and with it
+the fog.  An instant before it had been all about them, shutting
+them within inky walls.  Now it was not.  Through the rain he could
+see the shadowy silhouettes of bushes at the road side.  Fifty
+yards away the lighted windows of the Hammond tavern gleamed
+yellow.  Farther on, over a ragged, moving fringe of grass and
+weeds, was a black flat expanse--the bay.  And a little way out
+upon that expanse twinkled the lights of a vessel.  A chain
+rattled.  Voices shouting exultingly came to their ears.
+
+"Why!" exclaimed Grace in excited wonder, "it's the packet!  She
+was due this morning, but we didn't expect her in till to-morrow.
+How did she find her way in the fog?  I must tell uncle."
+
+She started to run toward the house.  The minister would have
+followed with the umbrella, but she stopped him.
+
+"No, Mr. Ellery," she urged earnestly.  "No, please don't.  I'm all
+right now.  Thank you.  Good night."
+
+A few steps farther on she turned.
+
+"I hope Cap'n Elkanah won't know," she whispered, the laugh
+returning to her voice.  "Good night."
+
+Ellery stood still in the rain and watched her.  He saw her pass
+the lighted windows and open a door.  Into the yellow radiance she
+flashed and disappeared.  A minute more and the bulky form of Eben
+Hammond, lantern in hand, a sou'wester on his head and his
+shoulders working themselves into an oilskin coat, burst out of the
+door and hurriedly limped down toward the shore.  On the threshold,
+framed in light, stood his ward, gazing after him.  And the
+minister gazed at her.
+
+From the bay came the sound of oars in row-locks.  A boat was
+approaching the wharf.  And suddenly from the boat came a hail.
+
+"Halloo!  Ahoy, dad!  Is that you?"
+
+There was an answering shout from the wharf; a shout of joy.  Then
+a rattle of oars and a clamor of talk.  And Grace still stood in
+the doorway, waiting.
+
+The lantern bobbed up the slope.  As it reached the tavern gateway,
+the minister saw that it was now carried by a tall, active man, who
+walked with a seaman's stride and roll.  Captain Eben was close
+beside him, talking excitedly.
+
+They entered the yard.
+
+"Grace!  Grace!" screamed Captain Eben.  Gracie, girl, look who's
+come!  Look!"
+
+The tall man ran forward.
+
+"Hi, Grace!" he cried in a deep, hearty voice.  "Is that you?
+Ain't you got a word for your old messmate?"
+
+The girl stepped out into the rain.
+
+"Why! why, NAT!" she cried.
+
+The big man picked her up bodily in his arms and carried her into
+the house.  Captain Eben followed and the door closed.
+
+John Ellery picked his way homeward through the puddles and the
+pouring rain.
+
+He found Keziah in the sitting room, seated by the table, evidently
+writing a letter.  She looked tired and grave--for her.
+
+"Well!" she exclaimed as he entered.  "I guess you're soppin' now,
+sartin sure.  There's a light in your room.  Take off your wet
+things and throw 'em down to me, and I'll dry 'em in the kitchen.
+Better leave your boots here now and stand that umbrella in the
+sink.  The kettle's on the stove; you'd better have somethin' hot--
+ginger tea or somethin'.  I told you not to go out such a night as
+this.  Where in the world have you been?"
+
+The minister said he would tell her all about it in the morning.
+Just now he thought he had better go up and take off his wet
+clothes.  He declined the ginger tea, and, after removing his
+boots, went upstairs to his room.
+
+Keziah dipped her pen in the ink and went on with her letter.
+
+"I inclose ten dollars," she wrote.  "It is all I can send you now.
+More than I ought to afford.  Goodness knows why I send anything.
+You don't deserve it.  But while I live and you do I can't--"
+
+The minister called from the landing.
+
+"Here is my coat," he said.  "The cuffs and lower part of the
+sleeves are pretty wet.  By the way, the packet came in to-night.
+They didn't expect her so soon on account of the fog.  There was a
+passenger aboard whom I think must be that Nathaniel Hammond you
+told me of."
+
+Keziah's pen stopped.  The wet coat struck the hall floor with a
+soft thump.  The tick of the clock sounded loud in the room.  A
+sheet of wind-driven rain lashed the windows.
+
+"Did you hear?" called the minister.  "I said that Nathaniel
+Hammond, Captain Eben's son, came on the packet.  I didn't meet
+him, but I'm sure it was he.  Er--Mrs. Coffin, are you there?  Do
+you hear me?"
+
+The housekeeper laid the pen down beside the unfinished letter.
+
+"Yes," she said, "I hear you.  Good night."
+
+For minutes she sat there, leaning back in her chair and staring at
+the wall.  Then she rose, went into the hall, picked up the coat,
+and took it out into the kitchen, where she hung it on the
+clotheshorse by the cook stove.  After a while she returned to the
+table and took up the pen.  Her face in the lamplight looked more
+tired and grave than ever.
+
+It was a long time before John Ellery fell asleep.  He had much to
+think of--of the morrow, of the talk his rash visit to the chapel
+would cause, of the explanation he must make to Captain Elkanah and
+the rest.  But the picture that was before his closed eyes as he
+lay there was neither of Captain Elkanah nor the parish committee;
+it was that of a girl, with dark hair and a slim, graceful figure,
+standing in a lighted doorway and peering out into the rain.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+IN WHICH OLD FRIENDS MEET
+
+
+When Ellery came down to breakfast the rain was over, the wind had
+gone down, and the morning sunshine was pouring in at the dining-
+room windows.  Outside the lilacs were in bud, the bluebirds were
+singing, and there was a sniff of real spring in the air.  The
+storm was at an end and yet the young minister was conscious of a
+troublesome feeling that, for him, it was just beginning.
+
+However, he had determined while dressing to make a clean breast of
+it to his housekeeper--a nominally clean breast, that is.  There
+were some things he would not tell her, some that he would not
+speak of to anyone, the picture in the doorway for instance.  True,
+it was only a picture and of no moment, but it was pleasant to
+remember.  One of the very few pleasant things connected with the
+previous evening.
+
+So, as they sat opposite each other at the table, he began his
+confession.  The muffins scorched in the oven and the coffeepot
+boiled over as he told his story, for Keziah was too much
+interested to think of trifles.  Interested and astounded, for,
+since Come-Outers had been Come-Outers and the split in the society
+took place, no Regular minister had crossed the threshold of a
+seceder's dwelling, much less attended their services and walked
+home with a member of their congregation.  She knew what this
+amazing procedure was likely to mean, if her parson did not.
+
+"Well!" she exclaimed when the recital was finished.  "Well!"
+
+"I--I'm afraid I was too hasty," observed Mr. Ellery thoughtfully.
+"Perhaps it would have been wiser not to have done it."
+
+"Perhaps 'twould.  Yes, I wouldn't wonder a mite."
+
+"It will be talked about some, I suppose.  Don't you think so?"
+
+"Some, yes."
+
+"I'm afraid some of my own people may think it queer."
+
+"Queer!  Say, Mr. Ellery, you remind me of a half-breed Portugee
+feller--half Portugee and a half Indian--that went to sea with my
+father, back in the old days.  He hardly ever spoke a word, mainly
+grunted and made signs.  One day he and another fo'mast hand went
+aloft in a calm to do somethin' to the tops'l.  The half-breed--
+they called him Billy Peter and he always called himself that--was
+out on the end of the yard, with his foot on the rope underneath, I
+forget the name of it, when the tarred twine he had for a shoe
+string caught.  Tryin' to get it loose it broke sudden, his shoe
+pulled off, he lost his balance and fell.  He grabbed at the yard,
+saved himself for a second, fell again, grabbed the next yard, then
+a rope and so on down, grabbin' and pullin' all the way.  First his
+shoe hit the deck, then his sheath knife, then a piece of rope, and
+finally himself, landin' right on top of the Irish cook who was
+goin' aft from the galley with father's dinner.
+
+"There was the greatest racket you ever heard, pans fallin', dishes
+smashin', men yellin', and the cook swearin'.  Father run on deck,
+thinkin' the ship was dismasted.  He found the cook and Billy Peter
+sittin' in the middle of the mess, lookin' at each other.  Neither
+was hurt a mite.  The mates and the crew, part of 'em, was standin'
+starin' at the pair.
+
+"'For Heaven sakes!' says father; 'what happened?'
+
+"The half-breed looked up and rubbed his head.  'Ugh!' says he,
+'Billy Peter bust his shoe string.'
+
+"The cook, his name was O'Neill, looked at him disgusted.  'Well,
+begorra!' says he, 'Billy Peter, you don't exaggerate none, do ye!
+It's a good thing BOTH of 'em didn't bust or we'd have foundered.'
+
+"You remind me of Billy Peter, Mr. Ellery, you don't exaggerate.
+Queer?  Some folks think your goin' to that meetin' last night
+QUEER?  At this moment one half of Trumet is talkin' about it and
+runnin' out to tell the other half.  I guess I'd better hurry up
+with this breakfast.  We're goin' to have callers."
+
+Strange to say, however, this prophecy of early morning visitors
+did not prove true.  Nine o'clock, then ten, and no visitor came to
+the parsonage.  Mrs. Coffin affirmed that she did not understand
+it.  Where was Didama?  Where Lavinia Pepper?  Had the "Trumet
+Daily Advertiser" suspended publication?
+
+At half past ten the gate slammed.  Keziah peered from the window.
+
+"Humph!" she ejaculated.  "Here comes Elkanah and he's got storm
+signals set, by the looks.  He's comin' after you, Mr. Ellery."
+
+"Very well," was the calm reply; "let him come."
+
+"What are you goin' to say to him?"
+
+"Nothing, except that I did what I considered right at the time.
+Show him into the study, Mrs. Coffin, please."
+
+Captain Daniels marched to the dining-room door, his gold-headed
+cane marking time like a drumbeat.  He nodded curtly to Keziah, who
+answered the knock, and stepped across the threshold.
+
+"Hum--ha!" he barked.  "Is the minister--hum--ha! is Mr. Ellery
+in?"
+
+"Yes, he's in."
+
+"Tell him I want to see him."
+
+The housekeeper announced the visitor.
+
+"He's as sour as a skimmin' of last week's milk," she whispered.
+"Don't be afraid of him, though."
+
+"Oh, I'm not.  Show him in."
+
+"All right.  Say, Mr. Ellery, it's none of my business, but I
+wouldn't say anything about your seein' Grace home.  That's none of
+HIS business, either, or anybody else's."
+
+The head of the parish committee stalked into the study and the
+door closed behind him.  A rumble of voices in animated
+conversation succeeded.
+
+Mrs. Coffin went out into the kitchen and resumed her business of
+making a dried-apple pie.  There was a hot fire in the stove and
+she opened the back door to let in the fresh air.  She worked
+briskly, rolling out the dough, filling the deep dish, and pinking
+the edges of the upper crust with a fork.  She was thinking as she
+worked, but not of the minister or his visitor.
+
+She put the pie in the oven and set the damper.  And, as she knelt
+by the stove, something struck her lightly on the back of the neck.
+She looked up and about her, but there was no one in sight.  Then
+she picked up the object which had struck her.  It was a cranberry,
+withered and softened by the winter frosts.
+
+She looked at the cranberry, then at the open door, and her eyes
+twinkled.  Running quickly to the threshold she peered out.  The
+back yard was, apparently, empty, save for a few hens belonging to
+near neighbors, and these had stopped scratching for a living and
+were huddled near the fence.
+
+"Hum!" she mused.  "You rascal!  Eddie Snow, if it's you, I'll be
+after you in a minute.  Just because you're big enough to quit
+school and drive store wagon is no reason why I can't--  Hey?  Oh!"
+
+She was looking down below the door, which opened outward and was
+swung partly back on its hinges.  From under the door projected a
+boot, a man's boot and one of ample size.
+
+Keziah's cheeks, already red from the heat of the stove, reddened
+still more.  Her lips twitched and her eyes sparkled.
+
+"Hum!" she said again.  "They say you can tell the Old Scratch by
+his footprints, even if you can't smell the sulphur.  Anyhow, you
+can tell a Hammond by the size of his boots.  Come out from behind
+that door this minute.  Ain't you ashamed of yourself?"
+
+The owner of the boot stepped forth from behind the door and seized
+her by both hands.
+
+"Halloo, Keziah!" he cried joyfully.  "My, but it's good to see
+you."
+
+"Halloo, Nat!" said Keziah heartily.  "It's kind of good to see
+you, too."
+
+The rest of him was in keeping with his boots.  He was big and
+broad-shouldered and bearded.  His face, above the beard, was
+tanned to a deep reddish brown, and the corners of his eyes were
+marked with dozens of tiny wrinkles.  He was dressed in blue cloth
+and wore a wide-brimmed, soft felt hat.  He entered the kitchen and
+tossed the hat into a corner.
+
+"Well!" he exclaimed.  "Why don't you act surprised to see a
+feller?  Here I've been cruisin' from the Horn to Barnegat and back
+again, and you act as if I'd just dropped in to fetch the cup of
+molasses I borrowed yesterday.  What do you mean by it?"
+
+"Oh, I heard you'd made port."
+
+"Did, hey?  That's Trumet, sure pop.  You ain't the only one.  I
+sneaked off acrost lots so's to dodge the gang of neighbors that I
+knew would be sailin' into our yard, the whole fleet loaded to the
+gunwale with questions.  Wanted to see you first, Keziah."
+
+"Yes.  So, instead of callin' like a Christian, you crept up the
+back way and threw cranberries at me.  Ain't you ashamed of
+yourself?"
+
+"Not a mite."  He took a handful of the frostbitten berries from
+his coat pocket and inspected them lovingly.  "Ain't they fine?" he
+asked, crunching two or three between his teeth.  "I picked 'em up
+as I came along.  I tell you, that's the home taste, all right."
+
+"Don't eat those frozen things.  They'll give you your never-get-
+over."
+
+"What?  Cape Cod cranberries!  Never in the world.  I'd rather eat
+sand down here than the finest mug my steward can cook.  Tell you
+what I'll do, though; I'll swear off on the cranberries if you'll
+give me a four-inch slice of that pie I saw you put in the oven.
+Dried-apple, I'll bet my sou'wester.  Think you might ask a feller
+to sit down.  Ain't you glad to see me?"
+
+Mrs. Coffin pulled forward one of the kitchen chairs.  He seated
+himself on it and it groaned under his weight.
+
+"Whew!" he whistled.  "Never made to stand rough weather, was it?
+Well, AIN'T you glad?"
+
+Keziah looked at him gravely.
+
+"You know I'm glad, Nat," she said.
+
+"So?  I hoped you would be, but I did want to hear you say it.  Now
+you come to anchor yourself and let's have a talk.  I've been
+countin' on it ever since we set tops'ls off Surinam."
+
+The housekeeper took the other chair.
+
+"How are you--" she began.  He stopped her.
+
+"S-shh!" he interrupted.  "Don't say anything for a minute.  Let me
+look at you.  Just as clean and wholesome and good-lookin' as ever.
+They don't make girls like that anywhere else but down on this old
+sand bar.  Not a day older, by the jumpin'--"
+
+She held up her hand.
+
+"Hush, Nat," she protested; "don't talk foolish.  Girl?  Not a day
+older?  Why, if feelin's count for anything, I'm as old as
+Methusaleh.  Haven't I had enough to make me old?"
+
+He was grave immediately.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Keziah," he said.  "I'm a dough head, that's a
+fact.  I hadn't forgot about Sol, but I was so glad to be home
+again and to see dad and Grace and the old town and you that
+everything else flew out of my mind.  Poor Sol!  I liked him."
+
+"He liked you, too.  No wonder, considerin' what you did to--"
+
+"Belay!  Never mind that.  Poor chap!  Well, he's rid of his
+sufferin's at last.  Tell me about it, if you can without bringin'
+all the trouble back too plain."
+
+So she told him of her brother's sickness and death, of having to
+give up the old home, and, finally, of her acceptance of the
+housekeeper's position.  He listened, at first with sympathy and
+then with suppressed indignation.
+
+"By the jumpin' Moses!" he exclaimed.  "And Elkanah was goin' to
+turn you out of house and home.  The mean, pompous old--"
+
+"Hush! hush! he's in there with Mr. Ellery."
+
+"Who?  Elkanah?"
+
+"Yes; they're in the study."
+
+"By the jumpin'--  Let me talk to him for a few minutes.  I'LL tell
+him what's good for his health.  You just listen."
+
+He rose from the chair, but she made him sit down again.
+
+"No, no," she protested.  "He wasn't to blame.  He had to have his
+rent and I didn't feel that I could afford to keep up a whole
+house, just for myself.  And, besides, I ought to be thankful to
+him, I suppose.  He got me this place."
+
+"He did?"
+
+"Yes, he did.  I rather guess Zeb Mayo or somebody may have
+suggested it to him first, but--"
+
+"Humph!  I rather guess so, too."
+
+"Well, you can't always tell.  Sometimes when you really get inside
+of a person you find a generous streak that--"
+
+"Not in a Daniels.  Anybody that got inside of Elkanah would find
+nothin' but Elkanah there, and 'twould be crowded at that.  So he's
+talkin' to the new parson, hey?  Bossin' him, too, I'll bet."
+
+"I ain't so sure.  Mr. Ellery's young, but he's got a mind of his
+own."
+
+Captain Hammond chuckled and slapped his knee.
+
+"Ho, ho!" he laughed.  "I've been hearin' somethin' about that
+mind.  Went to the chapel last night, I understand, and he and dad
+had a set-to.  Oh, I heard about it!  Wish I might have been
+there."
+
+"How does your father act about it?"
+
+"'Bout the way a red-hot stove acts when you spill water on it;
+every time he thinks of the minister he sizzles.  Ho, ho!  I do
+wish I could have been there."
+
+"What does Grace say?"
+
+"Oh, she doesn't say much.  I wouldn't wonder if she felt the way I
+do, though we both keep quiet.  I'll tell you, between ourselves
+and the ship's pump, that I sort of glory in the young chap's
+spunk."
+
+"Good!  So do I.  I like him."
+
+"See here, Keziah!  I'm gettin' frightened.  You ain't settin' your
+cap to be a parson's wife, are you?  Because--"
+
+"Don't be silly.  I might adopt him, but that's all, I guess."
+
+Her friend leaned forward.
+
+"Keziah," he said earnestly, "there's no sense in your slavin'
+yourself to death here.  I can think of a good deal pleasanter
+berth than that.  Pleasanter for me, anyhow, and I'd do my best to
+make it pleasant for you.  You've only got to say the word and--
+No?  Well, then all I can do is hope through another voyage."
+
+"Please don't, Nat.  You know."
+
+"No, I don't know."
+
+"Well, perhaps you don't.  But I know.  I like you, Nat.  I count
+on you as the straightest, truest friend I've got; and I want to
+keep on countin' on you just that way.  Mayn't I?"
+
+"'Course you can, Keziah.  But--"
+
+"Then don't say another word, please."
+
+He sighed and looked out at the open door.  The kitchen clock
+ticked loud in the silence.
+
+"All right," he said at last.  "All right, but I'm goin' to keep on
+hopin'."
+
+"You mustn't, Nat."
+
+"Keziah, when you set your foot down you're pretty stubborn; but
+I've got somethin' of a foot myself.  You remember you said so a
+few minutes ago.  Hi, hum!  Well, speakin' of dad reminds me that
+I'm kind of worried about him."
+
+"You are?  Why?  Isn't he well?"
+
+"Pretty well, but he ain't strong, and he gets too excited over
+things like last night's foolishness.  Grace tells me that the
+doctor says he must be careful or he'll drop off sudden some of
+these days.  He had a shock five or six years ago, a little one,
+and I've been anxious about him ever since.  I've got to go to New
+York off and on for the next month; after that I hope to be home
+for a spell and I can keep an eye on him.  Keziah, if you'll listen
+I'll whisper somethin' to you--religion's a good thing and so's a
+mustard plaster, but both of 'em can be put on too strong.  Dad is
+just a little mite crazy on Come-Outers, I'm afraid."
+
+"Oh, no, I guess not!  You mustn't worry.  How did Grace look to
+you?"
+
+"Like the harbor light on a stormy night.  She's a brick, that
+girl, and gets prettier every minute.  Wonder to me some of the
+young chaps down here don't carry her off by main strength.  She'll
+make somebody a good wife."
+
+"Um-hm.  Have--have you ever thought of her that way yourself?"
+
+"Keziah!"
+
+"Well, don't get mad.  I think a lot of Grace, and I don't know
+anyone I'd rather see you marry."
+
+"I do.  Keziah, that's enough of that.  Are you and dad in
+partnership to get me spliced and out of the way?  He was at me
+this mornin' along the same line.  Don't say anything like that
+again, even in fun.  YOU know why."
+
+"All right, all right.  Now tell me about yourself.  Have you had a
+good voyage?  How do you like your owners?  How did Zach Foster
+ever get the packet in through yesterday's fog?"
+
+"Voyage was all right.  Some rugged weather on the trip out, but
+homeward bound we slid along like a slush bucket on a greased
+plank.  Owners are all right.  Good people as ever I sailed for.
+As for Zach and the packet--  Ho, ho!"
+
+He laughed, rocking back and forth on the chair, which creaked in
+sympathy.
+
+"What's the joke?" demanded the housekeeper.  "Don't do that!  That
+chair wasn't made for elephants to use."
+
+"Hey?  'Tis pretty weak in the knees, ain't it?  Dad would say
+'twas a piece with the creed of those that owned it.  I--  What's
+that?  Somebody's comin'.  I'm goin' to clear out.  I don't want to
+be put through my catechism yet a while."
+
+"No, you mustn't go.  I want you to meet Mr. Ellery.  You sit out
+on the wash bench by the back door till I get rid of whoever 'tis
+that's comin'.  Scoot!"
+
+Nat "scooted," stopping to snatch up his hat as he ran.  Keziah
+went into the dining room and admitted Captain Zebedee Mayo, who
+was panting from the exertion of his walk.
+
+"Whew!" puffed Captain Zeb, mopping his forehead.  "How be you,
+Keziah?  What?  You ain't all alone!  Thought you'd have a cabin
+full of gab machines by this time.  Have they been and gone?"
+
+"No, they haven't been.  I--  My land, my pie!"
+
+She rushed into the kitchen and snatched the pastry from the oven.
+Her new caller followed her.
+
+"So they ain't been, hey?" he said.  "That's queer."
+
+"Elkanah's here.  He's in there with the minister now."
+
+"He is?  Givin' the young feller Hail Columby, I cal'late.  Well,
+now, he shan't.  He, he!  When they told me how the minister passed
+old hop-and-go-fetch-it what was due him at the chapel last night I
+riz up and hoorayed till my wife shut the windows.  She said the
+neighbors all thought I was loony, anyhow, and I needn't prove it
+to 'em.  He, he!  But Elkanah ain't got any funny bone.  He's as
+solemn as a stuffed owl, and he'll--  Well, I'm goin' to put MY oar
+in.  I'm parish committee, too, I cal'late, and I've got somethin'
+to say, even if I wa'n't christened Daniels.  Here goes!"
+
+He headed for the study, but before he crossed the threshold of the
+kitchen Ellery and his visitor came out into the dining room.
+Captain Elkanah's face was flushed, and he fidgeted.  The minister
+looked determined but calm.
+
+"Ahoy there, Elkanah!" hailed Zebedee cheerfully.  "'Mornin', Mr.
+Ellery.  Been havin' officers' counsel, have you?"
+
+"Good morning, Captain Mayo," said the minister.
+
+"'Mornin', Zebedee," grunted Elkanah.  "I have--hum--ha!--been
+discussing the regrettable affair of last night with Mr. Ellery.  I
+have tried--hum--ha! to show him that respectable people of our
+society don't associate with Come-Outers, and that for a Regular
+minister to go to their meetings is something neither the
+congregation nor the parish committee approves of.  No--er--hum--
+ha! no!"
+
+"And I explained to Captain Daniels," observed the minister, "that
+I went there for what seemed to me good reasons, and, as they did
+seem to me good at the time, I'm not ashamed of having gone.  It
+was an honest mistake on my part and I may make more."
+
+"But the society--" began Elkanah.  Captain Zeb interrupted him.
+
+"Don't worry about the society, Mr. Ellery," he said with emphasis.
+"Nor about the parish committee, either.  Great fishhooks! the most
+of us are tickled to death over what you said to Eben Hammond.  We
+think it's a mighty good joke.  YOU didn't know, of course, and
+what you did was done innocent.  He! he! he!  Did you lay him out,
+hey?"
+
+"Zebedee," began Captain Daniels, "I must say I can't see anything
+to laugh at."
+
+"You never could, Elkanah.  I remember that time when you and me
+and some of the fellers home from sea went out sailin' and the boom
+knocked you overboard with your Sunday clothes on.  Lordy, how the
+rest of us did holler! but you never cracked a smile.  If you'd
+seen yourself when we hauled you in! whiskers runnin' salt water;
+beaver hat lookin' like a drownded kitten--"
+
+"There! There!  Never mind that.  I think you'll find a good many
+of the society feel as I do, shocked and--hum--ha!--sorry.  I'm
+surprised they haven't been here to say so."
+
+"I expected them," remarked the minister.
+
+"So did I," chimed in Captain Zeb.  "But I cal'late to know why
+they ain't been.  They're all too busy crowin' over the way Nat
+Hammond fetched the packet home last night.  WHAT?  You ain't
+heard?  Great fishhooks! it's the best thing ever--"
+
+"I've heard about it," snapped Elkanah impatiently.  "Mr. Ellery,
+I'm glad you realize that your action was a mistake and I will take
+pains to have that immejitly made plain to--"
+
+"YOU ain't heard, Keziah, have you?" broke in Zebedee.  "Nor you,
+Mr. Ellery?  Well, I must tell you.  Here's where I gain a lap on
+Didama Rogers.  Seems the Deborah S.--that's the packet's name, Mr.
+Ellery--she hauled out of Boston night afore last on the ebb, with
+a fair wind and sky clear as a bell.  But they hadn't much more'n
+got outside of Minot's 'fore the fog shut down, thicker'n gruel for
+a sick rich man.  The wind held till 'long toward mornin'; then she
+flattened to a dead calm.  'Bije Perry, the mate, he spun the yarn
+to me, and he said 'twas thick and flat as ever he see and kept
+gettin' no better fast.
+
+"They drifted along till noon time and then they was somewheres out
+in the bay, but that's about all you could say.  Zach, he was
+stewin' and sputterin' like a pair of fried eels, and Lafayette
+Gage and Emulous Peters--they're Denboro folks, Mr. Ellery, and
+about sixteen p'ints t'other side of no account--they was the only
+passengers aboard except Nat Hammond, and they put in their time
+playin' high low jack in the cabin.  The lookout was for'ard
+tootin' a tin horn and his bellerin' was the most excitin' thing
+goin' on.  After dinner--corned beef and cabbage--trust Zach for
+that, though it's next door to cannibalism to put cabbage in HIS
+mouth--after dinner all hands was on deck when Nat says: 'Hush!' he
+says.  'Don't I hear somethin'?'
+
+"They listened, and then they all heard it--all 'cept Zach, who's
+deef in his larboard ear.
+
+"'Stand by!' roars Nat.  'It's a squall, dead astern and comin'
+abilin'!  I'll take her, 'Bije.  You look out for them tops'ls.'
+
+"So Nat grabs the wheel and 'Bije tears for'ard and sends the two
+fo'mast hands aloft on the jump.  Zach was skipper, but all he done
+was race around and holler and trip over his own feet.  Oh, he's a
+prize sailor, he is!  Don't talk to me about them Fosters!  I--"
+
+"Nobody is talkin' about 'em but you, Zeb," observed Keziah drily.
+"Go on.  How about the squall?"
+
+"It hit 'em 'fore they got even one tops'l clewed down.  That one,
+the foretops'l 'twas, split to rags.  The main tops'l was set, and
+when the squall struck, the rotten old topmast went by the board
+'Kerrash-o!'  'Course splinters flew like all possessed, and one of
+'em, about a foot long, sailed past Nat's head, where he stood
+heavin' his whole weight on the wheel, and lit right on the
+binnacle, smashin' it to matches.
+
+"They say Nat never paid the least attention, no more'n if the
+chunk of wood had been a June bug buzzin' past.  He just held that
+wheel hard down and that saved the packet.  She come around and put
+her nose dead in the wind just in time.  As 'twas, 'Bije says there
+was a second when the water by her lee rail looked right underneath
+him as he hung onto the deck with finger nails and teeth.
+
+"Well, there they was, afloat, but with their upper riggin' gone
+and the compass smashed flat.  A howlin' no'thwester blowin' and
+fog thick as ever.  Zach was a whimperin', fidgetin' old woman,
+Lafayette and Emulous was prayin' in the scuppers--and that ain't
+an exercise they're used to, neither--and even 'Bije was mighty
+shook up and worried--he says he was himself.  But Nat Hammond was
+as cool and refreshin' as the bottom of my well up home.
+
+"'Better clear away that mess aloft, hadn't you?' he says to the
+skipper.
+
+"Zach said he guessed so; he wa'n't sure of nothin'.  However, they
+cleared it away, and incidentally 'Bije yanked the prayer meetin'
+out of the scuppers and set 'em to work.  Then Nat suggests gettin'
+the spare compass and, lo and behold you! there wa'n't any.
+Compasses cost money and money's made to keep, so Zach thinks.
+
+"So there they was.  Wind was fair, or ought to be, but 'twas
+blowin' hard and so thick you couldn't hardly see the jib boom.
+Zach he wanted to anchor, then he didn't, then he did, and so on.
+Nobody paid much attention to him.
+
+"'What'll we do, Nat?' says 'Bije.  He knew who was the real seaman
+aboard.
+
+"'Keep her as she is, dead afore it, if you ask me, says Nat.
+'Guess we'll hit the broadside of the cape somewheres if this gale
+holds.'
+
+"So they kept her as she was.  And it got to be night and they knew
+they'd ought to be 'most onto the edge of the flats off here, if
+their reck'nin' was nigh right.  They hove the lead and got five
+fathom.  No flats about that.
+
+"Zach was for anchorin' again.  'What do you think, Nat?' asks
+'Bije.
+
+"'Anchor, of course, if you want to,' Nat says.  'You're runnin'
+this craft.  I'm only passenger.'
+
+"'But what do you THINK?' whines Zach.  'Can't you tell us what you
+do think?'
+
+"'Well, if 'twas me, I wouldn't anchor till I had to.  Prob'ly
+'twill fair off to-morrow, but if it shouldn't, we might have to
+lay out here all day.  Anyhow, we'd have to wait for a full tide.'
+
+"'I'm afraid we're off the course,' says 'Bije, else we'd been
+acrost the bar by this time.'
+
+"'Well,' Nat tells him, 'if we are off the course and too far
+inshore, we would have made the bar--the Bayport bar--if not the
+Trumet one.  And if we're off the course and too far out, we'd
+ought to have deeper water than five fathom, hadn't we?  'Course
+I'm not sure, but--  What's that, lands-man?'
+
+"'Three and a half, sir,' says the feller with the lead.  That
+showed they was edgin' in somewheres.  Nat he sniffed, for all the
+world like a dog catchin' a scent, so 'Bije declares.
+
+"'I can smell home,' he says.
+
+"Three fathom the lead give 'em, then two and a half, then a scant
+two.  They was drawin' six feet.  Zach couldn't stand it.
+
+"'I'm goin' to anchor,' he squeals, frantic.  'I believe we're
+plumb over to Wellmouth and drivin' right onto Horsefoot Shoal.'
+
+"'It's either that or the bar,' chimes in 'Bije.  'And whichever
+'tis, we can't anchor in the middle of it.'
+
+"'But what'll we do?' shouts Zach.  'Can't nobody say somethin' to
+DO?'
+
+"'Tell you I smell home,' says Nat, calm and chipper, 'and I'd know
+that smell if I met it in Jericho.  Ha! there she deepens again.
+That was the bar and we're over it.'
+
+"The wind had gone down to a stiff sailin' breeze, and the old
+Debby S. slapped along afore it.  Sometimes there was twelve foot
+under her keel and sometimes eight or nine.  Once 'twas only seven
+and a half.  Zach and 'Bije both looked at each other, but Nat only
+smiled.
+
+"'Oh, you can laugh!' hollers Zach.  ''Tain't your vessel you're
+runnin' into danger.  YOU aint paid out your good money--'
+
+"Nat never answered; but he stopped smilin'.
+
+"And all to once the water deepened.  Hammond swung her up into the
+wind.
+
+"'NOW you can anchor,' says he.
+
+"'And 'bout time, too, I guess,' says 'Bije.  'I cal'late the
+skipper's right.  This IS Horsefoot and we're right between the
+shoals.  Yes, sir, and I hear breakers.  Lively there!'
+
+"They hove over the mudhook and dropped the sails.  Nat shook his
+head.
+
+"'Breakers or not,' says he, 'I tell you I've smelt home for the
+last half hour.  Now, by the jumpin' Moses, I can TASTE it!'
+
+"And inside of a couple of shakes come the rain.  It poured for a
+while and then the fog cleared.  Right acrost their bows was
+Trumet, with the town clock strikin' ten.  Over the flat place
+between the hills they could see the light on the ocean side.  And
+they was anchored right in the deep hole inside the breakwater, as
+sure as I'm knee high to a marlin spike!
+
+"'Bije just stared at Hammond with his mouth open.
+
+"'Nat,' says he, 'you're a seaman, if I do say it.  I thought I was
+a pretty good bay pilot, but I can't steer a vessel without a
+compass through a night as black as Pharaoh's Egypt, and in a thick
+fog besides, and land her square on top of her moorin's.  If my hat
+wa'n't sloshin' around thirty mile astern, I snum if I wouldn't
+take it off to you this minute!'
+
+"'Nat,' stammers Zach, 'I must say I--'
+
+"Nat snapped him shut like a tobacco box.  'You needn't,' says he.
+'But I'll say this to you, Zach Foster.  When I undertake to handle
+a vessel I handle her best I know how, and the fact that I don't
+own her makes no difference to me.  You just put that down
+somewheres so you won't forget it.'
+
+"And this mornin'," crowed Captain Zebedee, concluding his long
+yarn, "after that, mind you, that lubber Zach Foster is around town
+tellin' folks that his schooner had been over the course so often
+she COULDN'T get lost.  She found her way home herself.  WHAT do
+you think of that?"
+
+The two members of the parish committee left the parsonage soon
+after Captain Mayo had finished his story.  Elkanah had listened
+with growing irritation and impatience.  Zebedee lingered a moment
+behind his companions.
+
+"Don't you fret yourself about what happened last night, Mr.
+Ellery," he whispered.  "It'll be all right.  'Course nobody'd want
+you to keep up chummin' in with Come-Outers, but what you said to
+old Eben'll square you this time.  So long."
+
+The minister shut the door behind his departing guests.  Then he
+went out into the kitchen, whither the housekeeper had preceded
+him.  He found her standing on the back step, looking across the
+fields.  The wash bench was untenanted.
+
+"Hum!" mused Ellery thoughtfully, "that was a good story of Captain
+Mayo's.  This man Hammond must be a fine chap.  I should like to
+meet him."
+
+Keziah still looked away over the fields.  She did not wish her
+employer to see her face--just then.
+
+"I thought you would meet him," she said.  He was here a little
+while ago and I asked him to wait.  I guess Zeb's yarn was too much
+for him; he doesn't like to be praised."
+
+"So?  Was he here?  At the Regular parsonage?  I'm surprised."
+
+"He and I have known each other for a long while."
+
+"Well, I'm sorry he's gone.  I think I should like him."
+
+Keziah turned from the door.
+
+"I know you would," she said.
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+IN WHICH CAPTAIN NAT PICKS UP A DERELICT
+
+
+It is probable that John Ellery never fully realized the debt of
+gratitude he owed to the fog and the squall and to Captain Nat
+Hammond.  Trumet, always hungry for a sensation, would have
+thoroughly enjoyed arguing and quarreling over the minister's visit
+to Come-Outer meeting, and, during the fracas, Keziah's parson
+might have been more or less battered.  But Captain Nat's brilliant
+piloting of the old packet was a bit of seamanship which every man
+and woman on that foam-bordered stretch of sand could understand
+and appreciate, and the minister's indiscretion was all but
+forgotten in consequence.  The "Daily Advertisers" gloated over it,
+of course, and Captain Elkanah brought it up at the meeting of the
+parish committee, but there Captain Zeb Mayo championed the young
+man's course and proclaimed that, fur's he was concerned, he was
+for Mr. Ellery more'n ever.  "A young greenhorn with the spunk to
+cruise single-handed right into the middle of the Come-Outer school
+and give an old bull whale like Eben the gaff is the man for my
+money," declared Zebedee.  Most of his fellow-committee agreed with
+him.  "Not guilty, but don't do it again," was the general verdict.
+
+As for the Come-Outers, they professed to believe that their leader
+had much the best of the encounter, so they were satisfied.  There
+was a note of triumph and exultation in the "testimony" given on
+the following Thursday night, and Captain Eben divided his own
+discourse between thankfulness for his son's safe return and
+glorification at the discomfiture of the false prophets.
+Practically, then, the result of Ellery's peace overture was an
+increased bitterness in the feeling between the two societies and a
+polishing of weapons on both sides.
+
+Keziah watched anxiously for a hint concerning her parson's walk in
+the rain with Grace, but she heard nothing, so congratulated
+herself that the secret had been kept.  Ellery did not again
+mention it to her, nor she to him.  A fortnight later he preached
+his great sermon on "The Voyage of Life," and its reference to
+gales and calms and lee shores and breakers made a hit.  His
+popularity took a big jump.
+
+He met Nat Hammond during that fortnight.  The first meeting was
+accompanied by unusual circumstances, which might have been
+serious, but were actually only funny.
+
+The tide at Trumet, on the bay side, goes out for a long way,
+leaving uncovered a mile and a half of flats, bare and sandy, or
+carpeted with seaweed.  Between these flats are the channels,
+varying at low water from two to four feet in depth, but deepening
+rapidly as the tide flows.
+
+The flats fascinated the young minister, as they have many another
+visitor to the Cape, before or since.  On cloudy days they lowered
+with a dull, leaden luster and the weed-grown portions were like
+the dark squares on a checkerboard, while the deep water beyond the
+outer bar was steely gray and angry.  When the sun shone and the
+wind blew clear from the northwest the whole expanse flashed into
+fire and color, sapphire blue, emerald green, topaz yellow, dotted
+with white shells and ablaze with diamond sparkles where the
+reflected light leaped from the flint crystals of the wet, coarse
+sand.
+
+The best time to visit the flats--tide serving, of course--is the
+early morning at sunrise.  Then there is an inspiration in the wide
+expanse, a snap and tang and joy in the air.  Ellery had made up
+his mind to take a before-breakfast tramp to the outer bar and so
+arose at five, tucked a borrowed pair of fisherman's boots beneath
+his arm, and, without saying anything to his housekeeper, walked
+down the lawn behind the parsonage, climbed the rail fence, and
+"cut across lots" to the pine grove on the bluff.  There he removed
+his shoes, put on the boots, wallowed through the mealy yellow sand
+forming the slope of the bluff, and came out on the white beach and
+the inner edge of the flats.  Then he plashed on, bound out to
+where the fish weirs stood, like webby fences, in the distance.
+
+It was a wonderful walk on a wonderful day.  The minister enjoyed
+every minute of it.  Out here he could forget the petty trials of
+life, the Didamas and Elkanahs.  The wind blew his hat off and
+dropped it in a shallow channel, but he splashed to the rescue and
+laughed aloud as he fished it out.  It was not much wetter than it
+had been that night of the rain, when he tried to lend his umbrella
+and didn't succeed.  This reflection caused him to halt in his walk
+and look backward toward the shore.  The brown roof of the old
+tavern was blushing red in the first rays of the sun.
+
+A cart, drawn by a plodding horse and with a single individual on
+its high seat, was moving out from behind the breakwater.  Some
+fisherman driving out his weir, probably.
+
+The sand of the outer bar was dimpled and mottled like watered silk
+by the action of the waves.  It sloped gradually down to meet the
+miniature breakers that rolled over and slid in ripples along its
+edge.  Ellery wandered up and down, picking up shells and sea
+clams, and peering through the nets of the nearest weir at the
+"horsefoot crabs" and squid and flounders imprisoned in the pound.
+There were a few bluefish there, also, and a small school of
+mackerel.
+
+The minister had been on the bar a considerable time before he
+began to think of returning to the shore.  He was hungry, but was
+enjoying himself too well to mind.  The flats were all his that
+morning.  Only the cart and its driver were in sight and they were
+half a mile off.  He looked at his watch, sighed, and reluctantly
+started to walk toward the town; he mustn't keep Mrs. Coffin's
+breakfast waiting TOO long.
+
+The first channel he came to was considerably deeper than when he
+forded it on the way out.  He noticed this, but only vaguely.  The
+next, however, was so deep that the water splashed in at the top of
+one of his boots.  He did notice that, because though he was not
+wearing his best clothes, he was not anxious to wet his "other
+ones."  The extent of his wardrobe was in keeping with the size of
+his salary.
+
+And the third channel was so wide and deep that he saw at once it
+could not be forded, unless he was willing to plunge above his
+waist.  This was provoking.  Now he realized that he had waited too
+long.  The tide had been flowing for almost an hour; it had flowed
+fast and, as he should have remembered, having been told, the
+principal channels were eight feet deep before the highest flats
+were covered.
+
+He hurried along the edge, looking for a shallower place, but found
+none.  At last he reached the point of the flat he was on and saw,
+to his dismay, that here was the deepest spot yet, a hole, scoured
+out by a current like a mill race.  Turning, he saw, creeping
+rapidly and steadily together over the flat behind him, two lines
+of foam, one from each channel.  His retreat was cut off.
+
+He was in for a wetting, that was sure.  However, there was no help
+for it, so he waded in.  The water filled his boots there, it
+gurgled about his hips, and beyond, as he could see, it seemed to
+grow deeper and deeper.  The current was surprisingly strong; he
+found it difficult to keep his footing in the soft sand.  It looked
+as though he must swim for it, and to swim in that tide would be no
+joke.
+
+Then, from behind him, came a hail.  He turned and saw moving
+toward him through the shallow water now covering the flat beyond
+the next channel, the cart he had seen leave the shore by the
+packet wharf, and, later, on the outer bar.  The horse was jogging
+along, miniature geysers spouting beneath its hoofs.  The driver
+waved to him.
+
+"Hold on, mate," he called.  "Belay there.  Stay where you are.
+I'll be alongside in a shake.  Git dap, January!"
+
+Ellery waded back to meet this welcome arrival.  The horse plunged
+into the next channel, surged through it, and emerged dripping.
+The driver pulled the animal into a walk.
+
+"Say," he cried, "I'm cruisin' your way; better get aboard, hadn't
+you?  There's kind of a heavy dew this mornin'.  Whoa, Bill!"
+
+"Bill" or "January" stopped with apparent willingness.  The driver
+leaned down and extended a hand.  The minister took it and was
+pulled up to the seat.
+
+"Whew!" he panted.  "I'm much obliged to you.  I guess you saved me
+from a ducking, if nothing worse."
+
+"Yes," was the answer, "I wouldn't wonder if I did.  This ain't
+Saturday night and 'twould be against Trumet principles to take a
+bath any other time.  All taut, are you?  Good enough! then we'll
+get under way."  He flapped the reins and added, "G'long, Julius
+Caesar!"
+
+The horse, a sturdy, sedate beast to whom all names seemed to be
+alike, picked up his feet and pounded them down again.  Showers of
+spray flew about the heads of the pair on the seat.
+
+"I ain't so sure about that duckin'," commented the rescuer.  "Hum!
+I guess likely we'll be out of soundin's if we tackle that sink
+hole you was undertakin' to navigate.  Let's try it a little
+further down."
+
+Ellery looked his companion over.
+
+"Well," he observed with a smile, "from what I've heard of you,
+Captain Hammond, I rather guess you could navigate almost any water
+in this locality and in all sorts of weather."
+
+The driver turned in surprise.
+
+"So?" he exclaimed.  "You know me, do you?  That's funny.  I was
+tryin' to locate you, but I ain't been able to.  You ain't a
+Trumetite I'll bet on that."
+
+"Yes, I am."
+
+"Tut! tut! tut! you don't tell me.  Say, shipmate, you hurt my
+pride.  I did think there wa'n't a soul that ever trod sand in this
+village that I couldn't name on sight, and give the port they
+hailed from and the names of their owners.  But you've got me on my
+beam ends.  And yet you knew ME."
+
+"Of course I did.  Everybody knows the man that brought the packet
+home."
+
+Nat Hammond sniffed impatiently.
+
+"Um--hm!" he grunted.  "I cal'late everybody does, and knows a lot
+more about that foolishness than I do myself.  If ever a craft was
+steered by guess and by godfrey, 'twas that old hooker of Zach's
+t'other night.  Well--  Humph! here's another piece of pilotin'
+that bids fair to be a mighty sight harder.  Heave ahead, Hannibal!
+hope you've got your web feet with you."
+
+They had moved along the edge of the flat a short distance and now
+turned into the channel.  The horse was wading above its knees;
+soon the water reached its belly and began to flow into the body of
+the cart.
+
+"Pick up your feet, shipmate," commanded Nat.  "You may get
+rheumatiz if you don't.  This'll be a treat for those sea clams
+back in that bucket amidships.  They'll think I've repented and
+have decided to turn 'em loose again.  They don't know how long
+I've been countin' on a sea-clam pie.  I'll fetch those clams
+ashore if I have to lug 'em with my teeth.  Steady, all hands!
+we're off the ways."
+
+The cart was afloat.  The horse, finding wading more difficult than
+swimming, began to swim.
+
+"Now I'm skipper again, sure enough," remarked Hammond.  "Ain't
+gettin' seasick, are you?"
+
+The minister laughed.
+
+"No," he said.
+
+"Good! she keeps on a fairly even keel, considerin' her build.
+THERE she strikes!  That'll do, January; you needn't try for a
+record voyage.  Walkin's more in your line than playin' steamboat.
+We're over the worst of it now.  Say! you and I didn't head for
+port any too soon, did we?"
+
+"No, I should say not.  I ought to have known better than to wait
+out there so long.  I've been warned about this tide.  I--"
+
+"S-sh-sh!  YOU ought to have known better!  What do you think of
+me?  Born and brought up within sight and smell of this salt puddle
+and let myself in for a scrape like this!  But it was so mighty
+fine off there on the bar I couldn't bear to leave it.  I always
+said that goin' to sea on land would be the ideal way, and now I've
+tried it.  But you took bigger chances than I did.  Are you a good
+swimmer?"
+
+"Not too good.  I hardly know what might have happened if you
+hadn't--"
+
+"S-sh-sh! that's all right.  Always glad to pick up a derelict, may
+be a chance for salvage, you know.  Here's the last channel and
+it's an easy one.  There! now it's plain sailin' for dry ground."
+
+The old horse, breathing heavily from his exertions, trotted over
+the stretch of yet uncovered flats and soon mounted the slope of
+the beach.  The minister prepared to alight.
+
+"Captain Hammond," he said, "you haven't asked me my name."
+
+"No, I seldom do more'n once.  There have been times when I'D just
+as soon cruise without too big letters alongside my figurehead."
+
+"Well, my name is Ellery."
+
+"Hey?  WHAT?  Oh, ho! ho! ho!"
+
+He rocked back and forth on the seat.  The minister's feelings were
+a bit hurt, though he tried not to show it.
+
+"You mustn't mind my laughin'," explained Nat, still chuckling.
+"It ain't at you.  It's just because I was wonderin' what you'd
+look like if I should meet you and now--  Ho! ho!  You see, Mr.
+Ellery, I've heard of you, same as you said you'd heard of me."
+
+Ellery smiled, but not too broadly.
+
+"Yes," he admitted, "I imagined you had."
+
+"Yes, seems to me dad mentioned your name once or twice.  As much
+as that, anyhow.  Wonder what he'd say if he knew his son had been
+takin' you for a mornin' ride?"
+
+"Probably that it would have been much better to have left me where
+you found me."
+
+The captain's jolly face grew serious.
+
+"No, no!" he protested.  "Not so bad as that.  Dad wouldn't drown
+anybody, not even a Regular minister.  He's a pretty square-built
+old craft, even though his spiritual chart may be laid out
+different from yours--and mine."
+
+"From yours?  Why, I supposed--"
+
+"Yes, I know.  Well, WHEN I go to meetin', I generally go to the
+chapel to please father.  But when it comes right down to a
+confession of faith, I'm pretty broad in the beam.  Maybe I'd be
+too broad even for you, Mr. Ellery."
+
+The minister, who had jumped to the ground, looked up.
+
+"Captain Hammond," he said, "I'm very glad indeed that I met you.
+Not alone because you helped me out of a bad scrape; I realize how
+bad it might have been and that--"
+
+"Shsh! shh!  Nothin' at all.  Don't be foolish."
+
+"But I'm glad, too, because I've heard so many good things about
+you that I was sure you must be worth knowing.  I hope you won't
+believe I went to your father's meeting with any--"
+
+"No, no!  Jumpin' Moses, man!  I don't find fault with you for
+that.  I understand, I guess."
+
+"Well, if you don't mind the fact that I am what I am, I'd like to
+shake hands with you."
+
+Nat reached down a big brown hand.
+
+"Same here," he said.  "Always glad to shake with a chap as well
+recommended as you are.  Yes, indeed, I mean it.  You see, you've
+got a friend that's a friend of mine, and when she guarantees a man
+to be A. B., I'll ship him without any more questions."
+
+"Well, then, good-by.  I hope we shall meet again and often.  And I
+certainly thank you for--"
+
+"That's all right.  Maybe you'll fish ME out of the drink some day;
+you never can tell.  So long!  Git dap, Gen'ral Scott!"
+
+He drove off up the beach, but before he turned the corner of the
+nearest dune he called back over his shoulder:
+
+"Say, Mr. Ellery, if you think of it you might give my regards to--
+to--er--the lady that's keepin' house for you."
+
+Breakfast had waited nearly an hour when the minister reached home.
+Keziah, also, was waiting and evidently much relieved at his safe
+arrival.
+
+"Sakes alive!" she exclaimed, as she met him at the back door.
+"Where in the world have you been, Mr. Ellery?  Soakin' wet again,
+too!"
+
+Ellery replied that he had been for a walk out to the bar.  He sat
+down on the step to remove the borrowed boots.  A small rivulet of
+salt water poured from each as he pulled them off.
+
+"For a walk!  A swim, you mean.  How could you get in up to your
+waist if you just walked?  Did you fall down?"
+
+"No, not exactly.  But I waited too long and the tide headed me
+off."
+
+"Mercy on us! you mustn't take chances on that tide.  If you'd told
+me you was goin', I'd have warned you to hurry back."
+
+"Oh, I've been warned often enough.  It was my own fault, as usual.
+I'm not sure that I don't need a guardian."
+
+"Humph! well, I ain't sure either.  Was the channels very deep?"
+
+"Deep enough.  The fact is, that I might have got into serious
+trouble if I hadn't been picked up."
+
+He told briefly the story of his morning's adventure.  The
+housekeeper listened with growing excitement.
+
+"Heavens to Betsy!" she interrupted.  "Was the channel you planned
+to swim the one at the end of the flat by the longest weir leader?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"My soul! there's been two men drowned in that very place at half
+tide.  And they were good swimmers.  After this I shan't dare let
+you out of my sight."
+
+"So?  Was it as risky as that?  Why, Captain Hammond didn't tell me
+so.  I must owe him more even than I thought."
+
+"Yes, I guess you do.  He wouldn't tell you, though; that ain't his
+way.  Deary me! for what we've received let us be thankful.  And
+that reminds me that biscuits ought to be et when they're first
+made, not after they've been dried up on the back of the stove
+forever and ever amen.  Go on and change those wet things of yours
+and then we'll eat.  Tryin' to swim the main channel on the flood!
+My soul and body!"
+
+"Captain Nat sent his regards to you, Mrs. Coffin," said the
+minister, moving toward the stairs.
+
+"Did, hey?" was the housekeeper's reply.  "Want to know!"
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+IN WHICH THE PARSON AND MR. PEPPER DECLARE THEIR INDEPENDENCE
+
+
+That afternoon, when dinner was over, the Reverend John decided to
+make a few duty calls.  The first of these he determined should be
+on the Peppers.  Lavinia and her brother had called at the
+Parsonage several times, but as yet he had not paid them a visit.
+It was not a ceremony to which he looked forward with delight, but
+it must be performed.  Miss Pepper had hinted several times, at
+sewing circle and after prayer meeting, of "partiality" and "only
+stoppin' in where they had fancy curtains up to the windows."  So,
+as it could not be put off longer, without causing trouble, he
+determined to go through with it.
+
+The Pepper house was situated just off the main road on the lane
+leading over the dunes to the ocean and the light.  It was a small
+building, its white paint dingy and storm beaten, and its little
+fenced-in front yard dotted thickly with clumps of silver-leaf
+saplings.  A sign, nailed crookedly on a post, informed those
+seeking such information that within was to be found "Abishai G. W.
+Pepper, Tax Collector, Assessor, Boots and Shoes Repaired."  And
+beneath this was fastened a shingle with the chalked notice, "Salt
+Hay for sale."
+
+The boot and shoe portion of the first sign was a relic of other
+days.  Kyan had been a cobbler once, but it is discouraging to wait
+three or four weeks while the pair of boots one has left to be
+resoled are forgotten in a corner.  Captain Zeb Mayo's pointed
+comment, "I want my shoe leather to wear while I'm alive, not to be
+laid out in after I die of old age," expressed the general feeling
+of the village and explained why custom had left Mr. Pepper and
+flown to the more enterprising shoemaker at "The Corners."  The tax
+collectorship might have followed it, but here Lavinia kept her
+brother up to the mark.  She went with him on his rounds and it
+gave her opportunity to visit, and afterwards comment upon, every
+family in town.
+
+The minister walked up the dusty lane, lifted the Pepper gate and
+swung it back on its one hinge, shooed away the three or four
+languid and discouraged-looking fowls that were taking a sun bath
+on the clam-shell walk, and knocked at the front door.  No one
+coming in answer to the knock, he tried again.  Then he discovered
+a rusty bell pull and gave it a sharp tug.  The knob came off in
+his hand and he hurriedly thrust it back again into its place.
+Evidently, that bell was solely for ornament.
+
+He came to the conclusion that no one was at home and felt a guilty
+sense of relief in consequence.  But his conscience would not let
+him depart without another try, so he clenched his fist and gave
+the cracked door panel a series of tremendous thumps.  A thin black
+cat, which had evidently been asleep beneath the step, burst from
+its concealment and fled in frantic terror.  Then from somewhere in
+the rear of the house came the sound of a human voice.
+
+"Hi!" it called faintly.  "Whoever you be, don't bust that door
+down.  Come round here."
+
+Ellery walked around the corner of the building.  The voice came
+again.
+
+"Say!" it wailed, "why don't you answer?  Be you comin'?  If you're
+a peddler, you needn't."
+
+"I'm not a peddler," was the minister's amused reply.
+
+"Oh, ain't ye?  All right.  Come along, then."
+
+Ellery "came along" as far as the angle where the ell joined the
+main body of the house.  So far as he could see every door and
+window was closed and there were no signs of life.  However, he
+stepped to the door, a green-painted affair of boards, and ventured
+another knock.
+
+"Don't start that poundin' again!" protested the voice.  "Come
+round to t'other side where I be."
+
+So around went the Reverend John, smiling broadly.  But even on
+"t'other side" there was no one to be seen.  And no door, for that
+matter.
+
+"Why!" exclaimed the voice, "if 'tain't Mr. Ellery!  How d'ye do?
+Glad to see you, Mr. Ellery.  Fine day, ain't it?  Here I be at
+this window."
+
+Sure enough; one of the windows on this side of the house was
+raised about six inches at the bottom, the shade was up, and
+peering beneath the sash the minister discerned the expressive
+features of Abishai Pepper--or as much of those features as the
+size of the opening permitted to be seen.
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed the visitor, "is that you, Mr. Pepper?  Well, I'm
+glad to see you, at last.  You are rather hard to see, even now."
+
+Kyan was plainly embarrassed.  He stammered as he answered.
+
+"Yes," he agreed, "I--I shouldn't wonder if I be.  How be you?
+Pretty smart?"
+
+"Yes, thank you.  I'm well."
+
+"Er--er--come to call, did you?"
+
+"Why, yes, that was my intention."
+
+"Hum!  Er--er--Laviny, she's gone over to Thankful Payne's.  She
+heard that Thankful's cousin up to Middleboro had died--passed
+away, I mean--and she thought she'd run over and find out if
+Thankful was willed anything.  She said she'd be back pretty soon."
+
+"Very well.  Then, as she won't be gone long, perhaps I'll come in
+and wait."
+
+He was moving away toward the corner when a shout from beneath the
+window sash brought him to a halt.
+
+"Hi!" called Abishai.  "Hi, Mr. Ellery! don't go to that door.
+'Tain't no use; it's locked."
+
+"Locked?  Well, you can unlock it, can't you?"
+
+"No, not very well.  That is, I--Mr. Ellery, come back here, won't
+ye?  I don't want anybody to hear."
+
+The house of the nearest neighbor being several hundred yards away,
+the likelihood of being overheard was improbable; but the minister
+came back, nevertheless.
+
+"You see, Mr. Ellery," stammered Kyan, "I--I'd like to have you
+come in fust rate, but--er--Laviny she's got the key."
+
+Ellery was surprised.
+
+"She has!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Um--hm, she's got it.  She took it with her."
+
+"But there are other doors.  She didn't take them all, did she?"
+
+"No--o, but--  Well, the fact is, Mr. Ellery, I--I--I'm locked in."
+
+"Locked in?"
+
+"Yes, locked in this room.  She--she--  Oh, consarn it all, Mr.
+Ellery, she's locked me in this room a-purpose, so's I won't get
+out and go somewheres without her knowin' it."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Um--h'm; that's what she's done.  Did you ever hear of anything
+like that in your born days?"
+
+This surprising disclosure was funny enough, but the tone of
+grieved indignation in which Mr. Pepper told of his imprisonment
+was funnier still.  The minister coughed violently and looked the
+other way.
+
+"She done it a-purpose," continued Kyan, in a burst of confidence.
+"She had me put one of them new-fangled spring locks on the door of
+this room t'other day, 'cause she said she was afraid of tramps and
+wanted some place to shut herself up in if one of em come.  And--
+and after dinner to-day she sent me in here for somethin' and then
+slammed the door on me.  Said she cal'lated I'd stay put till she
+got back from Thankful's.  She knew mighty well I couldn't get out
+of the window, 'cause it won't open no further'n 'tis now.  I
+wa'n't never so provoked in my life.  'Tain't no way to treat your
+own brother, lockin' him up like a young one; now, is it?"
+
+Ellery's reply was not made immediately.  He had heard numerous
+stories concerning this odd household, some of which seemed too
+absurd for belief.  But this performance was more ridiculous than
+anything he had heard.
+
+"'Tain't right, is it, Mr. Ellery?" demanded Kyan.
+
+"Why," answered the caller chokingly, "I--I--it is rather unusual,
+that's a fact.  May I ask what you've done to--"
+
+"Done?  I ain't done nothin'.  She's so darned scared some other
+woman'll get my money that--you see, a month or so ago I--I--well,
+she thought I done somethin', or was plannin' to do somethin' that--
+Keziah Coffin never told you anything about me, did she?"
+
+"No, indeed.  What could Mrs. Coffin tell me about you?"
+
+"All right.  Nothin', nothin'.  Only if she did, tain't so.  But I
+ain't goin' to stand it no more, Mr. Ellery.  Bein' shut up in a
+darned old--excuse my swearin', I didn't mean to, though I got
+reason enough, land knows--bein' shut up in a room full of trunks
+and odds and ends is goin' too fur.  I never want to smell old
+clothes ag'in long's I live.  Would you stand it if you was me, Mr.
+Ellery?"
+
+"Why, of course I mustn't interfere in your family matters, Mr.
+Pepper.  Perhaps I'd better call some other time.  Good afternoon."
+
+"Hold on! hold on! you ain't answered me yet.  You're a minister
+and I go to your meetin' house.  Tell me what you'd do if you was
+me.  Would you stand it?"
+
+Ellery laughed aloud.
+
+"No," he said, "I suppose I shouldn't."
+
+"I bet you wouldn't!  What would you do?"
+
+"I don't know.  You're of age, Mr. Pepper, and you must decide for
+yourself.  I think I should declare my independence.  Really, I
+must go.  I--"
+
+"Don't be in such a hurry.  I want advice.  I need it.  And, so
+fur's DECLARIN' goes, that don't do me no good.  She can declare
+more things in a minute than I can think of in a week.  Tongue!  I
+never heard--  No, no!  Never mind the declarin'.  What would you
+DO?  S'posin' you wanted to go outdoor without havin' her tagged to
+your coat tails, how'd you stop the taggin'?"
+
+The absurdity of the affair was too much for the visitor.  He
+roared a "Ha, ha!" that caused Abishai to wave a warning hand
+beneath the sash.
+
+"Ss-h-h! sshh!" he hissed.  "Folks'll hear ye, and I'd be so
+ashamed if they did that I wouldn't dast to show my head.  Can't
+show much of it, anyhow, just now.  By gum! I'll do somethin'
+desperate.  I--I dunno as I won't pizen her.  I--"
+
+"Hush! hush! you mustn't talk that way.  I'm afraid you must be
+very fascinating, Mr. Pepper.  If your sister is so very fearful of
+your meeting other women, it must be because she has good reason to
+fear."
+
+"Stop your foolishness!  Oh!--I--I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery.
+That ain't no way to talk to a minister.  But I'm goin' to go out
+when I want to if I bust a hole through the clapboards.  I AIN'T
+fascinatin'.  You ask any woman--except her--if I be, and see what
+they say.  What'll I DO?"
+
+"Ha, ha! I don't know, I'm sure.  You might lock HER up, I suppose,
+just for a change."
+
+"Hey!"  There was a sound from behind the pane as if the imprisoned
+one had slapped his knee.  "By gum! I never thought of that.  Would
+you now, Mr. Ellery?  Would you?  Sshh! sshh! somebody's comin'.
+Maybe it's her.  Run around to the door, Mr. Ellery, quick.  And
+don't tell her I've seen you, for mercy sakes!  Don't now, will ye?
+Please!  Run!"
+
+The minister did not run, but he walked briskly around the corner.
+Sure enough, Lavinia was there, just unlocking the door.  She
+expressed herself as very glad to see the caller, ushered him into
+the sitting room and disappeared, returning in another moment with
+her brother, whom she unblushingly said had been taking a nap.
+Abishai did not contradict her; instead, he merely looked
+apprehensively at the minister.
+
+The call was a short one.  Lavinia did seven eighths of the talking
+and Ellery the rest.  Kyan was silent.  When the visit was over,
+Miss Pepper escorted her guest to the door and bade him a voluble
+good-by.  Over her shoulder the minister saw Kyan making frantic
+signs to him; he interpreted the signals as a request for secrecy
+concerning the interview by the window.
+
+Several times during the remainder of that week he surprised his
+housekeeper by suddenly laughing aloud when there was, apparently,
+nothing to laugh at.  He explained these outbursts by saying that
+he had thought of something funny.  Keziah suggested that it must
+be mighty funny to make him laugh in the middle of sermon writing.
+
+"I've heard sermons that were funny," she said, "though they wasn't
+intended to be; but what I've heard of yours ain't that kind.  I
+wish you'd let me in on the joke.  I haven't been feelin' like
+laughin' for the last fortni't."
+
+She had been rather grave and preoccupied, for her, of late.
+Bustling and busy she always was, never sitting down to "rest," as
+she called it, without a lap full of sewing.  The minister's
+clothes were mended and his socks darned as they had not been since
+his mother's day.  And with him, at meal times, or after supper in
+the sitting room, she was always cheerful and good-humored.  But he
+had heard her sigh at her work, and once, when she thought herself
+unobserved, he saw her wipe her eyes with her apron.
+
+"No, no," she protested, when he asked if anything had gone wrong.
+"I'm all right.  Got a little cold or somethin', I guess, that's
+all."
+
+She would not give any other explanation and absolutely refused to
+see the doctor.  Ellery did not press the matter.  He believed the
+"cold" to be but an excuse and wondered what the real trouble might
+be.  It seemed to him to date from the evening of his chapel
+experience.
+
+He told no one, not even her, of Kyan's confidential disclosure,
+and, after some speculation as to whether or not there might be a
+sequel, put the whole ludicrous affair out of his mind.  He worked
+hard in his study and at his pastoral duties, and was conscious of
+a pleasant feeling that he was gaining his people's confidence and
+esteem.
+
+A week from the following Sunday he dined in state at the Daniels's
+table.  Captain Elkanah was gracious and condescending.  Annabel
+was more than that.  She was dressed in her newest gown and was so
+very gushing and affable that the minister felt rather embarrassed.
+When, after the meal was over, Captain Elkanah excused himself and
+went upstairs for his Sabbath nap, the embarrassment redoubled.
+Miss Annabel spoke very confidentially of her loneliness, without
+"congenial society," of how VERY much she did enjoy Mr. Ellery's
+intellectual sermons, and especially what a treat it had been to
+have him as a guest.
+
+"You must dine here every Sunday," she said.  "It will be no
+trouble at all, and if you say no, I shall feel that it is because
+you don't want to see me--FATHER and me, of course, I mean."
+
+The minister didn't accept this pressing invitation; on the other
+hand, he could not refuse it absolutely.  He did not like Miss
+Daniels overmuch, but she was the daughter of his leading
+parishioner and she and her parent did seem to like him.  So he
+dodged the issue and said she was very kind.
+
+He left the big house as soon as he could without giving offense,
+and started back toward the parsonage.  But the afternoon was so
+fine and the early summer air so delightful that he changed his
+mind and, jumping the fence at the foot of Cannon Hill, set off
+across the fields toward the bluffs and the bay shore.
+
+The sun was low in the west as he entered the grove of pines on the
+bluff.  The red light between the boughs made brilliant carpet
+patterns on the thick pine needles and the smell was balsamy and
+sweet.  Between the tree trunks he caught glimpses of the flats,
+now partially covered, and they reminded him of his narrow escape
+and of Nat Hammond, his rescuer.  He had met the captain twice
+since then, once at the store and again on the main road, and had
+chatted with him.  He liked him immensely and wished he might count
+him as an intimate friend.  But intimacy between a Regular
+clergyman and the son of the leader of the Come-Outers was out of
+the question.  Partisans on both sides would shriek at the idea.
+
+Thinking of the Hammond family reminded him of another member of
+it.  Not that he needed to be reminded; he had thought of her often
+enough since she ran away from him in the rain that night.  And the
+picture in the doorway was not one that he could forget--or wanted
+to.  If she were not a Come-Outer, he could meet her occasionally
+and they might become friends.  She was a disconcerting young
+person, who lacked proper respect for one of his profession and
+laughed when she shouldn't--but she was interesting, he admitted
+that.
+
+And then he saw her.  She was standing just at the outer edge of
+the grove, leaning against a tree and looking toward the sunset.
+She wore a simple white dress and her hat hung upon her shoulders
+by its ribbons.  The rosy light edged the white gown with pink and
+the fringes of her dark hair were crinkly lines of fire.  Her face
+was grave, almost sad.
+
+John Ellery stood still, with one foot uplifted for a step.  The
+girl looked out over the water and he looked at her.  Then a crow,
+one of several whirling above the pines, spied the intruder and
+screamed a warning.  The minister was startled and stepped back.  A
+dead limb beneath his foot cracked sharply.  Grace turned and saw
+him.
+
+"Oh!" she cried.  "Who is it?"
+
+Ellery emerged from the shadow.
+
+"Don't be frightened, Miss Van Horne," he said.  "It is--er--I."
+
+This statement was neither brilliant nor original; even as an
+identification it lacked considerable.
+
+"I?" repeated the girl.  "Who?  Oh!  Why--"
+
+The minister came forward.
+
+"Good afternoon, Miss Van Horne," he stammered.  "I'm afraid I
+frightened you."
+
+She was looking at him with a queer expression, almost as if she
+scarcely believed him real.
+
+"I hope--" he began again.  She interrupted him.
+
+"No," she said confusedly, "you didn't frighten me.  I was a little
+startled when I saw you there behind me.  It seemed so odd, because
+I was just thinking--  No, I wasn't frightened.  What is there to
+be frightened of--in Trumet?"
+
+He had extended his hand, but partially withdrew it, not sure how
+even such a perfunctory act of friendliness might be received.  She
+saved him embarrassment by frankly offering her own.
+
+"Not much, that's a fact," he said, in answer to her question.  He
+would have liked to ask what she had been thinking that made his
+sudden appearance seem so odd.
+
+"You came to see the sunset, I suppose?" she said hurriedly, as if
+to head off a question.  "So did I.  It is a beautiful evening for
+a walk, isn't it?"
+
+She had said precisely the same thing on that other evening, when
+they stood in the middle of "Hammond's Turn-off" in the driving
+rain.  He remembered it, and so, evidently, did she, for she
+colored slightly and smiled.
+
+"I mean it this time," she said.  "I'm glad you didn't get cold
+from your wetting the other day."
+
+"Oh! I wasn't very wet.  You wouldn't let me lend you the umbrella,
+so I had that to protect me on the way home."
+
+"Not then; I meant the other morning when Nat--Cap'n Hammond--met
+you out on the flats.  He said you were wading the main channel and
+it was over your boots."
+
+"Over my boots!  Is that all he said?  Over my head would be the
+plain truth.  To cross it I should have had to swim and, if what
+I've heard since is true, I doubt if I could swim that channel.
+Captain Hammond helped me out of a bad scrape."
+
+"Oh, no!  I guess not.  He said you were cruising without a pilot
+and he towed you into port; that's the way he expressed it."
+
+"It was worse than that, a good deal worse.  It might have been my
+last cruise.  I'm pretty certain that I owe the captain my life."
+
+She looked at him uncomprehendingly.
+
+"Your life?" she repeated.
+
+"I believe it.  That part of the channel I proposed swimming was
+exactly where two men have been drowned, so people say.  I'm not a
+very strong swimmer, and they were.  So, you see."
+
+Grace cried out in astonishment.
+
+"Oh!" she exclaimed.  Then pointing toward the bay, she asked: "Out
+there, by the end of that leader, was it?"
+
+"Yes, that was it."
+
+She drew a long breath.  Then, after a moment:
+
+"And Nat spoke as if it was all a joke," she said.
+
+"No doubt he did.  From what I hear of your brother, he generally
+refers to his own plucky, capable actions as jokes.  Other people
+call them something else."
+
+She did not answer, but continued to gaze at the half-submerged
+"leader," with the pine bough tied at its landward end to mark the
+edge of deep water, and the tide foaming through its lath gratings.
+
+"Your brother--" went on the minister.
+
+"He isn't my brother," she interrupted absently.  "I wish he was."
+
+She sighed as she uttered the last sentence.
+
+"No, of course he isn't your real brother; I forgot.  But he must
+seem like one."
+
+"Yes," rather doubtfully.
+
+"You must be proud of him."
+
+"I am."  There was nothing doubtful this time.
+
+"Well, he saved me from drowning.  I'm almost certain of that."
+
+"I'm so glad."
+
+She seemed to mean it.  He looked at her.
+
+"Thank you," he said drily.  "I'm rather glad myself."
+
+"Oh! I didn't mean it exactly that way.  Of course I'm glad you
+weren't drowned, but I'm especially glad that--that one of our
+family saved you.  Now you won't believe that Come-Outers are all
+bad."
+
+"I never believed it."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Oh, yes, you did," she affirmed stubbornly.  "You've heard nothing
+good of us since you came here.  Don't tell fibs, Mr. Ellery."
+
+"But I assure you--"
+
+"Nonsense!  Does--well, does Cap'n Daniels, or his daughter, say
+anything good of us?  Be honest, do they?"
+
+"I hardly think--that is, I shouldn't call their opinions
+unprejudiced.  And, Miss Van Horne, perhaps the prejudice isn't all
+on one side.  What did your uncle say about Cap'n Nat's meeting me
+the other day?"
+
+"Uncle Eben doesn't know.  Nat didn't tell anyone but me.  He
+doesn't boast.  And uncle would be glad he helped you.  As I told
+you before, Mr. Ellery, I'm not ashamed of my uncle.  He has been
+so good to me that I never can repay him, never!  When my own
+father was drowned he took me in, a little orphan that would
+probably have been sent to a home, and no father could be kinder or
+more indulgent than he has been.  Anything I asked for I got, and
+at last I learned not to ask for too much.  No self-denial on his
+part was too great, if he could please me.  When he needed money
+most he said nothing to me, but insisted that I should be educated.
+I didn't know until afterwards of the self-sacrifice my four years
+at the Middleboro Academy meant to him."
+
+The minister had listened eagerly to this defense of the man whom
+he had been led to consider his arch enemy.  It was given with
+spirit and the girl's head was uplifted and her eyes flashed as she
+spoke.  Ellery's next remark was uttered without premeditation.
+Really, he was thinking aloud.
+
+"So you went away to school?" he mused.  "That is why--"
+
+"That is why I don't say 'never done nothin'' and 'be you' and
+'hain't neither.'  Yes, thank you, that's why.  I don't wonder you
+were surprised."
+
+The young man blushed.
+
+"You misunderstand me," he protested.  "I didn't mean--"
+
+"Oh! yes, you did.  Not precisely that, perhaps, but pretty near
+it.  I suppose you expected me to speak like Josiah Badger or Kyan
+Pepper.  I try not to.  And I try not to say 'immejitly,' too," she
+added, with a mischievous twinkle.
+
+Ellery recognized the "immejitly" quotation and laughed.
+
+"I never heard but one person say that," he observed.  "And he
+isn't a Come-Outer."
+
+"No, he isn't.  Well, this lesson in English can't be very
+interesting to you, Mr. Ellery, and I must go.  But I'm very glad
+Nat helped you the other day and that you realize the sort of man
+he is.  And I'm glad I have had the opportunity to tell you more
+about Uncle Eben.  I owe him so much that I ought to be glad--yes,
+glad and proud and happy, too, to gratify his least wish.  I must!
+I know I must, no matter how I--  What am I talking about?  Yes,
+Mr. Ellery, I'm glad if I have helped you to understand my uncle
+better and why I love and respect him.  If you knew him as I do,
+you would respect him, too.  Good-by."
+
+She was going, but the minister had something to say.  He stepped
+forward and walked beside her.
+
+"Just a minute, please," he urged.  "Miss Van Horne, I do
+understand.  I do respect your uncle.  We have a mutual friend, you
+and I, and through her I have come to understand many things."
+
+Grace turned and looked at him.
+
+"A mutual friend?" she repeated.  "Oh! I know.  Mrs. Coffin?"
+
+"Yes; Mrs. Coffin.  She's a good woman and a wise one."
+
+"She's a dear!  Do you like her, too?"
+
+"Indeed, I do."
+
+"Has she told you about me--about uncle, I mean?"
+
+"Yes.  Why, she told me--"
+
+He began to enumerate some of the things Keziah had told concerning
+the Hammond family.  They were all good things, and he couldn't
+help seeing that the recital pleased her.  So he went on to tell
+how his housekeeper had helped him, of her advice, of her many acts
+of kindness, of what he owed to her.  The girl listened eagerly,
+asking questions, nodding confirmation, and, in her delight at
+hearing Keziah praised, quite forgetting her previous eagerness to
+end the interview.  And, as he talked, he looked at her, at the red
+light on her hair, the shine of her eyes, like phosphorus in the
+curl of a wave at night, at her long lashes, and--
+
+"Yes," said Miss Van Horne, "you were saying--"
+
+The minister awoke with a guilty start.  He realized that his
+sentence had broken off in the middle.
+
+"Why! why--er--yes," he stammered.  "I was saying that--that I
+don't know what I should have done without Mrs. Coffin.  She's a
+treasure.  Frankly, she is the only real friend I have found in
+Trumet."
+
+"I know.  I feel the same way about her.  She means so much to me.
+I love her more than anyone else in the world, except uncle, of
+course--and Nat.  I miss her very much since--since--"
+
+"Since I came, you mean.  I'm sorry.  I wish--  I hate to think I
+am the cause which separates you two.  It isn't my fault, as you
+know."
+
+"Oh! I know that."
+
+"Yes, and I object to having others choose my friends for me,
+people who, because of a fanatical prejudice, stand in the way of--
+If it wasn't for that, you might call and see Mrs. Coffin, just as
+you used to do."
+
+Grace shook her head.  They had moved on to the bend of the bluff,
+beyond the fringe of pines, and were now standing at the very edge
+of the high bank.
+
+"If it wasn't for that, you would come," asserted the minister.
+
+"Yes, I suppose so.  I should like to come.  I miss my talks with
+Aunt Keziah more than you can imagine--now especially.  But,
+somehow, what we want to do most seems to be what we mustn't, and
+what we don't like is our duty."
+
+She said this without looking at him, and the expression on her
+face was the same sad, grave one he had noticed when he first saw
+her standing alone by the pine.
+
+"Why don't you come?" he persisted.
+
+"I can't, of course.  You know I can't."
+
+"Why not?  If my company is objectionable I can go away when you
+come.  If you dislike me I--"
+
+"You know I don't dislike you personally."
+
+"I'm awfully glad of that."
+
+"But it's impossible.  Uncle respects and is fond of Aunt Keziah,
+but he wouldn't hear of my visiting the parsonage."
+
+"But don't you think your uncle might be persuaded?  I'm sure he
+misunderstands me, just as I should him if it weren't for Mrs.
+Coffin--and what you've said.  Don't you think if I called on him
+and he knew me better it might help matters?  I'll do it gladly.  I
+will!"
+
+"No, no.  He wouldn't listen.  And think of your own congregation."
+
+"Confound my congregation!"
+
+"Why, Mr. Ellery!"
+
+She looked at him in amazement; then her lips began to curl.
+
+"Why, Mr. Ellery!" she repeated.
+
+The minister turned very red and drew his hand across his forehead.
+
+"I--I don't mean that exactly," he stammered.  "But I'm not a
+child.  I have the right to exercise a man's discretion.  My parish
+committee must understand that.  They shall!  If I choose to see
+you--  Look out!"
+
+She was close to the overhanging edge of the bluff and the sod upon
+which she stood was bending beneath her feet.  He sprang forward,
+caught her about the waist, and pulled her back.  The sod broke and
+rattled down the sandy slope.  She would have had a slight tumble,
+nothing worse, had she gone with it.  There was no danger; and yet
+the minister was very white as he released her.
+
+She, too, was pale for a moment, and then crimson.
+
+"Thank you," she gasped.  "I--I must go.  It is late.  I didn't
+realize how late it was.  I--I must go."
+
+He did not answer, though he tried to.
+
+"I must go," she said hurriedly, speaking at random.  "Good
+afternoon.  Good-by.  I hope you will enjoy your walk."
+
+"I have enjoyed it."  His answer was unstudied but emphatic.  She
+recognized the emphasis.
+
+"Will you come to see Mrs. Coffin?" he asked.
+
+"No, no.  You know I can't.  Good-by.  The sunset is beautiful,
+isn't it?"
+
+"Beautiful, indeed."
+
+"Yes.  I--I think the sunsets from this point are the finest I have
+ever seen.  I come here every Sunday afternoon to see them."
+
+This remark was given merely to cover embarrassment, but it had an
+unexpected effect.
+
+"You DO?" cried the minister.  The next moment he was alone.  Grace
+Van Horne had vanished in the gloom of the pine thickets.
+
+It was a strange John Ellery who walked slowly back along the path,
+one that Keziah herself would not have recognized, to say nothing
+of Captain Elkanah and the parish committee.  The dignified parson,
+with the dignified walk and calm, untroubled brow, was gone, and
+here was an absent-minded young fellow who stumbled blindly along,
+tripping over roots and dead limbs, and caring nothing, apparently,
+for the damage to his Sunday boots and trousers which might result
+from the stumbles.  He saw nothing real, and heard nothing, not
+even the excited person who, hidden behind the bayberry bush,
+hailed him as he passed.  It was not until this person rushed forth
+and seized him by the arm that he came back to the unimportant
+affairs of this material earth.
+
+"Why!  Why, Mr. Pepper!" he gasped.  "Are you here?  What do you
+want?"
+
+"Am I here?" panted Kyan.  "Ain't I been here for the last twenty
+minutes waitin' to get a chance at you?  Ain't I been chasin' you
+from Dan to Beersheby all this dummed--excuse me--afternoon?  Oh,
+my godfreys mighty!"
+
+"Why, what's the matter?"
+
+"Matter?  Matter enough!  It's all your fault.  You got me into the
+mess, now you git me out of it."
+
+Usually, when Abishai addressed his clergyman, it was in a tone of
+humble respect far different from his present frantic assault.  The
+Reverend John was astounded.
+
+"What IS the trouble, Mr. Pepper?" he demanded.  "Behave yourself,
+man.  What IS it?"
+
+"You--you made me do it," gurgled Kyan.  "Yes, sir, 'twas you put
+me up to it.  When you was at our house t'other day, after Laviny
+locked me up, you told me the way to get square was to lock her up,
+too.  And I done it!  Yes, sir, I done it when she got back from
+meetin' this noon.  I run off and left her locked in.  And--and"--
+he wailed, wringing his hands--"I--I ain't dast to go home sence.
+WHAT'll I do?"
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT
+
+
+The hysterical Mr. Pepper doubtless expected his clergyman to be
+almost as much upset as he was by the news of his action.  But John
+Ellery was provokingly calm.  As a matter of fact he scarcely
+grasped the purport of the little man's disjointed story.  He had
+been wandering in dreamland, his head among the clouds, and the
+explosion of Keziah's bomb disturbed, but did not clear the air.
+
+"What will you do?" he repeated.  "Why--er--I don't know, I'm
+sure."
+
+Kyan was staggered.
+
+"You don't know?" he shouted.  "YOU don't?  Then who does, for the
+land sakes?  Didn't you tell me to lock her up?  Didn't I do it
+'CAUSE you told me?  Didn't--didn't--"
+
+He seemed to be on the verge of apoplexy.  Also he had raised his
+voice to a yell.  The minister seized him by the arm and shook him
+into silence.
+
+"Hush! hush!" he commanded.  "Wait a minute.  Let me understand
+this thing.  Some one is locked up, you say.  Who is it?  Where--"
+
+"WHO is it?  Ain't I tellin' you.  It's Laviny.  She went into that
+spare room where I was t'other day and I slammed the spring lock to
+on her.  Then I grabbed the key and run.  That was afore three this
+afternoon; now it's 'most night and I ain't dast to go home.
+What'll she say when I let her out?  I got to let her out, ain't I?
+She can't starve to death in there, can she?  And YOU told me to do
+it!  YOU did!  Oh--"
+
+The apoplectic attack was once more imminent.
+
+"Stop it, Mr. Pepper," ordered Ellery.  "I don't remember telling
+you to lock your sister up, though--  Why, yes, I may have said
+something or other, as a joke, but I didn't expect you would
+seriously consider doing such a thing.  Ha, ha!  This is the most
+idiotic piece of business that I ever--"
+
+"Be you laughin'?" demanded the shocked Abishai.  "LAUGHIN'?  Why,
+my godfreys mighty!  Idiotic?  Well, who's the idiot?  'Tain't me!
+I'D never have thought of such a fool trick.  But you said--"
+
+"Hush! Let me think.  Have you told anybody?"
+
+"TOLD anybody!  I guess NOT.  And nobody'll never know if they wait
+for me to tell 'em."
+
+"Well, then, I don't see why you can't go home and--hum--I don't
+like to advise your telling a lie, but you might let her infer that
+it was an accident.  OR, if you really mean to be your own master,
+you can tell her you did it purposely and will do it again if she
+ever tries the trick on you."
+
+"I tell her that!  I tell her!  O Mr. Ellery, DON'T talk so.  You
+don't know Laviny; she ain't like most women.  If I should tell her
+that she'd--I don't know's she wouldn't take and horsewhip me.  Or
+commit suicide.  She's said she would afore now if--if--"
+
+"Nonsense!  She won't do that, you needn't worry."  He burst into
+another laugh, but checked himself, as he saw the look of absolute
+distress on poor Kyan's face.
+
+"Never mind, Mr. Pepper," he said.  "We'll think of some plan to
+smooth matters over.  I'll go home with you now and we'll let her
+out together."
+
+"Will you, Mr. Ellery?  Will you, honest?  Say, by godfreys mighty,
+I'd get down on my knees and thank you this minute if--if I wa'n't
+in such a hurry.  Come right on; come quick!"
+
+It was a silent procession of two that wended its way out of the
+pines and across the fields, by the brook and the pond, where the
+evening mists were rising and the frogs chanting their good-night
+song, through the gathering twilight shades, across the main road
+and up the lighthouse lane.  Kyan, his mind filled with fearful
+forebodings, was busily trying to think of a reasonable excuse for
+the "accidental" imprisonment of his sister.  John Ellery was
+thinking, also, but his thoughts were not of the Peppers.
+
+The little house was dark and still as they approached it.  No
+welcoming light in the dining-room windows, no open door, no shrill
+voice demanding to know where the wandering brother had been "all
+this everlastin' time."  Even the hens had gone to roost.  Abishai
+groaned.
+
+"Oh, dear!" he wailed.  "I'm scart to death.  Where is she?  You
+don't cal'late she's done it, do ye?"
+
+"Done it?  Done what?"
+
+"Done the suicidin'.  She said she would if--  O Laviny!"
+
+"Hush!  Be quiet.  She's all right.  She's in the room where you
+left her, of course.  She couldn't get out, could she?  You've got
+the key.  Come in."
+
+They entered the house.  The dining room was dark and quiet.  So
+was the sitting room.  The clock ticked, solemn and slow.  Kyan
+clutched at his companion's arm.
+
+"I don't hear her," he whispered.  "You don't s'pose she HAS done
+it?  Godfreys mighty!"
+
+The gloom and mystery were having their effect, even on Mr.
+Ellery's nerves.  His answer also was given in a tense whisper, but
+with some irritation.
+
+"Hush!" he murmured.  "Let go of my wrist.  You've pinched it black
+and blue.  Which room did you leave her in?  Show me at once."
+
+Kyan's trembling knees managed to carry him to the little hall
+leading from the sitting room toward the ell at the side of the
+house.  This hall was almost pitch black.  The minister felt his
+guide's chin whisker brush his ear as the following sentence was
+literally breathed into it:
+
+"Here--here 'tis," panted Kyan.  "Here's the door.  I don't hear
+nothin', do you?  Listen!"
+
+They listened.  Not a sound, save the dismal tick of the clock in
+the room they had left.  Ellery knocked on the door.
+
+"Miss Pepper," he said; "Miss Pepper, are you there?"
+
+Kyan caught his breath.  No answer.
+
+"Miss Pepper," repeated the minister.  "Miss Pepper!"
+
+Silence, absolute.  Abishai could stand it no longer.  He groaned
+and collapsed on his knees.
+
+"She has!" he moaned.  "She's done it and there ain't nothin' in
+there but her remains.  Oh, my soul!"
+
+Ellery, now rather frightened himself, shook him violently.
+
+"Be quiet, you idiot!" he commanded.  "We must go in.  Give me the
+key."
+
+After repeated orders and accompanying shakings, Kyan produced a
+key.  The minister snatched it from his trembling fingers, felt for
+the keyhole and threw the door open.  The little room was almost as
+dark as the hall and quite as still.  There was a distinct smell of
+old clothes and camphor.
+
+"A match," demanded Ellery.  "Quick!"
+
+"I ain't got none," quavered Mr. Pepper.  "They're all in the box
+in the settin' room.  Oh, my godfreys mighty!  What'll I do?  What
+undertaker'll I have?  Solon Tripp's the reg'lar one, but Laviny
+and he had a row and she said she'd come back and ha'nt me if I
+ever let him touch her rema--  Where you goin'?  DON'T LEAVE ME
+HERE!"
+
+The minister was going after a match, and said so.  In a moment he
+returned with several.  One of these he lit.  The brimstone
+sputtered, burned blue and fragrant, then burst into a yellow
+flame.
+
+The little room was empty.
+
+John Ellery drew a breath of relief.  Then he laughed.
+
+"Humph!" he exclaimed.  "She's gone."
+
+"GONE?  Why, she ain't nuther!  Where could she go?"
+
+"I don't know, but she has gone--somewhere.  At any rate, she's not
+here."
+
+Kyan rose to his feet.  His alarm had changed to paralyzed
+astonishment.
+
+"How could she go?" he repeated.  "That window won't open more'n
+six inches.  Laviny ain't what you'd call fleshy, but she never
+could squeeze through that in this world.  And I locked the door,
+'cause I heard the click.  I--I--I--do you b'lieve in spirits, Mr.
+Ellery?"
+
+"Nonsense!  Come into the sitting room, light a lamp, and let's
+talk it over."
+
+The lamp was found and lighted at last.  Its radiance brightened
+the dingy sitting room.
+
+"Do you b'lieve in spirits?" repeated Kyan.  "I've heard yarns
+about folks bein' spirited away, but I never took much stock in
+'em.  "And," he added with conviction, "'twould take a pretty husky
+spirit to handle Laviny if she had her mad up.  She--  Hush! hear
+that!"
+
+The sound of wheels was heard in the lane by the front gate.  A
+vehicle stopped.  Then some one called a hurried good night.  Mr.
+Pepper's fear returned.
+
+"It's her!" he cried.  "She's been ahuntin' for me.  NOW I'll get
+it!  You stand by me, Mr. Ellery.  You got to.  You said you would.
+But how on earth did she get--"
+
+The minister motioned him to silence.
+
+"I'll stand by you," he whispered.  "Don't speak.  Leave it to me."
+
+A step sounded on the back step.  The dining-room door was
+hurriedly thrown open.
+
+"'Bishy," called Miss Pepper eagerly.  "'Bish, where are you?"
+
+"Here--here I be, Laviny," faltered Kyan.
+
+His sister appeared on the threshold.  She was dressed in her
+Sunday best, flowered poke bonnet, mitts, imitation India shawl,
+rustling black bombazine gown.  She looked at Mr. Pepper then at
+the minister.
+
+"O Mr. Ellery!" she exclaimed, "be you here?"
+
+The Reverend John admitted his presence.  Miss Pepper's demeanor
+surprised him.  She did not seem angry; indeed, she acted
+embarrassed and confused, as if she, and not her brother, were the
+guilty party.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm awful late, 'Bishy," she said.  "Have you had your
+supper?"
+
+Kyan was too perturbed to venture a reply.  The sword above his
+head was quivering on its single hair and he was preparing to dodge
+the fall.  But it did not fall.
+
+"You haven't had any supper, have you?" purred Miss Pepper
+pityingly.  "It's too bad.  You poor thing! you must be awful
+hungry."
+
+She moved across the room and kissed him.  Abishai, who had
+prepared himself for a different sort of greeting, clutched his
+chair with both hands.  He looked as if he might faint.  The
+minister gazed open-mouthed.
+
+"I'm awful sorry, Mr. Ellery," gushed Lavinia, removing the bonnet.
+"You see, I was invited out to ride this afternoon and--and--I
+went."
+
+She glanced at her brother, reddened--yes, almost blushed--and
+continued.
+
+"You know, 'Bishy," she said "Thankful Payne's cousin's home
+avisitin' her.  He come about that cousin's will--the other cousin
+that's just died.  He's a reel nice man--her live cousin is--keeps
+a shoe store up to Sandwich, and I used to know him years ago.
+When I was over to Thankful's t'other day, him and me had quite a
+talk.  We got speakin' of what nice drives there was around Trumet
+and--and--er--well, he asked me if I wouldn't like to go to ride
+next Sunday afternoon--that's to-day.  And a ride bein' a good deal
+of a treat to me, I said I would.  Thankful was goin', too, but--
+er--er--she couldn't very well.  So Caleb--that's his name, you
+remember, 'Bishy--he come round with his horse and team about ha'f
+past three and we started.  But I'd no IDEE 'twas so late.  I--I--
+meant to tell you I was goin', 'Bish, but I forgot."
+
+Kyan had listened to this recital, or explanation, or apology, with
+a curious succession of expressions passing over his face.  He
+swallowed two or three times, but did not interrupt.
+
+"I'm so sorry I kept you waitin' supper," gushed Lavinia.  "I'll
+get you a good one now.  Oh, well, deary me!  I must be gettin'
+absent-minded.  I ain't asked you where you've been all the
+afternoon."
+
+Abishai's eyes turned beseechingly toward his promised backer.
+Ellery could not resist that mute appeal.
+
+"Your brother has been with me for some time, Miss Pepper," he
+volunteered.
+
+"Oh, has he?  Ain't that nice!  He couldn't have been in better
+comp'ny, I'm sure.  But oh, say, 'Bishy!  I ain't told you how nigh
+I come to not gettin' out at all.  Just afore Mr. Payne come, I was
+in that spare room and--you remember I put a spring lock on that
+door?"
+
+It was here at last.  The long-dreaded explosion was imminent.
+Kyan's chin shook.  He braced himself for the blow.  The minister
+prepared to come to the rescue.
+
+"Yes," went on Lavinia.  "I--I put a lock on that door so's I--I
+could shut the room up when I wanted to.  Well, when I was in there
+this afternoon the wind blew the door shut and--  Hey?"
+
+"I--I never said nothin'," panted Kyan.
+
+"Yes, it blew to, the lock clicked, and there I was.  If I hadn't
+had the other key in my pocket I don't know's I wouldn't have been
+in there yet.  That would have been a pretty mess, wouldn't it!
+He! he! he!"
+
+She laughed shrilly.  The minister looked at her, then at her
+brother, and he, too, burst into a shout of laughter.  Kyan did not
+laugh; yet his grip upon the chair relaxed, and over his
+countenance was spreading a look of relief, of hope and peace, like
+a clear sunrise after a stormy night.
+
+"Well, I must go and get supper," declared Lavinia.  "You'll
+forgive me for leavin' you so, won't you, 'Bishy?"
+
+Mr. Pepper sighed.
+
+"Yes," he said slowly.  "I'll forgive you, Laviny."
+
+"I knew you would.  I hope you ain't been too lonesome.  Did you
+miss me?  Was you worried?"
+
+"Hey?  Yes, I--I missed you consider'ble.  I WAS gettin' sort of
+worried.  I didn't s'pose you'd go off to ride with--with a feller
+and leave me all alone.  But I forgive you."  He stopped, drew his
+hand across his forehead, and then added, "I s'pose I hadn't ought
+to complain.  Maybe I'd better get used to it; I guess likely this
+is only the beginnin'."
+
+Lavinia blushed furiously.
+
+"Why, 'Bish!" she exclaimed.  "How you do talk!  Ain't he awful,
+Mr. Ellery?"
+
+The Reverend John did not answer.  He could not trust himself to
+speak just then.  When he did it was to announce that he must be
+getting toward home.  No, he couldn't stay for supper.
+
+Miss Pepper went into the kitchen, and Abishai saw the visitor to
+the door.  Ellery extended his hand and Kyan shook it with
+enthusiasm.
+
+"Wa'n't it fine?" he whispered.  "Talk about your miracles!
+Godfreys mighty!  Say, Mr. Ellery, don't you ever tell a soul how
+it really was, will you?"
+
+"No, of course not."
+
+"No, I know you won't.  You won't tell on me and I won't tell on
+you.  That's a trade, hey?"
+
+The minister stopped in the middle of his step.
+
+"What?" he said, turning.
+
+Mr. Pepper merely smiled, winked, and shut the door.  John Ellery
+reflected much during his homeward walk.
+
+
+The summer in Trumet drowsed on, as Trumet summers did in those
+days, when there were no boarders from the city, no automobiles or
+telephones or "antique" collectors.  In June the Sunday school had
+its annual picnic.  On the morning of the Fourth of July some
+desperate spirits among the younger set climbed in at the church
+window and rang the bell, in spite of the warning threats of the
+selectmen, who had gone on record as prepared to prosecute all
+disturbers of the peace to the "full extent of the law."  One of
+the leading citizens, his name was Daniels, awoke to find the
+sleigh, which had been stored in his carriage house, hoisted to the
+roof of his barn, and a section of his front fence tastefully
+draped about it like a garland.  The widow Rogers noticed groups of
+people looking up at her house and laughing.  Coming out to see
+what they were laughing at, she was provoked beyond measure to find
+a sign over the front door, announcing "Man Wanted Imediate.
+inquire Within."  The door of the Come-Outer chapel was nailed fast
+and Captain Zeb Mayo's old white horse wandered loose along the
+main road ringed with painted black stripes like a zebra.  Captain
+Zeb was an angry man, for he venerated that horse.
+
+The storm caused by these outbreaks subsided and Trumet settled
+into its jog trot.  The stages rattled through daily, the packet
+came and went every little while, occasionally a captain returned
+home from a long voyage, and another left for one equally long.
+Old Mrs. Prince, up at the west end of the town, was very anxious
+concerning her son, whose ship was overdue at Calcutta and had not
+been heard from.  The minister went often to see her and tried to
+console, but what consolation is there when one's only child and
+sole support is nobody knows where, drowned and dead perhaps,
+perhaps a castaway on a desert island, or adrift with a desperate
+crew in an open boat?  And Mrs. Prince would say, over and over
+again:
+
+"Yes, yes, Mr. Ellery.  Thank you.  I'm sure you mean to encourage
+me, but oh, you don't know the things that happen to seafarin' men.
+I do.  I went to sea with my husband for fourteen year.  He died on
+a voyage and they buried him over the vessel's side.  I can't even
+go to his grave.  The sea got him, and now if it's taken my Eddie--"
+
+The young clergyman came away from these calls feeling very young,
+indeed, and woefully inadequate.  What DID he know of the great
+sorrows of life?
+
+The Sunday dinners with the Daniels family were almost regular
+weekly functions now.  He dodged them when he could, but he could
+not do so often without telling an absolute lie, and this he would
+not do.  And, regularly, when the solemn meal was eaten, Captain
+Elkanah went upstairs for his nap and the Reverend John was left
+alone with Annabel.  Miss Daniels did her best to be entertaining,
+was, in fact, embarrassingly confidential and cordial.  It was hard
+work to get away, and yet, somehow or other, at the stroke of four,
+the minister always said good-by and took his departure.
+
+"What is your hurry, Mr. Ellery?" begged Annabel on one occasion
+when the reading of Moore's poems had been interrupted in the
+middle by the guest's sudden rising and reaching for his hat.  "I
+don't see why you always go so early.  It's so every time you're
+here.  Do you call at any other house on Sunday afternoons?"
+
+"No," was the prompt reply.  "Oh, no."
+
+"Then why can't you stay?  You know I--that is, pa and I--would
+LOVE to have you."
+
+"Thank you.  Thank you.  You're very kind.  But I really must go.
+Good afternoon, Miss Daniels."
+
+"Mrs. Rogers said she saw you going across the fields after you
+left here last Sunday.  Did you go for a walk?"
+
+"Er--er--yes, I did."
+
+"I wish you had mentioned it.  I love to walk, and there are SO few
+people that I find congenial company.  Are you going for a walk
+now?"
+
+"Why, no--er--not exactly."
+
+"I'm sorry.  GOOD-by.  Will you come again next Sunday?  Of COURSE
+you will.  You know how dreadfully disappointed I--we--shall be if
+you don't."
+
+"Thank you, Miss Daniels.  I enjoyed the dinner very much.  Good
+afternoon."
+
+He hurried down the path.  Annabel watched him go.  Then she did an
+odd thing.  She passed through the sitting room, entered the front
+hall, went up the stairs, tiptoed by the door of her father's room,
+and then up another flight to the attic.  From here a steep set of
+steps led to the cupola on the roof.  In that cupola was a
+spyglass.
+
+Annabel opened a window a few inches, took the spyglass from its
+rack, adjusted it, laid it on the sill of the open window and
+knelt, the glass at her eye.  The floor of the cupola was very
+dusty and she was wearing her newest and best gown, but she did not
+seem to mind.
+
+Through the glass she saw the long slope of Cannon Hill, with the
+beacon at the top and Captain Mayo's house near it.  The main road
+was deserted save for one figure, that of her late caller.  He was
+mounting the hill in long strides.
+
+She watched him gain the crest and pass over it out of sight.  Then
+she shifted the glass so that it pointed toward the spot beyond the
+curve of the hill, where the top of a thick group of silver-leafs
+hid the parsonage.  Above the tree tops glistened the white steeple
+of the Regular church.  If the minister went straight home she
+could not see him.  But under those silver-leafs was the beginning
+of the short cut across the fields where Didama had seen Mr. Ellery
+walking on the previous Sunday.
+
+So Annabel watched and waited.  Five minutes, then ten.  He must
+have reached the clump of trees before this, yet she could not see
+him.  Evidently, he had gone straight home.  She drew a breath of
+relief.
+
+Then, being in a happier frame of mind, and the afternoon clear and
+beautiful, she moved the glass along the horizon, watching the
+distant white specks across the bay on the Wellmouth bluffs--houses
+and buildings they were--the water, the shore, the fish weirs, the
+pine groves.  She became interested in a sloop, beating into
+Wellmouth harbor, and watched that.  After a time she heard, in the
+house below, her father shouting her name.
+
+She gave the glass one more comprehensive sweep preparatory to
+closing it and going downstairs.  As she did this a moving speck
+came into view and vanished.
+
+Slowly she moved the big end of the spyglass back along the arc it
+had traveled.  She found the speck and watched it.  It was a man,
+striding across the meadow land, a half mile beyond the parsonage,
+and hurrying in the direction of the beach.  She saw him climb a
+high dune, jump a fence, cross another field and finally vanish in
+the grove of pines on the edge of the bluff by the shore.
+
+The man was John Ellery, the minister.  Evidently, he had not gone
+home, nor had he taken the short cut.  Instead he had walked
+downtown a long way and THEN turned in to cross the fields and work
+his way back.
+
+Annabel put down the glass and, heedless of her father's calls, sat
+thinking.  The minister had deliberately deceived her.  More than
+that, he had gone to considerable trouble to avoid observation.
+Why had he done it?  Had he done the same thing on other Sunday
+afternoons?  Was there any real reason why he insisted on leaving
+the house regularly at four o'clock?
+
+Annabel did not know.  Her eyes snapped and her sharp features
+looked sharper yet as she descended the steps to the attic.  She
+did not know; but she intended to find out.
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+IN WHICH KEZIAH'S TROUBLES MULTIPLY
+
+
+Keziah was getting worried about her parson.  Not concerning his
+popularity with his congregation.  She had long since ceased to
+worry about that.  The young minister's place in his people's
+regard was now assured, the attendance was increasing, and the
+Regular church was now on a firmer footing, financially and
+socially, than it had been in years.  Even Mrs. Rogers and Lavinia
+Pepper had ceased to criticise, except as pertained to unimportant
+incidentals, and were now among the loudest of the praise chanters.
+And as Captain Zeb Mayo said:  "When Didama and Laviny stops fault-
+findin', the millennium's so nigh port a feller ought to be
+overhaulin' his saint uniform."
+
+But what worried Mrs. Coffin was John Ellery's personal appearance
+and behavior.  He had grown perceptibly thinner during the past
+month, his manner was distrait, and, worst of all in the
+housekeeper's eyes, his appetite had fallen off.  She tried all
+sorts of tempting dishes, but the result was discouraging.
+
+"What!" she exclaimed.  "Don't want but one piece of huckleberry
+pie?  Why, a week ago you ate three and looked kind of disappointed
+'cause the dish was empty.  What is the matter?  Are you sick?"
+
+"No, Mrs. Coffin," replied the Reverend John.  No, I'm not sick.  I
+just don't feel hungry, that's all."
+
+"Hum!  Well, I've usually noticed that when a healthy man don't
+feel hungry at dinner time, 'specially in the huckleberry season,
+his healthiness is pretty shaky.  What does ail you, Mr. Ellery?
+Got somethin' on your mind?  If you have, I'd heave it overboard.
+Or you might unload it onto me and let me prescribe.  I've had
+consider'ble experience in that kind of doctorin'."
+
+But the answer was unsatisfactory.  Mr. Ellery laughed, changed the
+subject, and wandered out into the garden, where Keziah saw him,
+shortly afterwards, intently regarding nothing in particular with a
+rapt stare.  She watched him for a few moments and then, with a
+puzzled shake of the head, returned to her work.  She believed that
+he was troubled about something and was herself troubled in
+consequence.
+
+His absent-mindedness was most acute on Sunday evenings, before
+prayer meeting, and after he had returned from the afternoon at
+Captain Elkanah's.
+
+"Say, Mr. Ellery," she said, on one of these Sunday evenings, "do
+you know, it seems to me that Elkanah's meals must go to your head.
+Don't have any of his granddad's New England rum, do you?  They
+tell me he's got some of that down cellar that he doles out
+occasional to his very particular friends.  That's the common yarn
+around town, though I couldn't swear 'twas gospel."
+
+The minister smiled and denied acquaintanceship with the New
+England beverage.
+
+"Humph!  Then it must be the other thing.  You ain't in love, are
+you?"
+
+The young man started, colored, and was plainly embarrassed.
+
+"In love?" he repeated.  "In love, Mrs. Coffin?"
+
+"Yes, in love.  Annabel hasn't landed a male at last, has she?
+She's a line over the side for a long time."
+
+The hearty laugh with which this was received settled the question
+of Annabel's success.  Keziah was relieved.
+
+"Well, I'm glad of that," she said.  "I ain't got any grudge
+against Annabel, but neither have I got one against you.  Another
+man in that family would have an easy time in one way, he wouldn't
+have to do any thinkin' for himself--Elkanah and his daughter would
+do all that was necessary.  So you're not in love.  Then I don't
+know what does ail you.  I'll say this, though, for a body that
+ain't in love you certainly stay with the Danielses a long time.
+You went there right after meetin' this noon and now it's seven
+o'clock and you've just got home.  And 'twas the same last Sunday
+and the one before.  Been there all the time, have you?"
+
+She knew he had not, because she had seen him pass the parsonage,
+on the opposite side of the road, two hours before.  But she was
+curious to learn what his reply would be.  It was noncommittal.
+
+"No," he said slowly.  "Not all the time.  I--er--went for a short
+walk."
+
+Before she could inquire concerning that walk he had entered the
+study and closed the door after him.
+
+During the week which followed this particular conversation he was
+more absent-minded than ever.  There were evenings when he spoke
+scarcely a word, but sat silent in his chair, while Keziah, looking
+up from her mending, watched him and guessed and wondered.  After
+he had gone to his room for the night, she would hear him pacing
+the floor, back and forth, back and forth.  She asked no more
+questions, however; minding her own business was a specialty of
+Keziah's, and it was a rare quality in Trumet.
+
+Sunday was a cloudy, warm day, "muggy," so Captain Zeb described
+it.  After the morning service Mr. Ellery, as usual, went home with
+Captain Daniels and Annabel.  Keziah returned to the parsonage, ate
+a lonely dinner, washed the dishes, and sat down to read a library
+book.  She read for an hour and then, finding it difficult to keep
+her mind on the story, gave it up, closed the book and, rising,
+walked to the window.  But the misty, hot loneliness of the
+afternoon, was neither interesting nor cheerful, so she turned away
+and went upstairs to her own room.  Her trunk was in one corner of
+this room and she unlocked it, taking from a compartment of the
+tray a rosewood writing case, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, a
+present from her father, who had brought it home from sea when she
+was a girl.
+
+From the case she took a packet of letters and a daguerreotype.
+The latter was the portrait of a young man, in high-collared coat,
+stock, and fancy waistcoat.  His hair, worn long over the ears, was
+smooth with a shine that suggested oil, and in his shirt front was
+a large pin, which might possibly have been mistaken by a credulous
+observer for a diamond.  Mrs. Coffin looked at the daguerreotype,
+sighed, shuddered, and laid it aside.  Then she opened the packet
+of letters.  Selecting one from the top of the pile, she read it
+slowly.  And, as she read, she sighed again.
+
+She did not hear the back door of the parsonage open and close
+softly.  Nor did she hear the cautious footsteps in the rooms
+below.  What aroused her from her reading was her own name, spoken
+at the foot of the stairs.
+
+"Keziah!  Keziah, are you there?"
+
+She started, sprang up, and ran out into the hall, the letter still
+in her hand.
+
+"Who is it?" she asked sharply.  "Mr. Ellery, is that you?"
+
+"No," was the answer.  "It's me--Nat.  Are you busy, Keziah?  I
+want to see you for a minute."
+
+The housekeeper hurriedly thrust the letter into her waist.
+
+"I'll be right down, Nat," she answered.  "I'm comin'."
+
+He was in the sitting room when she entered.  He was wearing his
+Sunday suit of blue and his soft felt hat was on the center table.
+She held out her hand and he shook it heartily.
+
+"Well!" she observed, smiling, "I declare if I don't believe you've
+got the tiptoe habit.  This is the second time you've sneaked into
+the house and scared me 'most to death.  I asked you before if you
+wa'n't ashamed of yourself and now I ask it again."
+
+Before he could reply she caught a glimpse of his face.
+
+"What is it?" she asked.  "What is the matter?  Is anybody sick?
+Is your father--"
+
+"No, he's all right.  That is, he's as well as he has been lately,
+though that isn't sayin' much."
+
+"Is Grace--"
+
+"No, she's all right, too, I guess.  Been sort of quiet and
+sorrowful for the last few weeks--or I've seemed to notice that she
+has--but I cal'late it's nothin' serious.  I wouldn't wonder if the
+same thing that's troublin' her is what ails me."
+
+"But what is it?  Why don't you tell me?"
+
+"I'm goin' to tell you, Keziah.  That's what I come here for.  I--"
+
+"Sit down, can't you?  Don't stand up there like a lighthouse,
+shuttin' out the whole broadside of the room.  You are the BIGGEST
+thing!"
+
+Captain Hammond selected the most substantial chair in the
+apartment and sat down upon it.  He looked at his friend and shook
+his head.
+
+"No use, Keziah," he said.  "If I was as deep down in the blues as
+the bottom of the Whale Deep, a look at that face of yours would
+pull me to the top again.  You're a good woman!"
+
+"Thanks!  When I have spare time on my hands I'll practice tryin'
+to believe that.  But what is the trouble, Nat?  Out with it."
+
+"Well, Keziah, it's trouble enough.  Dad and I have had a fallin'
+out."
+
+Mrs. Coffin's mouth and eyes opened.
+
+"What?" she cried, in utter astonishment.
+
+"Yes.  It's true.  We had what was next door to a real quarrel
+after dinner to-day.  It would have been a real one if I hadn't
+walked off and left him.  He's as set as the rock of Gibraltar,
+and--"
+
+"And your foundations ain't given to slippin' much.  Nat Hammond,
+I'm surprised at you!  What was it all about?  Religion?"
+
+"No, not a sliver of religion in it.  If 'twas that, I could dodge,
+or haul down my colors, if I had to.  But it's somethin' worse,
+enough sight worse.  Somethin' I can't do--even for dad--and won't
+either.  Keziah, he's dead set on my marryin' Grace.  Says if I
+don't he'll know that I don't really care a tin nickel for him, or
+for his wishes, or what becomes of the girl after he's gone."
+
+"Nat!"
+
+"It's a fact.  You see, dad realizes, better'n I thought he did,
+that his health is pretty shaky and that he is likely to founder
+'most any time.  He says that don't worry him; if he knew Grace and
+I were provided for he'd slip his cable with a clean manifest.  But
+the dream of his life, he says, has been that we should marry.  And
+he wants to see it done."
+
+Keziah was silent for a moment.  Then she said slowly:
+
+"And Grace herself?  How does she feel about it?  Has he spoken to
+her?"
+
+"I don't know.  I guess likely he has.  Perhaps that's why she's
+been so sort of mournful lately.  But never mind whether he has or
+not; I won't do it and I told him so.  He got red hot in a jiffy.
+I was ungrateful and stubborn and all sorts of things.  And I,
+bein' a Hammond, with some of the Hammond balkiness in me, I set my
+foot down as hard as his.  And we had it until--until--well, until
+I saw him stagger and tremble so that I actually got scared and
+feared he was goin' to keel over where he stood.
+
+"'Why can't you?' he kept sayin'.  'But WHY can't you?  Ain't she a
+girl anyone would be proud to have for a wife?'  'Course there was
+no answer to that but yes.  Then back he comes again with 'Then why
+can't you?'  At last, bein' frightened, as I said, that he might
+have another shock or somethin', I said I'd think it over and come
+away and left him.  And I come straight to you.  Keziah, what shall
+I do?  What can you say to help me?"
+
+Keziah was silent.  She was looking, not at her companion, but at
+the carpet center of one of the braided rugs on the floor.  Her
+face was very grave and the lines about her mouth seemed to deepen.
+Her hands, clasped in her lap, tightened one upon the other.  But
+her voice was calm when, at last, she spoke.
+
+"Nat," she said, "there's only one thing I can say.  And that's
+what your father said:  Why can't you?"
+
+The captain sprang from his chair.
+
+"What?" he cried incredulously.  "What are you sayin'?"
+
+"Just what your father said, Nat.  Why can't you marry Grace?
+She's a dear, good girl and--"
+
+"That be--keelhauled!  Keziah Coffin, you sit there and ask me why
+I can't marry her!  YOU do?"
+
+"Yes, Nat."
+
+"Keziah, you're crazy!  Don't talk to me like that.  We're not
+jokin' now.  You know why I can't marry her, nor anyone else in
+this round world but you."
+
+"Nat, I can't marry you."
+
+"I know, I know.  You're always sayin' that.  But you don't mean
+it.  You can't mean it.  Why, you and me have been picked out for
+each other by the Almighty, Keziah.  I swear I believe just that.
+We went together when we were boy and girl, to parties and such.
+We was promised when I first went to sea.  If it hadn't been for
+that fool row we had--and 'twas all my fault and I know it--you
+never would have let that da--that miserable Anse Coffin come near
+you.  And when 'twas too late and you'd married him, the mean,
+drunken, cruel--"
+
+"Hush, Nat! hush!  Stop it!"
+
+"He was, and you know he was.  Yes, and worse besides.  Runnin' off
+and leavin' a wife like you to--  Oh, my God! when I think I might
+have been your husband to look out for you and take care of you!
+That you might have been with me on board my ships.  That, when I
+come down the companion on stormy nights I might have found you
+there to comfort me and--  O Keziah! we aren't young any more.
+What's the use of foolin'?  I want you.  I'm goin' to have you.
+Coffin is dead these ten years.  When I heard he was drowned off
+there in Singapore, all I could say was: 'Serve him right!'  And I
+say it now.  I come home then more determined to get you.  Say yes,
+and let's be happy.  Do!"
+
+"I can't, Nat."
+
+"Why not?  For Heaven sakes! why not?  Don't you care for me?
+You've let me think--well, at any rate, I have thought you did.
+You used to.  Don't you?"
+
+"Nat, I--I care for you more than anybody else on earth.  But I
+can't marry you.  Oh, don't keep askin' it!  Please don't.  I can't
+marry you, Nat.  No!"
+
+"Well, not now, maybe.  Not this month, or even this year, perhaps,
+but some day--"
+
+"No, Nat.  You must listen.  There's no use of this goin' on any
+longer.  I mean it.  I can't marry you."
+
+"You won't, you mean."
+
+"Well, if you wish to think so.  Then I won't."
+
+"But by and by--"
+
+"No, not by and by.  Never, Nat.  Never."
+
+He drew his hand across his forehead.
+
+"Never!" he repeated, more to himself than to her.
+
+"Never.  Yes, Nat."
+
+"Then, by the everlastin'!  I'll do somethin'--"
+
+"No, no, you won't.  Nat Hammond, I know you.  You're a great big,
+brave-hearted, sensible man.  You won't be foolish.  You'll do--
+yes, I think you'd better do just what your father asks you to do.
+Marry Grace, if she wants you and will have you.  She'll make you a
+good wife; you'll learn to care for her, and I know she'll have the
+best husband that a girl could hope for.  And you and I will be
+friends, just as we've always been, and--"
+
+"Keziah, stop that!  Stop it, do you hear!  I don't want to listen
+to such stuff.  I tell you I'm past soft soap, and I didn't think
+you'd give it to me."
+
+"Nat!"
+
+"Oh, yes, 'Nat'!  A lot you care for 'Nat'!  Not a reason on God's
+footstool why you won't have me--except one, and that one that you
+don't want me."
+
+"Please, Nat!  I can hardly believe this is you.  This trouble with
+your father has upset you.  You don't mean what you say.  You're
+not talkin' like yourself and--"
+
+"Stop it, I tell you.  I don't feel like myself.  I banked on you,
+Keziah.  I've lived for you.  And now--  O Keziah, take it back!
+Give me a little hope, just enough to keep my head above water."
+
+"I'd like to, Nat.  I only wish I could.  But 'twouldn't be any
+use.  I can't do it."
+
+He snatched his hat from the table and strode to the door.
+Turning, he looked at her.
+
+"All right," he said chokingly.  "All right.  Good-by."
+
+His steps sounded on the oilcloth of the kitchen.  Then the back
+door slammed.  He was gone.
+
+Keziah started, as if the slam of the door had been an electric
+shock.  During the interview she had been pale and grave but
+outwardly calm.  Now she sank wearily down in the chair from which
+she had risen and her head dropped forward upon her arms on the
+table.  The letter she had been reading before Captain Nat's
+arrival fell from her waist to the floor and lay there, its badly
+spelled and blotted lines showing black and fateful against the
+white paper.  And she cried, tears of utter loneliness and despair.
+
+The clouds thickened as the afternoon passed.  The setting sun was
+hidden behind them; over the horizon of ocean and bay the fog banks
+were rolling in tumbled, crumpled masses.  The shadows in the
+lonely sitting room deepened.  There came a knock at the dining-
+room door.
+
+Keziah sprang from her chair, smoothed her hair, hastily wiped her
+eyes, picked up the dropped letter and went to admit the visitor,
+whoever he or she might be.  She was glad of the shadows, they
+prevented her face from being seen too plainly.
+
+"Good afternoon," she said, opening the door.  "Oh! it's you, is
+it?"
+
+"Yes," admitted Abishai Pepper, standing on the stone step, and
+shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.  "Yes, Keziah, it's--
+it's me, thank you."
+
+"Don't mention it.  Well, is Laviny with you?"
+
+"No--o, she ain't.  She--she didn't come."
+
+"Hum!  Did she know you was comin'?"
+
+"No--o, I don't cal'late she did."
+
+"I see.  Well, what do you want?"
+
+Mrs. Coffin's welcome was not too cordial.  She had laughed many
+times over Abishai's proposal of marriage, but she had never quite
+forgiven him for making her ridiculous on that occasion.
+Incidentally, she did not feel like laughing.
+
+"What do you want?" she repeated.
+
+Kyan was plainly nervous.
+
+"I only wanted to see Mr. Ellery," he announced.  "It's all right,
+Keziah.  You needn't be afraid."
+
+"Afraid!  What on earth should I be afraid of?"
+
+"Why--why, I didn't know but you might be afraid I was goin' to--to
+talk about what we talked about when I--I talked to you that day up
+at--"
+
+"There! that'll do.  It ain't me that would have reason to be
+afraid if THAT was what you come for.  What do you want?  Don't
+stand there dancin' a jig."
+
+"I only wanted to see Mr. Ellery."
+
+"He's out.  Good day."
+
+"But I won't keep him but a minute."
+
+"He's out, I tell you.  Do you want to leave a message?"
+
+"No--o.  No, I guess not."
+
+"Was it important?"
+
+"Oh! I don't know.  Kind of, maybe.  I wanted to ask his advice
+about somethin'.  It's a secret.  Only him and me know about it.
+Good-by."
+
+"Shall I tell him you'll call again?  Or ask him to come up to your
+house?"
+
+Mr. Pepper, who had started to go, now hurried back to the steps.
+
+"No, no," he protested, in alarm.  "Don't you tell him that.  I
+wouldn't have him come there for no money.  Why, Laviny, she--"
+
+"Oh, Laviny isn't in the secret, then?"  Keziah smiled in spite of
+herself.
+
+"Not exactly.  That is, not much.  Don't you tell her I come here,
+will you?  I'll find Mr. Ellery.  I know where he is."
+
+"I wouldn't go to the Danielses', if I was you.  Elkanah might not
+like to have you chasin' after his visitors."
+
+"Oh, the minister ain't at the Danielses', not as late's this, he
+ain't.  I know where he is."
+
+"You do?"  The housekeeper looked at him keenly.
+
+"Yes, sir, I do.  I know where he goes Sunday afternoons--and why
+he goes, too.  Mr. Ellery and me's good friends.  We understand
+each other."
+
+"Look here, Kyan Pepper!  What are you talkin' about?"
+
+"Nothin', nothin'.  Good day."
+
+"Stop!  Stand still!  Come in the house here.  I want you to."
+
+"No, no, Keziah.  Really, I'd love to, but I can't stop."
+
+"Come in, I tell you."
+
+Reluctantly, but lacking the strength of mind to refuse, Mr. Pepper
+entered the dining room.  Then Mrs. Coffin turned upon him.
+
+"What do you mean," she demanded, "by throwin' out hints that the
+minister and you are in some sort of secret?  How dare you go round
+tellin' people such yarns as that?"
+
+"They ain't yarns.  And I never told nobody afore, anyhow.  I got
+to move along.  I'll--"
+
+"Stay where you are.  I guess I'll run right up and ask your sister
+about this.  Perhaps she might--"
+
+"Ss-sh! ss-sh! don't talk that way, Keziah.  Don't!  Laviny don't
+know what I mean.  Don't go askin' HER things."
+
+"But you said--"
+
+"I just said I knew where Mr. Ellery goes every Sunday afternoon.
+He don't know anybody knows, but I do.  That's all there is to it.
+I shan't tell.  So--"
+
+"Tell?  Do you mean there's somethin' Mr. Ellery wouldn't want
+told?  Don't you dare--I WILL see Laviny!"
+
+"No, no, no, no!  'Tain't nothin' much.  I just know where he goes
+after he leaves Elkanah's and who he goes to meet.  I--  Lordy! I
+hadn't ought to said that!  I--  Keziah Coffin, don't you ever tell
+I told you.  I've said more'n I meant to.  If it comes out there'd
+be the biggest row in the church that ever was.  And I'd be
+responsible!  I would!  I'd have to go on the witness stand and
+then Laviny'd find out how I--  Oh, oh, oh! what SHALL I do?"
+
+The poor frightened creature's "jig" had, by this time, become a
+distracted fandango.  But the housekeeper had no mercy on him.  She
+was beginning to fear for her parson and, for the time, everything
+else, her own trouble and the recent interview with Nat, was pushed
+aside.
+
+"What is it?" she persisted.  "WHAT would bring on the row in the
+church?  WHO does Mr. Ellery meet?  Out with it!  What do you
+mean?"
+
+"I mean that the minister meets that Van Horne girl every Sunday
+afternoon after he leaves Elkanah's.  There, now!  It's out, and I
+don't give a darn if they hang me for it."
+
+Keziah turned white.  She seized Mr. Pepper by the lapel of his
+Sunday coat and shook him.
+
+"Grace Van Horne!" she cried.  "Mr. Ellery meets Grace Van Horne on
+Sunday afternoons?  Where?"
+
+"Down in them pines back of Peters's pastur', on the aidge of the
+bank over the beach.  He's met her there every Sunday for the last
+six weeks--longer, for what I know.  I've watched 'em."
+
+"You HAVE?  YOU have!  You've dared to spy on--  I think you're
+lyin' to me.  I don't believe it."
+
+"I ain't lyin'!  It's so.  I'll bet you anything they're there now,
+walkin' up and down and talkin'.  What would I want to lie for?
+You come with me this minute and I'll show 'em to you."
+
+In the desire to prove his veracity he was on his way to the door.
+But Keziah stepped in front of him.
+
+"'Bish Pepper," she said slowly and fiercely, shaking a forefinger
+in his face, "you go straight home and stay there.  Don't you
+breathe a word to a livin' soul of what you say you've seen.  Don't
+you even think it, or--or dream it.  If you do I'll--I'll march
+straight to Laviny and tell her that you asked me to marry you.  I
+will, as sure as you're shakin' in front of me this minute.  Now
+you swear to me to keep still.  Swear!"
+
+"How--HOW'll I swear?" begged Kyan.  "What do you say when you
+swear?  I'll say it, Keziah!  I'll say anything!  I'll--"
+
+"All right.  Then mind you remember.  Now clear out quick.  I want
+to think.  I MUST think.  GO!  Get out of my sight!"
+
+Kyan went, glad to escape, but frightened to the soul of him.
+Keziah watched him until he turned from the main road into the
+lighthouse lane.  Then, certain that he really was going straight
+home, she re-entered the parsonage and sat down in the nearest
+chair.  For ten minutes she sat there, striving to grasp the
+situation.  Then she rose and, putting on her bonnet and shawl,
+locked the dining-room door, and went out through the kitchen.  On
+the step she looked cautiously back to see if any of the neighbors
+were at their windows.  But this was Sunday, the one day when
+Trumet people sat in their front parlors.  The coast was clear.
+She hurried through the back yard, and down the path leading across
+the fields.  She was going to the pine grove by the shore, going to
+find out for herself if Kyan's astonishing story was true.
+
+For if it was true, if the Rev. John Ellery was meeting
+clandestinely the adopted daughter of Eben Hammond, it meant--what
+might it not mean, in Trumet?  If he had fallen in love with a
+Come-Outer, with Grace Van Horne of all people, if he should dare
+think of marrying her, it would mean the utter wreck of his career
+as a Regular clergyman.  His own society would turn him out
+instantly.  All sorts of things would be said, lies and scandal
+would be invented and believed.  His character would be riddled by
+the Trumet gossips and the papers would publish the result
+broadcast.
+
+And Grace!  If she loved a Regular minister, what would happen to
+her?  Captain Eben would turn her from his door, that was certain.
+Although he idolized the girl, Keziah knew that he would never
+countenance such a marriage.  And if Nat stood by Grace, as he
+would be almost sure to do, the breach between father and son would
+widen beyond healing.  If it were merely a matter of personal
+selection, Mrs. Coffin would rather have seen her parson marry
+Grace than anyone else on earth.  As it was, such a match must not
+be.  It meant ruin for both.  She must prevent the affair going
+further.  She must break off the intimacy.  She must save those two
+young people from making a mistake which would--  She wrung her
+hands as she thought of it.  Of her own sorrow and trouble she
+characteristically thought nothing now.  Sacrifice of self was a
+part of Keziah's nature.
+
+The pines were a deep-green blotch against the cloudy sky and the
+gloomy waters of the bay.  She skirted the outlying clumps of
+bayberry and beach plum bushes and entered the grove.  The pine
+needles made a soft carpet which deadened her footfalls, and the
+shadows beneath the boughs were thick and black.  She tiptoed on
+until she reached the clearing by the brink of the bluff.  No one
+was in sight.  She drew a breath of relief.  Kyan might be
+mistaken, after all.
+
+Then she heard low voices.  As she crouched at the edge of the
+grove, two figures passed slowly across the clearing, along the
+bush-bordered path and into the shrubbery beyond.  John Ellery was
+walking with Grace Van Horne.  He was holding her hand in his and
+they were talking very earnestly.
+
+Keziah did not follow.  What would have been the use?  This was not
+the time to speak.  She KNEW now and she knew, also, that the
+responsibility was hers.  She must go home at once, go home to be
+alone and to think.  She tiptoed back through the grove and across
+the fields.
+
+Yet, if she had waited, she might have seen something else which
+would have been, at least, interesting.  She had scarcely reached
+the outer edge of the grove when another figure passed stealthily
+along that narrow path by the bluff edge.  A female figure treading
+very carefully, rising to peer over the bushes at the minister and
+Grace.  The figure of Miss Annabel Daniels, the "belle" of Trumet.
+And Annabel's face was not pleasant to look upon.
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN RECEIVES A CALLER
+
+
+At the edge of the bluff, just where the pines and the bayberry
+bushes were thickest, where the narrow, crooked little footpath
+dipped over the rise and down to the pasture land and the salt
+meadow, John Ellery and Grace had halted in their walk.  It was
+full tide and the miniature breakers plashed amid the seaweed on
+the beach.  The mist was drifting in over the bay and the gulls
+were calling sleepily from their perch along the breakwater.  A
+night hawk swooped and circled above the tall "feather grass" by
+the margin of the creek.  The minister's face was pale, but set and
+determined, and he was speaking rapidly.
+
+"I can't help it," he said.  "I can't help it.  I have made up my
+mind and nothing can change it, nothing but you.  It rests with
+you.  If you say yes, then nothing else matters.  Will you say it?"
+
+He was holding both her hands now, and though she tried to withdraw
+them, he would not let her.
+
+"Will you?" he pleaded.
+
+"I can't," she answered brokenly.  "I can't.  Think of your church
+and of your people.  What would they say if--"
+
+"I don't care what they say."
+
+"Oh! yes, you do.  Not now, perhaps, but later you will.  You don't
+know Trumet as I know it.  No, it's impossible."
+
+"I tell you there is only one impossible thing.  That is that I
+give you up.  I won't do it.  I CAN'T do it!  Grace, this is life
+and death for me.  My church--"
+
+He paused in spite of himself.  His church, his first church!  He
+had accepted the call with pride and a determination to do his
+best, the very best that was in him, for the society and for the
+people whom he was to lead.  Some of those people he had learned to
+love; many of them, he felt sure, loved him.  His success, his
+popularity, the growth of the organization and the praise which had
+come to him because of it, all these had meant, and still meant,
+very much to him.  No wonder he paused, but the pause was
+momentary.
+
+"My church," he went on, "is my work and I like it.  I believe I've
+done some good here and I hope to do more.  But no church shall say
+whom I shall marry.  If you care for me, Grace, as I think and hope
+you do, we'll face the church and the town together.  and they will
+respect us for it."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Some of them might respect you," she said.  "They would say you
+had been led into this by me and were not so much to blame.  But I--"
+
+"They shall respect my wife," he interrupted, snapping his teeth
+together, "or I'll know the reason why."
+
+She smiled mournfully.
+
+"I think they'll tell you the reason," she answered.  "No, John,
+no! we mustn't think of it.  You can see we mustn't.  This has all
+been a mistake, a dreadful mistake, and I am to blame for it."
+
+"The only mistake has been our meeting in this way.  We should have
+met openly; I realize it, and have felt it for sometime.  It was my
+fault, not yours.  I was afraid, I guess.  But I'll not be a coward
+any longer.  Come, dear, let's not be afraid another day.  Only say
+you'll marry me and I'll proclaim it openly, to-night--  Yes, from
+the pulpit, if you say so."
+
+She hesitated and he took courage from her hesitation.
+
+"Say it," he pleaded.  "You WILL say it?"
+
+"I can't!  I can't!  My uncle--"
+
+"Your uncle shall hear it from me.  We'll go to him together.  I'll
+tell him myself.  He worships you."
+
+"Yes, I know.  He does worship me.  That's why I am sure he had
+rather see me dead than married to you, a Regular, and a Regular
+minister."
+
+"I don't believe it.  He can't be so unreasonable.  If he is, then
+you shouldn't humor such bigotry."
+
+"He has been my father for years, and a dear, kind father."
+
+"I know.  That's why I'm so certain we can make him understand.
+Come, dear! come!  Why should you consider everyone else?  Consider
+your own happiness.  Consider mine."
+
+She looked at him.
+
+"I am considering yours," she said.  "That is what I consider most
+of all.  And, as for uncle, I know--I KNOW he would never consent.
+His heart is set on something else.  Nat--"
+
+"Nat?  Are you considering him, too?  Is HE to stand between us?
+What right has he to say--"
+
+"Hush! hush!  He hasn't said anything.  But--but he and uncle have
+quarreled, just a little.  I didn't tell you, but they have.  And I
+think I know the reason.  Nat is Uncle Eben's idol.  If the quarrel
+should grow more serious, I believe it would break his heart.  I
+couldn't bear to be the cause of that; I should never forgive
+myself."
+
+"You the cause?  How could you be the cause of a quarrel between
+those two?  Grace, think of me."
+
+Here was the selfishness of man and the unselfishness of woman
+answered.
+
+"John," she said, "it is of you I am thinking.  Everything else
+could--might be overcome, perhaps.  But I must think of your future
+and your life.  I MUST.  That is why--"
+
+He did not wait to hear more.  He seized her in his arms and kissed
+her.
+
+"Then you DO care!" he cried joyfully.  "You will marry me?"
+
+For an instant she lay quiet in his embrace, receiving, if not
+responding to his caresses.  Then she gently but firmly freed
+herself.  He saw that there were tears in her eyes.
+
+"Grace," he urged, "don't--don't hesitate any longer.  You were
+meant to be my wife.  We were brought together for just that.  I
+know it.  Come."
+
+She was crying softly.
+
+"Won't you?" he begged.
+
+"I don't know," she sobbed.  "Oh, I don't know!  I must think--I
+MUST!  Wait, please wait, John.  Perhaps by to-morrow I can answer.
+I'll try--I'll try.  Don't ask me again, now.  Let me think.  Oh,
+do!"
+
+Doubtless he would have asked her again.  He looked as if he meant
+to.  But just then, drifting through the twilight and the mist,
+came the sound of a bell, the bell of the Regular church, ringing
+for the Sunday evening meeting.  They both heard it.
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Grace, "that is your bell.  You will be late.  You
+must go, and so must I.  Good night."
+
+She started down the path.  He hesitated, then ran after her.
+
+"To-morrow?" he questioned eagerly.  "Tomorrow, then, you'll say
+that you will?"
+
+"Oh, perhaps, perhaps!  I mustn't promise.  Good night."
+
+It was after seven when Grace reached the old tavern.  The
+housekeeper, Mrs. Poundberry, was anxiously awaiting her.  She wore
+her bonnet and Sunday gown and was evidently ready to go out.
+
+"Land sakes alive!" she sputtered.  "Where in the name of goodness
+have you been to?  I was gettin' scairt.  Didn't know but you'd run
+off and got married, or sunthin' dreadful."
+
+Grace was thankful that the cloudy twilight made it impossible to
+see her face distinctly.  The housekeeper rattled on without
+waiting for an answer.
+
+"Supper's on the table and the kittle's abilin'.  You better eat in
+a hurry, 'cause it's meetin' time now.  Your uncle, he started ten
+minutes ago.  I'm agoin' right along, too, but I ain't goin' to
+meetin'; I'm agoin' up to Betsy E.'s to stay all night.  She's got
+a spine in her back, as the feller said, and ain't feelin' good, so
+I told her I'd come and stay a little spell.  S'pose you can get
+along to-morrow without me?"
+
+"Betsy E." was Mrs. Poundberry's second cousin, an elderly spinster
+living alone in a little house near the salt works.  Grace assured
+her questioner that she could attend to the house and the meals
+during the following day, longer if the troublesome "spine" needed
+company.  Mrs. Poundberry sighed, groaned, and shook her head.
+
+"I shan't stay no longer," she affirmed; "not if Betsy's all over
+spines, like one of them Mexican cactus plants.  No, marm, my place
+is right here and I know it.  Your Uncle Eben's mighty feeble and
+peaked lately.  He ain't long for this world, I'm afraid.  You'd
+ought to be awful good to him, Gracie."
+
+"I know it," was the hurried reply.  "Where's Nat?"
+
+"I don't know.  Can't keep track of HIM.  Might's well try to put
+your finger on a flea.  He's here to-day and gone yesterday, as the
+Scriptur' says.  He ate a little mite of supper, but not much, and
+then off he puts.  Says he's goin' to walk the fog out'n his head.
+I told him, s' I, 'You'll walk a plaguey sight more in than you do
+out, THIS night,' but he went just the same.  He was dreadful kind
+of dumpy and blue this evenin'.  Seemed to be sort of soggy in his
+mind.  And why he never went to meetin' with his dad and why his
+dad never asked him TO go is more'n I can tell.  Land of livin',
+how I do gabble!  My grandmarm used to say my tongue was loose at
+both ends and hung in the middle, and I guess she wa'n't fur off
+the course.  Good-by.  Take care of yourself.  You can put what's
+left of that mock mince pie on the top shelf in the butt'ry and
+you'd better heave a dish towel or sunthin' over it to keep the
+ants out.  There's more ants in this house than there is dollars, a
+good sight.  Betsy B., she's got a plan for keepin' of 'em out by
+puttin' sassers of brimstone round the shelves, but I told her, s'
+I, 'THEM ants don't care for no brimstone.  They're used to it.
+Sometimes I b'lieve they're sent by the everlastin' father of
+brimstone,' and she--"
+
+She had reached the gate by this time, and Grace shut off the flow
+of conversation by closing the door.  Then she took a candle from
+the row on the dining-room mantel, lighted it, and went up to her
+own room.  Standing before the old-fashioned bureau with its little
+oval mirror, she hastily arranged her hair.  She did not wish to go
+to the prayer meeting at the chapel, but she felt that she must.
+The Come-Outer gatherings, with their noisy singing and shouting,
+had grown more and more repugnant to her.
+
+And to-night, of all nights!  How could she meet those people who
+had known her since she was a child, who boasted of her as one of
+their staunchest adherents, who believed in her and trusted her?
+How could she meet them and talk with them, knowing what she knew
+and realizing that they, too, would know it on the morrow?  But her
+uncle would miss her and be worried about her if she did not come.
+She could not bear to trouble him now; she never loved him so
+dearly, was never so anxious to humor his every wish as on this,
+perhaps the last evening they would spend together.  For, though
+she would not yet admit it, even to herself, her decision was made,
+had really been made the first time John Ellery asked her weeks
+before.  Only the thought of what might happen to him if she
+consented had caused her to hesitate so long.
+
+She blew out the candle and came out into the hall at the head of
+the stairs.  She was about to descend when she heard voices.  The
+door of the dining room opened and closed.  She felt certain that
+Nat had returned and wondered who was with him.  Then she heard her
+uncle's voice, speaking sharply and with unwonted sternness.
+
+"I don't know what 'tis you want to see me about," said Captain
+Eben.  "You say it's important; well, it's got to be to keep me
+from my meetin'.  I ought to be on the Lord's business this minute
+and nothin' worldly's goin' to keep me from servin' Him.  So speak
+quick.  What is it?"
+
+The voice that answered was one that Grace recognized, though she
+had never before heard in it the note of agitation and undignified
+excitement.  There were no ponderous pauses and "Hum--ha's" now.
+
+"Don't be a fool, Hammond!" it said.  "And don't stand there
+preaching.  Lock that door!  Get a lamp!  Are you sure there's
+nobody but us in the house?"
+
+Captain Elkanah Daniels!  Captain Elkanah visiting a Come-Outer!
+and the leader of the Come-Outers!!  Grace caught her breath.  What
+in the world--  She started to descend and then a thought flashed
+to her mind.  She stopped short.
+
+"I ain't the fool, Elkanah," she heard her uncle retort sternly.
+"The fools are them who are deef to the call from on high.  My foot
+was on the threshold of His house when you led me astray.  It's
+never halted there afore.  I warn you--"
+
+"Hush!  Shut up!  Can't you forget that--that Come-Outer circus of
+yours for a minute?"
+
+"Elkanah Daniels, I'll have no blasphemy here.  Another word like
+that and--"
+
+"WILL you be still and hear me?  The Lord's business!  I guess
+you'll think it's the Lord's business when you understand what I'm
+going to tell you!  The Lord's business!  The devil's business, you
+better say!  Will you lock that door?"
+
+"My church is waitin' for me and--"
+
+"Let it wait.  What's a parcel of yelling Come-Outers compared to
+the decency of this town?  Stop!  Shut up!  Eben Hammond, I tell
+you that your precious church--yes and mine, the Regular church of
+Trumet--will go to rack and ruin if you and me don't pull together
+this night."
+
+"And I tell you, Elkanah Daniels, I'll have no blasphemy here.
+That little sanctuary up the road is founded on a rock and neither
+you nor any of your Phariseein' priest-worshipin' crew can shake
+it.  The Almighty'll protect His own.  As for the Reg'lar church,
+that's no concern of mine."
+
+"But I tell you 'tis your concern.  Or if the church isn't, your
+own family is."
+
+"My--my family?"
+
+"Yes, your own family.  Huh! that makes you listen, don't it?"
+
+There was an instant of silence.  Grace, crouching on the stairs,
+noticed the change in her uncle's voice as he answered.
+
+"My own family?" he repeated slowly.  "My own--  And the Reg'lar
+church--  What do you mean?  Has Nat--"
+
+"No, he ain't.  But that cussed girl of yours--"
+
+"Stop!"  Eben's shout rang through the house.  The listener heard
+it, rose, and then sank slowly to her knees.
+
+"Stop!" shouted Captain Hammond.  "Elkanah Daniels, for your own
+sake now, be careful.  If you dast to say a word, another word like
+that, I'll--"
+
+"If I dast!  The hussy!  But there's no use talkin' to you.  You're
+as crazy as a Bedlamite.  Either that, or you're in the game with
+her.  If you are, I warn you--"
+
+"Stop!  What game?  What do you mean?  Gracie!  My Grace!  What is
+it?  For mercy sakes, Elkanah--"
+
+"Humph!  I wondered if I couldn't get some sense into you, finally.
+Lock that door!"
+
+"I will!  I will!  But Elkanah--"
+
+"Lock it!  Give me the key!"
+
+The click of the lock sounded sharply.
+
+"Where's the lamp?" demanded Daniels.  "And the matches?  Don't
+stand there shaking."
+
+A smell of sulphur floated out into the hall.  Then the sickly glow
+of the "fluid" lamp shone through the doorway.
+
+"What ails you?" asked Elkanah.  "Are you struck dumb?  Now go and
+see if there's anybody else in the house."
+
+"But--but there ain't.  I know there ain't.  Hannah's gone and
+Gracie's at meetin' by this time."
+
+"She?  Humph!  Well, maybe she's at meeting and maybe she isn't.
+Maybe she's over in Peters's pines, hugging and kissing that man
+she's met there every Sunday for I don't know how long--  Here! let
+go, you old fool!  Let go, I tell you!"
+
+A chair fell to the floor with a bang.  There was the sound of hard
+breathing and rapid footsteps.
+
+"Let go!" panted Daniels.  "Are you crazy?  Take your hands off
+me!"
+
+"You liar!" snarled Captain Eben.  "You low-lived liar!  By the
+Almighty, Elkanah Daniels!  I'll--  You take that back or I'll
+choke the everlastin' soul out of you.  I will--"
+
+"Let go, you lunatic!  You'll kill yourself.  Listen!  I'm not
+lying.  It's the truth.  She's met a man, I tell you.  Been meeting
+him for months, I guess.  There! now will you listen?"
+
+The footsteps had ceased, but the heavy breathing continued.
+
+"A man!" gasped Eben.  "A man!  Gracie!  It's a--  Who is he?
+What's his name?"
+
+"His name's John Ellery, and he's minister of the Regular church in
+this town; that's who he is!  Here! hold up!  Good Lord! are you
+dying?  Hold up!"
+
+The girl on the stairs sprang to her feet.  Her head was reeling
+and she could scarcely stand, but she blindly began the descent.
+She must go to her uncle.  She must.  But Captain Daniels's voice
+caused her to halt once more.
+
+"There! there!" it said in a tone of relief.  "That's better.  Set
+still now.  Be quiet, that's it.  Shall I get some water?"
+
+"No, no! let me be.  Just let me be.  I ain't what I used to be and
+this--  I'm all right, I tell you.  Grace!  And--and--  What was it
+you just said?  I--I don't b'lieve I heard it right."
+
+"I said that daughter of yours, or niece, or whatever she is, this
+Grace Van Horne, has been meeting young Ellery, our minister, in
+Peters's grove.  Been meeting him and walking with him, and kissing
+him, and--"
+
+"It's a lie!  It ain't so, Elkanah!  Prove it or--  It--it CAN'T be
+so, can it?  Please--"
+
+"It is so.  She's met him in those pines every Sunday afternoon for
+a long time.  She was seen there with him this afternoon."
+
+"Who--who saw her?"
+
+"Never mind.  The one that did'll never tell--unless it's
+necessary.  They're fixing to be married, and--"
+
+"MARRIED!  She marry a Reg'lar minister!  Oh--"
+
+"Hush!  Listen!  They ain't married yet.  We can stop 'em, you and
+I, if we get right to work.  It isn't too late.  Will you help?"
+
+"Will I--I--  Go on! tell me more."
+
+"We can stop 'em.  I know it would be a good catch for her, the
+sneaking, designing--  Well, never mind.  But it can't be.  It
+shan't be.  You've got to tell her so, Hammond.  We folks of the
+Regular church have pride in our society; we won't have it
+disgraced.  And we have been proud of our minister, the young,
+rattle-headed fool!  We'll save him if we can.  If we can't"--the
+speaker's teeth grated--"then we'll send him to eternal smash or
+die trying."
+
+"But I can't believe it's true.  It's a mistake; some other girl
+and not Gracie.  Why, she don't even know him.  She wouldn't--  But
+she HAS been out every Sunday afternoon for weeks.  If it SHOULD
+be!"
+
+"It is.  I tell you it is.  Don't waste time rolling your eyes and
+talking stuff.  We've got to work and you've got to work first.  I
+don't know whether you're only making believe or not.  I realize
+that 'twould be a good thing for your girl to marry a promising
+young chap like him, but--  Hush! let me go on.  I tell you,
+Hammond, it can't be.  We won't let her.  I won't let her.  I'm a
+man of influence in this town, and outside of it, too.  I'm head of
+the parish committee and a member of the National Regular Society.
+I can't reach your precious ward, maybe, but I can reach the fellow
+she's after, and if he marries her, I'll drive 'em both to the
+poorhouse.
+
+"Here's where you come in, Hammond.  It may be she does really care
+for him.  Or maybe she's after position and money.  Well, you talk
+to her.  You tell her that if she keeps on going with him, if she
+doesn't break off this damnable business now, tomorrow, I'll ruin
+John Ellery as sure as I'm a living man.  He'll be ruined in
+Trumet, anyhow.  He'll be thrown out by the parish committee.  I'm
+not sure that his church people won't tar and feather him.
+Marrying a low-down Come-Outer hussy!  As if there wa'n't decent
+girls of good families he might have had!  But losing this church
+won't be the only thing that'll happen to him.  The committee'll
+see that he doesn't get another one.  I'll use my influence and
+have him thrown out of the Regular ministry.  Think I can't?  What
+sort of yarns do you suppose will be told about him and her,
+meeting the way they did?  Won't the county papers print some fine
+tales?  Won't the Boston ones enjoy such a scandal?  I tell you,
+Eben Hammond, that young chap's name will be dragged so deep in the
+mud it'll never get clean again."
+
+He stopped for breath.  His companion was silent.  After a moment,
+he continued:
+
+"You tell her that, Hammond," he went on.  "If she really cares for
+him, it'll be enough.  She won't let him ruin his life.  And I'll
+keep quiet till I hear from you.  If she's sensible and really
+decent, then she can give him his clearance papers without his
+knowing why she did it and everything will be a secret and kept so.
+Nobody else'll ever know.  If she won't do that, then you tell me
+and I'll have a session with HIM.  If THAT'S no good, then out he
+goes and she with him; and it's ruination for both of 'em,
+reputations and all.  Why am I doing this?  I'll tell you.  I like
+him.  He isn't orthodox enough to suit me, but I have liked him
+mighty well.  And Annab--  Humph! that's neither here nor there.
+What I'm fighting for is the Trumet Regular church.  That's MY
+church and I'll have no dirty scandal with Come-Outers dragging it
+down.  Now you understand.  Will you tell her what I've said?"
+
+The chair creaked.  Evidently, Captain Eben was rising slowly to
+his feet.
+
+"Well?" repeated Elkanah.
+
+"Elkanah Daniels," said Eben slowly, his voice shaking from nervous
+exhaustion and weakness, but with a fine ring of determination in
+every word, "Elkanah Daniels, you listen to me.  I've heard you
+through.  If your yarn is true, then my heart is broke, and I wish
+I might have died afore I heard it.  But I didn't die and I have
+heard it.  Now listen to me.  I love that girl of mine better'n the
+whole wide world and yet I'd ruther see her dead afore me than
+married to a Reg'lar minister.  Disgrace to HIM!  Disgrace to your
+miser'ble church!  What about the disgrace to MINE?  And the
+disgrace to HER?  Ruin to your minister!  Ruin to my girl here and
+hereafter is what I'm thinkin' of; that and my people who worship
+God with me.  I'll talk to Grace.  I'll talk to her.  But not of
+what'll happen to him or you--or any of your cantin', lip-servin'
+crew.  I'll tell her to choose between him and me.  And if she
+chooses him, I'll send her out of that door.  I'll do my duty and
+read her out of my congregation.  And I'll know she's gone to
+everlastin' hell, and that's worse'n the poorhouse.  That's all to-
+night, Elkanah.  Now you better go."
+
+"Humph!  Well, I declare! you ARE a bigoted--"
+
+"Stop it!  I've kept my hands off you so fur, because I'm the
+Lord's servant.  But I'm fightin' hard to keep down my old salt-
+water temper.  You go!  There's the door."
+
+"All right, all right!  I don't care what you say, so long as it's
+said so as to stop her from getting him--and said soon."
+
+"It'll be said to-night.  Now go!  My people are waitin' at the
+chapel."
+
+"You're not going to that prayer meeting after THIS?"
+
+"Where else should I go?  'Come unto Me all ye that labor and are
+heavy laden.'  And--and"--his voice broke--"He knows that I AM
+heavy laden.  Lord! Lord! do help me, for this is more'n I can bear
+alone."
+
+The lock turned; the door opened and closed.  Grace, clinging to
+the balusters, heard Captain Hammond cross the room, slowly and
+feebly.  She heard him enter the sitting room.  Then she heard
+nothing more, not another sound, though the minutes dragged on and
+on, endlessly, eternally, and each with a message, a sentence
+repeated over and over again in her brain.  "If she really cares
+for him, she won't let him ruin his life."
+
+By and by, pale, but more composed, and with her mind made up, she
+came down into the hall.  Drawing a long breath, she turned into
+the sitting room to face her uncle.  By the light shining through
+the dining-room door she saw him on his knees by the haircloth
+sofa.  She spoke his name.  He did not answer nor look up.
+Alarmed, she touched him on the shoulder.  At her touch his arm
+slid from the couch and he fell gently over upon his side on the
+carpet.
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN MAKES PORT
+
+
+Half past eight.  In the vestry of the Regular church John Ellery
+was conducting his prayer meeting.  The attendance was as large as
+usual.  Three seats, however, were vacant, and along the settees
+people were wondering where Captain Elkanah Daniels and his
+daughter might be.  They had not missed a service for many a day.
+And where was Keziah Coffin?
+
+At the Come-Outer chapel the testifying and singing were in full
+blast.  But Ezekiel Bassett was leading, for Captain Eben Hammond
+had not made his appearance.  Neither had Grace Van Horne, for that
+matter, but Captain Eben's absence was the most astonishing.
+
+"Somethin's the matter," whispered Josiah Badger to his right-hand
+neighbor.  "Somethin's wrong d-d-d-down to the tavern, sartin'
+sure.  I'm goin' down there just soon's meetin's over and f-f-f-
+find out.  Eben wouldn't no more miss leadin' his meetin' from
+choice than I'd go without a meal's v-v-vi-vittles.  Somethin's
+happened and I'm goin' to know what 'tis.  You'll go along with me,
+won't ye, Lot?"
+
+The answer was an affirmative.  In fact, almost every worshiper in
+that chapel had determined to visit the Hammond tavern as soon as
+the service was at an end.
+
+
+In the Regular parsonage Keziah sat alone by the sitting-room
+table.  Prayer meeting and supper she had forgotten entirely.  The
+minister had not come home for his evening meal, and food was
+furthest from the housekeeper's thoughts.  What should she do?
+What ought she to do?  How could she avert the disaster so certain
+to overwhelm those two young people the moment their secret became
+known?
+
+It was in vain that she tried to encourage herself with the hope
+that Kyan had exaggerated--that the meetings in the grove had not
+been as frequent as he said they were, or that they had been merely
+casual.  She knew better.  She had seen the pair together and the
+look in John Ellery's eyes.  No, the mischief was done, they loved
+each other; or, at least, he loved her.  There was the great
+trouble.
+
+Keziah, in spite of her worldly common sense, was an idealist at
+heart.  Love matches she believed in thoroughly.  If the man had
+not been a Regular minister, or if he had been a minister in any
+other town than narrow, gossiping, squabbling Trumet, where
+families were divided on "religious" grounds, neighbors did not
+speak because their creeds were different, and even after death
+were buried in cemeteries three miles apart; if the girl had been
+other than the ward of bigoted old Eben Hammond--then, though they
+were poor as poverty itself, Keziah would have joined their hands
+and rejoiced.  Even as it was, she was strongly tempted to do it.
+Her sense of right and her every inclination urged her toward that
+course.  "Face the world together and fight it out," that was the
+advice she would like to give them.  But no, the battle was too
+uneven.  The odds were too great.  They must not think of marriage,
+for the present, and they must cease to meet.  Perhaps some day--
+she tried to comfort herself with the thought--perhaps some day,
+years afterwards and under different circumstances, they might--
+
+With Ellery she felt certain she could accomplish nothing by
+argument or persuasion.  She knew him well enough by this time to
+realize that, if his mind was made up, all Trumet and all creation
+could not change it.  He would keep on his course, and, if wrecked,
+would go down with colors set and helm lashed.  But Grace, perhaps
+she did not fully realize the situation.  She might be made to see,
+to listen to reason.  And, perhaps, it was possible--perhaps, on
+her part, matters were not as serious.  The minister had not acted
+like a triumphant lover, assured of success; he had seemed, now
+that she thought of it, more like a pleader, a supplicant.
+Perhaps, if she could see Grace and talk plainly with the girl, it
+might not be too late.  She determined to try that very night.
+
+She rose and again donned her bonnet and shawl.  She was about to
+blow out the lamp when she heard rapid footsteps, the sound of some
+one running along the sidewalk in front of the house.  As she
+listened, the footsteps sounded on the path.  Whoever the runner
+was he was coming to the parsonage.  She stepped to the door and
+opened it.
+
+The runner was a boy, Maria Higgins's boy Isaac, whose widowed
+mother lived down by the shore.  He did the chores at the Hammond
+tavern.  His freckled face was dripping with perspiration and he
+puffed and blew like a stranded whale.
+
+"What's the matter, Ike?" demanded Keziah.  "What is it?"
+
+"Have ye--have ye," panted Ike, "have ye seen the doctor anywheres,
+Mis Coffin?"
+
+"Who?  Dr. Parker?  Have I seen--what in the world are you comin'
+HERE after the doctor for?"
+
+"'Cause--'cause I didn't know where else to come.  I been to his
+house and he ain't to home.  Nobody ain't to home.  His wife, Mis
+Parker, she's gone up to Boston yes'day on the coach, and--and it's
+all dark and the house door's open and the shay's gone, so--"
+
+"Who's sick?  Who wants him?"
+
+"And--and--all the rest of the houses round here was shut up 'cause
+everybody's to meetin'.  I peeked in at the meetin' house and he
+ain't there, and I see your light and--"
+
+"Who's sick?  Tell me that, won't you?"
+
+"Cap'n Eben.  He's awful sick.  I cal'late he's goin' to die, and
+Gracie, she--"
+
+"Cap'n Eben?  Eben Hammond!  Dyin'?  What are you talkin' about?"
+
+"Huh! huh!" puffed the messenger impatiently.  "Didn't I tell ye?
+Cap'n Eben's adyin'.  I seen him.  All white and still and--and
+awful.  And Gracie, she's all alone and--"
+
+"Alone?  Where's Nat?"
+
+"She don't know.  He ain't to home.  But I got to find Dr. Parker."
+
+"Hold on!  Stop!  I'll tell you where the doctor is most likely.
+Up to Mrs. Prince's.  She's been poorly and he's prob'ly been
+called there.  Run! run fast as ever you can and get him and I'll
+go to Grace this minute.  The poor thing!  Have you told anybody
+else?"
+
+"No, no! ain't seen nobody but you to tell.  They was prayin' over
+to meetin', and the fellers that waits outside to keep comp'ny with
+the girls ain't got there yet.  And I never met nobody.  And 'twas
+so blasted dark I fell down four times and tore my best pants and--"
+
+"S-sh-sh!  Listen to me!  Don't tell anybody.  Not a soul but the
+doctor.  Half this town'll be runnin' to find out if you do, and
+that poor girl must be distracted already.  I'll go to her.  You
+get Dr. Parker and tell him to hurry."
+
+"I'll tell him; don't you fret."
+
+He was gone, running harder than ever.  A moment later Keziah
+followed him, running also.
+
+It was a misty, black night, and Trumet sidewalks were uneven and
+hard to navigate.  But she stumbled on, up the main road to the
+Corners, down the "Turn-off," past the chapel of the Come-Outers,
+from the open window of which sounded the drone of a high, nasal
+voice.  Josiah Badger was "testifying," and Keziah caught a
+fragment of the testimony as she hurried by.
+
+"I says to 'em, says I, I says to 'em, 'I don't care about your
+smart mum-mum-minister and what fine sermons he preaches.  Let him
+BE smart,' I says.  Says I, 'Smartness won't g-g-g-git ye into
+heaven.'  ("Amen!")  'No, sirree! it takes more'n that.  I've seen
+smart folks afore and they got c-c-cuk-catched up with sooner or
+later.  Pride goes ahead of a tumble, I've heard tell, and--"
+
+This was all that Keziah heard of Mr. Badger's testimony, for, as
+she ran on, a rattle of wheels and the thud of hoofs came from
+behind her.  Then a rocking chaise, drawn by a galloping horse,
+shot by.  Dr. Parker's carriage, she was sure.  The Higgins boy
+must have met the doctor and delivered his message.
+
+The horse and chaise were standing by the front gate of the tavern
+as she pantingly drew near it.  The side door of the house was ajar
+and she opened it softly and entered.  The dining room was empty.
+There was a light on the sitting-room table and low voices came
+from the little bedroom adjoining.  Then, from the bedroom, emerged
+Dr. Parker and Grace Van Horne.  The girl was white and there were
+dark circles under her eyes.  The doctor was very grave.
+
+Keziah stepped forward and held out both hands.  Grace looked,
+recognized her, and with a cry ran toward her.  Keziah took her in
+her arms and soothed her as if she were a child.
+
+"There! there! deary," she said, stroking her hair.  "There! there!
+deary, don't take it so hard.  Poor thing! you're worn out.  If I'd
+only known sooner."
+
+"O Aunt Keziah!" sobbed the girl.  "I'm so glad you've come.  It
+was so good of you."
+
+"Good! Land of mercy!  If I hadn't come, I'd have been worse than
+the beasts that perish.  Don't cry, don't.  How is he now?  Some
+better?"
+
+She looked at the doctor as she asked it.  He shook his head
+emphatically.
+
+"Well, well, dear," went on Mrs. Coffin hurriedly.  "He will be
+pretty soon, we'll hope.  You mustn't give up the ship, you know.
+Now you go and lay down somewheres and I'll get my things off and
+see what there is to do.  Some good strong tea might be good for
+all hands, I guess likely.  Where's Hannah Poundberry?"
+
+"She's gone to her cousin's to stay all night.  I suppose I ought
+to send for her, but I--"
+
+"No, no, you hadn't.  Might's well send for a poll parrot, the
+critter would be just as much good and talk less.  I'll look out
+for things, me and the doctor.  Where's--where's Nat?"
+
+"He came in just after I sent the boy for the doctor.  He's in
+there with--with him," indicating the bedroom.  "Poor Nat!"
+
+Keziah looked longingly toward the door.
+
+"Yes," she said slowly.  "Poor fellow, it's an awful shock to him.
+He and his father are--  But there! you lay down on that lounge."
+
+"I can't lie down.  I can't do anything but think.  Oh, what a
+dreadful day this has been!  And I thought it was going to be such
+a happy one!"
+
+"Yes, yes, deary, I know."
+
+Grace raised her head.
+
+"You know?" she repeated, looking up into the housekeeper's face.
+
+"I mean I know it's been a dreadful day," explained Keziah quickly.
+"Yes, indeed it has," with a sigh.  "But there! our moanin' over it
+don't cheer it up any.  Will you lay down?  No?  Well, then, SET
+down, there's a good girl."
+
+Grace, protesting that she couldn't sit down, she couldn't leave
+uncle, and there were so many things to do, was at last persuaded
+by Keziah and the doctor to rest for a few moments in the big
+rocker.  Then Mrs. Coffin went into the kitchen to prepare the tea.
+As she went, she beckoned to Dr. Parker, who joined her a moment
+later.
+
+"Well, doctor?" she asked anxiously.
+
+The stout, gray-haired old physician--he had practiced in Trumet
+for nearly thirty years--shook his head.
+
+"Not a single chance," he whispered.  "He may possibly live till
+morning, but I doubt if he lasts an hour.  It's his heart.  I've
+expected it at any time.  Ever since he had that shock, I've been
+at him to take things easy; but you might as well talk to a graven
+image.  That Come-Outer foolishness is what really killed him,
+though just what brought on this attack I can't make out.  Grace
+says she found him lying on the floor by the sofa.  He was
+unconscious then.  I'm rather worried about her.  She was very near
+to fainting when I got here."
+
+"No wonder.  All alone in this ark of a house and nobody to help or
+to send.  Lucky she found that Ike Higgins.  Say, I wonder if the
+young one's around here now?  If he is, he must stand at the gate
+and scare off Come-Outers.  The whole chapel, mates, crew, and
+cabin boy, 'll be down here soon's meetin's over to see what kept
+Eben.  And they mustn't get in."
+
+"I should say not.  I'll hunt up Ike.  If a Come-Outer gets into
+this house to-night I'll eat him, that's all."
+
+"Some of 'em would give you dyspepsy, I guess.  Yes, Grace, I'll be
+there in a jiffy."
+
+The doctor left the house to find young Higgins and post him at the
+gate.  The boy, who had been listening under the window, was proud
+of his new responsibility.
+
+"I'll fix 'em, doctor," he declared.  "I only hope old Zeke Bassett
+comes.  He lammed me with a horsewhip t'other day, 'cause I was
+ridin' behind his ox cart.  If he tried to git by me, I'll bounce a
+rock off'n his Sunday hat."
+
+"Doctor," whispered Keziah from the kitchen window.  "Doctor, come
+quick.  Nat wants you."
+
+Captain Nat was standing at the door of the bedroom.  His face was
+drawn and he had seemingly grown years older since noon.
+
+"He's come to himself, doc," he whispered.  "He don't remember how
+it happened or anything.  And he wants us all.  Why! why, Keziah!
+are you here?"
+
+"Yes, Nat.  I've been here a little while."
+
+He looked at her steadily and his eyes brightened just a trifle.
+
+"Did you come to see me?" he asked.  "Was it about what I said
+this--"
+
+"No, no, Nat; no.  I heard the news and that Grace was alone; so I
+come right down."
+
+He nodded wearily.
+
+"You can come in, too," he said.  "I know dad likes you and I
+guess--  Wait a minute; I'll ask him."  He stepped back into the
+bedroom.  "Yes," he nodded, returning, "you come, too.  He wants
+you."
+
+The little room, Captain Eben's own, was more like a skipper's
+cabin than a chamber on land.  A narrow, single bed, a plain
+washstand, a battered, painted bureau and a single chair--these
+made up the list of furniture.  Two pictures, both of schooners
+under full sail, hung on the walls.  Beside them hung a ship's
+barometer, a sextant, and a clock that struck the "bells," instead
+of the hours as the landsman understands them.  In the corner stood
+the captain's big boots and his oilskins hung above them.  His
+Sunday cane was there also.  And on the bureau was a worn, heavy
+Bible.
+
+Dr. Parker brushed by the others and bent over the bed.
+
+"Well, cap'n," he said cheerily, "how's she headed?  How are you
+feeling now?"
+
+The old face on the pillow smiled feebly.
+
+"She's headed for home, I guess, doc," said Captain Eben.  "Bound
+for home, and the harbor light broad abeam, I cal'late."
+
+"Oh, no! you'll make a good many voyages yet."
+
+"Not in this hulk, I won't, doctor.  I hope I'll have a new command
+pretty soon.  I'm trustin' in my owners and I guess they'll do the
+fair thing by me.  Halloo, Gracie, girl!  Well, your old uncle's on
+his beam ends, ain't he?"
+
+Grace glanced fearfully at his face.  When he spoke her name she
+shrank back, as if she feared what he might say.  But he only
+smiled as, with the tears streaming down her face, she bent over
+and kissed him.
+
+"There! there!" he protested.  "You mustn't cry.  What are you
+cryin' about me for?  We know, you and me, who's been lookin' out
+for us and keepin' us on the course all these years.  We ain't got
+anything to cry for.  You just keep on bein' a 'good girl, Gracie,
+and goin' to the right church and--  I s'pose Ezekiel'll lead in
+meetin' now," he added.  "I do wish he was a stronger man."
+
+The doctor, whose fingers had been upon the old man's wrist, looked
+up at Nat significantly.
+
+"There, dad," said the latter, "don't you worry about Zeke Bassett,
+nor anything else.  You just lay in dry dock and let Parker here
+overhaul your runnin' riggin' and get you fit for sea.  That's what
+you've got to do."
+
+"I'm fit and ready for the sea I'm goin' to sail," was the answer.
+His eyes wandered from his son to Mrs. Coffin.  For an instant he
+seemed puzzled.  Then he said:
+
+"'Evenin', Keziah.  I don't know why you're here, but--"
+
+"I heard that Grace was alone and that you was sick, Eben.  So I
+come right down, to help if I could."
+
+"Thank ye.  You're a good-hearted woman, Keziah, even though you
+ain't seen the true light yet.  And you're housekeeper for that
+hired priest--a--a--"  He paused, and a troubled look came over his
+face.
+
+"What is it, dad?" asked Nat.
+
+"I--I--  Where's Gracie?  She's here, ain't she?"
+
+"Yes, uncle, I'm here.  Here I am," said the girl.  His fingers
+groped for her hand and seized it.
+
+"Yes, yes, you're here," murmured Captain Eben.  "I--I--for a
+minute or so, I--I had an awful dream about you, Gracie.  I
+dreamed--  Never mind.  Doc, answer me this now, true and honest,
+man to man: Can you keep me here for just a little spell longer?
+Can you?  Try!  Ten minutes, say.  Can you?"
+
+"Of course I can.  Cap'n Hammond, what are you--"
+
+"I know.  That's all right.  But I ain't a young one to be petted
+and lied to.  I'm a man.  I've sailed ships.  I've been on blue
+water.  I'm goin' to make port pretty soon, and I know it, but I
+want to get my decks clear fust, if I can.  Gracie, stand still.
+Nat, run alongside where I can see you plainer.  Keziah, you and
+the doctor stay where you be.  I want you to witness this."
+
+"Cap'n," protested Dr. Parker, "if I were you I wouldn't--"
+
+"Belay!  Silence there, for'ard!  Nat, you're my boy, ain't you?
+You set some store by the old man, hey?"
+
+"I--I guess I do, dad."
+
+"Yes, I guess you do, too.  You've been a pretty good boy; stubborn
+and pig-headed sometimes, but, take you by and large, pretty good.
+And Gracie, you've been a mighty good girl.  Never done nothin' I
+wouldn't like, nothin' mean nor underhand nor--"
+
+"Hush, uncle!  Hush!  Please hush!"
+
+"Well, you ain't; so why should I hush?  In this--this dream I had,
+seems 'sif you--seems as if a man come to me and said that you was--
+It WAS a dream, wa'n't it?"
+
+He tried to rise.  Nat and the doctor started forward.  Grace
+shrank back.
+
+"Of course it was, cap'n," said the doctor briskly.  "Now you
+mustn't fret yourself in this way.  Just lie still and--"
+
+"Belay, I tell you.  Yes, I guess 'twas a dream.  It had to be, but
+'twas so sort of real that I--  How long have I been this way?"
+
+"Oh, a little while!  Now just--"
+
+"Hush!  Don't pull your hand away, Gracie.  Nat, give me yours.
+That's it.  Now I put them two hands together.  See, doctor?  See,
+Keziah?"
+
+"He's wandering.  We must stop this," muttered Parker.  Mrs.
+Coffin, who began to comprehend what was coming, looked fearfully
+at Nat and the girl.
+
+"No, I ain't wanderin', neither," declared the old Come-Outer
+fretfully.  "I'm sane as ever I was and if you try to stop me I'll--
+Gracie, your Uncle Eben's v'yage is 'most over.  He's almost to
+his moorin's and they're waitin' for him on the pier.  I--I won't
+be long now.  Just a little while, Lord!  Give me just a little
+while to get my house in order.  Gracie, I don't want to go till I
+know you'll be looked out for.  I've spoke to Nat about this, but I
+ain't said much to you.  Seems if I hadn't, anyhow; I ain't real
+sartin; my head's all full of bells ringin' and--and things."
+
+"Don't, uncle, don't!" pleaded Grace.  "Don't worry about me.
+Think of yourself, please."
+
+"S-sh-sh!  Don't put me off.  Just listen.  I want you to marry my
+boy, after I'm gone.  I want you to say you will--say it now, so's
+I can hear it.  Will you, Gracie?"
+
+Grace would have withdrawn her hand, but he would not let her.  He
+clung to it and to that of his son with all his failing strength.
+
+"Will you, Gracie?" he begged.  "It's the last thing I'm goin' to
+ask of you.  I've tried to be sort of good to you, in my way, and--"
+
+"Don't, don't!" she sobbed.  "Let me think a minute, uncle, dear.
+Oh, do let me think!"
+
+"I ain't got time, Gracie.  You'll have to say it now, or else--
+All right, then, think; but think quick."
+
+Grace was thinking.  "If she really cares for him, she won't let
+him ruin his life."  That was what Captain Elkanah had said.  And
+here was a way to save him from ruin.
+
+"Won't you say it for me, Gracie?" pleaded Captain Eben.  She
+hesitated no longer.
+
+"Yes, uncle," she answered through tears, "if Nat wants me he can
+have me."
+
+Keziah clasped her hands.  Captain Eben's face lit up with a great
+joy.
+
+"Thank the Almighty!" he exclaimed.  "Lord, I do thank you.  Nat,
+boy, you're consider'ble older than she is and you'll have to plan
+for her.  You be a good husband to her all her days, won't ye?
+Why, what are you waitin' for?  Why don't you answer me?"
+
+Nat groaned aloud.
+
+"A minute, dad," he stammered.  "Just give me a minute, for Heaven
+sakes!  Keziah--"
+
+"Keziah!" repeated Eben.  "Keziah?  What are you talkin' to HER
+for?  She knows there couldn't be no better match in the world.
+You do know it, don't ye, Keziah?"
+
+"Yes," said Keziah slowly.  "I guess--I guess you're right, Eben."
+
+"Keziah Coffin," cried Nat Hammond, "do you tell me to marry
+Grace?"
+
+"Yes, Nat, I--I think your father's right."
+
+"Then--then--what difference does--  All right, dad.  Just as Grace
+says."
+
+"Thank God!" cried Captain Eben.  "Doctor, you and Mrs. Coffin are
+witnesses to this.  There! now my decks are clear and I'd better
+get ready to land.  Gracie, girl, the Good Book's over there on the
+bureau.  Read me a chapter, won't you?"
+
+An hour later Keziah sat alone in the dining room.  She had stolen
+away when the reading began.  Dr. Parker, walking very softly, came
+to her and laid his hand on her shoulder.
+
+"He's gone," he said simply.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+IN WHICH KEZIAH BREAKS THE NEWS
+
+
+It was nearly five o'clock, gray dawn of what was to be a clear,
+beautiful summer morning, when Keziah softly lifted the latch and
+entered the parsonage.  All night she had been busy at the Hammond
+tavern.  Busy with the doctor and the undertaker, who had been
+called from his bed by young Higgins; busy with Grace, soothing
+her, comforting her as best she could, and petting her as a mother
+might pet a stricken child.  The poor girl was on the verge of
+prostration, and from hysterical spasms of sobs and weeping passed
+to stretches of silent, dry-eyed agony which were harder to witness
+and much more to be feared.
+
+"It is all my fault," she repeated over and over again.  "All my
+fault!  I killed him!  I killed him, Aunt Keziah!  What shall I do?
+Oh, why couldn't I have died instead?  It would have been so much
+better, better for everybody."
+
+"Ss-sh! ss-sh! deary," murmured the older woman.  "Don't talk so;
+you mustn't talk so.  Your uncle was ready to go.  He's been ready
+for ever so long, and those of us who knew how feeble he was
+expected it any time.  'Twa'n't your fault at all and he'd say so
+if he was here now."
+
+"No, he wouldn't.  He'd say just as I do, that I was to blame.  You
+don't know, Aunt Keziah.  Nobody knows but me."
+
+"Maybe I do, Gracie, dear; maybe I do.  Maybe I understand better'n
+you think I do.  And it's all been for the best.  You'll think so,
+too, one of these days.  It seems hard now; it is awful hard, you
+poor thing, but it's all for the best, I'm sure.  Best for
+everyone.  It's a mercy he went sudden and rational, same as he
+did.  The doctor says that, if he hadn't, he'd have been helpless
+and bedridden and, maybe, out of his head for another year.  He
+couldn't have lived longer'n that, at the most."
+
+"But you DON'T know, Aunt Keziah!  You don't know what I--  I AM to
+blame.  I'll never forgive myself.  And I'll never be happy again."
+
+"Yes, you will.  You'll come, some day, to think it was best and
+right, for you and--and for others.  I know you think you'll never
+get over it, but you will.  Somehow or other you will, same as the
+rest of us have had to do.  The Lord tries us mighty hard
+sometimes, but He gives us the strength to bear it.  There! there!
+don't, deary, don't."
+
+Dr. Parker was very anxious.
+
+"She must rest," he told Mrs. Coffin.  "She must, or her brain will
+give way.  I'm going to give her something to make her sleep and
+you must get her to take it."
+
+So Keziah tried and, at last, Grace did take the drug.  In a little
+while she was sleeping, uneasily and with moans and sobbings, but
+sleeping, nevertheless.
+
+"Now it's your turn, Keziah," said the doctor.  "You go home now and
+rest, yourself.  We don't need you any more just now."
+
+"Where's--where's Cap'n Nat?" asked Keziah.
+
+"He's in there with his father.  He bears it well, although he is
+mighty cut up.  Poor chap, he seems to feel that he is to blame,
+somehow.  Says Cap'n Eben and he had disagreed about something or
+other and he fears that hastened the old man's death.  Nonsense, of
+course.  It was bound to come and I told him so.  'Twas those
+blasted Come-Outers who really did it, although I shan't say so to
+anyone but you.  I'm glad Nat and the girl have agreed to cruise
+together.  It's a mighty good arrangement.  She couldn't have a
+better man to look out for her and he couldn't have a better wife.
+I suppose I'm at liberty to tell people of the engagement, hey?"
+
+"Yes.  Yes, I don't see any reason why not.  Yes--  I guess likely
+you'd better tell 'em."
+
+"All right.  Now you go home.  You've had a hard night, like the
+rest of us."
+
+How hard he had no idea.  And Keziah, as she wearily entered the
+parsonage, realized that the morning would be perhaps the hardest
+of all.  For upon her rested the responsibility of seeing that the
+minister's secret was kept.  And she, and no other, must break the
+news to him.
+
+The dining room was dark and gloomy.  She lighted the lamp.  Then
+she heard a door open and Ellery's voice, as he called down the
+stairs.
+
+"Who is it?" he demanded.  "Mrs. Coffin?"
+
+She was startled.  "Yes," she said softly, after a moment.  "Yes,
+Mr. Ellery, it's me.  What are you doin' awake at such an hour's
+this?"
+
+"Yes, I'm awake.  I couldn't sleep well to-night, somehow.  Too
+much to think of, I imagine.  But where have you been?  Why weren't
+you at meeting?  And where--  Why, it's almost morning!"
+
+She did not answer at once.  The temptation was to say nothing now,
+to put off the trying scene as long as possible.
+
+"It's morning," repeated the minister.  "Are you sick?  Has
+anything happened?"
+
+"Yes," she answered slowly, "somethin' has happened.  Are you
+dressed?  Could you come down?"
+
+He replied that he would be down in a moment.  When he came he
+found her standing by the table waiting for him.  The look of her
+face in the lamplight shocked him.
+
+"Why, Mrs. Coffin!" he exclaimed.  "What IS it?  You look as if you
+had been through some dreadful experience."
+
+"Maybe I have," she replied.  "Maybe I have.  Experiences like that
+come to us all in this life, to old folks and young, and we have to
+bear 'em like men and women.  That's the test we're put to, Mr.
+Ellery, and the way we come through the fire proves the stuff we're
+made of.  Sorrows and disappointments and heartbreaks and
+sicknesses and death--"
+
+She paused on the word.  He interrupted her.
+
+"Death?" he repeated.  "Death?  Is some one dead, some one I know?
+Mrs. Coffin, what is it you are trying to tell me?"
+
+Her heart went out to him.  She held out both her hands.
+
+"You poor boy," she cried, "I'm trying to tell you one of the
+hardest things a body can tell.  Yes, some one is dead, but that
+ain't all.  Eben Hammond, poor soul, is out of his troubles and
+gone."
+
+"Eben Hammond!  Captain Eben?  Dead!  Why, why--"
+
+"Yes, Eben's gone.  He was took down sudden and died about ten
+o'clock last night.  I was there and--"
+
+"Captain Eben dead!  Why, he was as well as--as--  She said--  Oh,
+I must go!  I must go at once!"
+
+He was on his way to the door, but she held it shut.
+
+"No," she said gravely, "you mustn't go.  You mustn't go, Mr.
+Ellery.  That's the one thing you mustn't do."
+
+"You don't understand.  By and by I can tell you why I must be
+there, but now--"
+
+"I do understand.  I understand it all.  Lord help us! if I'd only
+understood sooner, how much of this might have been spared.  Why
+DIDN'T you tell me?"
+
+"Mrs. Coffin--"
+
+"John--you won't mind my callin' you John.  I'm old enough, pretty
+nigh, to be your mother, and I've come to feel almost as if I was.
+John, you've got to stay here with me.  You can't go to that house.
+You can't go to her."
+
+"Mrs. Coffin, what are you saying?  Do you know--  Have you--"
+
+"Yes, I know all about it.  I know about the meetin's in the pines
+and all.  Oh, why didn't you trust me and tell me?  If you had, all
+would have been SO much better!"
+
+He looked at her in utter amazement.  The blood rushed to his face.
+
+"You know THAT?" he whispered.
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"Did she tell--"
+
+"No, nobody told.  That is, only a little.  I got a hint and I
+suspicioned somethin' afore.  The rest I saw with my own eyes."
+
+He was now white, but his jaw shot forward and his teeth closed.
+
+"If you do know," he said, "you must realize that my place is with
+her.  Now, when she is in trouble--"
+
+"Would you want to make that trouble greater?  More than she could
+bear?"
+
+"I think I might help her to bear it.  Mrs. Coffin, you have been
+my truest friend, but one, in Trumet.  You HAVE been like a mother
+to me.  But I have thought this out to the end and I shall go
+through with it.  It is my affair--and hers.  If my own mother were
+alive and spoke as you do, I should still go through with it.  It
+is right, it is my life.  I'm not ashamed of anything I've done.
+I'm proud.  I'm proud of her.  And humble only when I think how
+unworthy I am to be her husband.  I suppose you are fearful of what
+my congregation will say.  Well, I've thought of that, too, and
+thought it through.  Whatever they say and whatever they do will
+make no difference.  Do you suppose I will let THEM keep me from
+her?  Please open that door."
+
+He was very tragic and handsome--and young, as he stood there.  The
+tears overflowed the housekeeper's eyes as she looked at him.  If
+her own love story had not been broken off at its beginning, if she
+had not thrown her life away, she might have had a son like that.
+She would have given all that the years had in store for her, given
+it gladly, to have been able to open the door and bid him go.  But
+she was firm.
+
+"It ain't the congregation, John," she said.  "Nor Trumet, nor your
+ministry.  That means more'n you think it does, now; but it ain't
+that.  You mustn't go to her because--well, because she don't want
+you to."
+
+"Doesn't want me?  I know better."  He laughed in supreme scorn.
+
+"She doesn't want you, John.  She wouldn't see you if you went.
+She would send you away again, sure, sartin sure.  She would.  And
+if you didn't go when she sent you, you wouldn't be the man I hope
+you are.  John, you mustn't see Grace again.  She ain't yours.  She
+belongs to some one else."
+
+"Some one else!"  He repeated the words in a whisper.  "Some one
+ELSE?  Why, Mrs. Coffin, you must be crazy!  If you expect me to--"
+
+"Hush! hush!  I ain't crazy, though there's times when I wonder I
+ain't.  John, you and Grace have known each other for a few months,
+that's all.  You've been attracted to her because she was pretty
+and educated and--and sweet; and she's liked you because you were
+about the only young person who could understand her and--and all
+that.  And so you've been meetin' and have come to believe--you
+have, anyway--that 'twas somethin' more than likin'.  But you
+neither of you have stopped to think that a marriage between you
+two was as impossible as anything could be.  And, besides, there's
+another man.  A man she's known all her life and loved and
+respected--"
+
+"Stop, Mrs. Coffin! stop this wicked nonsense.  I won't hear it."
+
+"John, Grace Van Horne is goin' to marry Cap'n Nat Hammond.  There!
+that's the livin' truth."
+
+In his absolute confidence and faith he had again started for the
+door.  Now he wheeled and stared at her.  She nodded solemnly.
+
+"It's the truth," she repeated.  "She and Nat are promised to each
+other.  Cap'n Eben, on his deathbed, asked Dr. Parker and me to be
+witnesses to the engagement.  Now you see why you mustn't go nigh
+her again."
+
+He did not answer.  Instead, he stood silently staring.  She
+stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder.
+
+"Set down, John," she said.  "Set down and let me tell you about
+it.  Yes, yes, you must.  If I tell you, you'll understand better.
+There! there! don't you interrupt me yet and don't you look that
+way.  Do set down."
+
+She led him over to the rocking-chair and gently forced him into
+it.  He obeyed, although with no apparent realization of what he
+was doing.  Still with her hand on his shoulder she went on
+speaking.  She told him of her visit to the Hammond tavern, saying
+nothing of Mr. Pepper's call nor of her own experience in the
+grove.  She told of Captain Eben's seizure, of what the doctor
+said, and of the old Come-Outer's return to consciousness.  Then
+she described the scene in the sick room and how Nat and Grace had
+plighted troth.  He listened, at first stunned and stolid, then
+with growing impatience.
+
+"So you see," she said.  "It's settled; they're engaged, and Dr.
+Parker will tell everybody of the engagement this very mornin'.  It
+wa'n't any great surprise to me.  Those two have been brought up
+together; 'twas the natural thing that was almost bound to happen.
+Eben's heart was set on it for years.  And she'll have a good
+husband, John, that I know.  And she'll do her best to make him
+happy.  He's a good man and--"
+
+The minister sprang to his feet.
+
+"A good man!" he cried furiously.  "A good man!  One who will make
+use of a dying father to drive a girl into--  Stand aside, Mrs.
+Coffin!"
+
+"John, you mustn't speak that way of Nat Hammond.  He ain't the
+kind to drive a girl against her will.  And Grace is not one to be
+driven."
+
+"Are you blind?  Can't you see?  Why, only yesterday, she--  Do you
+think I shall permit such a wicked crime as that to--"
+
+"Ss-sh!  No, it ain't wicked, it's right.  Right and best for
+everybody, for her especial.  Yesterday she might have forgot for a
+minute.  But think, just think what would have happened if she
+cared for you."
+
+"But she does!  I know she does.  Mrs. Coffin, stand away from that
+door."
+
+"No, John; if you go out of that door now, to go to her, you'll
+have to go by main strength.  You shan't wreck yourself and that
+girl if I can help it.  Be a man."
+
+The pair looked at each other.  Keziah was determined, but so,
+evidently, was he.  She realized, with a sinking heart, that her
+words had made absolutely no impression.  He did not attempt to
+pass, but he slowly shook his head.
+
+"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "perhaps you believe you're doing right.  I
+hope--yes, I'll give you credit for that belief.  But I KNOW I am
+right and I shall go to her.  Such a--a BARGAIN as that you have
+just told me of is no more to be regarded than--"
+
+"John, I beg you--"
+
+"NO."
+
+"Then go.  Go this minute and break her heart and ruin her life and
+spoil her good name in this village where she's lived since she was
+eight years old.  Go! be selfish.  I suppose that's part of a man's
+make-up.  Go! Never mind her.  Go!"
+
+"I do 'mind' her, as you call it.  I AM thinking of her."
+
+"No, you're not.  It's yourself."
+
+"If it was myself--and God knows it is the only happiness on earth
+for me--if it was only myself, and I really thought she wished me
+to stay away, I'd stay, I'd stay, though I'd pray to die before
+this hour was over."
+
+"I know, I know.  I've prayed to die myself afore now, but I'm here
+yet; and so will you be.  We can't die so easy."
+
+"But I know--"
+
+"Do you suppose SHE would come to YOU if she knew it would be your
+ruin?"
+
+He hesitated.  The last time they met, ages before--no, only the
+previous afternoon--she had told him it was his happiness and his
+future only that she thought of.  He choked and drew his hand
+across his eyes.
+
+"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "you tell me it will be her ruin.  YOU tell
+me so.  You SAY she doesn't want me.  I tell you that the only
+thing that will keep me from her is hearing that from her own lips.
+When she tells me to leave her I will, and not before."
+
+"She'll tell you, John; she'll tell you.  I know you must despise
+me, pretty nigh.  I cal'late you think I'm a worldly old woman,
+carin' nothin' for your feelin's.  Maybe I've talked pretty hard in
+the last few minutes, but I haven't meant to be hard.  To be
+honest, I didn't think you'd listen to me.  I expected you'd insist
+on seein' her yourself.  Well, then, go and see her, if you must,
+though what will come of it can only be more trouble, for you run
+the risk of folks knowin' it and beginnin' to wonder.  And I know
+Grace.  She's made up her mind and won't change it.  But I do ask
+you this: I ask you not to go now.  Wait a little while, do.  I
+left her asleep, worn out by what she's been through and under the
+effects of the doctor's sleepin' medicine.  He said she must rest
+or he was afraid her brain would give out.  For her sake, then,
+wait a little.  Then, if you don't hear from her, maybe I can
+arrange a meetin' place where you can see her without anyone's
+knowin' it.  I'll try.  But do wait a little while, for her sake,
+won't you?"
+
+At last he was listening and hesitating.
+
+"Won't you?" begged Keziah.
+
+"Yes," he answered slowly.  "I'll wait.  I'll wait until noon,
+somehow, if I can.  I'll try.  But not a minute later.  Not one.
+You don't know what you're asking, Mrs. Coffin."
+
+"Yes, I do.  I know well.  And I thank you for her sake."
+
+But he did not have to wait until noon.  At six o'clock, through
+the dew-soaked grass of the yard, came the Higgins boy.  For the
+first time in his short life he had been awake all night and he
+moved slowly.
+
+The housekeeper opened the door.  Ike held up an envelope, clutched
+in a grimy hand.
+
+"It's for you, Mrs. Keziah," he said.  "Gracie, she sent it.  There
+ain't no answer."
+
+Keziah took the letter.  "How is she?  And how's Nat?" she asked.
+
+"They're doin' pretty well, so ma says.  Ma's there now and they've
+sent for Hannah Poundberry.  Gee!" he added, yawning, "I ain't
+slept a wink.  Been on the jump, now I tell ye.  Didn't none of
+them Come-Outers git in, not one.  I sent 'em on the home tack
+abilin'.  You ought to hear me give old Zeke Bassett Hail Columby!
+Gosh!  I was just ahopin' HE'D come."
+
+Mrs. Coffin closed the door and tore open the envelope.  Within was
+another addressed, in Grace's handwriting, to Mr. Ellery.  The
+housekeeper entered the study, handed it to him and turned away.
+
+The minister, who had been pacing the floor, seized the note
+eagerly.  It was written in pencil and by a hand that had trembled
+much.  Yet there was no indecision in the written words.
+
+
+"Dear John," wrote Grace.  "I presume Aunt Keziah has told you of
+uncle's death and of my promise to Nat.  It is true.  I am going to
+marry him.  I am sure this is right and for the best.  Our
+friendship was a mistake and you must not see me again.  Please
+don't try.
+
+"GRACE VAN HORNE."
+
+
+Beneath was another paragraph.
+
+
+"Don't worry about me.  I shall be happy, I am sure.  And I shall
+hope that you may be.  I shall pray for that."
+
+
+The note fell to the floor with a rustle that sounded loud in the
+stillness.  Then Keziah heard the minister's step.  She turned.  He
+was moving slowly across the room.
+
+"John," she cried anxiously, "you poor boy!"
+
+He answered without looking back.
+
+"I'm--going--up--to--my--room," he said, a pause between each word.
+"I want to be alone awhile, Mrs. Coffin."
+
+Wearily Keziah set about preparing breakfast.  Not that she
+expected the meal would be eaten, but it gave her something to do
+and occupied her mind.  The sun had risen and the light streamed in
+at the parsonage windows.  The breeze blew fresh and cool from the
+ocean.  It was a magnificent morning.
+
+She called to him that breakfast was ready, but he did not answer.
+She could eat nothing herself, and, when the table was cleared,
+prepared to do the week's washing, for Monday is always washday in
+Trumet.  Noon came, dinner time, but still he did not come down.
+At last Keziah could stand it no longer.  She determined to go to
+him.  She climbed the steep stairs and rapped on the door of his
+room.
+
+"Yes?" she heard him say.
+
+"It's me," was the reply.  "Mr. Ellery, can I come in?  I know you
+want to be alone, but I don't think you'd ought to be, too much.
+I'd like to talk with you a few minutes; may I?"
+
+A moment passed before he told her to enter.  He was sitting in a
+chair by the window, dressed just as he had been when she returned
+from the tavern.  She looked sharply at his face as it was turned
+toward her.  His eyes were dry and in them was an expression so
+hopeless and dreary that the tears started to her own.
+
+"John," she said, "I couldn't bear to think of your facin' it alone
+up here.  I just had to come."
+
+He smiled, and the smile was as hopeless as the look in his eyes.
+
+"Face it?" he repeated.  "Well, Mrs. Coffin, I must face it, I
+suppose.  I've been facing it ever since--since I knew.  And I find
+it no easier."
+
+"John, what are you goin' to do?"
+
+He shook his head.  "I don't know," he said.  "Go away somewhere,
+first of all, I guess.  Go somewhere and--and try to live it down.
+I can't, of course, but I must try."
+
+"Go away?  Leave Trumet and your church and your congregation?"
+
+"Did you suppose I could stay here?"
+
+"I hoped you would."
+
+"And see the same people and the same places?  And do the same
+things?  See--see HER!  Did you"--he moved impatiently--"did you
+expect me to attend the wedding?"
+
+She put out her hand.  "I know it'll be hard," she said, "stayin'
+here, I mean.  But your duty to others--"
+
+"Don't you think we've heard enough about duty to others?  How
+about my duty to myself?"
+
+"I guess that's the last thing we ought to think about in the
+world, if we do try to be fair and square.  Your church thinks a
+heap of you, John.  They build on you.  You've done more in the
+little while you've been here than Mr. Langley did in his last
+fifteen years.  We've grown and we're doin' good--doin' it, not
+talkin' it in prayer meetin'.  The parish committee likes you and
+the poor folks in the society love you.  Old Mrs. Prince was
+tellin' me, only a little spell ago, that she didn't know how she'd
+have pulled through this dreadful time if 'twa'n't for you.  And
+there's lots of others.  Are you goin' to leave them?  And what
+reason will you give for leavin'?"
+
+He shook his head.  "I don't know," he answered.  "I may not give
+any.  But I shall go."
+
+"I don't believe you will.  I don't believe you're that kind.  I've
+watched you pretty sharp since you and I have been livin' together
+and I have more faith in you than that comes to.  You haven't acted
+to me like a coward and I don't think you'll run away."
+
+"Mrs. Coffin, it is so easy for you to talk.  Perhaps if I were in
+your place I should be giving good advice about duty and not
+running away and so on.  But suppose you were in mine."
+
+"Well, suppose I was."
+
+"Suppose--  Oh, but there! it's past supposing."
+
+"I don't know's 'tis.  My life hasn't been all sunshine and fair
+winds, by no means."
+
+"That's true.  I beg your pardon.  You have had troubles and, from
+what I hear, you've borne them bravely.  But you haven't had to
+face anything like this."
+
+"Haven't I?  Well, what is it you're asked to face?  Disappointment?
+I've faced that.  Sorrow and heartbreak?  I've faced them."
+
+"You've never been asked to sit quietly by and see the one you love
+more than all the world marry some one else."
+
+"How do you know I ain't?  How do you know I ain't doin' just that
+now?"
+
+"Mrs. Coffin!"
+
+"John Ellery, you listen to me.  You think I'm a homely old woman,
+probably, set in my ways as an eight-day clock.  I guess I look
+like it and act like it.  But I ain't so awful old--on the edge of
+forty, that's all.  And when I was your age I wa'n't so awful
+homely, either.  I had fellers aplenty hangin' round and I could
+have married any one of a dozen.  This ain't boastin'; land knows
+I'm fur from that.  I was brought up in this town and even when I
+was a girl at school there was only one boy I cared two straws
+about.  He and I went to picnics together and to parties and
+everywhere.  Folks used to laugh and say we was keepin' comp'ny,
+even then.
+
+"Well, when I was eighteen, after father died, I went up to New
+Bedford to work in a store there.  Wanted to earn my own way.  And
+this young feller I'm tellin' you about went away to sea, but every
+time he come home from a voyage he come to see me and things went
+on that way till we was promised to each other.  The engagement
+wa'n't announced, but 'twas so, just the same.  We'd have been
+married in another year.  And then we quarreled.
+
+"'Twas a fool quarrel, same as that kind gen'rally are.  As much my
+fault as his and as much his as mine, I cal'late.  Anyhow, we was
+both proud, or thought we was, and neither would give in.  And he
+says to me, 'You'll be sorry after I'm gone.  You'll wish me back
+then.'  And says I, BEIN' a fool, 'I guess not.  There's other fish
+in the sea.'  He sailed and I did wish him back, but I wouldn't
+write fust and neither would he.  And then come another man."
+
+She paused, hesitated, and then continued.
+
+"Never mind about the other man.  He was handsome then, in a way,
+and he had money to spend, and he liked me.  He wanted me to marry
+him.  If--if the other, the one that went away, had written I never
+would have thought of such a thing, but he didn't write.  And, my
+pride bein' hurt, and all, I finally said yes to the second chap.
+My folks did all they could to stop it; they told me he was
+dissipated, they said he had a bad name, they told me twa'n't a fit
+match.  And his people, havin' money, was just as set against his
+takin' a poor girl.  Both sides said ruin would come of it.  But I
+married him.
+
+"Well, for the first year 'twa'n't so bad.  Not happiness exactly,
+but not misery either.  That come later.  His people was well off
+and he'd never worked much of any.  He did for a little while after
+we was married, but not for long.  Then he begun to drink and carry
+on and lost his place.  Pretty soon he begun to neglect me and at
+last went off to sea afore the mast.  We was poor as poverty, but I
+could have stood that; I did stand it.  I took in sewin' and kept
+up an appearance, somehow.  Never told a soul.  His folks come
+patronizin' around and offered me money, so's I needn't disgrace
+them.  I sent 'em rightabout in a hurry.  Once in a while he'd come
+home, get tipsy and abuse me.  Still I said nothin'.  Thank God,
+there was no children; that's the one thing I've been thankful for.
+
+"You can't keep such things quiet always.  People are bound to find
+out.  They come to me and said, 'Why don't you leave him?' but I
+wouldn't.  I could have divorced him easy enough, there was reasons
+plenty, but I wouldn't do that.  Then word came that he was dead,
+drowned off in the East Indies somewheres.  I come back here to
+keep house for Sol, my brother, and I kept house for him till he
+died and they offered me this place here at the parsonage.  There!
+that's my story, part of it, more'n I ever told a livin' soul
+afore, except Sol."
+
+She ceased speaking.  The minister, who had sat silent by the
+window, apathetically listening or trying to listen, turned his
+head.
+
+"I apologize, Mrs. Coffin," he said dully, "you have had trials,
+hard ones.  But--"
+
+"But they ain't as hard as yours, you think?  Well, I haven't quite
+finished yet.  After word come of my husband's death, the other man
+come and wanted me to marry him.  And I wanted to--oh, how I wanted
+to!  I cared as much for him as I ever did; more, I guess.  But I
+wouldn't--I wouldn't, though it wrung my heart out to say no.  I
+give him up--why? 'cause I thought I had a duty laid on me."
+
+Ellery sighed.  "I can see but one duty," he said.  "That is the
+duty given us by God, to marry the one we love."
+
+Keziah's agitation, which had grown as she told her story, suddenly
+flashed into flame.
+
+"Is that as fur as you can see?" she asked fiercely.  "It's an easy
+duty, then--or looks easy now.  I've got a harder one; it's to
+stand by the promise I gave and the man I married."
+
+He looked at her as if he thought she had lost her wits.
+
+"The man you married?" he replied.  "Why, the man you married is
+dead."
+
+"No, he ain't.  You remember the letter you saw me readin' that
+night when you come back from Come-Outers' meetin'?  Well, that
+letter was from him.  He's alive."
+
+For the first time during the interview the minister rose to his
+feet, shocked out of his despair and apathy by this astounding
+revelation.
+
+"Alive?" he repeated.  "Your husband ALIVE?  Why, Mrs. Coffin, this
+is--"
+
+She waved him to silence.  "Don't stop me now," she said.  "I've
+told so much; let me tell the rest.  Yes, he's alive.  Alive and
+knockin' round the world somewheres.  Every little while he writes
+me for money and, if I have any, I send it to him.  Why?  Why
+'cause I'm a coward, after all, I guess, and I'm scared he'll do
+what he says he will and come back.  Perhaps you think I'm a fool
+to put up with it; that's what most folks would say if they knew
+it.  They'd tell me I ought to divorce him.  Well, I can't, I
+CAN'T.  I walked into the mess blindfold; I married him in spite of
+warnin's and everything.  I took him for better or for worse, and
+now that he's turned out worse, I must take my medicine.  I can't
+live with him--that I can't do--but while HE lives I'll stay his
+wife and give him what money I can spare.  That's the duty I told
+you was laid on me, and it's a hard one, but I don't run away from
+it."
+
+John Ellery was silent.  What could he say?  Keziah went on.
+
+"I don't run away from it," she exclaimed, "and you mustn't run
+away from yours.  Your church depends on you, they trust you.  Are
+you goin' to show 'em their trust was misplaced?  The girl you
+wanted is to marry another man, that's true, and it's mighty hard.
+But she'll marry a good man, and, by and by, she'll be happy."
+
+"Happy!" he said scornfully.
+
+"Yes, happy.  I know she'll be happy because I know she's doin'
+what'll be best for her and because I know him that's to be her
+husband.  I've known him all my life; he's that other one that--
+that--and I give him up to her; yes, I give him up to her, and try
+to do it cheerful, because I know it's best for him.  Hard for YOU?
+Great Lord A'mighty! do you think it ain't hard for ME?  I--I--"
+
+She stopped short; then covering her face with her apron, she ran
+from the room.  John Ellery heard her descending the stairs,
+sobbing as she went.
+
+All that afternoon he remained in his chair by the window.  It was
+six o'clock, supper time, when he entered the kitchen.  Keziah,
+looking up from the ironing board, saw him.  He was white and worn
+and grim, but he held out his hand to her.
+
+"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "I'm not going away.  You've shown me what
+devotion to duty really means.  I shall stay here and go on with my
+work."
+
+Her face lit up.  "Will you?" she said.  "I thought you would.  I
+was sure you was that kind."
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+IN WHICH THE SEA MIST SAILS
+
+
+They buried Captain Eben in the little Come-Outer cemetery at the
+rear of the chapel.  A bleak, wind-swept spot was that cemetery,
+bare of trees and with only a few graves and fewer headstones, for
+the Come-Outers were a comparatively new sect and their graveyard
+was new in consequence.  The grave was dug in the yellow sand
+beside that of Mrs. Hammond, Nat's mother, and around it gathered
+the fifty or sixty friends who had come to pay their last tribute
+to the old sailor and tavern keeper.
+
+The Come-Outers were there, all of them, and some members of the
+Regular society, Captain Zeb Mayo, Dr. Parker, Keziah Coffin, Mrs.
+Higgins, and Ike.  Mrs. Didama Rogers was there also, not as a
+mourner, but because, in her capacity as gatherer of gossip, she
+made it a point never to miss a funeral.  The Rev. Absalom Gott,
+Come-Outer exhorter at Wellmouth, preached the short sermon, and
+Ezekiel Bassett added a few remarks.  Then a hymn was sung and it
+was over.  The little company filed out of the cemetery, and
+Captain Eben Hammond was but a memory in Trumet.
+
+Keziah lingered to speak a word with Grace.  The girl, looking very
+white and worn, leaned on the arm of Captain Nat, whose big body
+acted as a buffer between her and over-sympathetic Come-Outers.
+Mrs. Coffin silently held out both hands and Grace took them
+eagerly.
+
+"Thank you for coming, Aunt Keziah," she said.  "I was sure you
+would."
+
+"Least I could do, deary," was the older woman's answer.  "Your
+uncle and I was good friends once; we haven't seen each other so
+often of late years, but that ain't changed my feelin's.  Now you
+must go home and rest.  Don't let any of these"--with a rather
+scornful glance at Josiah Badger and Ezekiel and the Reverend
+Absalom--"these Job's comforters bother you.  Nat, you see that
+they let her alone, won't you?"
+
+Captain Nat nodded.  He, too, looked very grave and worn.  "I'll
+tend to them," he said shortly.  "Come, Grace," he added; "let's
+go."
+
+But the girl hung back.  "Just a minute, Nat," she said.  "I--I--
+would you mind if I spoke to Aunt Keziah--alone?  I only want to
+say a word."
+
+Nat strode off to the cemetery gate, where Josiah Badger stood,
+brandishing a red cotton handkerchief as a not too-clean emblem of
+mourning.  Mr. Badger eagerly sprang forward, but ran into an
+impossible barrier in the form of the captain's outstretched arm.
+Josiah protested and the captain replied.  Grace leaned forward.
+
+"Auntie," she whispered, "tell me: Did a letter--  Did he--"
+
+"Yes, it came.  I gave it to him."
+
+"Did--did he tell you?  Do you know?"
+
+"Yes, I know, deary."
+
+"Did he--is he--"
+
+"He's well, deary.  He'll be all right.  I'll look out for him."
+
+"You will, won't you?  You won't let him do anything--"
+
+"Not a thing.  Don't worry.  We've had a long talk and he's going
+to stay right here and go on with his work.  And nobody else'll
+ever know, Gracie."
+
+"How--  O Aunt Keziah! how he must despise me."
+
+"Despise you!  For doin' what was your duty?  Nonsense!  He'll
+respect you for it and come to understand 'twas best for both of
+you, by and by.  Don't worry about him, Gracie.  I tell you I'll
+look out for him."
+
+"I guess it will be better if he does despise me.  And hate me,
+too.  He can't despise and hate me more than I do myself.  But it
+IS right--what I'm doing; and the other was wrong and wicked.
+Auntie, you'll come and see me, won't you?  I shall be so
+lonesome."
+
+"Yes, yes; I'll come.  Perhaps not right away.  There's reasons why
+I'd better not come right away.  But, by and by, after it's all
+settled and you and Nat"--she hesitated for an instant in spite of
+herself--"after you and Nat are married I'll come."
+
+"Don't talk about that NOW.  Please don't."
+
+"All right, I won't.  You be a good, brave girl and look out for
+Nat; that's your duty and I'm sure you'll do it.  And I'll do my
+best for John."
+
+"Do you call him John?"
+
+"Yup.  We had a sort of--of adoptin' ceremony the other mornin' and
+I--  Well, you see, I've got to have somebody to call by their
+front name and he's about all I've got left."
+
+"O Aunt Keziah! if I could be one half as patient and brave and
+sweet as you are--"
+
+"Sssh! here comes Nat.  Be kind to him.  He's sufferin', too; maybe
+more'n you imagine.  Here she is, Nat.  Take her back home and be
+good to her."
+
+The broad-shouldered skipper led his charge out of the gate and
+down the "Turn-off."  Josiah Badger looked after them disgustedly.
+As Keziah approached, he turned to her.
+
+"I swan to man!" he exclaimed, in offended indignation, "if I ain't
+losin' my respect for that Nat Hammond.  He's the f-f-fuf-
+for'ardest critter ever I see.  I was just agoin' to hail Gracie
+and ask her what she thought about my leadin' some of the meetin's
+now her uncle has been called aloft.  I wanted to ask her about it
+fust, afore Zeke Bassett got ahead of me, but that Nat wouldn't let
+me.  Told me she mustn't be b-b-b-bothered about little things now.
+LITTLE things!  Now, what do you think of that, Mrs. Coffin?  And I
+spoke to Lot Taylor, one of our own s-s-sas-sassiety, and asked
+what he thought of it, and he said for me to go home set d-d-down
+and let my h-h-h-hah-hair grow.  Of all--"
+
+"I tell you what you do, Josiah," broke in the voice of Captain Zeb
+Mayo, "you go home or somewhere else and set down and have it cut.
+That'll take pretty nigh as long, and'll keep it from wearin' out
+your coat collar.  Keziah, I've been waitin' for you.  Get in my
+shay and I'll drive you back to the parsonage."
+
+Mrs. Coffin accepted the invitation and a seat in the chaise beside
+Captain Zeb.  The captain spoke of the dead Come-Outer and of his
+respect for him in spite of the difference in creed.  He also spoke
+of the Rev. John Ellery and of the affection he had come to feel
+for the young man.
+
+"I like that young feller, Keziah," he said.  "Like him for a lot
+of reasons, same as the boy liked the hash.  For one thing, his
+religion ain't all starch and no sugar.  He's good-hearted and kind
+and--and human.  He seems to get just as much satisfaction out of
+the promise of heaven as he does out of the sartainty of t'other
+port.  He ain't all the time bangin' the bulkhead and sniffin'
+brimstone, like parsons I have seen.  Sulphur's all right for a
+spring medicine, maybe, but when June comes I like to remember that
+God made roses.  Elkanah, he comes to me a while ago and he says,
+'Zebedee,' he says, 'don't you think Mr. Ellery's sermons might be
+more orthodox?'  'Yes,' says I, 'they might be, but what a mercy
+'tis they ain't.'  He, he, he!  I kind of like to poke Elkanah in
+the shirt front once in a while, just to hear it crackle.  Say,
+Keziah, you don't think the minister and Annabel are--"
+
+"No," was the emphatic interruption; "I know they ain't; he ain't,
+anyway."
+
+"Good!  Them Danielses cal'late they own the most of this town
+already; if they owned the minister they'd swell up so the rest of
+us would have to go aloft or overboard; we'd be crowded off the
+decks, sure."
+
+"No one owns him.  Haven't you found that out?"
+
+"Yup, I cal'late I have and I glory in his spunk."
+
+"I'm glad to hear you say so.  Of course Cap'n Elkanah is boss of
+the parish committee and--"
+
+"What?  No, he ain't nuther.  He's head of it, but his vote counts
+just one and no more.  What makes you say that?"
+
+"Oh, nuthin'.  Only I thought maybe, long as Elkanah was feelin'
+that Mr. Ellery wa'n't orthodox enough, he might be goin' to make a
+change."
+
+"He might?  HE might!  Say, Keziah Coffin, there was Mayos in this
+town and in this church afore the fust Daniels ever washed ashore;
+and they'll be here when the last one blows up with his own
+importance.  I'm on that parish committee--you understand?--and
+I've sailed ships and handled crews.  I ain't so old nor feeble but
+what I can swing a belayin' pin.  Boss!  I'll have you to know that
+no livin' man bosses me."
+
+"All right!  I didn't mean to stir you up, Zebedee.  But from
+things Cap'n Daniels has said I gathered that he was runnin' the
+committee.  And, as I'm a friend of Mr. Ellery, it--"
+
+"Friend!  Well, so'm I, ain't I?  If you ever hear of Daniels
+tryin' any tricks against the minister, you send for me, that's
+all.  I'LL show him.  Boss!  Humph!"
+
+The wily Keziah alighted at the parsonage gate with the feeling
+that she had sown seed in fertile ground.  She was quite aware of
+Captain Zeb's jealousy of the great Daniels.  And the time might
+come when her parson needed an influential friend on the committee
+and in the Regular society.
+
+The news of the engagement between Captain Nat Hammond and Grace
+Van Horne, told by Dr. Parker to one or two of his patients, spread
+through Trumet like measles through a family of small children.
+Didama Rogers learned it, so did Lavinia Pepper, and after that it
+might as well have been printed on the walls for all to read.  It
+was talked over and gossiped about in every household from the
+lighthouse keeper's family to that of George Washington Cash, who
+lived in the one-room hovel in the woods near the Wellmouth line,
+and was a person of distinction, in his way, being the sole negro
+in the county.  And whenever it was discussed it was considered a
+fine thing for both parties concerned.  Almost everyone said it was
+precisely what they expected.
+
+Annabel Daniels and her father had not expected it.  They were,
+however, greatly pleased.  In their discussion, which lasted far
+into the night, Captain Elkanah expressed the opinion that the
+unexpected denouement was the result of his interview with Eben.
+He had told the old Come-Outer what would happen to his ward if she
+persisted in her impudent and audacious plot to entrap a Regular
+clergyman.  She, being discovered, had yielded, perforce, and had
+accepted Nat as the next best catch.
+
+Annabel was not satisfied with this explanation.  Of course, she
+said, she did not pretend to believe Grace's statement that she had
+found her uncle unconscious.  No doubt the pair had had an
+interview and all that.  But she believed the minister himself had
+come to his senses and had dismissed the brazen creature.  She did
+not blame Mr. Ellery so much.  He was a young man, with a kind
+heart, and no doubt the "Van Horne person" had worked upon his
+sympathies and had taken advantage of his inexperience of feminine
+wiles.
+
+"I think, pa," she said, "that it's our duty, yours and mine, to
+treat him just as we always have.  He doesn't know that we know,
+and we will keep the secret.  And, as Christians, we should forget
+and forgive.  We'll invite him here as we always have, keep him
+under our good influence, and be very kind to him, poor innocent.
+As for Captain Hammond, I'm sorry for him, knowing the kind of wife
+he is going to have, but no doubt Come-Outers are not particular."
+
+Kyan Pepper was another whom the news of the engagement surprised
+greatly.  When Lavinia told him of it, at the dinner table, he
+dropped the knife he was holding and the greasy section of fish-
+ball balanced upon it.
+
+"'Bishy," said Miss Pepper, "what do you s'pose has happened down
+to the Hammond tavern?"
+
+"Oh, I know that," was the reply.  "I heard that long ago; Cap'n
+Eben's dead."
+
+"'Course he's dead; and I knew you knew it.  Land sakes! don't be
+such a ninny.  Why, I told you myself."
+
+"Well, I didn't know but you'd forgot.  Anybody's li'ble to forget
+who they've told things to.  Why, I've forgot more things--"
+
+"Yes, there ain't no doubt about that.  I've told you a million
+times, if I have once, to tuck your napkin round your neck when
+you've got your Sunday clothes on.  And there you be this minute
+without a sign of a napkin."
+
+"Why, Laviny! I MUST have it round my neck.  I know I--"
+
+"Don't be so foolish!  Think I'm blind?  Can't I see you ain't got
+it?  Now where is it?"
+
+Kyan began a futile hunt for the missing napkin, in his lap, on the
+table, and finally under it.
+
+"I don't understand," he stammered, "where that napkin can be.  I'm
+just as sure I had it and now I'm just as sure I ain't got it.
+What do you s'pose I done with it?"
+
+"Goodness knows!  'Twouldn't surprise me if you'd et it, you're
+that absent-minded.  Here! what's that stickin' out of your breast
+pocket?"
+
+Her brother put his hand to the pocket indicated and produced the
+missing napkin, much crumpled.
+
+"There!" he exclaimed, in a tone of relief.  "Now I remember.  It
+must have dropped on the floor and I thought 'twas my handkerchief
+and picked it up and--"
+
+"What did you think you'd be carryin' a white handkerchief for, on
+a week day?"
+
+"Well, I had on my Sunday suit and--"
+
+"Yes, and for the dear mercy sakes WHY have you got it on?"
+
+Kyan saw an opportunity for self-justification.
+
+"You TOLD me to put it on," he declared triumphantly.  "You said
+yourself I'd better rig out in my Sunday clothes 'cause we might go
+to Eben's funeral.  You know you did."
+
+"Hear the man!  And then, after you've dressed up to go to his
+funeral, you pretend to believe I'm goin' to tell you he's dead.  I
+never--"
+
+"Well, what IS it, then?  He ain't come to life, has he?"
+
+"Grace Van Horne's engaged to be married, that's what it is.  Look
+out!  Oh, you--"
+
+Just here occurred the accident already described.  Knife and fish
+ball descended upon the waistcoat belonging to the "Sunday suit."
+Lavinia flew for warm water, ammonia, and a cloth, and the soiled
+waistcoat was industriously scrubbed.  The cleansing process was
+accompanied by a lively tongue lashing, to which Kyan paid little
+attention.
+
+"Engaged?" he kept repeating.  "Gracie Van Horne engaged?  Engaged?
+En--"
+
+"Be still, you poll parrot!  Dear! dear! dear! look at them spots.
+Yes, yes; don't say it again; she's engaged."
+
+"Who--who--who--"
+
+"Now you've turned to an owl, I do believe.  'Hoo! hoo!'  She's
+engaged to Nat Hammond, that's who.  Nothin' very surprisin' about
+that, is there?"
+
+Kyan made no answer.  He rubbed his forehead, while his sister
+rubbed the grease spots.  In jerky sentences she told of the
+engagement and how the news had reached her.
+
+"I can't believe it," faltered Abishai.  "She goin' to marry Nat!
+Why, I can't understand.  I thought--"
+
+"What did you think?  See here! you ain't keepin' anything from me,
+be you?"
+
+The answer was enthusiastically emphatic.
+
+"No, no, no, no!" declared Kyan.  "Only I didn't know they was--
+was--"
+
+"Neither did anybody else, but what of it?  Folks don't usually
+advertise when they're keepin' comp'ny, do they?"
+
+"No--o.  But it's gen'rally found out.  I know if I was keepin'
+comp'ny--or you was, La-viny--"
+
+His sister started.
+
+"What makes you say that?" she demanded, looking quickly up from
+her rubbing.
+
+"Why, nothin'.  Only if I was--or you was, somebody'd see somethin'
+suspicious and kind of drop a hint, and--"
+
+"Better for them if they 'tended to their own affairs," was the
+sharp answer.  "I ain't got any patience with folks that's always
+talkin' about their neighbor's doin's.  There! now you go out and
+stand alongside the cook stove till that wet place dries.  Don't
+you move till 'TIS dry, neither."
+
+So to the kitchen went Kyan, to stand, a sort of living
+clotheshorse, beside the hot range.  But during the drying process
+he rubbed his forehead many times.  Remembering what he had seen in
+the grove he could not understand; but he also remembered, even
+more vividly, what Keziah Coffin had promised to do if he ever
+breathed a word.  And he vowed again that that word should not be
+breathed.
+
+The death and funeral of Captain Eben furnished Trumet with a
+subject of conversation for a week or more.  Then, at the sewing
+circle and at the store and after prayer meeting, both at the
+Regular meeting house and the Come-Outer chapel, speculation
+centered on the marriage of Nat and Grace.  When was it to take
+place?  Would the couple live at the old house and "keep packet
+tavern" or would the captain go to sea again, taking his bride with
+him?  Various opinions, pro and con, were expressed by the
+speculators, but no one could answer authoritatively, because none
+knew except those most interested, and the latter would not tell.
+
+John Ellery heard the discussions at the sewing circle when, in
+company with some of the men of his congregation, he dropped in at
+these gatherings for tea after the sewing was over.  He heard them
+at church, before and after the morning service, and when he made
+pastoral calls.  People even asked his opinion, and when he changed
+the subject inferred, some of them, that he did not care about the
+doings of Come-Outers.  Then they switched to inquiries concerning
+his health.
+
+"You look awful peaked lately, Mr. Ellery," said Didama Rogers.
+"Ain't you feelin' well?"
+
+The minister answered that he was as well as usual, or thought he
+was.
+
+"No, no, you ain't nuther," declared Didama.  "You look's if you
+was comin' down with a spell of somethin'.  I ain't the only one
+that's noticed it.  Why, Thankful Payne says to me only yesterday,
+'Didama,' says she, 'the minister's got somethin' on his mind and
+it's wearin' of him out.'  You ain't got nothin' on your mind, have
+you, Mr. Ellery?"
+
+"I guess not, Mrs. Rogers.  It's a beautiful afternoon, isn't it?
+
+"There!  I knew you wa'n't well.  A beautiful afternoon, and it
+hotter'n furyation and gettin' ready to rain at that!  Don't tell
+me!  'Tain't your mind, Mr. Ellery, it's your blood that's gettin'
+thin.  My husband had a spell just like it a year or two afore he
+died, and the doctor said he needed rest and a change.  Said he'd
+ought to go away somewheres by himself.  I put my foot down on THAT
+in a hurry.  'The idea!' I says.  'You, a sick man, goin' off all
+alone by yourself to die of lonesomeness.  If you go, I go with
+you.'  So him and me went up to Boston and it rained the whole week
+we was there, and we set in a little box of a hotel room with a
+window that looked out at a brick wall, and set and set and set,
+and that's all.  I kept talkin' to him to cheer him up, but he
+never cheered.  I'd talk to him for an hour steady and when I'd
+stop and ask a question he'd only groan and say yes, when he meant
+no.  Finally, I got disgusted, after I'd asked him somethin' four
+or five times and he'd never answered, and I told him, I believed
+he was gettin' deef.  'Lordy!' he says, ' I wish I was!'  Well,
+that was enough for ME.  Says I, 'If your mind's goin' to give out
+we'd better be home.'  So home we come.  And that's all the good
+change and rest done HIM.  Hey?  What did you say, Mr. Ellery?"
+
+"Er--oh, nothing, nothing, Mrs. Rogers."
+
+"Yes.  So home we come and I'd had enough of doctors to last.  I
+figgered out that his blood was thinnin' and I knew what was good
+for that.  My great Aunt Hepsy, that lived over to East Wellmouth,
+she was a great hand for herbs and such and she'd give me a receipt
+for thickenin' the blood that was somethin' wonderful.  It had more
+kind of healin' herbs in it than you could shake a stick at.  I
+cooked a kittleful and got him to take a dose four times a day.  He
+made more fuss than a young one about takin' it.  Said it tasted
+like the Evil One, and such profane talk, and that it stuck to his
+mouth so's he couldn't relish his vittles; but I never let up a
+mite.  He had to take it and it done him a world of good.  Now I've
+got that receipt yet, Mr. Ellery, and I'll make some of that
+medicine for you.  I'll fetch it down to-morrow.  Yes, yes, I will.
+I'm agoin' to, so you needn't say no.  And perhaps I'll have heard
+somethin' about Cap'n Nat and Grace by that time."
+
+She brought the medicine, and the minister promptly, on her
+departure, handed it over to Keziah, who disposed of it just as
+promptly.
+
+"What did I do with it?" repeated the housekeeper.  "Well, I'll
+tell you.  I was kind of curious to see what 'twas like, so I took
+a teaspoonful.  I did intend to pour the rest of it out in the
+henyard, but after that taste I had too much regard for the hens.
+So I carried it way down to the pond and threw it in, jug and all.
+B-r-r-r!  Of all the messes that--I used to wonder what made Josh
+Rogers go moonin' round makin' his lips go as if he was crazy.  I
+thought he was talkin' to himself, but now I know better, he was
+TASTIN'.  B-r-r-r!"
+
+Keziah was the life of the gloomy parsonage.  Without her the
+minister would have broken down.  Time and time again he was
+tempted to give up, in spite of his promise, and leave Trumet, but
+her pluck and courage made him ashamed of himself and he stayed to
+fight it out.  She watched him and tended him and "babied" him as
+if he was a spoiled child, pretending to laugh at herself for doing
+it and at him for permitting it.  She cooked the dishes he liked
+best, she mended his clothes, she acted as a buffer between him and
+callers who came at inopportune times.  She was cheerful always
+when he was about, and no one would have surmised that she had a
+sorrow in the world.  But Ellery knew and she knew he knew, so the
+affection and mutual esteem between the two deepened.  He called
+her "Aunt Keziah" at her request and she continued to call him
+"John."  This was in private, of course; in public he was "Mr.
+Ellery" and she "Mrs. Coffin."
+
+In his walks about town he saw nothing of Grace.  She and Mrs.
+Poundberry and Captain Nat were still at the old home and no one
+save themselves knew what their plans might be.  Yet, oddly enough,
+Ellery was the first outsider to learn these plans and that from
+Nat himself.
+
+He met the captain at the corner of the "Turnoff" one day late in
+August.  He tried to make his bow seem cordial, but was painfully
+aware that it was not.  Nat, however, seemed not to notice, but
+crossed the road and held out his hand.
+
+"How are you, Mr. Ellery?" he said.  "I haven't run across you for
+sometime.  What's the matter?  Seems to me you look rather under
+the weather."
+
+Ellery answered that he was all right and, remembering that he had
+not met the captain since old Hammond's death, briefly expressed
+his sympathy.  His words were perfunctory and his manner cold.  His
+reason told him that this man was not to blame--was rather to be
+pitied, if Keziah's tale was true.  Yet it is hard to pity the one
+who is to marry the girl you love.  Reason has little to do with
+such matters.
+
+"Well, Mr. Ellery," said Captain Nat, "I won't keep you.  I see
+you're in a hurry.  Just thought I'd run alongside a minute and say
+good-by.  Don't know's I'll see you again afore I sail."
+
+"Before you sail?  You--you are going away?"
+
+"Yup.  My owners have been after me for a good while, but I
+wouldn't leave home on account of dad's health.  Now he's gone,
+I've got to be gettin' back on salt water again.  My ship's been
+drydocked and overhauled and she's in New York now loadin' for
+Manila.  It's a long vy'age, even if I come back direct, which
+ain't likely.  So I may not see the old town again for a couple of
+years.  Take care of yourself, won't you?  Good men, especially
+ministers, are scurse, and from what I hear about you I cal'late
+Trumet needs you."
+
+"When are you going?"
+
+"Last of next week, most likely."
+
+"Will you--shall you go alone?  Are you to be--to be--"
+
+"Married?  No.  Grace and I have talked it over and we've agreed
+it's best to wait till I come back.  You see, dad's been dead such
+a little while, and all, that--well, we're goin' to wait, anyhow.
+She'll stay in the old house with Hannah, and I've fixed things so
+she'll be provided for while I'm gone.  I left it pretty much to
+her.  If she'd thought it best for us to marry now, I cal'late I
+should have--have--well, done what she wanted.  But she didn't.
+Ah, hum!" he added with a sigh; "she's a good girl, a mighty good
+girl.  Well, so long and good luck."
+
+"Good-by, captain."
+
+"Good-by.  Er--I say, Mr. Ellery, how things at the parsonage?  All
+well there, are you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Er--Keziah--Mrs. Coffin, your housekeeper, is she smart?"
+
+"Yes.  She's well."
+
+"That's good.  Say, you might tell her good-by for me, if you want
+to.  Tell her I wished her all the luck there was.  And--and--just
+say that there ain't any--well, that her friend--say just that,
+will you?--her FRIEND said 'twas all right.  She'll understand;
+it's a--a sort of joke between us."
+
+"Very good, captain; I'll tell her."
+
+"Much obliged.  And just ask her to keep an eye on Grace while I'm
+gone.  Tell her I leave Gracie under her wing.  Keziah and me are
+old chums, in a way, you see."
+
+"Yes.  I'll tell her that, too."
+
+"And don't forget the 'friend' part.  Well, so long."
+
+They shook hands and parted.
+
+Didama and her fellow news-venders distributed the tale of Captain
+Nat's sailing broadcast during the next few days.  There was much
+wonderment at the delayed marriage, but the general verdict was
+that Captain Eben's recent death and the proper respect due to it
+furnished sufficient excuse.  Hannah Poundberry, delighted at being
+so close to the center of interest, talked and talked, and thus
+Grace was spared the interviews which would have been a trouble to
+her.  Nat left town, via the packet, on the following Wednesday.
+Within another week came the news that his ship, the Sea Mist, had
+sailed from New York, bound for Manila.  Her topsails sank beneath
+the horizon, and she vanished upon the wild waste of tumbling waves
+and out of Trumet's knowledge, as many another vessel, manned and
+officered by Cape Cod men, had done.  The village talked of her and
+her commander for a few days and then forgot them both.  Only at
+the old home by the landing and at the parsonage were they
+remembered.
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+IN WHICH TRUMET TALKS OF CAPTAIN NAT
+
+
+Summer was over, autumn came, passed, and it was winter--John
+Ellery's first winter in Trumet.  Fish weirs were taken up, the bay
+filled with ice, the packet ceased to run, and the village settled
+down to hibernate until spring.  The stage came through on its
+regular trips, except when snow or slush rendered the roads
+impassable, but passengers were very few.  Occasionally there were
+northeast gales, with shrieking winds, driving gusts of sleet and
+hail and a surf along the ocean side that bellowed and roared and
+tore the sandy beach into new shapes, washing away shoals and
+building others, blocking the mouth of the little inlet where the
+fish boats anchored and opening a new channel a hundred yards
+farther down.  Twice there were wrecks, one of a fishing schooner,
+the crew of which were fortunate enough to escape by taking to the
+dories, and another, a British bark, which struck on the farthest
+bar and was beaten to pieces by the great waves, while the
+townspeople stood helplessly watching from the shore, for launching
+a boat in that surf was impossible.
+
+The minister was one of those who watched.  News of the disaster
+had been brought to the village by the lightkeeper's assistant, and
+Ellery and most of the able-bodied men in town had tramped the
+three miles to the beach, facing the screaming wind and the cutting
+blasts of flying sand.  As they came over the dunes there were
+times when they had to dig their heels into the ground and bend
+forward to stand against the freezing gale.  And, as they drew
+nearer, the thunder of the mighty surf grew ever louder, until they
+saw the white clouds of spray leap high above the crazily tossing,
+flapping bunches of beach grass that topped the last knoll.
+
+Three masts and a broken bowsprit sticking slantwise up from a
+whirl of creamy white, that was all they could see of the bark, at
+first glance.  But occasionally, as the breakers drew back for
+another cruel blow, they caught glimpses of the tilted deck,
+smashed bare of houses and rail.
+
+"Those black things on the masts?" asked Ellery, bending to scream
+the question into the ear of Gaius Winslow, his companion.  "Are
+they--it can't be possible that they're--"
+
+"Yup," shrieked Gaius in reply, "they're men.  Crew lashed in the
+riggin'.  Poor fellers! it'll soon be over for 'em.  And they're
+most likely frozen stiff a'ready and won't sense drownin', that's a
+comfort."
+
+"Men!" repeated the minister in horror.  Men!  Great God! and are
+we to stand by here and see them die without lifting a hand?  Why,
+it's barbarous!  It's--"
+
+Winslow seized his arm and pointed.
+
+"Look!" he shouted.  "Look at them!  How much good would our
+liftin' hands do against them?"
+
+Ellery looked.  The undertow, that second, was sucking the beach
+dry, sucking with such force that gravel and small stones pattered
+down the slope in showers.  And behind it a wave, its ragged top
+raveled by the wind into white streamers, was piling up, up, up,
+sheer and green and mighty, curling over now and descending with a
+hammer blow that shook the land beneath their feet.  And back of it
+reared another, and another, and another, an eighth of a mile of
+whirling, surging, terrific breakers, with a yelling hurricane
+whipping them on.
+
+It was soon over, as Gaius had said it would be.  A mighty leap of
+spray, a section of hull broken off and tossed into view for an
+instant, then two of the masts went down.  The other followed
+almost at once.  Then the watchers, most of them, went back to the
+village, saying little or nothing and dispersing silently to their
+homes.
+
+During the next fortnight John Ellery conducted six funeral
+services, brief prayers beside the graves of unknown men from that
+wreck.  The bodies, as they were washed ashore, were put into plain
+coffins paid for by the board of selectmen, and buried in the
+corner of the Regular cemetery beside other waifs thrown up by the
+sea in other years.  It was a sad experience for him, but it was an
+experience and tended to make him forget his own sorrow just a
+little.  Or, if not to forget, at least to think of and sympathize
+more keenly with the sorrows of others.  Somewhere, in England or
+Ireland or scattered over the wide world, there were women and
+children waiting for these men, waiting anxiously for news of their
+safe arrival in port, praying for them.  When he mentioned this
+thought to the townspeople they nodded philosophically and said
+yes, they "presumed likely."  As Captain Zeb put it, "Most sailors
+are fools enough to get married, prob'ly this lot wa'n't any
+exception."  It was no new thought to him or to any other dweller
+in that region.  It was almost a fixed certainty that, if you went
+to sea long enough, you were bound to be wrecked sometime or other.
+The chances were that, with ordinary luck and good management, you
+would escape with your life.  Luck, good or bad, was the risk of
+the trade; good management was expected, as a matter of course.
+
+Mr. Pepper made no more calls at the parsonage, and when the
+minister met him, at church or elsewhere, seemed anxious to avoid
+an interview.
+
+"Well, Abishai," asked Ellery, on one of these occasions, "how are
+you getting on at home?  Has your sister locked you up again?"
+
+"No, sir, she ain't," replied Kyan.  "Laviny, she's sort of
+diff'rent lately.  She ain't nigh so--so down on a feller as she
+used to be.  I can get out once in a while by myself nowadays, when
+she wants to write a letter or somethin'."
+
+"Oh, she's writing letters, is she?"
+
+"Um--hm.  Writes one about every once in a week.  I don't know who
+they're to, nuther, but I have my suspicions.  You see, we've got a
+cousin out West--out Pennsylvany way--and he ain't very well and
+has got a turrible lot of money.  I'm sort of surmisin' that
+Laviny's writin' to him.  We're about his only relations that's
+left alive and--and so--"
+
+"I see."  The minister smiled.
+
+"Yup.  Laviny's a pretty good navigator, fur's keepin' an eye to
+wind'ard is concerned.  She was awful down on Phineas--that's his
+name--'cause he married a Philadelphy woman, but he's a widower man
+now, so I s'pose she feels better toward him.  She's talkin' of
+goin' up to Sandwich pretty soon."
+
+"She IS?  Alone?"
+
+"So she says."
+
+"To leave you here?  Why! well, I'm surprised."
+
+"Godfreys mighty! so be I.  But she says she b'lieves she needs a
+change and there's church conference up there, you know, and she
+figgers that she ain't been to conference she don't know when.  I
+s'pose you'll go, won't you, Mr. Ellery?"
+
+"Probably."
+
+"Um--hm.  I kind of wisht I was goin' myself.  'Twill be kind of
+lonesome round home without her."
+
+Considering that that variety of lonesomeness had been Abishai's
+dream of paradise for years, Ellery thought his change of heart a
+good joke and told Keziah of it when he returned to the parsonage.
+The housekeeper was greatly surprised.
+
+"Well! well! well!" she exclaimed.  "Miracles'll never cease.  I
+don't wonder so much at Laviny wantin' to go to conference, but her
+darin' to go and leave Kyan at home is past belief.  Why, every
+time she's had a cold her one fear was that she'd die and leave
+'Bish behind to be kidnaped by some woman.  Kyan himself was sick
+once, and the story was that his sister set side of the bed night
+and day and read him over and over again that chapter in the Bible
+that says there's no marryin' or givin' in marriage in heaven.  Dr.
+Parker told me that he didn't believe 'Bish got ha'f the comfort
+out of that passage that she did.  And now she's goin' to Sandwich
+and leave him.  I can't think it's true."
+
+But it was true, and Lavinia got herself elected a delegate and
+went, in company with Captain Elkanah, Mrs. Mayo, and others, to
+the conference.  She was a faithful attendant at the meetings and
+seemed to be having a very good time.  She introduced the minister
+to one Caleb Pratt, a resident of Sandwich, whom she said she had
+known ever since she was a girl.
+
+"Mr. Pratt's a cousin to Thankful Payne over to home," volunteered
+Lavinia.  "You know Thankful, Mr. Ellery."
+
+Ellery did know Mrs. Payne and said so.  Mr. Pratt, who was dressed
+in a new suit of black which appeared to hurt him, imparted the
+information that he'd heard tell consider'ble of Mr. Ellery.
+
+"I enjoyed your sermon to-night fust--rate," he added solemnly.
+"Fust--rate, sir--yes."
+
+"Did you, indeed?  I'm glad."
+
+"Yes, sir.  You used words in that sermon that I never heard afore
+in my life.  'Twas grand."
+
+Lavinia confided to her pastor that Mr. Pratt made the best shoes
+in Ostable County.  He could fit ANY kind of feet, she declared,
+and the minister ought to try him sometime.  She added that he had
+money in the bank.
+
+The Reverend John rode home in the stage beside Miss Annabel, not
+from choice, but because the young lady's father insisted upon it.
+Miss Daniels gushed and enthused as she always did.  As they drove
+by the Corners the minister, who had been replying absently to
+Annabel's questions, suddenly stopped short in the middle of a
+sentence.  His companion, leaning forward to look out of the
+window, saw Grace Van Horne entering the store.  For an instant
+Annabel's face wore a very unpleasant expression.  Then she smiled
+and said, in her sweetest manner:
+
+"Why, there's the tavern girl!  I haven't seen her for sometime.
+How old she looks!  I suppose her uncle's death has aged her.
+Well, she'll be married soon, just as soon as Cap'n Nat gets back.
+They perfectly worship each other, those two.  They say she writes
+him the longest letters.  Hannah Poundberry told me.  Hannah's a
+queer creature and common, but devoted to the Hammonds, Mr. Ellery.
+However, you're not interested in Come-Outers, are you?  Ha, ha!"
+
+Ellery made some sort of an answer, but he could not have told what
+it was.  The sight of Grace had brought back all that he was trying
+so hard to forget.  Why couldn't one forget, when it was so
+painful--and so useless--to remember?
+
+Spring once more; then summer.  And now people were again speaking
+of Captain Nat Hammond.  His ship was overdue, long overdue.  Even
+in those days, when there were no cables and the telegraph was
+still something of a novelty, word of his arrival should have
+reached Trumet months before this.  But it had not come, and did
+not.  Before the summer was over, the wise heads of the retired
+skippers were shaking dubiously.  Something had happened to the Sea
+Mist, something serious.
+
+As the weeks and months went by without news of the missing vessel,
+this belief became almost a certainty.  At the Come-Outer chapel,
+where Ezekiel Bassett now presided, prayers were offered for the
+son of their former leader.  These prayers were not as fervent as
+they might have been, for Grace's nonattendance at meetings was
+causing much comment and a good deal of resentment.  She came
+occasionally, but not often.  "I always said she was stuck-up and
+thought she was too good for the rest of us," remarked "Sukey B."
+spitefully.  "'And, between you and me, pa says he thinks Nat
+Hammond would be one to uphold her in it.  He wa'n't a bit
+spirituous and never experienced religion.  If anything HAS
+happened to him, it's a punishment sent, that's what pa thinks."
+
+Those were gloomy days at the parsonage.  Keziah said little
+concerning the topic of which all the village was talking, and John
+Ellery forebore to mention it.  The housekeeper was as faithful as
+ever in the performance of her household duties, but her smile had
+gone and she was worn and anxious.  The minister longed to express
+his sympathy, but Keziah had not mentioned Nat's name for months,
+not since he, Ellery, gave her the message intrusted to him by the
+captain before sailing.  He would have liked to ask about Grace,
+for he knew Mrs. Coffin visited the Hammond home occasionally, but
+this, too, he hesitated to do.  He heard from others that the girl
+was bearing the suspense bravely, that she refused to give up hope,
+and was winning the respect of all the thinking class in Trumet by
+her courage and patience.  Even the most bigoted of the Regulars,
+Captain Daniels and his daughter excepted of course, had come to
+speak highly of her.  "She's a spunky girl," declared Captain Zeb,
+with emphasis.  "There's nothing of the milk-sop and cry-baby about
+her.  She's fit to be a sailor's wife, and I only hope Nat's alive
+to come back and marry her.  He was a durn good feller, too--savin'
+your presence, Mr. Ellery--and if he was forty times a Come-Outer
+I'd say the same thing.  I'm 'fraid he's gone, though, poor chap.
+As good a seaman as he was would have fetched port afore this if he
+was atop of water.  As for Gracie, she's a brick, and a lady, every
+inch of her.  My old girl went down t'other day to call on her and
+that's the fust Come-Outer she's been to see sence there was any.
+Why don't you go see her, too, Mr. Ellery?  'Twould be a welcome
+change from Zeke Bassett and his tribe.  Go ahead! it would be the
+Almighty's own work and the society'd stand back of you, all them
+that's wuth considerin', anyhow."
+
+This was surprising advice from a member of the Regular and was
+indicative of the changed feeling in the community, but the
+minister, of course, could not take it.  He had plunged headlong
+into his church work, hoping that it and time would dull the pain
+of his terrible shock and disappointment.  It had been dulled
+somewhat, but it was still there, and every mention of her name
+revived it.
+
+One afternoon Keziah came into his study, where he was laboring
+with his next Sunday sermon, and sat down in the rocking-chair.
+She had been out and still wore her bonnet and shawl.
+
+"John," she said, "I ask your pardon for disturbin' you.  I know
+you're busy."
+
+Ellery laid down his pen.  "Never too busy to talk with you, Aunt
+Keziah," he observed.  "What is it?"
+
+"I wanted to ask if you knew Mrs. Prince was sick?"
+
+"No.  Is she?  I'm awfully sorry.  Nothing serious, I hope?"
+
+"No, I guess not.  Only she's got a cold and is kind of under the
+weather.  I thought p'r'aps you'd like to run up and see her.  She
+thinks the world and all of you, 'cause you was so good when she
+was distressed about her son.  Poor old thing! she's had a hard
+time of it."
+
+"I will go.  I ought to go, of course.  I'm glad you reminded me of
+it."
+
+"Yes.  I told her you hadn't meant to neglect her, but you'd been
+busy fussin' with the fair and the like of that."
+
+"That was all.  I'll go right away.  Have you been there to-day?"
+
+"No.  I just heard that she was ailin' from Didama Rogers.  Didama
+said she was all but dyin', so I knew she prob'ly had a little
+cold, or somethin'.  If she was really very bad, Di would have had
+her buried by this time, so's to be sure her news was ahead of
+anybody else's.  I ain't been up there, but I met her t'other
+mornin'."
+
+"Didama?"
+
+"No; Mrs. Prince.  She'd come down to see Grace."
+
+"Oh."
+
+"Yes.  The old lady's been awful kind and sympathizin' since--since
+this new trouble.  It reminds her of the loss of her own boy, I
+presume likely, and so she feels for Grace.  John, what do they say
+around town about--about HIM?"
+
+"Captain Hammond?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The minister hesitated.  Keziah did not wait for him to answer.
+
+"I see," she said slowly.  "Do they all feel that way?"
+
+"Why, if you mean that they've all given up hope, I should hardly
+say that.  Captain Mayo and Captain Daniels were speaking of it in
+my hearing the other day and they agreed that there was still a
+chance."
+
+"A pretty slim one, though, they cal'lated, didn't they?"
+
+"Well, they were--were doubtful, of course.  There was the
+possibility that he had been wrecked somewhere and hadn't been
+picked up.  They cited several such cases.  The South Pacific is
+full of islands where vessels seldom touch, and he and his crew may
+be on one of these."
+
+"Yes.  They might, but I'm afraid not.  Ah, hum!"
+
+She rose and was turning away.  Ellery rose also and laid his hand
+on her arm.
+
+"Aunt Keziah," he said, "I'm very sorry.  I respected Captain
+Hammond, in spite of--of--in spite of everything.  I've tried to
+realize that he was not to blame.  He was a good man and I haven't
+forgotten that he saved my life that morning on the flats.  And I'm
+so sorry for YOU."
+
+She did not look at him.
+
+"John," she answered, with a sigh, "sometimes I think you'd better
+get another housekeeper."
+
+"What?  Are you going to leave me?  YOU?"
+
+"Oh, 'twouldn't be because I wanted to.  But it seems almost as if
+there was a kind of fate hangin' over me and that," she smiled
+faintly, "as if 'twas sort of catchin', as you might say.
+Everybody I ever cared for has had somethin' happen to 'em.  My
+brother died; my--the man I married went to the dogs; then you and
+Grace had to be miserable and I had to help make you so; I sent Nat
+away and he blamed me and--"
+
+"No, no.  He didn't blame you.  He sent you word that he didn't."
+
+"Yes, but he did, all the same.  He must have.  I should if I'd
+been in his place.  And now he's dead, and won't ever understand--
+on this earth, anyhow.  I guess I'd better clear out and leave you
+afore I spoil your life."
+
+"Aunt Keziah, you're my anchor to windward, as they say down here.
+If I lost you, goodness knows where I should drift.  Don't you ever
+talk of leaving me again."
+
+"Thank you, John.  I'm glad you want me to stay.  I won't leave yet
+awhile; never--unless I have to."
+
+"Why should you ever have to?"
+
+"Well, I don't know.  Yes, I do know, too.  John, I had another
+letter t'other day."
+
+"You did?  From--from that man?"
+
+"Yup, from--"  For a moment it seemed as if she were about to
+pronounce her husband's name, something she had never done in his
+presence; but if she thought of it, she changed her mind.
+
+"From him," she said.  "He wanted money, of course; he always does.
+But that wa'n't the worst.  The letter was from England, and in it
+he wrote that he was gettin' sick of knockin' around and guessed
+he'd be for comin' to the States pretty soon and huntin' me up.
+Said what was the use of havin' an able-bodied wife if she couldn't
+give her husband a home."
+
+"The scoundrel!"
+
+"Yes, I know what he is, maybe full as well as you do.  That's why
+I spoke of leavin' you.  If that man comes to Trumet, I'll go, sure
+as death."
+
+"No, no.  Aunt Keziah, you must free yourself from him.  No power
+on earth can compel you to longer support such a--"
+
+"None on earth, no.  But it's my punishment and I've got to put up
+with it.  I married him with my eyes wide open, done it to spite
+the--the other, as much as anything, and I must bear the burden.
+But I tell you this, John: if he comes here, to this town, where
+I've been respected and considered a decent woman, if he comes
+here, I go--somewhere, anywhere that'll be out of the sight of them
+that know me.  And wherever I go he shan't be with me.  THAT I
+won't stand!  I'd rather die, and I hope I do.  Don't talk to me
+any more now--don't!  I can't stand it."
+
+She hurried out of the room.  Later, as the minister passed through
+the dining room on his way to the door, she spoke to him again.
+
+"John," she said, "I didn't say what I meant to when I broke in on
+you just now.  I meant to tell you about Grace.  I knew you'd like
+to know and wouldn't ask.  She's bearin' up well, poor girl.  She
+thought the world of Nat, even though she might not have loved him
+in the way that--"
+
+"What's that?  What are you saying, Aunt Keziah?"
+
+"I mean--well, I mean that he'd always been like an own brother to
+her and she cared a lot for him."
+
+"But you said she didn't love him."
+
+"Did I?  That was a slip of the tongue, maybe.  But she bears it
+well and I don't think she gives up hope.  I try not to, for her
+sake, and I try not to show her how I feel."
+
+She sewed vigorously for a few moments.  Then she said:
+
+"She's goin' away, Gracie is."
+
+"Going away?"
+
+"Yup.  She's goin' to stay with a relation of the Hammonds over in
+Connecticut for a spell.  I coaxed her into it.  Stayin' here at
+home with all this suspense and with Hannah Poundberry's tongue
+droppin' lamentations like kernels out of a corn sheller, is enough
+to kill a healthy batch of kittens with nine lives apiece.  She
+didn't want to go; felt that she must stay here and wait for news;
+but I told her we'd get news to her as soon as it come, and she's
+goin'."
+
+Ellery took his hat from the peg and opened the door.  His foot was
+on the step when Keziah spoke again.
+
+"She--it don't mean nothin', John, except that she ain't so hard-
+hearted as maybe you might think--she's asked me about you 'most
+every time I've been there.  She told me to take good care of you."
+
+The door closed.  Keziah put down her sewing and listened as the
+minister's step sounded on the walk.  She rose, went to the window
+and looked after him.  She was wondering if she had made a mistake
+in mentioning Grace's name.  She had meant to cheer him with the
+thought that he was not entirely forgotten, that he was, at least,
+pitied; but perhaps it would have been better to have remained
+silent.  Her gaze shifted and she looked out over the bay, blue and
+white in the sun and wind.  When she was a girl the sea had been
+kind to her, it had brought her father home safe, and those
+homecomings were her pleasantest memories.  But she now hated it.
+It was cruel and cold and wicked.  It had taken the man she loved
+and would have loved till she died, even though he could never have
+been hers, and she had given him to another; it had taken him,
+killed him cruelly, perhaps.  And now it might be bringing to her
+the one who was responsible for all her sorrow, the one she could
+not think of without a shudder.  She clung to the window sash and
+prayed aloud.
+
+"Lord! Lord!" she pleaded, "don't put any more on me now.  I
+couldn't stand it!  I couldn't!"
+
+Ellery, too, was thinking deeply as he walked up the main road on
+his way to Mrs. Prince's.  Keziah's words were repeating themselves
+over and over in his brain.  She had asked about him.  She had not
+forgotten him altogether.  And what did the housekeeper mean by
+saying that she had not loved Captain Hammond in the way that--
+Not that it could make any difference.  Nothing could give him back
+his happiness.  But what did it mean?
+
+Mrs. Prince was very glad to see him.  He found her in the big
+armchair with the quilted back and the projecting "wings" at each
+side of her head.  She was wrapped in a "Rising Sun" quilt which
+was a patchwork glory of red and crimson.  A young girl, a
+neighbor, who was apparently acting in the dual capacity of nurse
+and housekeeper, admitted him to the old lady's presence.
+
+"Well, well!" she exclaimed delightedly.  "Then you ain't forgot me
+altogether.  I'm awful glad to see you.  You'll excuse me for not
+gettin' up; my back's got more pains in it than there is bones, a
+good sight.  Dr. Parker says it's nothin' serious, and all I had to
+do was set still and take his medicine.  I told him that either the
+aches or the medicine made settin' still serious enough, and when
+your only amusement is listenin' to Emeline Berry--she's the girl
+that's takin' care of me--when your only fun is listenin' to
+Emeline drop your best dishes in the kitchen sink, it's pretty nigh
+tragic.  There! there! don't mind an old woman, Mr. Ellery.  Set
+down and let's talk.  It's a comfort to be able to say somethin'
+besides 'Don't, Emeline!' and 'Be sure you pick up all the
+pieces!'"
+
+Mrs. Prince's good spirits were of short duration.  Her
+conversation soon shifted to the loss of her son and she wept,
+using the corner of the quilt to wipe away her tears.  "Eddie" had
+been her idol and, as she said, it was hard to believe what folks
+kept tellin' her, that it was God's will, and therefore all for the
+best.
+
+"That's so easy to say," she sobbed.  "Maybe it is best for the
+Lord, but how about me?  I needed him more than they did up there,
+or I think I did.  O Mr. Ellery, I don't mean to be irreverent, but
+WHY was it all for the best?"
+
+Questions like this are hard to answer.  The young minister tried,
+but the answers were unsatisfactory, even to him.
+
+"And there's Nat Hammond," continued Mrs. Prince.  "A fine man--no
+better anywhere, even though his father was a Come-Outer--just
+goin' to be married and all, now they say he's drowned--why?  Why
+was that necessary?"
+
+Ellery could not reply.  The old lady did not wait for him to do
+so.  The mention of Captain Nat's name reminded her of other
+things.
+
+"Poor Gracie!" she said.  "It's turrible hard on her.  I went down
+to see her two or three times afore I was took with this backache.
+She's an awful nice girl.  And pretty as a pink, too.  Don't you
+think so?  Hey? don't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Yes.  I've been kind of expectin' she might get up to see me.
+Hannah Poundberry told the Berrys that she said she was comin'.  I
+don't care about her bein' a Come-Outer.  I ain't proud, Mr.
+Ellery.  And there's Come-Outers and COME-Outers.  Proud!  Lord 'a'
+mercy! what has an old woman, next door to the poorhouse, got to be
+proud over?  Yes, she told Hannah she was comin', and the Berry
+folks thought it might be to-day.  So I've been watchin' for her.
+What! you ain't agoin', Mr. Ellery?"
+
+"I think I must, Mrs. Prince."
+
+"Oh, don't!  Do stay a spell longer.  Gracie might come and I'd
+like for you to meet her.  She needs sympathy and comfort an awful
+lot, and there's no tellin', you might convert her to bein' a
+Reg'lar.  Oh, yes, you might.  You've got the most persuadin' way,
+everybody says so.  And you don't know her very well, do you?  Land
+sakes alive! talk about angels!  I snum if she ain't comin' up the
+road this blessed minute."
+
+John Ellery had risen.  Now he seized his hat and moved hastily
+toward the door.  Mrs. Prince called to him to remain, but he would
+not.  However, her good-bys delayed him for a minute, and before he
+reached the yard gate Grace was opening it.  They were face to face
+for the first time since they had parted in the grove, so many
+months before.
+
+She was thinner and paler, he saw that.  And dressed very quietly
+in black.  She looked at him, as he stood before her in the path,
+and her cheeks flushed and her eyes fell.  He stepped aside and
+raised his hat.
+
+She bowed gravely and murmured a "Good afternoon."  Then she passed
+on up the path toward the door.  He watched her for an instant and
+then stepped quickly after her.  The black gown and the tired look
+in her eyes touched him to the heart.  He could not let her go
+without a word.
+
+She turned at the sound of his step behind her.
+
+"Er--Miss Van Horne," he stammered, "I merely wanted to tell you
+how deeply I--we all feel for you in your trouble.  I--I--I am so
+sorry."
+
+"Thank you," she said simply, and after a moment's hesitation.
+
+"I mean it sincerely.  I--I did not know Captain Hammond very well,
+but I respected and liked him the first time we met.  I shall hope
+that--that--it is not so serious as they fear."
+
+"Thank you," she said again.  "We are all hoping."
+
+"Yes.  I--I--"  It was dreadfully hard to get words together.  "I
+have heard so much of the captain from--"
+
+"From Aunt Keziah?  Yes, she was Nat's warmest friend."
+
+"I know.  Er--Mrs. Coffin tells me you are going away.  I hope you
+may hear good news and soon.  I shall think of you--of him--  I
+want you to understand that I shall."
+
+The door opened and Emeline Berry appeared on the threshold.
+
+"Come right in, Grace," she called.  "Mrs. Prince wants you to.
+She's ahollerin' for you to hurry up."
+
+"Good-by," said the minister.
+
+"Good-by.  Thank you again.  It was very kind of you to say this."
+
+"No, no.  I mean it."
+
+"I know; that was why it was so kind.  Good-by."
+
+She held out her hand and he took it.  He knew that his was
+trembling, but so, too, was hers.  The hands fell apart.  Grace
+entered the house and John Ellery went out at the gate.
+
+That night Keziah, in the sitting room, trying to read, but finding
+it hard to keep her mind on the book, heard her parson pacing back
+and forth over the straw-matted floor of his chamber.  She looked
+at the clock; it was nearly twelve.  She shut the book and sighed.
+Her well-meant words of consolation had been a mistake, after all.
+She should not have spoken Grace Van Horne's name.
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE
+
+
+"Hey, Mr. Ellery!"
+
+It was Captain Zeb Mayo who was calling.  The captain sat in his
+antique chaise, drawn by the antique white horse, and was hailing
+the parsonage through a speaking trumpet formed by holding both his
+big hands before his mouth.  The reins he had tucked between the
+edge of the dashboard and the whip socket.  If he had thrown them
+on the ground he would still have been perfectly safe, with that
+horse.
+
+"Mr. Ellery, ahoy!" roared Captain Zeb through his hands.
+
+The window of Zoeth Peters's house, next door to the Regular
+church, was thrown up and Mrs. Peters's head, bound with a blue-
+and-white handkerchief in lieu of a sweeping cap, was thrust forth
+into the crisp March air.
+
+"What is it, Cap'n Mayo?" screamed Mrs. Peters.  "Hey?"
+
+"Hey?" repeated Captain Zeb, peering round the chaise curtain.
+"Who's that?"
+
+"It's me.  Is somebody dead?"
+
+"Who's me?  Oh!  No, Hettie, nobody's dead, though I'm likely to
+bust a blood vessel if I keep on yellin' much longer.  Is the
+parson to home?"
+
+"Hey?"
+
+"Oh, heavens alive!  I say is--  Ha, there you be, Mr. Ellery.
+Mornin', Keziah."
+
+The minister and Mrs. Coffin, the former with a napkin in his hand,
+had emerged from the side door of the parsonage and now came
+hurrying down to the gate.
+
+"Land of Goshen!" exclaimed the captain, "you don't mean to tell me
+you ain't done breakfast yet, and it after seven o'clock.  Why,
+we're thinkin' about dinner up to our house."
+
+Keziah answered.  "Yes," she said, "I shouldn't wonder.  Your wife
+tells me, Zeb, that the only time you ain't thinkin' about dinner
+is when you think of breakfast or supper.  We ain't so hungry here
+that we get up to eat in the middle of the night.  What's the
+matter?  Hettie Peters is hollerin' at you; did you know it?"
+
+"Did I know it?  Tut! tut! tut!  I'd known it if I was a mile away,
+'less I was paralyzed in my ears.  Let her holler; 'twill do her
+good and keep her in practice for Come-Outer meetin'.  Why, Mr.
+Ellery, I tell you: Em'lous Sparrow, the fish peddler, stepped up
+to our house a few minutes ago.  He's just come down from the
+shanties over on the shore by the light--where the wreck was, you
+know--and he says there's a 'morphrodite brig anchored three or
+four mile off and she's flyin' colors ha'f mast and union down.
+They're gettin' a boat's crew together to go off to her and see
+what's the row.  I'm goin' to drive over and I thought maybe you'd
+like to go along.  I told the old lady--my wife, I mean--that I
+thought of pickin' you up and she said 'twas a good idee.  Said my
+likin' to cruise with a parson in my old age was either a sign that
+I was hopeful or fearful, she didn't know which; and either way it
+ought to be encouraged.  He, he, he!  What do you say, Mr. Ellery?
+Want to go?"
+
+The minister hesitated.  "I'd like to," he said.  "I'd like to very
+much.  But I ought to work on my sermon this morning."
+
+Keziah cut in here.  "Cat's foot!" she sniffed.  "Let your sermon
+go for this once, do.  If it ain't long enough as it is, you can
+begin again when you've got to the end and preach it over again.
+Didama Rogers said, last circle day, that she could set still and
+hear you preach right over n' over.  I'd give her a chance,
+'specially if it did keep her still.  Keepin' Didama still is good
+Christian work, ain't it, Zeb?"
+
+Captain Mayo slapped his knee.  "He, he, he!" he chuckled.
+"Cal'late you're right, Keziah."
+
+"Indeed, I am.  I believe it would be Christianity and I KNOW
+'twould be work.  There! there! run in and get your coat and hat,
+Mr. Ellery.  I'll step across and ease Hettie's mind and--and
+lungs."
+
+She went across the road to impart the news of the vessel in
+distress to the curious Mrs. Peters.  A moment later the minister,
+having donned his hat and coat, ran down the walk and climbed into
+the chaise beside Captain Zeb.  The white horse, stimulated into a
+creaky jog trot by repeated slappings of the reins and roars to
+"Get under way!" and "Cast off!" moved along the sandy lane.
+
+During the drive the captain and his passenger discussed various
+topics of local interest, among them Captain Nat Hammond and the
+manner in which he might have lost his ship and his life.  It was
+now taken for granted, in Trumet and elsewhere, that Nat was dead
+and would never be heard from again.  The owners had given up, so
+Captain Zeb said, and went on to enumerate the various accidents
+which might have happened--typhoons, waterspouts, fires, and even
+attacks by Malay pirates--though, added the captain, "Gen'rally
+speakin', I'd ruther not bet on any pirate gettin' away with Nat
+Hammond's ship, if the skipper was alive and healthy.  Then there's
+mutiny and fevers and collisions, and land knows what all.  And,
+speakin' of trouble, what do you cal'late ails that craft we're
+goin' to look at now?"
+
+They found a group on the beach discussing that very question.  A
+few fishermen, one or two lobstermen and wreckers, and the
+lightkeeper were gathered on the knoll by the lighthouse.  They had
+a spyglass, and a good-sized dory was ready for launching.
+
+"Where is she, Noah?" asked Captain Zeb of the lightkeeper.  "That
+her off back of the spar buoy?  Let me have a squint through that
+glass; my eyes ain't what they used to be, when I could see a whale
+spout two miles t'other side of the sky line and tell how many
+barrels of ile he'd try out, fust look.  Takes practice to keep
+your eyesight so's you can see round a curve like that," he added,
+winking at Ellery.
+
+"She's a brigantine, Zeb," observed the keeper, handing up the
+spyglass.  "And flyin' the British colors.  Look's if she might be
+one of them salt boats from Turk's Islands.  But what she's doin'
+out there, anchored, with canvas lowered and showin' distress
+signals in fair weather like this, is more'n any of us can make
+out.  She wa'n't there last evenin', though, and she is there now."
+
+"She ain't the only funny thing along shore this mornin', nuther,"
+announced Theophilus Black, one of the fishermen.  "Charlie Burgess
+just come down along and he says there's a ship's longboat hauled
+up on the beach, 'bout a mile 'n a half t'other side the mouth of
+the herrin' crick yonder.  Oars in her and all.  And she ain't no
+boat that b'longs round here, is she, Charlie?"
+
+"No, Thoph, she ain't," was the reply.  "Make anything out of her,
+cap'n?"
+
+Captain Zeb, who had been inspecting the anchored vessel through
+the spyglass, lowered the latter and seemed puzzled.  "Not much,"
+he answered.  "Blessed if she don't look abandoned to me.  Can't
+see a sign of life aboard her."
+
+"We couldn't neither," said Thoph.  "We was just cal'latin' to go
+off to her when Charlie come and told us about the longboat.  I
+guess likely we can go now; it's pretty nigh smooth as a pond.
+You'll take an oar, won't you, Noah?"
+
+"I can't leave the light very well.  My wife went over to the
+village last night.  You and Charlie and Bill go.  Want to go, too,
+Zeb?"
+
+"No, I'll stay here, I guess.  The old lady made me promise to keep
+my feet dry afore I left the house."
+
+"You want to go, Mr. Ellery?  Lots of room."
+
+The minister was tempted.  The sea always had a fascination for him
+and the mystery of the strange ship was appealing.
+
+"Sure I won't be in the way?"
+
+"No, no! 'course you won't," said Burgess.  "Come right along.  You
+set in the bow, if you don't mind gettin' sprinkled once in a
+while.  I'll steer and Thoph and Bill'll row.  That'll be enough
+for one dory.  If we need more, we'll signal.  Heave ahead."
+
+The surf, though low for that season of the year, looked dangerous
+to Ellery, but his companions launched the dory with the ease which
+comes of experience.  Burgess took the steering oar and Thoph and
+"Bill," the latter a lobsterman from Wellmouth Neck, bent their
+broad backs for the long pull.  The statement concerning the
+pondlike smoothness of the sea was something of an exaggeration.
+The dory climbed wave after wave, long and green and oily, at the
+top of each she poised, tipped and slid down the slope.  The
+minister, curled up in the bow on a rather uncomfortable cushion of
+anchor and roding, caught glimpses of the receding shore over the
+crests behind.  One minute he looked down into the face of Burgess,
+holding the steering oar in place, the next the stern was high
+above him and he felt that he was reclining on the back of his
+neck.  But always the shoulders of the rowers moved steadily in the
+short, deep strokes of the rough water oarsman, and the beach, with
+the white light and red-roofed house of the keeper, the group
+beside it, and Captain Zeb's horse and chaise, grew smaller and
+less distinct.
+
+"Humph!" grunted Charlie.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Thoph.
+
+The steersman, who was staring hard in the direction they were
+going, scowled.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted again.  "I swan to man, fellers, I believe she
+IS abandoned!"
+
+"Rubbish!" panted Bill, twisting his neck to look over his
+shoulder.  "'Course she ain't!  Who'd abandon a craft such
+weather's this, and Province-town harbor only three hours' run or
+so?"
+
+"When it comes to that," commented Burgess, "why should they anchor
+off here, 'stead of takin' her in by the inlet?  If there's anybody
+aboard they ain't showed themselves yet.  She might have been
+leakin', but she don't look it.  Sets up out of water pretty well.
+Well, we'll know in a few minutes.  Hit her up, boys!"
+
+The rowers "hit her up" and the dory moved faster.  Then Burgess,
+putting his hand to his mouth, hailed.
+
+"Ship ahoy!" he roared.  "Ahoy!"
+
+No reply.
+
+"Ahoy the brig!" bellowed Burgess.  "What's the matter aboard
+there?  All hands asleep?"
+
+Still no answer.  Thoph and Bill pulled more slowly now.  Burgess
+nodded to them.
+
+"Stand by!" he ordered.  "Easy!  Way enough!  Let her run."
+
+The dory slackened speed, turned in obedience to the steering oar,
+and slid under the forequarter of the anchored vessel.  Ellery,
+looking up, saw her name in battered gilt letters above his head--
+the San Jose.
+
+"Stand by, Thoph!" shouted Charlie.  "S'pose you can jump and grab
+her forechains?  Hold her steady, Bill.  Now, Thoph!  That's the
+time!"
+
+Thoph had jumped, seized the chains, and was scrambling aboard.  A
+moment later he appeared at the rail amidships, a rope in his hand.
+The dory was brought alongside and made fast; then one after the
+other the men in the boat climbed to the brig's deck.
+
+"Ahoy!" yelled Burgess.  "All hands on deck! tumble up, you
+lubbers!  Humph!  She is abandoned, sure and sartin."
+
+"Yup," assented Bill.  "Her boats are gone.  See?  Guess that
+explains the longboat on the beach, Charlie."
+
+"Cal'late it does; but it don't explain why they left her.  She
+ain't leakin' none to speak of, that's sure.  Rides's light's a
+feather.  Christmas! look at them decks; dirty hogs, whoever they
+was."
+
+The decks were dirty, and the sails, sloppily furled, were dirty
+likewise.  The brig, as she rolled and jerked at her anchor rope,
+was dirty--and unkempt from stem to stern.  To Ellery's mind she
+made a lonesome picture, even under the clear, winter sky and
+bright sunshine.
+
+Thoph led the way aft.  The cabin companion door was open and they
+peered down.
+
+"Phew!" sniffed Burgess.  "She ain't no cologne bottle, is she?
+Well, come on below and let's see what'll we see."
+
+The cabin was a "mess," as Bill expressed it.  The floor was
+covered with scattered heaps of riff-raff, oilskins, coats, empty
+bottles, and papers.  On the table a box stood, its hinged lid
+thrown back.
+
+"Medicine chest," said Burgess, examining it.  "And rum bottles
+aplenty.  Somebody's been sick, I shouldn't wonder."
+
+The minister opened the door of one of the little staterooms.  The
+light which shone through the dirty and tightly closed "bull's-eye"
+window showed a tumbled bunk, the blankets soiled and streaked.
+The smell was stifling.
+
+"Say, fellers," whispered Thoph, "I don't like this much myself.
+I'm for gettin' on deck where the air's better.  Somethin's
+happened aboard this craft, somethin' serious."
+
+Charlie and Bill nodded an emphatic affirmative.
+
+"Hadn't we better look about a little more?" asked Ellery.
+"There's another stateroom there."
+
+He opened the door of it as he spoke.  It was, if possible, in a
+worse condition than the first.  And the odor was even more
+overpowering.
+
+"Skipper's room," observed Burgess, peeping in.  "And that bunk
+ain't been slept in for weeks.  See the mildew on them clothes.
+Phew! I'm fair sick to my stomach.  Come out of this."
+
+On deck, in the sunlight, they held another consultation.
+
+"Queerest business ever I see," observed Charlie.  "I never--"
+
+"I see somethin' like it once," interrupted Bill.  "Down in the
+Gulf 'twas.  I was on the old Fishhawk.  Eben Salters's dad from
+over to Bayport skippered her.  We picked up a West Injy schooner,
+derelict, abandoned same as this one, but not anchored, of course.
+Yeller jack was the trouble aboard her and--  Where you bound,
+Thoph?"
+
+"Goin' to take a squint at the fo'castle," replied Theophilus,
+moving forward.  The minister followed him.
+
+The fo'castle hatchway was black and grim.  Ellery knelt and peered
+down.  Here there was practically no light at all and the air was
+fouler than that in the cabin.
+
+"See anything, Mr. Ellery?" asked Thoph, looking over his shoulder.
+
+"No, I don't see anything.  But I thought--"
+
+He seemed to be listening.
+
+"What did you think?"
+
+"Nothing.  I--"
+
+"Hold on! you ain't goin' down there, be you?  I wouldn't.  No
+tellin' what you might find.  Well, all right.  I ain't curious.
+I'll stay up here and you can report."
+
+He stepped over and leaned against the rail.  Bill came across the
+deck and joined him.
+
+"Where's Charlie?" asked Thoph.
+
+"Gone back to the cabin," was the answer.  "Thought likely he might
+find some of her papers or somethin' to put us on the track.  I
+told him to heave ahead; I didn't want no part of it.  Too much
+like that yeller-jack schooner to suit me.  What's become of the
+parson?"
+
+Thoph pointed to the open hatch.
+
+"Down yonder, explorin' the fo'castle," he replied.  "He can have
+the job, for all me.  Phew!  Say, Bill, what IS this we've struck,
+anyhow?"
+
+Ellery descended the almost perpendicular ladder gingerly, holding
+on with both hands.  At its foot he stopped and tried to accustom
+his eyes to the darkness.
+
+A room perhaps ten feet long, so much he could make out.  The floor
+strewn, like that of the cabin, with heaps of clothing and odds and
+ends.  More shapes of clothes hanging up and swaying with the roll
+of the brig.  A little window high up at the end, black with dirt.
+And cavities, bunks in rows, along the walls.  A horrible hole.
+
+He took a step toward the center of the room, bending his head to
+avoid hitting the fo'castle lantern.  Then in one of the bunks
+something stirred, something alive.  He started violently,
+controlled himself with an effort, and stumbled toward the sound.
+
+"What is it?" he whispered.  "Who is it?  Is anyone there?"
+
+A groan answered him.  Then a voice, weak and quavering, said:
+
+"Gimme a drink!  Gimme a drink!  Can't none of you God-forsaken
+devils give me a drink?"
+
+He stooped over the bunk.  A man was lying in it, crumpled into a
+dreadful heap.  He stooped lower, looked, and saw the man's face.
+
+There was a shout from the deck, or, rather, a yell.  Then more
+yells and the sound of running feet.
+
+"Mr. Ellery!" screamed Burgess, at the hatchway.  "Mr. Ellery, for
+the Almighty's sake, come up here!  Come out of that this minute.
+Quick!"
+
+The minister knew what was coming, was sure of it as he stepped to
+the foot of the ladder, had known it the instant he saw that face.
+
+"Mr. Ellery!" shrieked Burgess.  "Mr. Ellery, are you there?"
+
+"Yes, I'm here," answered the minister, slowly.  He was fighting
+with all his might to keep his nerves under control.  His impulse
+was to leap up those steps, rush across that deck, spring into the
+dory and row, anywhere to get away from the horror of that
+forecastle.
+
+"Come up!" called Burgess.  "Hurry!  It's the smallpox!  The darned
+hooker's rotten with it.  For God sakes, come quick!"
+
+He ran to the rail, yelling order to Bill and Thoph, who were
+frantically busy with the dory.  Ellery began to climb the ladder.
+His head emerged into the clean, sweet air blowing across the deck.
+He drew a breath to the very bottom of his lungs.
+
+Then from behind and below him came the voice again.
+
+"Gimme a drink!" it wailed.  "Gimme a drink of water.  Ain't one of
+you cussed swabs got decency enough to fetch me a drink?  I'm dyin'
+for a drink, I tell you.  I'm dyin'!"
+
+The minister stood still, his feet on the ladder.  The three men by
+the rail were working like mad, their faces livid under the sunburn
+and their hands trembling.  They pushed each other about and swore.
+They were not cowards, either.  Ellery knew them well enough to
+know that.  Burgess had, that very winter, pulled a skiff through
+broken ice in the face of a wicked no'theaster to rescue an old
+neighbor whose dory had been capsized in the bay while he was
+hauling lobster pots.  But now Burgess was as scared as the rest.
+
+Thoph and Bill sprang over the rail into the boat.  Burgess turned
+and beckoned to Ellery.
+
+"Come on!" he called.  "What are you waitin' for?"
+
+The minister remained where he was.
+
+"Are you sure--" he faltered.
+
+"Sure!  Blast it all!  I found the log.  It ain't been kept for a
+fortni't, but there's enough.  It's smallpox, I tell you.  Two men
+died of it three weeks ago.  The skipper died right afterwards.
+The mate--  No wonder them that was left run away as soon as they
+sighted land.  Come on!  Do you want to die, too?"
+
+From the poison pit at the foot of the ladder the man in the bunk
+called once more.
+
+"Water!" he screeched.  "Water!  Are you goin' to leave me, you d--n
+cowards?"
+
+"For Heaven sakes!" cried Burgess, clutching the rail, "what's
+that?"
+
+Ellery answered him.  "It's one of them," he said, and his voice
+sounded odd in his own ears.  "It's one of the crew."
+
+"One of the--  Down THERE?  Has he--"
+
+"Yes, he has."
+
+"Help! help!" screamed the voice shrilly.  "Are you goin' to leave
+me to die all alone?  He-elp!"
+
+The minister turned.  "Hush!" he called, in answer to the voice,
+"hush!  I'll bring you water in a minute.  Burgess," he added, "you
+and the rest go ashore.  I shall stay."
+
+"You'll stay?  You'll STAY?  With THAT?  You're crazy as a loon.
+Don't be a fool, man!  Come on!  We'll send the doctor and somebody
+else--some one that's had it, maybe, or ain't afraid.  I am and I'm
+goin'.  Don't be a fool."
+
+Thoph, from the dory, shouted to know what was the matter.  Ellery
+climbed the ladder to the deck and walked over to the rail.  As he
+approached, Burgess fell back a few feet.
+
+"Thoph," said the minister, addressing the pair in the dory, "there
+is a sick man down in the forecastle.  He has been alone there for
+hours, I suppose, certainly since his shipmates ran away.  If he is
+left longer without help,, he will surely die.  Some one must stay
+with him.  You and the rest row ashore and get the doctor and
+whoever else you can.  I'll stay here till they come."
+
+Thoph and his companions set up a storm of protest.  It was
+foolish, it was crazy, the man would die anyhow, and so on.  They
+begged the minister to come with them.  But he was firm.
+
+"Don't stop to argue," he urged.  "Hurry and get the doctor."
+
+"Come on, Charlie," ordered Bill.  "No use talkin' to him, he's
+set.  Come on!  I won't stay alongside this craft another minute
+for nobody.  If you be comin', come."
+
+Burgess, still protesting, clambered over the rail.  The dory swung
+clear of the brig.  The rowers settled themselves for the stroke.
+
+"Better change your mind, Mr. Ellery," pleaded Charlie.  "I hate to
+leave you this way.  It seems mean, but I'm a married man with
+children, like the rest of us here, and I can't take no risks.
+Better come, too.  No?  Well, we'll send help quick as the Lord'll
+let us.  By the Almighty!" he added, in a sudden burst, "you've got
+more spunk than I have--yes, or anybody I ever come across.  I'll
+say that for you, if you are a parson.  Give way, fellers."
+
+The oars dipped, bent, and the dory moved off.  The sound of the
+creaking thole pins shot a chill through Ellery's veins.  His knees
+shook, and involuntarily a cry for them to come back rose to his
+lips.  But he choked it down and waved his hand in farewell.  Then,
+not trusting himself to look longer at the receding boat, he turned
+on his heel and walked toward the forecastle.
+
+The water butts stood amidships, not far from the open door of the
+galley.  Entering the latter he found an empty saucepan.  This he
+filled from the cask, and then, with it in his hand, turned toward
+the black hatchway.  Here was the greatest test of his courage.  To
+descend that ladder, approach that bunk, and touch the terrible
+creature in it, these were the tasks he had set himself to do, but
+could he?
+
+Vaccination in those days was by no means the universal custom that
+it now is.  And smallpox, even now, is a disease the name of which
+strikes panic to a community.  The minister had been vaccinated
+when he was a child, but that was--so it seemed to him--a very long
+time ago.  And that forecastle was so saturated with the plague
+that to enter it meant almost certain infection.  He had stayed
+aboard the brig because the pitiful call for help had made leaving
+a cowardly impossibility.  Now, face to face, and in cold blood,
+with the alternative, it seemed neither so cowardly or impossible.
+The man would die anyhow, so Thoph had said; was there any good
+reason why he should risk dying, too, and dying in that way?
+
+He thought of a great many things and of many people as he stood by
+the hatchway, waiting; among others, he thought of his housekeeper,
+Keziah Coffin.  And, somehow, the thought of her, of her pluck, and
+her self-sacrifice, were the very inspirations he needed.  "It's
+the duty that's been laid on me," Keziah had said, "and it's a hard
+one, but I don't run away from it."  He began to descend the
+ladder.
+
+The sick man was raving in delirium when he reached him, but the
+sound of the water lapping the sides of the saucepan brought him to
+himself.  He seized Ellery by the arm and drank and drank.  When at
+last he desisted, the pan was half empty.
+
+The minister laid him gently back in the bunk and stepped to the
+foot of the ladder for breath.  This made him think of the
+necessity for air in the place and he remembered the little window.
+It was tightly closed and rusted fast.  He went up to the deck,
+found a marlin spike, and, returning, broke the glass.  A sharp,
+cold draught swept through the forecastle, stirring the garments
+hanging on the nails.
+
+An hour later, two dories bumped against the side of the San Jose.
+Men, talking in low tones, climbed over the rail.  Burgess was one
+of them; ashamed of his panic, he had returned to assist the others
+in bringing the brigantine into a safer anchorage by the inlet.
+
+Dr. Parker, very grave but businesslike, reached the deck among the
+first.
+
+"Mr. Ellery," he shouted, "where are you?"
+
+The minister's head and shoulders appeared at the forecastle
+companion.  "Here I am, doctor," he said.  "Will you come down?"
+
+The doctor made no answer in words, but he hurried briskly across
+the deck.  One man, Ebenezer Capen, an old fisherman and ex-whaler
+from East Trumet, started to follow him, but he was the only one.
+The others waited, with scared faces, by the rail.
+
+"Get her under way and inshore as soon as you can," ordered Dr.
+Parker.  "Ebenezer, you can help.  If I need you below, I'll call."
+
+The minister backed down the ladder and the doctor followed him.
+Parker bent over the bunk for a few moments in silence.
+
+"He's pretty bad," he muttered.  "Mighty little chance.  Heavens,
+what a den!  Who broke that window?"
+
+"I did," replied Ellery.  "The air down here was dreadful."
+
+The doctor nodded approvingly.  "I guess so," he said.  "It's bad
+enough now.  We've got to get this poor fellow out of here as soon
+as we can or he'll die before to-morrow.  Mr. Ellery," he added
+sharply, "what made you do this?  Don't you realize the risk you've
+run?"
+
+"Some one had to do it.  You are running the same risk."
+
+"Not just the same, and, besides, it's my business.  Why didn't you
+let some one else, some one we could spare--  Humph!  Confound it,
+man! didn't you know any better?  Weren't you afraid?"
+
+His tone rasped Ellery's shaken nerves.
+
+"Of course I was," he snapped irritably.  "I'm not an idiot."
+
+"Humph!  Well, all right; I beg your pardon.  But you oughtn't to
+have done it.  Now you'll have to be quarantined.  And who in
+thunder I can get to stay with me in this case is more than I know.
+Just say smallpox to this town and it goes to pieces like a smashed
+egg.  Old Eb Capen will help, for he's had it, but it needs more
+than one."
+
+"Where are you going to take--him?" pointing to the moaning
+occupant of the bunk.
+
+"To one of the empty fish shanties on the beach.  There are beds
+there, such as they are, and the place is secluded.  We can burn it
+down when the fuss is over."
+
+"Then why can't I stay?  I shall have to be quarantined, I know
+that.  Let me be the other nurse.  Why should anyone else run the
+risk?  I HAVE run it.  I'll stay."
+
+Dr. Parker looked at him.  "Well!" he exclaimed.  "Well! I must
+say, young man, that you've got--  Humph!  All right, Mr. Ellery;
+I'm much obliged."
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED
+
+
+Before sunset that afternoon the San Jose was anchored behind the
+point by the inlet.  The fishing boats changed moorings and moved
+farther up, for not a single one of their owners would trust
+himself within a hundred yards of the stricken brigantine.  As soon
+as the anchors were dropped, the volunteer crew was over side and
+away, each of its members to receive a scolding from his family for
+taking such a risk and to have his garments sulphur-smoked or
+buried.  Charlie Burgess, whose wife was something of a Tartar,
+observed ruefully that he "didn't take no comfort 'round home
+nowadays; between the smell of brimstone and the jawin's 'twas the
+hereafter ahead of time."
+
+The largest of the beach shanties, one which stood by itself a
+quarter of a mile from the light, was hurriedly prepared for use as
+a pesthouse and the sick sailor was carried there on an improvised
+stretcher.  Dr. Parker and Ellery lifted him from his berth and,
+assisted by old Ebenezer Capen, got him up to the deck and lowered
+him into the dory.  Ebenezer rowed the trio to the beach and the
+rest of the journey was comparatively easy.
+
+The shanty had three rooms, one of which was given up to the
+patient, one used as a living room, and, in the third, Capen and
+the minister were to sleep.  Mattresses were procured, kind-hearted
+and sympathizing townspeople donated cast-off tables and chairs,
+and the building was made as comfortable as it could be, under the
+circumstances.  Sign boards, warning strangers to keep away, were
+erected, and in addition to them, the Trumet selectmen ordered
+ropes stretched across the lane on both sides of the shanty.  But
+ropes and signs were superfluous.  Trumet in general was in a blue
+funk and had no desire to approach within a mile of the locality.
+Even the driver of the grocery cart, when he left the day's supply
+of provisions, pushed the packages under the ropes, yelled a
+hurried "Here you be!" and, whipping up his horse, departed at a
+rattling gallop.
+
+The village sat up nights to discuss the affair and every day
+brought a new sensation.  The survivors of the San Jose's crew, a
+wretched, panic-stricken quartette of mulattos and Portuguese, were
+apprehended on the outskirts of Denboro, the town below Trumet on
+the bay side, and were promptly sequestered and fumigated, pending
+shipment to the hospital at Boston.  Their story was short but
+grewsome.  The brigantine was not a Turks Islands boat, but a
+coaster from Jamaica.  She had sailed with a small cargo for
+Savannah.  Two days out and the smallpox made its appearance on
+board.  The sufferer, a negro foremast hand, died.  Then another
+sailor was seized and also died.  The skipper, who was the owner,
+was the next victim, and the vessel was in a state of
+demoralization which the mate, an Englishman named Bradford, could
+not overcome.  Then followed days and nights of calm and terrible
+heat, of pestilence and all but mutiny.  The mate himself died.
+There was no one left who understood navigation.  At last came a
+southeast gale and the San Jose drove before it.  Fair weather
+found her abreast the Cape.  The survivors ran her in after dark,
+anchored, and reached shore in the longboat.  The sick man whom
+they had left in the forecastle was a new hand who had shipped at
+Kingston.  His name was Murphy, they believed.  They had left him
+because he was sure to die, like the others, and, besides, they
+knew some one would see the distress signals and investigate.  That
+was all, yes.  Santa Maria! was it not enough?
+
+This tale was a delicious tidbit for Didama and the "daily
+advertisers," but, after all, it was a mere side dish compared to
+Mr. Ellery's astonishing behavior.  That he, the minister of the
+Regular church, should risk his life, risk dying of the smallpox,
+to help a stranger and a common sailor, was incomprehensible.
+Didama, at least, could not understand it, and said so.  "My soul
+and body!" she exclaimed, with uplifted hands.  "I wouldn't go nigh
+my own grandfather if he had the smallpox, let alone settin' up
+with a strange critter that I didn't know from Adam's cat.  And a
+minister doin' it!  He ought to consider the congregation, if he
+done nothin' else.  Ain't we more important than a common water rat
+that, even when he's dyin', swears, so I hear tell, like a ship's
+poll parrot?  I never heard of such foolishness.  It beats ME!"
+
+It "beat" a good many who, like the Widow Rogers, could not
+understand self-sacrifice.  But there were more, and they the
+majority of Trumet's intelligent people, who understood and
+appreciated.  Dr. Parker, a man with a reputation for dangerously
+liberal views concerning religious matters and an infrequent
+attendant at church, was enthusiastic and prodigal of praise.
+
+"By George!" vowed the doctor.  "That's MY kind of Christianity.
+That's the kind of parson I can tie to.  I'm for John Ellery after
+this, first, last, and all the time.  And if he don't get the
+smallpox and die, and if he does live to preach in the Regular
+church, you'll see me in one of the front pews every Sunday.
+That's what I think of him.  Everybody else ran away and I don't
+blame 'em much.  But he stayed.  Yes, sir, by George! he stayed.
+'Somebody had to do it,' says he.  I take off my hat to that young
+fellow."
+
+Captain Zeb Mayo went about cheering for his parson.  Mrs. Mayo
+cooked delicacies to be pushed under the ropes for the minister's
+consumption.  The parish committee, at a special session, voted an
+increase of salary and ordered a weekly service of prayer for the
+safe delivery of their young leader from danger.  Even Captain
+Elkanah did not try to oppose the general opinion; "although I
+cannot but feel," he said, "that Mr. Ellery's course was rash and
+that he should have considered us and our interest in his welfare
+before--"
+
+"Dum it all!" roared Captain Zeb, jumping to his feet and
+interrupting, "he didn't consider himself, did he? and ain't he as
+important TO himself as you, Elkanah Daniels, or anybody else in
+this meetin' house?  Bah! don't let's have no more talk like that
+or I'll say somethin' that won't be fit to put in the minutes."
+
+Even at Come-Outers' meeting, when Ezekiel Bassett hinted at a
+"just punishment fallin' on the head of the leader of the
+Pharisees," Thoph Black rose and defended Ellery.
+
+Keziah Coffin was, perhaps, the one person most disturbed by her
+parson's heroism.  She would have gone to the shanty immediately
+had not Dr. Parker prevented.  Even as it was, she did go as far as
+the ropes, but there she was warded off by Ebenezer until Ellery
+came running out and bade her come no nearer.
+
+"But you shan't stay here, Mr. Ellery," vowed Keziah.  "Or, if you
+do, I'll stay, too.  I ain't afraid of smallpox."
+
+"I am," confessed the minister, "and I'm not going to let anyone I
+care for expose themselves to it unnecessarily.  If you try to come
+in here I shall"--he smiled--"well, Capen and I will put you off
+the premises by force.  There!"
+
+Keziah smiled, too, in spite of herself.  "Maybe you'd have your
+hands full," she said.  "O John, what in the world made you do this
+thing?  It's dreadful.  I shan't sleep a wink, thinkin' of you.  I
+just must come here and help."
+
+"No, you mustn't.  You can come as far as the--the dead line once
+in a while, if Captain Mayo will drive you over, but that's all.
+I'm all right.  Don't worry about me.  I'm feeling tiptop and I'm
+not going to be sick.  Now go home and make me some of that--some
+of those puddings of yours.  We can use them to advantage, can't
+we, Capen?"
+
+"Bet yer!" replied Ebenezer with enthusiasm.  Keziah, after more
+expostulation, went back to the parsonage, where the puddings were
+made and seasoned with tears and fervent prayers.  She wrote to
+Grace and told her the news of the San Jose, but she said nothing
+of the minister's part in it.  "Poor thing!" sighed Keziah, "she's
+bearin' enough already.  Her back ain't as strong as mine, maybe,
+and mine's most crackin'.  Well, let it crack for good and all; I
+don't know but that's the easiest way out."
+
+The sick sailor grew no better.  Days and nights passed and he
+raved and moaned or lay in a stupor.  Ebenezer acted as day nurse
+while Ellery slept, and, at night, the minister, being younger,
+went on watch.  The doctor came frequently, but said there was no
+hope.  A question of time only, and a short time, he said.
+
+Capen occupied his mind with speculations concerning the patient.
+
+"Do you know, parson," he said, "seem's if I'd seen the feller
+somewheres afore.  'Course I never have, but when I used to go
+whalin' v'yages I cruised from one end of creation to t'other,
+pretty nigh, and I MIGHT have met him.  However, his own folks
+wouldn't know him now, would they? so I cal'late I'm just gettin'
+foolish in my old age.  Said his name's Murphy, them ha'f-breeds
+did, didn't they?  I know better'n that."
+
+"How do you know?" asked Ellery, idly listening.
+
+"'Cause when he's floppin' round on the bed, out of his head, he
+sings out all kinds of stuff.  A good deal of it's plain cussin',
+but there's times when he talks respectable and once I heard him
+say 'darn' and another time 'I cal'late.'  Now no Irishman says
+THAT.  That's Yankee, that is."
+
+"Well, he ought to know his own name."
+
+"Prob'ly he does--or used to--but 'most likely he don't want nobody
+else to know it.  That's why he said 'twas Murphy and, bein' as he
+DID say it, I know 'tain't it.  See my argument, don't you, Mr.
+Ellery?"
+
+"Yes, I guess so."
+
+"Um--hm!  Why, land sakes, names don't mean nothin' with seafarin'
+men.  I've seen the time when I had more names--  Humph!  Looks
+kind of squally off to the east'ard, don't it?"
+
+That night the sick man was much worse.  His ravings were
+incessant.  The minister, sitting in his chair in the living room,
+by the cook stove, could hear the steady stream of shouts, oaths,
+and muttered fragments of dialogue with imaginary persons.
+Sympathy for the sufferer he felt, of course, and yet he, as well
+as Dr. Parker and old Capen, had heard enough to realize that the
+world would be none the worse for losing this particular specimen
+of humanity.  The fellow had undoubtedly lived a hard life, among
+the roughest of companions afloat and ashore.  Even Ebenezer, who
+by his own confession, was far from being a saint, exclaimed
+disgustedly at the close of a day's watching by the sick bed:
+"Phew! I feel's if I'd been visiting state's prison.  Let me set
+out doors a spell and listen to the surf.  It's clean, anyhow, and
+that critter's talk makes me want to give my brains a bath."
+
+The wooden clock, loaned by Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife, ticked
+steadily, although a half hour slow.  Ellery, glancing at it to see
+if the time had come for giving medicine, suddenly noticed how loud
+its ticking sounded.  Wondering at this, he was aware there was no
+other sound in the house.  He rose and looked in at the door of the
+adjoining room.  The patient had ceased to rave and was lying quiet
+on the bed.
+
+The minister tiptoed over to look at him.  And, as he did so, the
+man opened his eyes.
+
+"Halloo!" he said faintly.  "Who are you?"
+
+Ellery, startled, made no answer.
+
+"Who are you?" demanded the man again.  Then, with an oath, he
+repeated the question, adding: "What place is this?  This ain't the
+fo'castle.  Where am I?"
+
+"You're ashore.  You've been sick.  Don't try to move."
+
+"Sick?  Humph!  Sick?  'Course I been sick.  Don't I know it?  The
+d--n cowards run off and left me; blast their eyes!  I'll fix 'em
+for it one of these days, you hear--"
+
+"Sshh!"
+
+"Hush up yourself.  Where am I?"
+
+"You're ashore.  On Cape Cod.  At Trumet."
+
+"Trumet!  TRUMET!"
+
+He was struggling to raise himself on his elbow.  Ellery was
+obliged to use force to hold him down.
+
+"Hush! hush!" pleaded the minister, "you mustn't try to--"
+
+"Trumet!  I ain't.  You're lyin'.  Trumet!  Good God!  Who brought
+me here?  Did she--  Is she--"
+
+He struggled again.  Then his strength and his reason left him
+simultaneously and the delirium returned.  He began to shout a
+name, a name that caused Ellery to stand upright and step back from
+the bed, scarcely believing his ears.
+
+All the rest of that night the man on the bed raved and muttered,
+but of people and places and happenings which he had not mentioned
+before.  And the minister, listening intently to every word, caught
+himself wondering if he also was not losing his mind.
+
+When the morning came, Ebenezer Capen was awakened by a shake to
+find John Ellery standing over him.
+
+"Capen," whispered the minister, "Capen, get up.  I must talk with
+you."
+
+Ebenezer was indignant.
+
+"Judas priest!" he exclaimed; "why don't you scare a feller to
+death, comin' and yankin' him out of bed by the back hair?"  Then,
+being more wide awake, he added: "What's the row?  Worse, is he?
+He ain't--"
+
+"No.  But I've got to talk with you.  You used to be a whaler, I
+know.  Were you acquainted in New Bedford?"
+
+"Sartin.  Was a time when I could have located every stick in it,
+pretty nigh, by the smell, if you'd set me down side of 'em
+blindfold."
+
+"Did you ever know anyone named--"  He finished the sentence.
+
+"Sure and sartin, I did.  Why?"
+
+"Did you know him well?"
+
+"Well's I wanted to.  Pretty decent feller one time, but a fast
+goer, and went downhill like a young one's sled, when he got
+started.  His folks had money, that was the trouble with him.  Why,
+'course I knew him!  He married--"
+
+"I know.  Now, listen."
+
+Ellery went on talking rapidly and with great earnestness.
+Ebenezer listened, at first silently, then breaking in with
+ejaculations and grunts of astonishment.  He sat up on the edge of
+the bed.
+
+"Rubbish!" he cried at last.  "why, 'tain't possible!  The feller's
+dead as Methusalem's grandmarm.  I remember how it happened and--"
+
+"It wasn't true.  That much I know.  I KNOW, I tell you."
+
+He went on to explain why he knew.  Capen's astonishment grew.
+
+"Judas priest!" he exclaimed again.  "That would explain why I
+thought I'd seen--  There! heave ahead.  I've got to see.  But it's
+a mistake.  I don't believe it."
+
+The pair entered the sick room.  The sailor lay in a stupor.  His
+breathing was rapid, but faint.  Capen bent over him and gently
+moved the bandage on his face.  For a full minute he gazed
+steadily.  Then he stood erect, drew a big red hand across his
+forehead, and moved slowly back to the living room.
+
+"Well?" asked Ellery eagerly.
+
+Ebenezer sat down in the rocker.  "Judas priest!" he said for the
+third time.  "Don't talk to ME!  When it comes my time they'll have
+to prove I'm dead.  I won't believe it till they do.  Ju-das
+PRIEST!"
+
+"Then you recognize him?"
+
+The old man nodded solemnly.
+
+"Yup," he said, "it's him.  Mr. Ellery, what are you goin' to do
+about it?"
+
+"I don't know.  I don't know.  I must go somewhere by myself and
+think.  I don't know WHAT to do."
+
+The minister declined to wait for breakfast.  He said he was not
+hungry.  Leaving Ebenezer to put on the coffeepot and take up his
+duties as day nurse, Ellery walked off along the beach.  The "dead
+line" prevented his going very far, but he sat down in the lee of a
+high dune and thought until his head ached.  What should he do?
+What was best for him to do?
+
+He heard the rattle of the doctor's chaise and the voices of
+Ebenezer and Parker in conversation.  He did not move, but remained
+where he was, thinking, thinking.  By and by he heard Capen calling
+his name.
+
+"Mr. Ellery!" shouted Ebenezer.  "Mr. Ellery, where be you?"
+
+"Here!" replied the minister.
+
+The old man came scrambling over the sand.  He was panting and much
+excited.
+
+"Mr. Ellery!" he cried, "Mr. Ellery! it's settled for us--one part
+of it, anyhow.  He's slipped his cable."
+
+"What?"  The minister sprang up.
+
+"Yup.  He must have died just a little while after you left and
+after I gave him his medicine.  I thought he looked kind of queer
+then.  And when the doctor came we went in together and he was
+dead.  Yes, sir, dead."
+
+"Dead!"
+
+"Um--hm.  No doubt of it; it's for good this time.  Mr. Ellery,
+what shall we do?  Shall I tell Dr. Parker?"
+
+Ellery considered for a moment.  "No," he said slowly.  "No, Capen,
+don't tell anyone.  I can't see why they need ever know that he
+hasn't been dead for years, as they supposed.  Promise me to keep
+it a secret.  I'll tell--her--myself, later on.  Now promise me; I
+trust you."
+
+"Land sakes, yes!  I'll promise, if you want me to.  I'm a widower
+man, so there'll be nobody to coax it out of me.  I guess you're
+right, cal'late you be.  What folks don't know they can't lie
+about, can they? and that's good for your business--meanin' nothin'
+disreverent.  I'll promise, Mr. Ellery; I'll swear to it.  Now come
+on back to the shanty.  The doctor wants you."
+
+The next day the body of "Murphy," foremast hand on the San Jose,
+was buried in the corner of the Regular graveyard, near those who
+were drowned in the wreck of that winter.  There was no funeral, of
+course.  The minister said a prayer at the shanty, and that was
+all.  Ebenezer drove the wagon which was used as hearse for the
+occasion, and filled in the grave himself.  So great was the fear
+of the terrible smallpox that the sexton would not perform even
+that service for its victim.
+
+Capen remained at the shanty another week.  Then, as the minister
+showed no symptoms of having contracted the disease and insisted
+that he needed no companion, Ebenezer departed to take up his
+fishing once more.  The old man was provided with a new suit of
+clothes, those he had worn being burned, and having been, to his
+huge disgust, fumigated until, as he said, he couldn't smell
+himself without thinking of a match box, went away.  The room which
+the dead sailor had occupied was emptied and sealed tight.  The San
+Jose was to stay at her anchorage a while longer.  Then, when all
+danger was past, she was to be towed to Boston and sold at auction
+for the benefit of the heirs of her dead skipper and owner.
+
+Ellery himself was most urgent in the decision that he should not
+go back to the parsonage and his church just yet.  Better to wait
+until he was sure, he said, and Dr. Parker agreed.  "I'd be willing
+to bet that you are all right," declared the latter, "but I know
+Trumet, and if I SHOULD let you go and you did develop even the
+tail end of a case of varioloid--well, 'twould be the everlasting
+climax for you and me in this county."
+
+Staying alone was not unpleasant, in a way.  The "dead line" still
+remained, of course, and callers did not attempt to pass it, but
+they came more frequently and held lengthy conversations at a
+respectful distance.  Ellery did his own cooking, what little there
+was to do, but so many good things were pushed under the ropes that
+he was in a fair way to develop weight and indigestion.  Captain
+Zeb Mayo drove down at least twice a week and usually brought Mrs.
+Coffin with him.  From them and from the doctor the prisoner
+learned the village news.  Once Captain Elkanah and Annabel came,
+and the young lady's gushing praise of the minister's "heroism"
+made its recipient almost sorry he had ever heard of the San Jose.
+
+Dr. Parker told him of Grace Van Horne's return to the village.
+She had come back, so the doctor said, the day before, and was to
+live at the tavern for a while, at least.  Yes, he guessed even she
+had given up hope of Captain Nat now.
+
+"And say," went on Parker, "how are you feeling?"
+
+"Pretty well, thank you," replied the minister.  "I seem to be
+rather tired and good for nothing.  More so than I was during the
+worst of it."
+
+"No wonder.  A chap can't go through what you did and not feel some
+reaction.  I expected that.  Don't get cold, that's all.  But what
+I want to know is whether you think I could leave you for a couple
+of days?  The Ostable County Medical Society meets at Hyannis
+to-morrow and I had promised myself to take it in this year.
+But I don't want to leave you, if you need me."
+
+Ellery insisted that he did not need anyone, was getting along
+finely, and would not hear of his friend's missing the medical
+society's meeting.  So the physician went.
+
+"Good-by," he called as he drove off.  "I guess your term is pretty
+nearly over.  I shall let you out of jail inside of four or five
+days, if you behave yourself."
+
+This should have been cheering news, but, somehow, John Ellery did
+not feel cheerful that afternoon.  The tired feeling he had spoken
+of so lightly was worse than he had described it, and he was
+despondent, for no particular reason.  That night he slept
+miserably and awoke with a chill to find a cold, pouring rain
+beating against the windows of the shanty.
+
+He could not eat and he could not keep warm, even with the cook-
+stove top red hot and a blanket over his shoulders.  By noon the
+chill had gone and he was blazing with fever.  Still the rain and
+the wind, and no visitors at the ropes, not even the light-keeper.
+
+He lay down on his bed and tried to sleep, but though he dozed a
+bit, woke always with a start and either a chill or fever fit.  His
+head began to ache violently.  And then, in the lonesomeness and
+misery, fear began to take hold of him.
+
+He remembered the symptoms the doctor had warned him against,
+headache, fever, and all the rest.  He felt his wrists and arms and
+began to imagine that beneath the skin were the little bunches,
+like small shot, that were the certain indications.  Then he
+remembered how that other man had looked, how he had died.  Was he
+to look that way and die like that?  And he was all alone, they had
+left him alone.
+
+Night came.  The rain had ceased and stars were shining clear.
+Inside the shanty the minister tossed on the bed, or staggered back
+and forth about the two rooms.  He wondered what the time might be;
+then he did not care.  He was alone.  The smallpox had him in its
+grip.  He was alone and he was going to die.  Why didn't some one
+come?  Where was Mrs. Coffin?  And Grace?  She was somewhere near
+him--Parker had said so--and he must see her before he died.  He
+called her name over and over again.
+
+The wind felt cold on his forehead.  He stumbled amidst the beach
+grass.  What was this thing across his path?  A rope, apparently,
+but why should there be ropes in that house?  There had never been
+any before.  He climbed over it and it was a climb of hundreds of
+feet and the height made him giddy.  That was a house, another
+house, not the one he had been living in.  And there were lights
+all about.  Perhaps one of them was the light at the parsonage.
+And a big bell was booming.  That was his church bell and he would
+be late for the meeting.
+
+Some one was speaking to him.  He knew the voice.  He had known it
+always and would know it forever.  It was the voice he wanted to
+hear.  "Grace!" he called.  "Grace!  I want you.  Don't go!  Don't
+go!  Grace! oh, my dear! don't go!"
+
+Then the voice had gone.  No, it had not gone.  It was still there
+and he heard it speaking to him, begging him to listen, pleading
+with him to go somewhere, go back, back to something or other.  And
+there was an arm about his waist and some one was leading him,
+helping him.  He broke down and cried childishly and some one cried
+with him.
+
+
+Early the next morning, just as day was breaking, a buggy, the
+horse which drew it galloping, rocked and bumped down the
+lighthouse lane.  Dr. Parker, his brows drawn together and his lips
+set with anxiety, was driving.  He had been roused from sleep in
+the hotel at Hyannis by a boy with a telegram.  "Come quick," it
+read.  "Mr. Ellery sick."  The sender was Noah Ellis, the
+lightkeeper.  The doctor had hired a fast horse, ridden at top
+speed to Bayport, gotten a fresh horse there and hurried on.  He
+stopped at his own house but a moment, merely to rouse his wife and
+ask her if there was any fresh news.  But she had not even heard of
+the minister's seizure.
+
+"My soul, Will!" she cried, "you don't think it's the smallpox, do
+you?"
+
+"Lord knows!  I'm afraid so," groaned her husband.  "WHAT made me
+leave him?  I ought to have known better.  If that boy dies, I'll
+never draw another easy breath."
+
+He rushed out, sprang into the buggy, and drove on.  At the ropes,
+early as it was, he found a small group waiting and gazing at the
+shanty.  The lightkeeper was there and two or three other men.
+They were talking earnestly.
+
+"How is he, Noah?" demanded the doctor, jumping to the ground.
+
+"I don't know, doc," replied Ellis.  "I ain't heard sence last
+night when I telegraphed you."
+
+"Haven't heard?  What do you mean by that?  Haven't you been with
+him?"
+
+"No-o," was the rather sheepish reply.  "You see, I--I wanted to,
+but my wife's awful scart I'll catch it and--"
+
+"The devil!" Dr. Parker swore impatiently.  "Who is with him then?
+You haven't left him alone, have you?"
+
+"No-o," Noah hesitated once more.  "No-o, he ain't alone.  She's
+there."
+
+"She?  Who?  Keziah Coffin?"
+
+"I don't cal'late Keziah's heard it yet.  We was waitin' for you
+'fore we said much to anybody.  But she's there--the--the one that
+found him.  You see, he was out of his head and wanderin' up the
+lane 'most to the main road and she'd been callin' on Keziah and
+when she come away from the parsonage she heard him hollerin' and
+goin' on and--"
+
+"Who did?"
+
+"Why"--the lightkeeper glanced at his companions--"why, doc, 'twas
+Grace Van Horne.  And she fetched him back to the shanty and then
+come and got me to telegraph you."
+
+"Grace Van Horne!  Grace Van--  Do you mean to say she is there
+with him NOW?"
+
+"Yes.  She wouldn't leave him.  She seemed 'most as crazy's he was.
+My wife and me, we--"
+
+But Parker did not wait to hear the rest.  He ran at full speed to
+the door of the shanty.  Grace herself opened it.
+
+"How is he?" demanded the doctor.
+
+"I think he seems a little easier; at any rate, he's not delirious.
+He's in there.  Oh, I'm so thankful you've come."
+
+"Is that the doctor?" called Ellery weakly from the next room.  "Is
+it?"
+
+"Yes," replied Parker, throwing off his coat and hat.  "Coming, Mr.
+Ellery."
+
+"For God's sake, doctor, send her away.  Don't let her stay.  Make
+her go.  Make her GO!  I've got the smallpox and if she stays she
+will die.  Don't you understand? she MUST go."
+
+"Hush, John," said Grace soothingly.  "Hush, dear."
+
+Dr. Parker stopped short and looked at her.  She returned the look,
+but without the slightest semblance of self-consciousness or
+embarrassment.  She did not realize that she had said anything
+unusual, which must sound inexplicably strange to him.  Her
+thoughts were centered in that adjoining room and she wondered why
+he delayed.
+
+"Well?" she asked impatiently.  "What is it?  Why do you wait?"
+
+The doctor did not answer.  However, he waited no longer, but
+hurried in to his new patient.
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT
+
+
+The news was flying from house to house along the main road.
+Breakfasts were interrupted as some neighbor rushed in to tell the
+story which another neighbor had brought to him or her.  Mr. Ellery
+was very sick and it was feared he had the smallpox, that was what
+Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife, told those who lived near her.  By
+the time the Corners heard of it the tale had grown until the
+minister was said to be dying.  And when it reached Gaius Winslow's
+home at the upper end of the town he was reported dead.  This was
+denied, upon investigation, but soon another rumor grew and spread;
+Grace Van Horne was with him, had taken him back to the shanty, and
+insisted upon staying there until the doctor came.  Facing that
+dreadful disease and--  It was wonderful--and queer.
+
+At the Danielses' house the servant girl rushed into the dining
+room to serve the toast and the story at one swoop.  Captain
+Elkanah's dignity deserted him for an instant and his egg spoon
+jingled to the floor.  Annabel's face turned a dull red.  Her eyes
+flashed sparks.
+
+"Pa!" she cried, "I--I--if you don't do something now I'll never--"
+
+Her father shook his head warningly.  "Debby," he said to the maid,
+"you needn't wait."
+
+Debby departed reluctantly.  After the kitchen door had closed,
+Captain Elkanah said: "My dear, we mustn't be too hasty in this
+matter.  Remember, Mr. Ellery is very sick.  As for--for the Van
+Horne girl, we haven't heard the whole truth yet.  She may not be
+there at all, or it may be just an accident--"
+
+"Accident!  Pa, you make me boil.  Accident!  Accidents like that
+don't happen.  If you let her stay there, or if--  Oh, to think of
+it!  And we were calling him a hero and--and everything!  Hero! he
+stayed there just so she might--"
+
+"Hush! hush, child!"
+
+"I shan't hush.  Pa, are you going to let him disgrace himself with
+HER?"
+
+"No, no.  Probably there ain't any idea of his marrying her.  If
+there is--"
+
+"If there is you put him out of the church and out of this town.
+And as for HER--  O-oh!  And we've been having him here at dinner
+and--and I have--  Oh, I shall die!  I wish I WAS dead!"
+
+Then followed hysterics and agony, greedily listened to by Debby,
+whose ear was at the crack of the door.  Captain Elkanah soothed
+and pleaded and tried to pacify.  It ended by his promising to
+investigate and, if necessary, take steps 'immejitly.'
+
+Lavinia Pepper sprung the mine on her brother.  Kyan was horrified.
+He had grown to be one of Ellery's most devoted worshipers.
+
+"Smallpox!" he groaned.  "The minister got the smallpox.  Oh!
+that's turrible."
+
+"Ain't it?" observed his sister, also horrified, but rather
+relishing the horror.  "And if it hadn't been for Gracie Van Horne--"
+
+"WHAT?"
+
+"What's the matter with you?  I say, if Gracie Van Horne hadn't
+happened to meet him, wanderin' around, crazy as a coot, and toted
+him back--"
+
+"Gracie--Van--Horne!  Godfreys mighty!  She--she met him?  Where?
+Down to Peters's grove, was it?"
+
+"Peters's grove!  No.  What on earth made you think 'twas there?
+She'd been visitin' Keziah Coffin at the parsonage, and when she
+come out on the main road she heard him aravin' down the lane.
+Must have passed right by this house and we never heard him.  I
+never see such a dead man as you be when you're asleep.  You don't
+SOUND dead, I'll say that for you, but nothin' wakes you up."
+
+"Why, Laviny! you never woke up yourself."
+
+"That's right, lay it onto me.  I expected you would; it's just
+like you.  But why in time did you think Grace met the minister way
+down to Peters's grove?  That's the most loony notion ever I heard,
+even from you.  What made you think of it?"
+
+"Nothin', nothin'.  I guess I WAS loony, maybe.  Dear! dear! dear!
+have you heard how's he's gettin' on?  Is he took bad?"
+
+"I ain't heard nothin' yet, nobody has.  But see here, 'Bish
+Pepper, you act funny to me.  I want to know more about that
+Peters's grove notion.  WHY did you say it?"
+
+Kyan wriggled upon the rack and dodged and squirmed for the next
+twenty minutes.  He tried his best to keep the fateful secret, but
+he admitted too much, or not enough, and his sister kept up the
+cross-examination.  At the end of the session she was still
+unsatisfied, but she was on the scent and her brother knew it.  He
+fled to the woodshed and there punctuated his morning task of
+kindling chopping with groans and awful forebodings.
+
+One of the very first to hear of the minister's illness was Keziah
+Coffin.  Mrs. Parker told her and Keziah started for the beach
+before the tale of Grace's part in the night's happenings reached
+the village.  She did not wait for a conveyance, hardly waited to
+throw a shawl over her shoulders, but began to cover the three
+miles on foot.  She had walked nearly two thirds of the distance
+when Captain Zeb Mayo overtook her and gave her a seat in his
+chaise.
+
+They said little during the drive, the shock and anxiety forbidding
+conversation.  At the ropes was the same group, larger now, and Dr.
+Parker's horse was hitched to one of the posts.
+
+"You can't go in, Mrs. Coffin," said Thoph Black.  "The doctor give
+us his orders not to let nobody get by.  I guess nobody wants to,
+but all the same--"
+
+Keziah paid not the slightest attention to Mr. Black.  She stooped
+beneath his arm, under the rope and was on her way to the shanty
+before they realized her intention.  Captain Zeb roared a command
+for her to return, but she kept on.  No one followed, not even the
+captain.  Mrs. Mayo had strictly forbidden his passing the dead
+line.
+
+Keziah opened the door and entered the little building.  The living
+room was empty, but at the sound of her step some one came from the
+room adjoining.  That some one was Grace.
+
+"Aunt Keziah!" she cried.  "What did you come here for?  Why did
+you?"
+
+"Gracie!" exclaimed the housekeeper.  "You?--YOU?"
+
+Dr. Parker appeared, holding up a hand for silence.
+
+"Hush!" he cried.  "He's quiet now and I think he will sleep.
+Don't talk here.  Go outside, if you must talk--and I suppose you
+must."
+
+Grace led the way.  Fortunately, the door was on the side not
+visible from the spot where Captain Zeb and the rest were standing.
+Keziah, bewildered and amazed at the girl's presence, followed
+dumbly.
+
+"Now, auntie," whispered Grace, turning to her, "you want to know
+how he is, of course.  Well, I think he is better.  The doctor
+thinks so, too.  But why did you come here?"
+
+"Why did I come?  I?  Why, because my place was here.  I belonged
+here.  For the love of mercy's sakes what are YOU doin' here?  With
+HIM?  And the smallpox!"
+
+"Hush.  I can't help it.  I don't care.  I don't care for anything
+any more.  I'm glad I came.  I'm glad I was the one to find him and
+help him.  No matter what happens--to me--I'm glad.  I never was so
+glad before.  I love him, Aunt Keziah.  I can say it to you, for
+you know it--you must know it.  I LOVE him and he needed me and I
+came.  He was calling my name when I found him.  He might have died
+there, alone in the wet and cold, and I saved him.  Think what that
+means to me."
+
+The girl was in a sort of frenzy of excitement and hysterical
+exaltation.  All the night she had been calm and quiet, repressing
+her feelings, and tending the man she loved.  Now, with some one to
+whom she could confide, she was calm no longer.  Keziah answered
+her soothingly, questioning her from time to time, until, at last,
+she learned the whole story.
+
+The door opened softly and Dr. Parker came out.
+
+"He's asleep," he said.  "And he's better, much better.  And I'll
+tell you something else, if you won't make too much noise about it--
+he hasn't got the smallpox."
+
+The two women looked at him.
+
+"Fact," he said, with an emphatic nod.  "Not a symptom of it.  I'd
+have bet my best hat that he wasn't going to have it and I won't
+have to go bareheaded yet awhile.  He is pretty close to brain
+fever, though, but I guess he'll dodge that this time, with care.
+On the whole, Keziah, I'm glad you came.  This young lady," with a
+movement of the head toward Grace, "has done her part.  She really
+saved his life, if I'm not mistaken.  Now, I think she can go away
+and leave him to you and me.  I'll pretty nearly guarantee to have
+him up and out of this--this pesthole in a fortnight."
+
+Here was joyful tidings, the better for being so unexpected.
+Keziah leaned against the boards and drew a long breath.  Grace
+said nothing, but, after a moment, she went into the house.
+
+"That's a good thing, too," commented Parker, watching her as she
+went.  "I wanted to talk with you, Keziah Coffin, and right away.
+Now, then, there's something up, something that I don't know about,
+and I rather guess you do.  Young women--even when they're her kind
+and that's as good a kind as there is--don't risk smallpox for any
+young man they pick up casually.  They don't carry--I guess it was
+pretty nearly carrying--him home and put him to bed and care for
+him and cry over him and call him 'dear.'  And he doesn't beg them
+to run away and let him die rather than to stay there and risk
+dying, too.  No, not to any great extent.  Now, Keziah, you and I
+are fairly good friends and we ought to know each other by this
+time.  I see a light--a little one.  Now, then, if you turn up the
+lamp, so that I can see the whole blaze, maybe I can help those two
+in yonder."
+
+Keziah considered.  "All right, doctor," she said, when she reached
+a decision, "all right; I'll tell you the whole thing, and you can
+see one of the reasons why my hair is gettin' grayer.  This thing
+has reached the point now where there's no keepin' it quiet.
+Folk'll know--I s'pose they know already--that she's been here with
+him.  They'll suspect a lot more and the truth is better than
+suspicion--that is, it can't be worse than the suspicions that come
+natural to a good many minds in this town.  I am glad I can tell
+you, for I guess the time's come to step out in broad daylight and
+h'ist our colors.  Now, you listen.  Here 'tis, from beginnin' to
+end."
+
+She went on to tell all she knew of her parson's love story.
+
+Dr. Parker listened.
+
+"Hum!" he said thoughtfully, "I see.  What made her change her mind
+so suddenly?  You say, or you gather from what Mr. Ellery told you,
+that she had all but agreed to marry him.  She cares for him,
+that's sure.  Then, all at once, she throws him over and accepts
+Nat.  Of course her uncle's sudden seizure was a shock and he
+wanted Nat to have her, but she isn't the kind of girl to be easily
+swayed.  Why did she do it?"
+
+"Well, doctor, that's kind of a puzzle to me.  All I can think is
+that she come to realize what it might mean to him, the minister,
+if he married a Come-Outer.  I think she done it for his sake, to
+save him, though what made her realize it all at once I don't know.
+There's the part we ain't heard."
+
+"I guess you're right.  Something happened between the time she
+left Ellery and when you and I reached the tavern.  But never mind
+that, that doesn't count now.  Let's look at things as they are
+this minute.  She's here and folks know it.  As they do know it
+they'll begin to talk, and the more they talk the farther from the
+truth they'll get--most of 'em.  Nat, poor chap, is dead, so her
+promise to him is canceled.  Ellery will get well if he isn't
+troubled, and her being with him will help more than anything else.
+I can understand now why he broke down."
+
+"Yes, he ain't been himself since it happened."
+
+"Of course, and the last few weeks of worry and night work have
+helped to wreck his nerves.  Well, as I see it, there's only one
+thing to do.  If she leaves him he'll go to pieces again, so she
+mustn't leave.  And she can't stay without an explanation.  I say
+let's give the explanation; let's come right out with the
+announcement that they're engaged."
+
+"Whew! that'll stir things up."
+
+"You bet!  But let it stir.  I like that parson of yours; he's a
+trump.  And I always liked her, although, generally speaking, I
+don't love Come-Outers.  And I like her more than ever now, when
+she risked what she thought was smallpox to care for him.  As I
+said, she saved his life, and she ought to have him.  She SHALL
+have him."
+
+"But she's a Come-Outer and--there's the church."
+
+"Well, I know it.  But he never was so popular as he is now.  And
+she isn't by any means a steady-going Come-Outer.  Why, Zeke
+Bassett and the rest have been finding fault with her and calling
+her a backslider.  That'll help.  Then you trust me to whoop up her
+heroism and the fact that without her he would have died.  We can
+do it, Keziah.  Come on!  I've tackled a good many jobs, but
+matchmaking isn't one of 'em.  Here goes to tackle that."
+
+Keziah was delighted; here was work after her own heart.  But she
+still hesitated.
+
+"Doctor," she said, "you've forgot one thing, that's Gracie
+herself.  Would she marry him now, knowing it may mean the loss of
+his ministry and all, any more than she would at first?  I don't
+believe it."
+
+"That's your part, Keziah.  You've got to show her she MUST marry
+him or he'll die; see?  Call on me to back you up in any fairy yarn
+you spin.  You prove to her it's her duty to marry him.  You'll
+have to stay, here and help nurse, of course, and that's easy
+because his disease isn't contagious.  You convince her and I'll
+take care of the congregation.  He'll live to be minister here for
+the rest of his life, if he wants to, and she'll be a minister's
+wife and sit in the front pew.  I'll guarantee the church if you'll
+guarantee the girl.  Why, it's your duty!  Come, now, what do you
+say?"
+
+Keziah's hesitation was at an end.  Her face lit up.
+
+"I say good!" she cried.  "And I'll be thankful to you all the rest
+of my life.  But for the dear mercy sakes, don't say 'duty' to me
+again.  Oh, doctor, if you only knew what it means to me to be
+fightin' at last for somethin' that ain't just duty, but what I
+really want!  I do honestly believe we can win.  Glory, hallelujah!
+And now I want to give you a piece of advice, your course for the
+first leg, as you might say: you see Cap'n Zebedee Mayo."
+
+"Humph!  Cap'n Zeb is the first man I mean to see."
+
+Captain Zeb listened with his mouth and eyes and ears open.  Mrs.
+Mayo was with him when the doctor called, and she, too, listened.
+
+"Well!" exclaimed the captain, when the plea for support was ended.
+"Well, by the flukes of Jonah's whale!  Talk about surprises!  Old
+lady, what do you say?"
+
+"I say go ahead, Zebedee.  Go ahead!  If Mr. Ellery wanted to marry
+Jezebel's sister, and I knew he really wanted to, I'd--I do believe
+I'd help him get her.  And Grace Van Horne is a good girl.  Go
+ahead."
+
+"Of course," put in Parker, profiting by a hint of Mrs. Coffin's,
+"of course Daniels will fight tooth and nail against us.  He'll be
+for discharging Ellery at once.  And he really runs the parish
+committee."
+
+"He does, hey?  Well, I cal'late he don't.  Not if I'm on deck, he
+don't.  All right, doctor, I'm with you.  He, he, he!" he chuckled.
+"Say, doc, do you know I sort of love a good lively row.  That's
+been the only trouble with our society sence Mr. Ellery took
+command of it--there ain't been any rows.  He, he, he!  Well,
+there'll be one now."
+
+There was, and it was lively enough to suit even Captain Zeb.  Dr.
+Parker, on his calls that day, was assailed with a multitude of
+questions concerning Grace's presence at the shanty.  He answered
+them cheerfully, dilating upon the girl's bravery, her good sense,
+and the fact that she had saved Mr. Ellery's life.  Then he
+confided, as a strict secret, the fact that the two were engaged.
+Before his hearers had recovered from the shock of this explosion,
+he was justifying the engagement.  Why shouldn't they marry if they
+wanted to?  It was a free country.  The girl wasn't a Come-Outer
+any longer, and, besides--and this carried weight in a good many
+households--what a black eye the marriage would be for that no-
+account crowd at the chapel.
+
+Captain Zebedee, having shipped with the insurgents, worked for
+them from sunrise to sunset and after.  Zeb was something of a
+politician and knew whom to "get at."  He sought his fellows on the
+parish committee and labored with them.  Mrs. Mayo and the doctor's
+wife championed the cause at sewing circle.  They were lively,
+those sewing meetings, and the fur flew.  Didama Rogers and Lavinia
+Pepper were everywhere and ready to agree with whichever side
+seemed likely to win.  Lavinia was so deeply interested that she
+forgot to catechise Abishai further about his untimely reference to
+Peters's grove.  And Kyan, puzzled but thankful, kept silence.
+
+It was by no means a one-sided struggle.  Captain Elkanah, spurred
+on by the furious Annabel, marshaled his forces and proclaimed that
+Ellery, having disgraced the Regular Society, should no longer
+occupy its pulpit.
+
+"If he does," thundered Elkanah, "I shall never cross the threshold
+of that church.  And I've worshiped there for fifty years.  Hum--
+ha!  I should like to know whose money has gone more liberal for
+that meeting house than mine!  But not another cent--no, sir! not
+one--if that licentious young scamp continues to blaspheme there."
+
+He hinted concerning a good-sized contribution toward a parish
+house, something the society needed.  If Ellery was discharged, the
+contribution would probably be made, not otherwise.  And this was a
+point worth considering.
+
+Daniels also wrote to his influential friends of the National
+Regular Society.  But Captain Zebedee had forestalled him there and
+both letters were laid on the table to await further developments.
+As for the Come-Outers, they were wild with rage and Grace was
+formally read out of their communion.
+
+"I wonder," shrieked Ezekiel Bassett, in prayer meeting, "what the
+sperrit of the good and great man who used to lead us from this
+'ere platform would say if he was here now?  Hey? what would he
+say?"
+
+Josiah Badger upreared his lanky person.  "I dreamed about Cap'n
+Eben t'other n-nin-nun-night," he stammered.  "I see him just as--
+p-pup-pup-plain as you hear me n-n-now.  And he says to me, he
+says, Josiah,' he says, 'I-I-I-I--'"
+
+"Ki yi!" broke in Thoph Baker, from the shadow of the rear seat.
+Josiah turned to berate Thoph, who, being in disgrace because of
+his defense of Ellery, was reckless, and the communication from the
+dead leader of the Come-Outers was lost in the squabble which
+followed.
+
+Meantime Keziah, installed as head nurse at the shanty, was having
+her troubles.  The minister was getting better, slowly but surely
+getting better.  The danger of brain fever was at an end, but he
+was very weak and must not be excited, so the doctor said.  He knew
+nothing of the struggle for and against him which was splitting
+Trumet in twain, and care was taken that he should not know it.  He
+was not allowed to talk, and, for the most part, was quite
+contented to be silent, watching Grace as she moved about the room.
+If he wondered why she was still with him, he said nothing, and the
+thought of what his congregation might say did not vex him in the
+least.  She was there, he saw her every day, that was enough.
+
+He had expressed a wish to talk with his housekeeper.  "I've got
+something to tell you, Aunt Keziah," he said weakly.  "Some news
+for you and--and--"
+
+"Cat's foot!" snapped Keziah briskly, "don't start in tellin' me
+news now.  I've got my hands full as 'tis.  News'll keep and you
+won't, if you talk another minute."
+
+"But this is important."
+
+"So are you, though you may not think so.  If you don't believe it
+ask Grace."
+
+"Well," the minister sighed.  "Well, perhaps I won't tell it now.
+I'd rather wait until I feel stronger.  You won t care, will you?
+It will be hard to tell and I--"
+
+"No, no!  Care?  No.  If it's bad news I don't want to hear it, and
+if it's good I can wait, I cal'late.  You turn over and take a
+nap."
+
+She could manage him; it was with Grace that she had her struggle.
+John was safe now; he would be himself again before very long, and
+the girl had begun to think of his future and his reputation.  She
+knew that gossip must be busy in the village, and, much as she
+wished to remain by his side, she decided that she should not do
+so.  And then Keziah began to fulfill her agreement with Dr.
+Parker.
+
+First, and bluntly, she told the girl that her leaving now was
+useless.  The secret was out; it had been made public.  Everyone
+knew she was in love with John and he with her.  Their engagement
+was considered an established certainty.  Grace was greatly
+agitated and very indignant.
+
+"Who dared say so?" she demanded.  "Who dared say we were engaged?
+It's not true.  It's a wicked lie and--  Who is responsible, Aunt
+Keziah?"
+
+"Well, I suppose likely I am, much as anybody, deary."
+
+"You?  You, Aunt Keziah?"
+
+"Yup; me.  You are in love with him; at any rate, you said so.  And
+you're here with him, ain't you?  If you two ain't engaged you
+ought to be."
+
+"Aunt Keziah, how can you speak so?  Don't you realize--"
+
+"Look here.  Don't you want to marry him?"
+
+"WANT to?  Oh, please--  How can you?  I--"
+
+"S-s-sh!  There! there!  I am a bull-headed old thing, for sure.
+But I'm like the dog that chased the rat across the shelf where
+they kept the best china, my intentions are good.  Don't cry,
+deary.  Let's get to the bottom of this thing, as the man said when
+he tumbled into the well.  When I first knew that you and John were
+in love with each other, I felt dreadful.  I knew your uncle and I
+knew Trumet.  If you had married then, or let people know that you
+thought of it, 'twould have been the end, and ruin for John and
+you.  But things are diff'rent now, a good deal diff'rent.  John is
+worshiped pretty nigh, since his pluck with that smallpox man.  He
+could go into church and dance a jig in the pulpit and nobody--or
+precious few, at least--would find fault.  And you've stood by him.
+If it wa'n't for you he wouldn't be here to-day, and people know
+that.  Dr. Parker and Captain Zebedee and Gaius Winslow and dozens
+more are fighting for him and for you.  And the doctor says they
+are going to win.  Do you want to spoil it all?"
+
+"Aunt Keziah, that night before uncle died I was upstairs in my
+room and I heard uncle and Captain Elkanah Daniels talking."
+
+"Elkanah?  Was he there at your house?"
+
+"Yes.  Somehow or other--I don't know how--he had learned about--
+about John and me.  And he was furious.  Aunt Keziah, I heard him
+say that unless I broke off with John he would drive him from the
+ministry and from Trumet and disgrace him forever.  He said that if
+I really cared for him I would not ruin his life.  That brought me
+to myself.  I realized how wicked I had been and what I was doing.
+That was why I--I--"
+
+"There! there!  Tut! tut! tut! hum!  Now I see.  But, Gracie, you
+ain't goin' to ruin his life.  No, nor Elkanah ain't goin' to do
+it, either.  He can't, no matter how hard he tries.  I've lived to
+see the day when there's a bigger man in the Reg'lar church than
+Elkanah Daniels, and I thank the good Lord for it."
+
+"I never should have come here.  I know it.  But he needed me.
+Aunt Keziah, he was sick and dying almost, and I couldn't leave
+him.  I came, and now he will be ruined and disgraced."
+
+"He won't, I tell you; he won't.  Listen to me.  I ain't talkin'
+for my health.  Listen!"
+
+She argued and pleaded and coaxed, and, at last, when she began to
+think she had prevailed, Grace brought forward another objection.
+She had given her word to her uncle.  How could she break that
+promise made to a dying man?  She would feel like a traitor.
+
+"Traitor to who?" demanded the housekeeper, losing patience.  "Not
+to poor Nat, for he's gone.  And don't you suppose that he and Eben
+understand things better now, where they are?  Do you suppose that
+Nat wouldn't want you to be happy?  I know he would, for I knew
+him."
+
+It was still unsettled when the long talk was over, but Grace
+agreed not to leave the minister at present.  She would stay where
+she was until he was himself again, at least.  Keziah was satisfied
+with the preliminary skirmish.  She felt confident of winning the
+victory, and in the prospect of happiness for others, she was
+almost happy herself.  Yet each time the mail was brought to the
+shanty she dreaded to look at it, and the sight of a stranger made
+her shake with fear.  Ansel Coffin had threatened to come to
+Trumet.  If he came, she had made up her mind what to do.
+
+The parish committee was to meet.  Captain Elkanah had announced
+his intention of moving that John Ellery be expelled from the
+Regular church.  There was to be no compromise, no asking for a
+resignation; he must be discharged, thrown out in disgrace.  The
+county papers were full of the squabble, but they merely reported
+the news and did not take sides.  The fight was too even for that.
+
+Captain Zeb chuckled.  "It's all right, Keziah," he said.  "We know
+what's what and who's who.  The Rev. Mr. Ellery can preach here for
+the next hundred year, if he lives that long and wants to, and he
+can marry whoever he darn pleases, besides.  Elkanah's licked and
+he knows it.  He ain't got enough backers to man a lobster dory.
+Let him holler; noise don't scare grown folks."
+
+One afternoon a few days before the date set for the meeting
+Elkanah and two or three of his henchmen were on the piazza of the
+Daniels home, discussing the situation.  They were blue and
+downcast.  Annabel was in the sitting room, shedding tears of
+humiliation and jealous rage on the haircloth sofa.
+
+"Well," observed her father, "there's one thing we can do.  If the
+vote in committee goes against us, I shall insist on the calling of
+a congregational meeting.  Hum--ha!  Yes, I shall insist on that."
+
+"Won't be no good, cap'n," sniffed Beriah Salters dolefully.  "The
+biggest part of the congregation's for Ellery, and you know it.
+They're as sot on him as if he was the angel Gabriel.  If you'd
+only told what you knew afore this smallpox business, we'd have
+been able to give him and his Come-Outer woman what b'longs to 'em.
+But not now."
+
+Captain Daniels shifted uneasily in his chair.
+
+"Hum--ha!" he barked, to cover confusion. Hum--ha!  It seemed to me
+more--er--charitable to give the misguided young man another
+chance, and I did it.  But--  What's that?"
+
+Some one was talking excitedly on the sidewalk beyond the lilac
+bushes at the border of the Daniels property.  Voices answered.
+Didama Rogers darted out of her yard and past the house in the
+direction of the sounds.  Salters rose and walked down to the gate.
+
+"Hey!" he shouted.  "Halloo!  Ahoy there!  You, Em'lous, what is
+it?"
+
+Emulous Sparrow, the fish peddler, was seated in his cart, which
+was surrounded by men and women, neighbors of the Danielses.  There
+was a perfect storm of questionings and ejaculations.  Salters
+opened the gate and joined the group.  A moment later he came
+running back, up the walk toward the piazza.
+
+"Cap'n," he shouted.  "Cap'n Elkanah, here's news!  What do you
+think?  A telegram's just come from Nat Hammond.  He's safe and
+sound in New York, and he'll be here day after to-morrow."
+
+They could not believe it and rushed out to hear more.  Emulous,
+glowing with importance, affirmed that it was so.  He had seen the
+telegram at the store.  It was for Grace Van Horne and they were
+just going to send a boy over to the shanty with it.
+
+"No details nor nothin'," he declared.  "Just said 'Am all right.
+Arrived to-day.  Will be in Trumet Thursday.'  And 'twas signed
+'Nathaniel Hammond.'  There!"
+
+"Well, by thunder!" exclaimed Salters.  "If that don't beat all.  I
+wonder what's happened to him?  Two year gone and give up for dead,
+and now--  What do you cal'late it means?"
+
+Captain Elkanah seized him by the arm and led him out of the group.
+The old man's face was alight with savage joy and his voice shook
+with exultation.
+
+"I'll tell you one thing it means," he whispered.  "It means the
+end of Ellery, so far as his marrying her is concerned.  She gave
+her word to Hammond and she'll keep it.  She's no liar, whatever
+else she is.  He may be minister of the Regular church, though I'LL
+never set under him, but he'll never marry her, now."
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+IN WHICH A RECEPTION IS CALLED OFF
+
+
+Far out on the Pacific coast there are two small islands, perhaps a
+hundred miles distant from one another.  The first of these is
+uninhabited.  On the other is a little colony of English-speaking
+people, half-breed descendants of native women and the survivors of
+a crew from a British vessel cast away there in the latter part of
+the eighteenth century.
+
+On the first of these islands, the smaller one, the Sea Mist had
+been wrecked.  Driven out of her course by a typhoon, she staggered
+through day after day and night after night of terrific wind and
+storm until, at last, there was promise of fair weather.  Captain
+Nat, nearly worn out from anxiety, care, and the loss of sleep, had
+gone to his stateroom and the first mate was in charge.  It was
+three o'clock, the wind still blowing and the darkness pitchy, when
+the forward lookout shrieked a warning, "Breakers under the lee!"
+Almost the next instant the ship was on a coral reef, full of
+water, and the seas breaking over her from stem to stern.
+
+Morning came and showed a little patch of land, with palm trees and
+tropical vegetation waving in the gusts and green in the sunshine.
+Captain Nat ordered the boats to be lowered.  Much as he hated the
+thought, he saw that the Sea Mist had made her last voyage and must
+be abandoned.  He went to the cabin, collected papers and charts
+and prepared to leave.  The ship's money, over ten thousand dollars
+in gold belonging to the owner and to be used in trade and
+speculation among the East Indies, he took with him.  Then the
+difficult and dangerous passage through the opening in the reef was
+begun.
+
+Only the captain's boat reached the shore.  The mate's was caught
+by a huge breaker, dashed against the reef and sunk.  Captain Nat,
+his second mate and five of his men were all that was left of the
+Sea Mist's company.  And on that island they remained for nearly
+two weeks.  Provisions they had brought ashore with them.  Water
+they found by digging.  Nat hid the gold at night, burying it on
+the beach below high-water mark.
+
+Then, having made sure of his location by consulting the chart, he
+determined to attempt a voyage to the second island, where he knew
+the English colony to be.  Provisions were getting short, and to
+remain longer where they were was to risk starvation and all its
+horrors.  So, in the longboat, which was provided with a sail, they
+started.  Charts and papers and the gold the skipper took with
+them.  None of the crew knew of the existence of the money; it was
+a secret which the captain kept to himself.
+
+A hundred miles they sailed in the longboat and, at last, the
+second island was sighted.  They landed and found, to their
+consternation and surprise, that it, too, was uninhabited.  The
+former residents had grown tired of their isolation and, a trading
+vessel having touched there, had seized the opportunity to depart
+for Tahiti.  Their houses were empty, their cattle, sheep, goats,
+and fowl roamed wild in the woods, and the fruit was rotting on the
+trees.  In its way the little island was an Eyeless Eden, flowing
+with milk and honey; but to Captain Nat, a conscientious skipper
+with responsibilities to his owners, it was a prison from which he
+determined to escape.  Then, as if to make escape impossible, a
+sudden gale came up and the longboat was smashed by the surf.
+
+"I guess that settles it," ruefully observed the second mate,
+another Cape Codder, from Hyannis.  Cal'late we'll stay here for a
+spell now, hey, Cap'n."
+
+"For a spell, yes," replied Nat.  "We'll stay here until we get
+another craft to set sail in, and no longer."
+
+"Another craft?  ANOTHER one?  Where in time you goin' to get her?"
+
+"Build her," said Captain Nat cheerfully.  Then, pointing to the
+row of empty houses and the little deserted church, he added,
+"There's timber and nails--yes, and cloth, such as 'tis.  If I
+can't build a boat out of them I'll agree to eat the whole
+settlement."
+
+He did not have to eat it, for the boat was built.  It took them
+six months to build her, and she was a curious-looking vessel when
+done, but, as the skipper said, "She may not be a clipper, but
+she'll sail anywhere, if you give her time enough."  He had been
+the guiding spirit of the whole enterprise, planning it, laying the
+keel, burning buildings, to obtain nails and iron, hewing trees for
+the largest beams, showing them how to spin ropes from cocoa-nut
+fiber, improvising sails from the longboat's canvas pieced out with
+blankets and odd bits of cloth from the abandoned houses.  Even a
+strip of carpet from the church floor went into the making of those
+sails.
+
+At last she was done, but Nat was not satisfied.
+
+"I never commanded a ship where I couldn't h'ist Yankee colors," he
+said, "and, by the everlastin'! I won't now.  We've got to have a
+flag."
+
+So, from an old pair of blue overalls, a white cotton shirt, and
+the red hangings of the church pulpit, he made a flag and hoisted
+it to the truck of his queer command.  They provisioned her, gave
+her a liberal supply of fresh water, and, one morning, she passed
+through the opening of the lagoon out to the deep blue of the
+Pacific.  And, hidden in her captain's stateroom under the head of
+his bunk, was the ten thousand dollars in gold.  For Nat had sworn
+to himself, by "the everlasting" and other oaths, to deliver that
+money to his New York owners safe and, necessary expenses deducted
+of course, untouched.
+
+For seven weeks the crazy nondescript slopped across the ocean.
+Fair winds helped her and, at last, she entered the harbor of
+Nukahiva, over twelve hundred miles away.  And there--"Hammond's
+luck," the sailors called it--was a United States man-of-war lying
+at anchor, the first American vessel to touch at that little French
+settlement for five years.  The boat they built was abandoned and
+the survivors of the Sea Mist were taken on board the man-of-war
+and carried to Tahiti.
+
+From Tahiti Captain Nat took passage on a French bark for Honolulu.
+Here, after a month's wait, he found opportunity to leave for New
+York on an American ship, the Stars and Stripes.  And finally,
+after being away from home for two years, he walked into the office
+of his New York owners, deposited their gold on a table, and
+cheerfully observed, "Well, here I am."
+
+That was the yarn which Trumet was to hear later on.  It filled
+columns of the city papers at the time, and those interested may
+read it, in all its details, in a book written by an eminent
+author.  The tale of a Cape Cod sea captain, plucky and resourceful
+and adequate, as Yankee sea captains were expected to be, and were,
+in those days.
+
+But Trumet did not hear the yarn immediately.  All that it heard
+and all that it knew was contained in Captain Nat's brief telegram.
+"Arrived to-day.  Will be home Thursday."  That was all, but it was
+enough, for in that dispatch was explosive sufficient to blow to
+atoms the doctor's plans and Keziah's, the great scheme which was
+to bring happiness to John Ellery and Grace Van Horne.
+
+Dr. Parker heard it, while on his way to Mrs. Prince's, and,
+neglecting that old lady for the once, he turned his horse and
+drove as fast as possible to the shanty on the beach.  Fast as he
+drove, Captain Zebedee Mayo got there ahead of him.  Captain Zeb
+was hitching his white and ancient steed to the post as the doctor
+hove in sight.
+
+"By mighty!" the captain exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, "I'm
+glad enough you've come, doctor.  I hated to go in there alone.
+You've heard, of course."
+
+"Yes, I've heard."
+
+"Say, ain't it wonderful!  I'm tickled all up one side and sorry
+all down t'other.  Nat's a true-blue feller, and I'm glad enough
+that he ain't shark bait; but what about the minister and her?
+She's promised to Nat, you know, and--"
+
+"I know.  Don't I know!  I've been going over the affair and trying
+to see a way out ever since I heard of the telegram.  Tut! tut!
+I'm like you, mighty glad Hammond is safe, but it would have spared
+complications if he had stayed wherever he's been for a few months
+longer.  We would have married those two in there by that time."
+
+"Sartin we would.  But he didn't stay.  Are you goin' to tell Mr.
+Ellery?"
+
+"Certainly not.  And I hope he hasn't been told.  He's getting well
+fast now, but he mustn't be worried, or back he'll go again.  We
+must see Mrs. Coffin.  Keziah is our main hold.  That woman has got
+more sense than all the rest of us put together."
+
+But it was Grace, not Keziah, who opened the shanty door in answer
+to their knock.  She was pale and greeted them calmly, but it was
+evident that her calmness was the result of sheer will power.
+
+"Won't you come in, doctor?" she asked.  "Good afternoon, Captain
+Mayo."
+
+Dr. Parker entered the building, but Captain Zeb remained outside,
+stammering that he cal'lated he'd better stay where he could keep
+an eye on his horse.  This was such a transparent excuse that it
+would have been funny at any other time.  No one smiled now,
+however.
+
+"Is--is Mrs. Coffin--er--Keziah aboard?" the captain asked.
+
+"No, she isn't.  She went to the parsonage a few hours ago.  Mr.
+Ellis brought the mail and there was a letter in it for her.  She
+said it was important and that she must go home to see about some
+things.  She'll be back pretty soon, I suppose."
+
+The doctor whispered her name then and she went inside, closing the
+door after her.  Captain Zebedee sat down on the step to ponder
+over the new and apparently insurmountable difficulty which had
+arisen.  As he said afterwards, "The more I tried to get an
+observation, the thicker it got.  Blamed if I could see anything
+but fog, but I could hear--I could hear Elkanah and his gang
+gigglin', ahead, astern and off both bows."
+
+Parker found his patient sleeping soundly and had not disturbed
+him.  Returning to the living room he spoke to Grace.
+
+"Humph!" he grunted, watching her from under his brows, "everything
+seems to be all right in there.  He hasn't been excited or anything
+like that?"
+
+"No."
+
+"That's good.  He mustn't be.  You understand that?  He mustn't be
+told anything that will upset him.  He's getting well fast and I
+want it to continue."
+
+"Yes, I understand."
+
+"Hum!  Er--have you heard--  Has anyone been here?"
+
+"Yes.  I have heard.  The telegram came and I answered it."
+
+"You did?  Well, it's a miracle and we're all thankful, of course.
+Did you--er--er--"
+
+"Doctor, I must go home.  I mustn't stay here any longer."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"You know why not.  I must be at home when he comes.  You must get
+some one to take my place.  Aunt Keziah will stay, of course, and
+perhaps Mrs. Higgins would come, or Hannah Poundberry.  She--"
+
+"Not if I know it.  I'd as soon have a hay-cutter running in here
+as Hannah's tongue.  I could stop a hay-cutter when it got too
+noisy.  Well, if you must go, you must, I suppose.  But stay
+through tomorrow, at any rate.  Nat won't get here until Thursday,
+and I may be able to find another nurse by that time.  And what I
+shall say to him," motioning toward the other room, "I don't know."
+
+"Must you say anything?  Just say that I have been called away for
+a few days on--on some business.  Don't tell him.  Don't tell him
+the truth, doctor, now.  He is too weak and I am afraid--"
+
+She stopped and turned away.  The doctor watched her pityingly.
+
+"Cheer up," he said.  "At any rate, this is only for a little
+while.  When the captain knows, if he's the man I take him for,
+he'll--"
+
+She whirled like a flash.  "You're not going to tell him?" she
+cried.  "No, no!  You mustn't.  You must promise me you won't.
+Promise."
+
+"Somebody'll tell him.  Telling things is Trumet's specialty."
+
+"Then you must stop it.  No one must tell him--no one except me.  I
+shall tell him, of course.  He must hear it from me and not from
+anyone else.  He would think I was disloyal and ungrateful--and I
+am!  I have been!  But I was--I COULDN'T help it.  You know,
+doctor, you know--"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know.  Well, I'll promise, but it will all come out
+right, you see.  You mustn't think I--we--have been interfering in
+your affairs, Grace.  But we've all come to think a whole lot of
+that parson of ours and what he wanted we wanted him to have,
+that's all."
+
+"I know.  Thank you very much for all your kindness, and for your
+promise."
+
+He would have liked to say much more, but he could not, under the
+circumstances.  He stammered a good-by and, with a question
+concerning Mrs. Coffin's whereabouts, went out to join Captain Zeb.
+
+"Well?" queried the latter anxiously.  "How is it?  What's up?
+What's the next tack?"
+
+"We'll go to the parsonage," was the gloomy answer.  "If anybody
+can see a glimmer in this cussed muddle Keziah Coffin can."
+
+Keziah was on her knees in her room, beside a trunk, the same trunk
+she had been packing the day of the minister's arrival in Trumet.
+She was working frantically, sorting garments from a pile,
+rejecting some and keeping others.  She heard voices on the walk
+below and went down to admit the callers.
+
+"What's the matter, Keziah?" asked Dr. Parker sharply, after a look
+at her face.  "You look as if you'd been through the war.  Humph!
+I suppose you've heard the news?"
+
+Keziah brushed back the hair from her forehead.  "Yes," she answered
+slowly.  "I've heard it."
+
+"Well, it's great news, and if it wasn't for--if things weren't as
+they are, I'd be crowing hallelujahs this minute.  Trumet has got a
+good man safe and sound again, and the Lord knows it needs all of
+that kind it can get."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Yes.  But there's the other matter.  I've been to see Grace.  She
+didn't say so, but it was easy enough to see; the man she promised
+to marry and thought was dead, is alive.  She's a girl of her word--
+she promised him and she promised her dying uncle--and she'll
+marry him.  And then what will become of John Ellery?  He'll go
+downhill so fast that a ship's anchor wouldn't hold him.  If he
+doesn't die I'll have to send him away somewhere, and the Regular
+church will lose the minister we've fought so hard for."
+
+"Yes," concurred Zebedee, "and them blasted Danielses'll run the
+shebang and the rest of us'll have to sing small, I tell you."
+
+"So we've come to you, Keziah," went on the doctor.  "Do you see
+any salvation?"
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+"You do?  Where?"
+
+"In Nat Hammond.  If he knows Grace doesn't want to marry him, do
+you suppose he'll hold her to her promise?"
+
+"I don't know.  I'm not so sure.  Men don't give up girls like that
+so easy.  I wouldn't--by George, I wouldn't!  And she won't tell
+him the whole truth, I'm afraid.  She'll pretend to be glad--hang
+it! she IS glad--to have him home again and--"
+
+"Of course she's glad.  Ain't we all glad and happy and thankful?
+We ought to be.  But"--she hesitated--"doctor, you leave this to
+me.  So far as John and Grace are concerned you needn't worry.
+I'll take it on myself to see that they have each other, as the
+Almighty meant 'em to.  Leave it to me.  Just leave it to me.  I
+KNOW I can do it."
+
+She would not say more, nor tell on what grounds she based her
+optimism.  She would go back to the shanty that evening, she said,
+and stay until the following afternoon.  Grace would undoubtedly go
+to the old tavern to prepare for the homecoming.  Let Mrs. Higgins
+take her place as nurse.
+
+"I shall have to leave, myself," she added, "for a little while; so
+perhaps you'd better try to get somebody else to help the Higgins
+woman.  Don't ask me any questions, please don't, and be sure not
+to say a word to anybody--most of all to Grace.  Just do as I tell
+you and leave it to me.  And don't come and see me again until
+after--after he comes home.  Good-by, doctor.  Good-by, Cap'n Zeb."
+
+She shook hands with each of them, a rather unusual proceeding as
+they thought of it afterwards.  Then they went away and left her.
+
+"Humph!" mused Parker, as they came out at the gate.  "Humph!  She
+seems sure, doesn't she.  And yet she doesn't act like herself.
+Did you notice that?"
+
+"Yup.  I noticed it.  But I expect Nat's droppin' out of the clouds
+shook her up, same as it done the rest of us.  Well, never mind.
+She's a bully good, capable woman and what she says she'll do she
+gen'rally does.  I'm bettin' on her.  By time! I feel better."
+
+Captain Elkanah Daniels and his friends were feeling better also,
+and they were busy.  Trumet had a new hero now.  On Wednesday the
+Boston papers printed excerpts from Captain Hammond's story, and
+these brief preliminary accounts aroused the admiration of every
+citizen.  It was proposed to give him a reception.  Elkanah was the
+moving spirit in the preparations.  Captain Nat, so they learned by
+telegraphing, would arrive on the noon train Thursday.  His was not
+to be a prosaic progress by stage all the way from Sandwich.  A
+special carriage, drawn by the Daniels span and escorted by other
+vehicles, was to meet the coach at Bayport and bring him to Trumet
+in triumphant procession.  All this was to be a surprise, of
+course.
+
+Wednesday afternoon the Daniels following was cheered by the
+tidings that Grace Van Horne had left the beach and was at her old
+home, the Hammond tavern.  And Mrs. Poundberry reported her busy as
+a bee "gettin' things ready."  This was encouraging and indicated
+that the minister had been thrown over, as he deserved to be, and
+that Nat would find his fiancee waiting and ready to fulfill her
+contract.  "Reg'lar whirligig, that girl," sniffed Didama Rogers.
+"If she can't have one man she'll take the next, and then switch
+back soon's the wind changes.  However, most likely she never was
+engaged to Mr. Ellery, anyhow.  He's been out of his head and might
+have said some fool things that let Dr. Parker and the rest b'lieve
+he was in love with her.  As for pickin' of him up and totin' him
+back to the shanty that night, that wa'n't nothin' but common
+humanity.  She couldn't let him die in the middle of the lighthouse
+lane, could she?"
+
+Thursday was a perfect day, and the reception committee was on hand
+and waiting in front of the Bayport post office.  The special
+carriage, the span brushed and curried until their coats glistened
+in the sunshine, was drawn up beside the platform.  The horses had
+little flags fastened to their bridles, and there were other and
+larger flags on each side of the dashboard.  Captain Daniels,
+imposing in his Sunday raiment, high-collared coat, stock, silk hat
+and gold-headed cane, sat stiffly erect on the seat in the rear.
+The other carriages were alongside, among them Captain Zebedee
+Mayo's ancient chaise, the white horse sound asleep between the
+shafts.  Captain Zeb had not been invited to join the escort, but
+had joined it without an invitation.
+
+"I guess likely I'd better be on hand," the captain confided to Dr.
+Parker.  "Maybe I can stop Elkanah from talkin' too much about--
+well, about what we don't want him to talk about, and besides, I'm
+just as anxious to give Nat a welcome home as the next feller.
+He's a brick and we're all proud of him.  By mighty! I'd like to
+have seen that craft he built out of cocoanuts and churches--I
+would so."
+
+Kyan Pepper was there also, not yet fully recovered from the
+surprise which Lavinia's gracious permission had given him.
+Abishai had been leaning disconsolately over his front gate early
+that morning when Noah Ellis, the lightkeeper, jogged down the
+lane.
+
+"'Mornin', 'Bish," hailed Noah, pulling up his horse.  "What's the
+matter?  You look bluer'n a spiled mack'rel.  What's the row?
+Breakfast disagree with you?"
+
+"Naw," replied Kyan shortly.  "Where you bound, all rigged up in
+your shore duds?"
+
+"Bound to Bayport, to see Nat Hammond land," was the cheerful
+answer.  "I ain't had a day off I don't know when, and I thought
+I'd take one.  Be great doin's over there, they tell me.  Elkanah's
+goin' to make a speech and there's eighteen teams of folks goin'."
+
+"I know it.  I wisht I was goin', too, but I never have no fun.
+Have to stay to home and work and slave over them consarned tax
+papers.  Sometimes I wish there wa'n't no taxes."
+
+"Humph!  I've wished that, myself, more'n once.  Why don't you go,
+if you want to?  Climb right aboard here with me.  Plenty of room."
+
+"Hey?  You mean that?  By godfreys mighty!  I'd like to."
+
+"Sartin, I mean it.  Come ahead."
+
+Mr. Pepper sadly shook his head.  "I guess likely I'd better not,"
+he sighed.  "Laviny might not like to have me leave her."
+
+"Oh, fiddlesticks! she won't mind.  I'll take care of you.  It's
+perfectly safe.  There ain't goin' to be no women around.  Haw!
+haw! haw!"
+
+He was still laughing at his own joke when through the slats of the
+closed blinds shading the Pepper house parlor a shrill voice was
+heard speaking.
+
+"Go ahead, 'Bishy dear," called Lavinia.  "Go ahead and go.  A
+change of air'll do you good."
+
+Kyan whirled and clutched at the gate.
+
+"HEY?" he shouted in amazement.
+
+"Are you deef?  Or is Mr. Ellis laughin' so hard that you can't
+hear?  What is it that's so funny, Mr. Ellis?"
+
+The light-keeper shut off his laughter by a sudden and rather
+frightened gulp.
+
+"Oh, nothin', nothin', Miss Pepper.  "Nice day, ain't it?"
+
+"I guess so.  I ain't had time to look at it yet.  I have to work.
+I can't let my wife do it for me, like some folks, and take 'days
+off.'  What was it you was laughin' at, Mr. Ellis?"
+
+"Nothin', nothin' at all."
+
+"Hum!  They used to tell me there was only one kind of person who
+laughed at nothin'.  Well, 'Bish Pepper, what are you standin'
+there for?  If you're goin', come right into the house and change
+your clothes this minute."
+
+Kyan obeyed.  Shortly he reappeared, clothed like a lily of the
+field, one that had long since gone to seed.  He clambered up
+beside Noah and they drove off.
+
+"Jerushy!" exclaimed the lightkeeper.  "This is kind of unexpected,
+ain't it?  What's got into her to make her so accommodatin'?"
+
+"Godfreys mighty!" was the dazed reply, "I don't know.  This as
+fast as you can drive?  Hurry up, afore she changes her mind."
+
+So it happened that Mr. Pepper was in Bayport with the rest,
+awaiting the stage which was bringing Trumet's latest celebrity
+from Sandwich.
+
+"Here she comes!" shouted Ezra Simmons, the postmaster.  "Right on
+time, too."
+
+Sure enough!  A cloud of dust in the distance, rising on the spring
+wind, and the rattle of rapidly turning wheels.  The reception
+committee prepared for action.  Captain Elkanah descended from the
+carriage and moved in stately dignity to the front of the post-
+office platform.
+
+"Hum--ha!" he barked, turning to his followers.  "Be ready now.
+Give him a good cheer, when I say the word.  Let it be hearty--
+hearty, yes."
+
+The stage, its four horses at a trot, swung up to the platform.
+
+"Whoa!" roared the driver.
+
+"Now!" ordered Elkanah.  "One--two--Hurrah!"
+
+"Hurrah!" shouted the committee, its uninvited guests and the
+accompanying crowd of Bayport men and boys which had gathered to
+assist in the welcome.  "Hurrah!"
+
+"Hooray!" yelled Kyan, a little behind, as usual.
+
+A passenger or two peered from the coach window.  The stage driver
+ironically touched his cap.
+
+"Thank ye," he said.  "Thank ye very much.  I've been hopin' for
+this for a long time, though I'd about given up expectin' it.  I'm
+very much obliged.  Won't somebody please ask me to make a speech?"
+
+Captain Elkanah frowned his disapproval.
+
+"We are cheering Cap'n Nathaniel Hammond of Trumet," he explained
+haughtily.  "We are here to meet him and escort him home."
+
+The driver sighed.  "You don't say," he said.  "And I thought my
+merits had been recognized at last.  And 'twas all for Cap'n
+Hammond?  Dear! dear!"
+
+He winked at Simmons, who wanted to laugh, but did not dare.
+
+"Come! come!" said Captain Elkanah.  "Where is he?  Where's Cap'n
+Hammond?"
+
+"Well, now, I'll tell ye; I don't know where he is."
+
+"You DON'T?  Isn't he with you?"
+
+"No, he ain't.  And he didn't come on the train, nuther.  He WAS on
+it.  The conductor told me he see him and set along with him
+between stations as fur as Cohasset Narrows.  But after that he
+never see hide nor hair of him.  Oh, that's so!  Here's the mail
+bag, Ezry."
+
+Captain Elkanah looked at the reception committee and it looked at
+him.  Here was a most disconcerting setback for all the plans.  The
+committee, after asking more, and fruitless questions, went into
+executive session.
+
+Captain Zeb stepped beside the stage and put one foot on the wheel.
+
+"Say, Thad," he whispered, "is that all you know?  Where did he go
+to?"
+
+"Can't tell you, cap'n.  The conductor says he see him afore they
+got to Cohasset Narrows and not after.  Naturally, we s'pose he got
+off there.  Pretty good joke on old Daniels, I call it.  Serve him
+right, figgerin' to take a passenger away from me.  He, he!"
+
+"But you do know more, now don't you?  Tell a feller--come!  I
+don't like Elkanah any better'n you do."
+
+"Well," the driver's voice dropped still lower.  "Well," he
+whispered, "I did hear this much, though don't you tell none of
+them:  A chap I know was on the train and he said he see Cap'n Nat
+get off the cars at the Cohasset Narrows depot and there was a
+woman with him."
+
+"A woman?  A WOMAN?  What woman?"
+
+"Blessed if I know!  And he didn't nuther.  So long!  Git dap!"
+
+The reception committee and its escort drove slowly back to Trumet.
+The Daniels following was disgusted and disappointed.  Captain
+Elkanah had figured upon keeping Hammond under his own wing until
+he was safely deposited at the old tavern.  Grace was there and
+Elkanah meant that these two should meet before any inkling of
+Ellery's story reached Nat's ears.  Incidentally, he could drop a
+few damaging hints concerning the minister's character.  To hurt
+Ellery all he could and prejudice Hammond against him--that was the
+plan, and now it was frustrated.  The captain had not put in an
+appearance and no one knew where he was or when he would come home.
+Obviously, there was nothing to do except give up the reception and
+await further news from the missing man.
+
+Some of those present wished to remain in Bayport until night.
+Another train was due in Sandwich and, possibly, Nat might come on
+that.  They could telegraph and find out whether or not he did
+come, and if he did, could send a carriage for him.  But this
+suggestion was overruled.  The reception was off.
+
+The homeward journey had some unpleasant incidents.  Several Come-
+Outers had driven over.  Nat belonged to them, so they felt--he was
+the son of their dead founder and leader--and they determined the
+Regulars should not have him all to themselves.  They had come to
+bid him welcome on behalf of the worshipers at the chapel.  Now
+they took advantage of the general disappointment to make sarcastic
+and would-be-humorous remarks loud enough for the majestic occupant
+of the decorated carriage to hear.
+
+"Seems to me," said Thoph Black, "that them flags ought to be ha'f
+mast.  That craft's in distress."
+
+"S-sh-h!" counciled his companion, another Come-Outer.  "Don't be
+irreverent.  Look who's cruisin' under 'em.  That's the King of
+Trumet.  Let's you and me go ahead and fire salutes, Thoph."
+
+Captain Elkanah wrathfully ordered the flags to be removed from the
+horses' heads and from the dashboard.
+
+As Noah Ellis and his passenger turned into the lighthouse lane
+another vehicle turned out of it.
+
+"Who was that?" queried Kyan.  "Looked like one of the livery
+stable horses to me."
+
+"'Twa'n't.  'Twas Thankful Payne's and that was her carriage, too.
+It's gettin' so dark I couldn't see who was drivin' it, but 'twas a
+man, anyhow."
+
+Kyan seemed to be pondering.  "I wonder," he said slowly, "I wonder
+if that cousin of hers from Sandwich is here visitin'.  That Caleb
+Pratt, seems to me his name is."
+
+"Don't know.  Why?"
+
+"Nothin', nothin'.  I just wondered, that was all.  That might
+explain why she let me--"
+
+"Hey?"
+
+"Nothin'.  Good night, Noah.  I'm much obliged to you for takin' me
+over, even if there wa'n't no reception."
+
+Trumet spent that evening wondering what had become of Nat Hammond.
+Captain Zeb Mayo wondered most of all.  Yet his wonderment was
+accompanied by vague suspicions of the truth.  And, at eleven
+o'clock, when the village was in bed, a horse and buggy moved down
+the Turn-off and stopped before the Hammond gate.  A man alighted
+from the buggy and walked briskly up to the side door.  There he
+knocked and then whistled shrilly.
+
+A window overhead was opened.
+
+"Who is it?" asked a feminine voice.
+
+"Don't be frightened, Gracie," replied the man at the door.  "It's
+me--Nat.  I've come home again."
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+IN WHICH THE MINISTER RECEIVES A LETTER
+
+
+John Ellery was uneasy.  Physically he was very much better, so
+much better that he was permitted to sit up a while each day.  But
+mentally he was disturbed and excited, exactly the condition which
+the doctor said he must not be in.  Keziah and Grace had gone away
+and left him, and he could not understand why.
+
+Mrs. Higgins, Ike's mother, was at the shanty and she did her best
+to soothe and quiet him.  She was a kind soul and capable, in her
+way, but she could not answer his questions satisfactorily.
+
+"Where are they?" he demanded.  "Why did they go?  Has anything
+happened?  When are they coming back?"
+
+"I can't tell you just when, Mr. Ellery," replied Mrs. Higgins.
+"Grace had to go home for a--a day or so and Keziah had things to
+attend to at the parsonage.  Don't you fret yourself about them."
+
+"I'm not fretting, but it does seem strange.  I could understand
+why one should go, perhaps, but not both.  Didn't Gra--  Miss Van
+Horne tell you why she went?"
+
+"Well, now, Mr. Ellery, don't let's worry about Gracie.  She's a
+good girl with lots of common sense and--"
+
+"I know that.  But that doesn't answer me.  Why did she go?"
+
+"Keziah hadn't been to the parsonage sence that day when you was
+fust took sick, and I expect likely she felt that she'd ought to--"
+
+"Please, Mrs. Higgins, tell me the truth.  I'm not asking about
+Mrs. Coffin.  Didn't Miss Van Horne tell you her reason for
+leaving?"
+
+"No, she didn't."
+
+"But you know the reason?  You're keeping something from me.  Did
+she say when she would come back?"
+
+"No, not exactly, but, of course--"
+
+"I know you're keeping something from me.  What has happened?"
+
+"Happened?  Land sakes! does anything ever happen in Trumet?"
+
+"I think a good many things have happened lately.  And the longer
+you keep the truth from me the more I shall suspect."
+
+"Mr. Ellery, you set still in that chair, or, when the doctor
+comes, he'll put you to bed.  I've got some cookin' to do and I
+can't set here gossipin' no longer.  You behave yourself and stop
+frettin'.  I'm skipper here now--er--for a while, anyhow--and
+you've got to take orders from me.  There! now I cal'late you're
+scared, ain't you?"
+
+He did not seem greatly frightened, nor in awe of his new skipper.
+Instead, he was evidently preparing to ask more questions.  Mrs.
+Higgins hurriedly fled to the living room and closed the door
+behind her.
+
+The minister heard her rattling pans and dishes at a great rate.
+The noise made him nervous and he wished she might be more quiet.
+He moved to the chair nearest the window and looked out over the
+dunes and the wide stretch of tumbling blue sea.  The surf was
+rolling up the shore, the mackerel gulls were swooping and dipping
+along the strand, the beach grass was waving in the wind.  A
+solitary fish boat was beating out past the spar buoy.  She was
+almost over the spot when the San Jose had first anchored.
+
+The view was a familiar one.  He had seen it in all weathers,
+during a storm, at morning when the sun was rising, at evening when
+the moon came up to tip the watery ridges with frosted silver.  He
+had liked it, tolerated it, hated it, and then, after she came,
+loved it.  He had thought it the most beautiful scene in all the
+world and one never to be forgotten.  The dingy old building, with
+its bare wooden walls, had been first a horror, then a prison, and
+at last a palace of contentment.  With the two women, one a second
+mother to him, and the other dearest of all on earth, he could have
+lived there forever.  But now the old prison feeling was coming
+back.  He was tired of the view and of the mean little room.  He
+felt lonely and deserted and despairing.
+
+His nerves were still weak and it was easy, in his childish
+condition, to become despondent.  He went over the whole situation
+and felt more and more sure that his hopes had been false ones and
+that he had builded a fool's paradise.  After all, he remembered,
+she had given him no promise; she had found him ill and delirious
+and had brought him there.  She had been kind and thoughtful and
+gracious, but that she would be to anyone, it was her nature.  And
+he had been content, weak as he was, to have her near him, where he
+would see her and hear her speak.  Her mere presence was so
+wonderful that he had been satisfied with that and had not asked
+for more.  And now she had gone.  Mrs. Higgins had said "for a day
+or two," but that was indefinite, and she had not said she would
+return when those two days had passed.  He was better now, almost
+well.  Would she come back to him?  After all, conditions in the
+village had not changed.  He was still pastor of the Regular church
+and she was a Come-Outer.  The man she had promised to marry was
+dead--yes.  But the other conditions were the same.  And Mrs.
+Higgins had refused to tell him the whole truth; he was certain of
+that.  She had run away when he questioned her.
+
+He rose from the chair and started toward the living room.  He
+would not be put off again.  He would be answered.  His hand was on
+the latch of the door when that door was opened.  Dr. Parker came
+in.
+
+The doctor was smiling broadly.  His ruddy face was actually
+beaming.  He held out his hand, seized the minister's, and shook
+it.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Ellery," he said.  "It's a glorious day.  Yes,
+sir, a bully day.  Hey? isn't it?"
+
+Ellery's answer was a question.
+
+"Doctor," he said, "why have Mrs. Coffin and--and Miss Van Horne
+gone?  Has anything happened?  I know something has, and you must
+tell me what.  Don't try to put me off or give me evasive answers.
+I want to know why they have gone."
+
+Parker looked at him keenly.  "Humph!" he grunted.  "I'll have to
+get into Mrs. Higgins's wig.  I told her not to let you worry, and
+you have worried.  You're all of a shake."
+
+"Never mind that.  I asked you a question."
+
+"I know you did.  Now, Mr. Ellery, I'm disappointed in you.  I
+thought you were a sensible man who would take care of his health,
+now that he'd got the most of it back again.  I've got news for
+you--good news--but I'm not sure that I shall tell it to you."
+
+"Good news!  Dr. Parker, if you've got news for me that is good,
+for Heaven's sake tell it.  I've been imagining everything bad that
+could possibly happen.  Tell me, quick.  My health can stand that."
+
+"Ye-es, yes, I guess it can.  They say joy doesn't kill, and that's
+one of the few medical proverbs made by unmedical men that are
+true.  You come with me and sit down in that chair.  Yes, you will.
+Sit down."
+
+He led his patient back to the chair by the window and forced him
+into it.
+
+"There!" he said.  "Now, Mr. Ellery, if you think you are a man, a
+sensible man, who won't go to pieces like a ten-year-old youngster,
+I'll--I'll let you sit here for a while."
+
+"Doctor?"
+
+"You sit still.  No, I'm not going to tell you anything.  You sit
+where you are and maybe the news'll come to you.  If you move it
+won't.  Going to obey orders?  Good!  I'll see you by and by, Mr.
+Ellery."
+
+He walked out of the room.  It seemed to Ellery that he sat in that
+chair for ten thousand years before the door again opened.  And
+then--
+
+"Grace!" he cried.  "O Grace! you--you've come back."
+
+She was blushing red, her face was radiant with quiet happiness,
+but her eyes were moist.  She crossed the room, bent over and
+kissed him on the forehead.
+
+"Yes, John," she said; "I've come back.  Yes, dear, I've come back
+to--to you."
+
+
+Outside the shanty, on the side farthest from the light and its
+group of buildings, the doctor and Captain Nat Hammond were talking
+with Mrs. Higgins.  The latter was wildly excited and bubbling with
+joy.
+
+"It's splendid!" she exclaimed.  "It's almost too fine to believe.
+Now we'll keep our minister, won't we?"
+
+"I don't see why not," observed the doctor, with quiet
+satisfaction.  "Zeb and I had the Daniels crowd licked to a
+shoestring and now they'll stay licked.  The parish committee is
+three to one for Mr. Ellery and the congregation more than that.
+Keep him?  You bet we'll keep him!  And I'll dance at his wedding--
+that is, unless he's got religious scruples against it."
+
+Mrs. Higgins turned to Captain Nat.
+
+"It's kind of hard for you, Nat," she said.  "But it's awful noble
+and self-sacrificin' and everybody'll say so.  Of course there
+wouldn't be much satisfaction in havin' a wife you knew cared more
+for another man.  But still it's awful noble of you to give her
+up."
+
+The captain looked at the doctor and laughed quietly.
+
+"Don't let my nobility weigh on your mind, Mrs. Higgins," he said.
+"I'd made up my mind to do this very thing afore ever I got back to
+Trumet.  That is, if Gracie was willin'.  And when I found she was
+not only willin' but joyful, I--well, I decided to offer up the
+sacrifice right off."
+
+"You did?  You DID?  Why, how you talk!  I never heard of such a
+thing in my born days."
+
+"Nor I neither, not exactly.  But there!" with a wink at Parker,
+"you see I've been off amongst all them Kanaka women and how do you
+know but I've fell in love?"
+
+"Nat HAMMOND!"
+
+"Oh, well, I--  What is it, Grace?"
+
+She was standing in the doorway and beckoning to him.  Her cheeks
+were crimson, the breeze was tossing her hair about her forehead,
+and she made a picture that even the practical, unromantic doctor
+appreciated.
+
+"By George, Nat!" he muttered, "you've got more courage than I
+have.  If 'twas my job to give her up to somebody else I'd think
+twice, I'll bet."
+
+The captain went to meet her.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.
+
+"Nat," she whispered, "will you come in?  He wants to see you."
+
+John Ellery was still seated in the chair by the window, but he no
+longer looked like an invalid.  There was no worry or care in his
+countenance now, merely a wondrous joy and serene happiness.
+
+He held out his hands and the captain shook them heartily.
+
+"Mr. Ellery," he said, "as they used to say at the circus, 'Here we
+are again.'  And you and I have been doing all kinds of circus
+acrobatics since we shook last, hey?  I'm glad you're pretty nigh
+out of the sick bay--and the doctor says you are."
+
+"Captain," began Ellery.  Hammond interrupted him.
+
+"Hold on!" he said.  "Belay right there.  If you and I are to
+cruise in the same family--and that's what I hear is likely to
+happen--I cal'late we'll heave overboard the cap'ns and Misters.
+My name's 'Nathaniel'--'Nat' for short."
+
+"All right.  And mine is 'John.'  Captain--Nat, I mean--how can I
+ever thank you?"
+
+"Thank me?  What do you want to thank me for?  I only handed over
+somethin' that wasn't mine in the first place and belonged to you
+all along.  I didn't know it, that was the only trouble."
+
+"But your promise to your father.  I feel--"
+
+"You needn't.  I told dad that it was just as Grace said.  She says
+she's got a better man, or words to that effect.  And--I don't know
+how you feel about such things, John--but I b'lieve there's a
+broader outlook up aloft than there is down here and that dad would
+want me to do just what I have done.  Don't worry about me.  I'm
+doin' the right thing and I know it.  And don't pity me, neither.
+I made up my mind not to marry Grace--unless, of course, she was
+set on it--months ago.  I'm tickled to death to know she's goin' to
+have as good a man as you are.  She'll tell you so.  Grace!  Hello!
+she's gone."
+
+"Yes.  I told her I wanted to talk with you alone, for a few
+minutes.  Nat, Grace tells me that Aunt Keziah was the one who--"
+
+"She was.  She met me at the Cohasset Narrows depot.  I was settin'
+in the car, lookin' out of the window at the sand and sniffin' the
+Cape air.  By the everlastin'! there ain't any air or sand like 'em
+anywheres else.  I feel as if I never wanted to see a palm tree
+again as long as I live.  I'd swap the whole of the South Pacific
+for one Trumet sandhill with a huckleberry bush on it.  Well, as I
+started to say, I was settin' there lookin' out of the window when
+somebody tapped me on the shoulder.  I looked up and 'twas her.
+
+"You could have blown me over with a fan.  By the jumpin' Moses,
+you could!  You see, I'd been thinkin' about her--that is, I was--"
+
+He hesitated, turned red, coughed, and went on.
+
+"I was surprised enough to see her, I tell you.  Way up there at
+the Narrows!  I couldn't have said a word, anyway, and she never
+gave me a chance.  'Nat,' she says, 'don't talk now.  Come with me,
+quick, afore the train starts.'
+
+"Still I didn't say anything, nothin' sane anyhow.  'Keziah!' I
+managed to stutter.  'KEZIAH!'
+
+"'Come!' says she.  'Hurry!  I want you to get off here.  I've come
+here on purpose to meet you.  I must talk with you; it's important.
+You can go to Trumet on the next train, to-night.  But now I must
+talk with you.  I MUST.  Won't you please come, Nat?'
+
+"Well, I went.  The engine bell was beginnin' to ring and we had to
+move lively, I tell you.  I swung her off the step just as the car
+begun to move.  After the smoke had faded away around the next bend
+I realized that my hat had faded away along with it.  Yes, sir!
+I'd left it on the seat.  Ha! ha! ha!"
+
+He laughed uproariously.  Ellery laughed in sympathy.
+
+"However, I wa'n't worryin' about hats, just then.  All I wanted to
+do was stand still, like a frozen image, and stare at her.  You
+see, John, I hadn't laid eyes on a friend, one of the real homemade
+kind, for more days than I wanted to count; and here was one of
+'em, one of the best, passed out to me unexpected and ahead of
+time, like a surprise party present.  So I just pumped her hand up
+and down and stared.  I didn't have any exclusive mortgage on the
+starin' by no means, for the depot master and a dozen or so loafers
+was lookin' at us with their mouths wide open.
+
+"I guess she noticed it, for she says, 'Don't stay here, Nat.  Come
+in the waitin' room or somewheres where we can talk.'
+
+"So into the waitin' room we went and come to anchor on the settee.
+Six or eight of the loafers settled themselves handy to the door,
+so's they could peek in occasionally.  I remember I told one of
+them not to stretch his neck that way 'cause he might never get it
+back into shape again and in the gunnin' season that would be
+dangerous.  'Some nearsighted feller might take you for a goose,' I
+says.  Ho! ho!
+
+"And then, John, we had our talk.  Seems she left Trumet Wednesday
+afternoon.  Got the livery stable man to drive her as fur as
+Bayport, hired another team there and come on to Sandwich.  Stayed
+overnight there and took the mornin' train which got to Cohasset
+Narrows just ahead of the one I was comin' on.  She'd been so
+afraid of bein' late, she said.  She must see me afore I got to
+Trumet.
+
+"Well, she saw me and told me the whole yarn about you and Grace.
+She tried to break it to me gently, so I wouldn't feel too bad.
+She knew it would be a shock to me, she said.  It was a shock, in a
+way, but as for feelin' bad, I didn't.  I think the world of Grace.
+I'd do anything she wanted me to do; but most the way down on the
+train--yes, and long afore that--I'd been dreadin' my comin' home
+on one account.  I dreaded tellin' her that, unless she was real
+set on it, she'd better not marry me.
+
+"You see, John, I've thought a lot sence I've been away.  Had
+consider'ble time to do it in.  And the more I thought the less
+that promise to dad seemed right.  I'd have bet my sou-wester
+Gracie never cared for me in the way a girl ought to care for a
+chap she's goin' to ship as pilot for the rest of her days.  And,
+as for me--well, I--I had my reasons for not wantin' to marry her."
+
+He paused again, sighed, started to speak, and then sat silent,
+looking out of the window.  Ellery laid a hand on his knee.
+
+"Nat," said the minister, "you saved my life once, do you remember
+that?  I do, if you don't."
+
+"Saved your life?  What are you talkin' about?  Oh! that time on
+the flats?  That wasn't savin' your life, 'twas savin' your clothes
+from gettin' a wettin'."
+
+"No, it was more than that.  And now I guess you've saved it again,
+you and Grace between you.  Yes, and Aunt Keziah.  Bless her! to
+think of her going way up there to meet you and help us!"
+
+"Yes.  'Twas like her, wasn't it?  She said she knew I'd hear the
+yarn when I got to Trumet, but she wanted me to hear it just as it
+was, and nobody but she and Grace and you knew the whole truth
+about it.  So she come.  I'm glad she did; not that I shouldn't
+have done the same, whoever told me, but--"
+
+"Nat, I want to tell you something.  Something that only one other
+person knows.  Grace doesn't know it yet.  Neither does Aunt
+Keziah--the whole of it.  And if she knew I told you even a part
+I'm afraid she would, as she would say, 'skin me alive.'  But I owe
+her--and you--more than I could repay if I lived a thousand years.
+So I'm going to tell and take the consequences.
+
+The captain looked at him.  "Well!" he exclaimed.  "What's comin'
+now?  More secrets?  Blessed if this ain't gettin' more excitin'
+than the South Seas.  I used to think excitement in Trumet was
+scurcer than cream in poorhouse coffee, but I'll have to change my
+mind."
+
+"Nat, when--that morning after your father died and after you and
+Grace had agreed to--to--"
+
+"To do somethin' neither of us wanted to do?  Yes, I know.  Go
+ahead."
+
+"That morning Aunt Keziah came home to the parsonage and broke the
+news to me.  She did it as only she could do such a thing, kindly
+and pityingly and--"
+
+"Of course.  That's Keziah."
+
+"Yes.  Well, as you can imagine, I was almost crazy.  I made a fool
+of myself, I expect; refused to believe her, behaved disgracefully,
+and at last, when I had to believe it, threatened to run away and
+leave my work and Trumet forever, like a coward.  She made me
+stay."
+
+"Did, hey?"
+
+"Yes.  She showed me it was my duty to face the music.  When I
+whimpered about my troubles she told me her own story.  Then I
+learned what trouble was and what pluck was, too.  She told me
+about her marriage and--excuse me for speaking of what isn't my
+business; yet it is mine, in a way--she told me about you."
+
+Captain Hammond did not answer.  His good natured face clouded and
+he shifted in his chair.
+
+"She told me of you, Nat, all about you--and herself.  And she told
+me something else, which explains why she felt she must send you
+away, why she thought your marriage to Grace would be a good
+thing."
+
+"I know.  She told you that that darn scamp Anse Coffin was alive."
+
+The minister started violently.  He gasped in surprise.
+
+"You knew it?  You KNEW it?" he stammered.
+
+"I know it now.  Have known it for over a year.  My findin' it out
+was one of the special Providences that's been helpin' along this
+last voyage of mine.  My second mate was a Hyannis man, name of
+Cahoon.  One day, on that pesky island, when we was eatin' dinner
+together, he says to me, 'Cap'n,' he says, 'you're from Trumet,
+ain't you?'  I owned up.  'Know anybody named Coffin there?' says
+he.  I owned up to that, too.  'Well,' he says, 'I met her husband
+last trip I was in the Glory of the Wave.'  I stared at him.  'Met
+his ghost, you mean,' I says.  'He's been dead for years, and a
+good thing, too.  Fell overboard and, not bein' used to water, it
+killed him.'
+
+"But he wouldn't have it so.  'I used to know Anse Coffin in New
+Bedford,' he says.  'Knew him well's I know you.  And when we was
+in port at Havre I dropped in at a gin mill down by the water front
+and he come up and touched me on the arm.  I thought same as you,
+that he was dead, but he wa'n't.  He was three sheets in the wind
+and a reg'lar dock rat to look at, but 'twas him sure enough.  We
+had a long talk.  He said he was comin' back to Trumet some day.
+Had a wife there, he said.  I told him, sarcastic, that she'd be
+glad to see him.  He laughed and said maybe not, but that she knew
+he was alive and sent him money when he was hard up.  Wanted me to
+promise not to tell any Cape folks that I'd seen him, and I ain't
+till now.'
+
+"Well, you can imagine how I felt when Cahoon spun me that yarn.
+First I wouldn't b'lieve it and then I did.  It explained things,
+just as you say, John.  I could see now why Keziah gave me my
+walkin' papers.  I could see how she'd been sacrificin' her life
+for that scum."
+
+"Yes.  She wouldn't divorce him.  She said she had taken him for
+better or worse, and must stand by him.  I tried to show her she
+was wrong, but it was no use.  She did say she would never live
+with him again."
+
+"I should say not.  LIVE with him!  By the everlastin'! if he ever
+comes within reach of my hands then--there's times when good honest
+murder is justifiable and righteous, and it'll be done.  It'll be
+done, you hear me!"
+
+He looked as if he meant it.  Ellery asked another question.
+
+"Did you tell her--Aunt Keziah--when you met her at the Narrows?"
+he asked.
+
+"No.  But I shall tell her when I see her again.  She shan't spoil
+her life--a woman like that! by the Lord! WHAT a woman!--for any
+such crazy notion.  I swore it when I heard the story and I've
+sworn it every day since.  That's what settled my mind about Grace.
+Keziah Coffin belongs to me.  She always has belonged to me, even
+though my own pig-headedness lost her in the old days."
+
+"She cares for you, Nat.  I know that.  She as much as told me so."
+
+"Thank you, John.  Thank you.  Well, I can wait now.  I can wait,
+for I've got something sure to wait for.  I tell you, Ellery, I
+ain't a church-goin' man--not as dad was, anyway--but I truly
+believe that this thing is goin' to come out right.  God won't let
+that cussed rascal live much longer.  He won't!  I know it.  But if
+he does, if he lives a thousand years, I'll take her from him."
+
+He was pacing the floor now, his face set like granite.  Ellery
+rose, his own face beaming.  Here was his chance.  At last he could
+pay to this man and Keziah a part of the debt he owed.
+
+Nat stopped in his stride.  "Well!" he exclaimed.  "I almost
+forgot, after all.  Keziah sent a note to you.  I've got it in my
+pocket.  She gave it to me when she left me at Cohasset."
+
+"Left you?  Why! didn't she come back with you on the night train?"
+
+"No.  That's funny, too, and I don't understand it yet.  We was
+together all the afternoon.  'I was feelin' so good at seein' her
+that I took her under my wing and we cruised all over that town
+together.  Got dinner at the tavern and she went with me to buy
+myself a new hat, and all that.  At first she didn't seem to want
+to, but then, after I'd coaxed a while, she did.  She was lookin'
+pretty sad and worn out, when I first met her, I thought; but she
+seemed to get over it and we had a fine time.  It reminded me of
+the days when I used to get home from a voyage and we were
+together.  Then, when 'twas time for the night train we went down
+to the depot.  She gave me this note and told me to hand it to you
+to-day.
+
+"'Good-by, Nat,' she says.  'We've had a nice day, haven't we?'
+
+"'We have, for a fact,' I says.  'But what are you sayin' good-by
+for?'
+
+"'Because I'm not goin' to Trumet with you,' says she.  'I'm goin'
+to the city.  I've got some business to see to there.  Good-by.'
+
+"I was set back, with all my canvas flappin'.  I told her I'd go to
+Boston with her and we'd come home to Trumet together to-morrow,
+that's to-day.  But she said no.  I must come here and ease your
+mind and Grace's.  I must do it.  So at last I agreed to, sayin'
+I'd see her in a little while.  She went on the up train and I took
+the down one.  Hired a team in Sandwich and another in Bayport and
+got to the tavern about eleven.  That's the yarn.  And here's your
+note.  Maybe it tells where she's gone and why."
+
+The minister took the note and tore open the envelope.  Within was
+a single sheet of paper.  He read a few lines, stopped, and uttered
+an exclamation.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked the captain.
+
+Ellery did not answer.  He read the note through and then, without
+a word, handed it to his friend.
+
+The note was as follows:
+
+
+"DEAR JOHN:
+
+"I am going away, as I told you I would if he came.  He is coming.
+Tuesday I got a letter from him.  It was written at Kingston,
+Jamaica, almost three months ago.  I can't think why I haven't got
+it sooner, but suppose it was given to some one to mail and
+forgotten.  In it he said he was tired of going to sea and was
+coming home to me.  I had money, he said, and we could get along.
+He had shipped aboard a brig bound for Savannah, and from there he
+was going to try for a berth on a Boston-bound vessel.  So I am
+going away and not coming back.  I could not stand the disgrace and
+I could not see him.  You and Grace won't need me any more now.
+Don't worry about me.  I can always earn a living while I have my
+strength.  Please don't worry.  If he comes tell him I have gone
+you do not know where.  That will be true, for you don't.  I hope
+you will be very happy.  I do hope so.  Oh, John, you don't know
+how I hate to do this, but I must.  Don't tell Nat.  He would do
+something terrible to him if he came, and Nat knew.  Just say I
+have been called away and may be back some time.  Perhaps I may.
+Love to you all.  Good-by.
+
+"Yours truly,
+
+"KEZIAH COFFIN."
+
+
+The captain stared at the note.  Then he threw it to the floor and
+started for the door.  The minister sprang from his chair and
+called to him.
+
+"Nat," he cried.  "Nat!  Stop! where are you going?"
+
+Hammond turned.
+
+"Goin'?" he growled.  "Goin'?  I'm goin' to find her, first of all.
+Then I'm comin' back to wait for him."
+
+"But you won't have to wait.  He'll never come.  He's dead."
+
+"Dead?  DEAD?  By the everlastin'! this has been too much for you,
+I ought to have known it.  I'll send the doctor here right off.  I
+can't stay myself.  I've got to go.  But--"
+
+"Listen! listen to me!  Ansel Coffin is dead, I tell you.  I know
+it.  I know all about it.  That was what I wanted to see you about.
+Did Keziah tell you of the San Jose and the sailor who died of
+smallpox in this very building?  In that room there?"
+
+"Yes.  John, you--"
+
+"I'm not raving.  It's the truth.  That sailor was Ansel Coffin.  I
+watched with him and one night, the night before he died, he spoke
+Keziah's name.  He spoke of New Bedford and of Trumet and of her,
+over and over again.  I was sure who he was then, but I called in
+Ebenezer Capen, who used to know Coffin in New Bedford.  And he
+recognized him.  Nat, as sure as you and I are here this minute,
+Ansel Coffin, Aunt Keziah's husband, is buried in the Trumet
+cemetery."
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+IN WHICH MR. STONE WASHES HIS HANDS
+
+
+Mr. Abner Stone, of Stone & Barker, marine outfitters and ship
+chandlers, with a place of business on Commercial Street in Boston,
+and a bank account which commanded respect throughout the city, was
+feeling rather irritable and out of sorts.  Poor relations are
+always a nuisance.  They are forever expecting something, either
+money--in Mr. Stone's case this particular expectation was usually
+fruitless--or employment or influence or something.  Mr. Stone was
+rich, he had become so by his own ability and unaided effort.  He
+was sure of that--often mentioned it, with more or less modesty, in
+the speeches which he delivered to his Sunday-school class and at
+the dinners of various societies to which he belonged.  He was a
+self-made man and was conscious that he had done a good job.
+
+Therefore, being self-made, he saw no particular reason why he
+should aid in the making of others.  If people were poor they ought
+to get over it.  Poverty was a disease and he was no doctor.  He
+had been poor once himself, and no one had helped him.  "I helped
+myself," he was wont to say, with pride.  Some of his rivals in
+business, repeating this remark, smiled and added that he had been
+"helping himself" ever since.
+
+Mr. Stone had "washed his hands" of his cousin, Keziah Coffin, or
+thought he had.  After her brother Solomon died she had written to
+him, asking him to find her a position of some kind in Boston.  "I
+don't want money, I don't want charity," wrote Keziah.  "What I
+want is work.  Can you get it for me, Abner?  I write to you
+because father used to tell of what you said to him about gratitude
+and how you would never rest until you had done something in return
+for what he did for you."
+
+Captain Ben Hall's kindness was the one thing Mr. Stone forgot when
+he said no one had ever helped him.  He disliked to be reminded of
+it.  It was a long while ago and the captain was dead.  However,
+being reminded, he had called upon a friend in the tailoring line
+and had obtained for Keziah the place of sewing woman.  She decided
+to become housekeeper at the Trumet parsonage and so notified him.
+Then he washed his hands of her.
+
+But now he was compelled to soil them again.  Keziah had appeared
+at his office, without warning, and demanded that he find her a
+position.  "Demanded" was the proper word.  Certainly she had not
+begged.  She seemed to feel that her demand was right and proper,
+and his acceding to it the least he could do.
+
+"What a fine place you've got here, Abner!" she said, inspecting
+the office and the store.  "I declare it's finer than the one you
+had when you first went into business, afore you failed.  I wish
+father could have lived to see it.  He'd have realized that his
+judgment was good, even though his investment wasn't."
+
+Captain Hall had invested largely in that first business, the one
+which failed.  Mr. Stone changed the subject.  Later in the day he
+again sought his friend, the tailor, and Keziah was installed in
+the loft of the latter's Washington Street shop, beside the other
+women and girls who sewed and sewed from seven in the morning until
+six at night.  Mr. Stone had left her there and come away, feeling
+that an unpleasant matter was disposed of.  He had made some
+inquiries as to where she intended staying, even added a half-
+hearted invitation to dinner that evening at his home.  But she
+declined.
+
+"No, thank you, Abner," she said, "I'm goin' to find a boardin'
+place and I'd just as soon nobody knew where I was stayin', for the
+present.  And there's one thing I want to ask you: don't tell a
+soul I am here.  Not a soul.  If anyone should come askin' for me,
+don't give 'em any satisfaction.  I'll tell you why some day,
+perhaps.  I can't now."
+
+This was what troubled Mr. Stone as he sat in his office.  Why
+should this woman wish to have her whereabouts kept a secret?
+There was a reason for this, of course.  Was it a respectable
+reason, or the other kind?  If the latter, his own name might be
+associated with the scandal.  He wished, for the fiftieth time,
+that there were no poor relations.
+
+A boy came into the office.  "There is some one here to see you,
+Mr. Stone," he said.
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"I don't know, sir.  Looks like a seafaring man, a sea captain, I
+should say--but he won't give his name.  Says it's important and
+nobody but you'll do."
+
+"Humph!  All right.  Tell him to wait.  I'll be out in a minute."
+
+Sea captains and ship owners were Stone & Barker's best customers.
+The senior partner emerged from the office with a smile on his
+face.
+
+"Ah!" he said, extending his hand.  "Glad to see you, Captain--er--"
+
+"Hammond," replied the visitor.  "Same to you, Mr. Stone."
+
+"Fine weather for this time of year."
+
+"Fine enough, Mr. Stone."
+
+"Well, Captain Hammond, what can we do for you?  Going to sail
+soon?"
+
+"Not right away.  Just made port, less'n a week ago.  Home looks
+good to me, for a spell, anyhow."
+
+"So?  Yes, I have no doubt.  Let me see--where is your home,
+captain?  I should remember, of course, but--"
+
+"Don't know why you should.  This is my first trip in your
+latitude, I guess.  My home's at Trumet."
+
+"Trumet?"  Mr. Stone's tone changed.
+
+"Yes.  Trumet, down on the Cape.  Ever been there?  We think it's
+about as good a place as there is."
+
+"Hu-u-m!  Trumet?  Well, Captain Hammond, you wished to see me, I
+understand."
+
+"Yes.  Fact is, Mr. Stone, I want to ask you where I can find Mrs.
+Keziah Coffin.  She's a relation of yours, I b'lieve, and she's
+come to Boston lately.  Only yesterday or the day afore.  Can you
+tell me where she is?"
+
+"Why do you wish to see her?"
+
+"Oh, for reasons, personal ones.  She's a friend of mine."
+
+"I see.  No, captain, I can't tell you where she is.  Good
+morning."
+
+Captain Nat was greatly disappointed.
+
+"Hold on there, just a minute," he begged.  "This is important, you
+understand, Mr. Stone.  I'm mighty anxious to find Kezi--Mrs.
+Coffin.  We thought, some of her friends and I, that most likely
+you'd know where she was.  Can't you give us any help at all?
+Hasn't she been here?"
+
+"Good morning, Captain Hammond.  You must excuse me, I'm busy."
+
+He went into the office and closed the door.  Captain Nat rubbed
+his forehead desperately.  He had been almost sure that Abner Stone
+would put him on Keziah's track.  Grace had thought so, too.  She
+remembered what the housekeeper had told concerning her Boston
+cousin and how the latter had found employment for her when she
+contemplated leaving Trumet, after her brother's death.  Grace
+believed that Keziah would go to him at once.
+
+Nat walked to the door and stood there, trying to think what to do
+next.  A smart young person, wearing a conspicuous suit of clothes,
+aided and abetted by a vivid waistcoat and a pair of youthful but
+promising side whiskers, came briskly along the sidewalk and
+stopped in front of him.
+
+"Well, sir?" observed this person, with cheerful condescension.
+"Anything I can do for you?"
+
+Captain Nat turned his gaze upon the side whiskers and the
+waistcoat.
+
+"Hey?" he queried.
+
+"I say, is there anything I can do for you?"
+
+The captain shook his head.  "No-o," he drawled dryly, "I'm afraid
+not, son.  I admit that don't seem scarcely possible, but I am
+afraid it's so."
+
+"Looking for something in our line, was you?"
+
+"Well, I don't know.  What might be on your line--clothes?"
+
+The bewhiskered one drew himself up.  "I am connected with Stone &
+Barker," he said sharply.  "And, seeing you standing in our
+doorway, I thought possibly--"
+
+"Yes, yes.  Beg your pardon, I'm sure.  No, I don't want to buy
+anything.  I come to see Mr. Stone on a personal matter."
+
+"He's busy, I suppose."
+
+"So he says."
+
+The young man smiled with serene satisfaction.  "I'm not
+surprised," he observed complacently.  "We ARE a busy house,
+Mr--er--"
+
+"Hammond's my name.  Are you Mr. Barker?"
+
+"No-o, my name is Prince."
+
+"So?  Silent partner in the firm, hey?"
+
+"No-o, not exactly.  Mr. Prince was slightly embarrassed.  "No, I
+am a--a salesman--at present.  Was the matter you wished to see Mr.
+Stone about a very private one?"
+
+"Middlin'.'"
+
+"Well, I asked because Mr. Stone is a busy man and we like to save
+him all the--the--"
+
+"Trouble you can, hey?  That's nice of you, you must save him a
+lot, Mr--er--King, was it?"
+
+"No, Prince."
+
+"Sure and sartin', Prince, of course.  I knew 'twas connected with
+the royal family.  Well, Mr. Prince, I'm afraid even you can't help
+me nor him out this time.  I'm lookin' up a friend of mine, a widow
+lady from down the Cape.  She's a relation of Mr. Stone's, and
+she's come to Boston durin' the last day or so.  I thought likely
+he might know where she was, that's all.  That would be a little
+out of your latitude, hey?"
+
+"I don't know.  Her name wasn't Coffin, was it?"
+
+Captain Nat started.  "It certainly was," he answered eagerly.
+"How'd you know that?"
+
+Mr. Prince's complacence was superb.  "Oh," he answered with
+condescension, "Mr. Stone trusts me with a good many of his
+personal affairs."
+
+"I should think likely he would.  But about Mrs. Coffin?  You was
+goin' to say?"
+
+"She is with James Hallett & Co., the tailors, on Washington
+Street.  Mr. Stone found a place for her there, I believe.  I--er--
+er--superintended the carrying of her valise and--  What?"
+
+"Nothin', nothin'.  Hum!  Hallett & Co., tailors?  What number
+Washin'ton Street did you say?"
+
+Mr. Prince gave the number.
+
+"Thank you a lot," said Captain Nat, with fervor.  "Good-by, Mr.
+Prince.  Hope the next time I come you'll be in the firm.  Good
+day, sir."
+
+"Good day.  Nothing else I can do?  And you won't wait for Mr.
+Stone?  Very good.  Is there any message for him that you would
+like to leave?"
+
+"Hey?"  Nat had started to go, but now he paused and turned.  There
+was a grim twinkle in his eye.  "Message?" he repeated.  "Why, ye-
+es, I don't know but there is.  You just give Mr. Stone Cap'n
+Hammond's compliments and tell him I'm lookin' forward to
+interviewin' him some time.  Just tell him that, will you?"
+
+"I'll tell him.  Glad to have met you, Captain Hammond."
+
+The captain nodded solemnly.  "Say, Mr. King," he said, "you ain't
+half so glad as I am."
+
+Mr. Prince strutted into the store.
+
+"Who was that chap you were talking with?" asked a fellow-clerk.
+
+"Oh, a hayseed who wanted to see the old man.  Poor relation, I
+guess.  I headed him off.  Stone is always telling us that time is
+money, so I saved both of 'em for him.  He ought to thank me.
+Wouldn't be surprised if I got the raise I've been asking for."
+
+Mr. Prince did not get the raise, nor the thanks.  But he was
+surprised.
+
+
+In the workshop of Hallett & Co., Keziah sat sewing busily.  The
+window near her was closed, stuck fast, and through the dingy panes
+she could see only roofs and chimneys.  The other women and girls
+near her chatted and laughed, but she was silent.  She did not feel
+like talking, certainly not like laughing.  The garment she was at
+work on was a coat, a wedding coat, so the foreman had told her,
+with a smile; therefore she must be very particular.
+
+She wondered idly whose coat it might be and who its future wearer
+was to marry.  This reminded her of the minister and Grace.  They
+would be happy now, her talk with Nat had assured her of that, and
+they, too, would be married one of these days.  But she would not
+attend the wedding.  She wondered what John had said when he read
+her note.  He and Grace would be sorry for her, of course; but
+there was nothing they could do to help.  No one could help her, no
+one.  Perhaps by this time the man she had run away from had
+reached Trumet and her secret was known.  How Didama and the rest
+would spread the tale!  How Captain Elkanah and Annabel would sneer
+and exult!  They hated her because she was the minister's friend.
+And Nat, poor fellow, what would he do?  Well, at least he would
+understand now.
+
+The narrow stairway leading up to the workshop ended in a little
+boxed-in room where the finished garments were hung to await the
+final pressing.  From behind the closed door of this room came the
+sound of voices, apparently in heated argument.  One of these
+voices was that of Larry, the errand boy.  Larry was speaking
+shrilly and with emphasis.  The other voice was lower in key and
+the words were inaudible.
+
+"No, sir, you can't," declared Larry.  "You can't, I tell you.  The
+boss don't let nobody in there and--  Hold on! Hold on!"
+
+The other voice made a short but evidently earnest answer.  Larry
+again expostulated.  The workers looked up from their sewing.  The
+door opened and Larry appeared, flushed and excited.
+
+"Where's Mr. Upham?" he demanded.  "Mr. Upham!"
+
+Upham was the foreman of the workroom.  At the moment he was
+downstairs in conversation with the head of the house.  A half
+dozen gave this information.
+
+"What's the matter?  Who is it?" asked several.
+
+"I don't know who 'tis.  It's a man and he's crazy, I think.  I
+told him he couldn't come in here, but he just keeps comin'.  He
+wants to see somebody named Coffin and there ain't no Coffins
+here."
+
+Keziah bent lower over the wedding coat.  Her hand shook and she
+dropped the needle.
+
+"I told him we didn't keep coffins," declared Larry.  "This ain't
+no undertaker's.  Where's Mr. Upham?"
+
+Keziah's nearest neighbor leaned toward her.
+
+"I guess it's somebody to see you," she said.  "Your name is
+Coffin, ain't it?"
+
+"No, no.  That is, it can't be anybody to see me.  I don't want to
+see anybody.  Tell him so, whoever it is.  I can't see anybody.
+I--NAT!"
+
+He stood in the doorway, beckoning to her.
+
+"Keziah," he said, "come here.  I want you.  I'll tell you why in a
+minute.  Come!"
+
+She hesitated.  In a measure she was relieved, for she had feared
+the man at the door might be her husband.  But she was greatly
+agitated and troubled.  Everyone in the place was looking at her.
+
+"Nat," she said, trying to speak firmly, "I can't see you now.  I'm
+very busy.  Please go away."
+
+"Come!"
+
+"I can't come.  Go away.  Please!"
+
+"Keziah, I'm waitin'.  And I'm goin' to wait if I stay here all
+night.  Come!"
+
+She obeyed then.  She could not have a scene there, before all
+those strangers.  She stepped past him into the little room.  He
+followed and closed the door.
+
+"Nat," she said, turning to him, "why did you come?  How could you
+be so cruel?  I--"
+
+He interrupted her, but not with words.  The next moment his arms
+were about her and she was pressed tight against the breast of his
+blue jacket.
+
+"Keziah," he whispered, "I've come to take you home.  Home for
+good.  No, stay where you are and I'll tell you all about it.
+Praise be to God! we're off the rocks at last.  All that's left is
+to tow you into port, and, by the everlastin', that's what I'm here
+for!"
+
+
+When Upham came up the stairs after his long interview with "the
+boss," he found the door at the top closed.  When he rattled the
+latch that door was opened by a stranger.
+
+"Are you Mr. Hallett?" asked Captain Nat briskly.
+
+"No, I'm not.  Mr. Hallett is in his office on the first floor.
+But what--"
+
+"On the main deck, hey?  Well, all right; we won't trouble him.
+You'll do just as well; I judge you're one of the mates of this
+craft.  You tell Mr. Hallett that this lady here has decided not to
+cruise with him any longer.  No fault to find, you understand, but
+she's got a better berth.  She's goin' to ship along with me.
+Ain't that so, Keziah?"
+
+Keziah, pale, trembling, scarcely realizing the situation even yet,
+did not speak.  But Captain Nat Hammond seemed to find his answer
+in her silence.  A few minutes later, her arm in his, they
+descended the gloomy, dusty stairs, and emerged into the sunshine
+together.
+
+That afternoon Mr. Abner Stone again "washed his hands" of his poor
+relation--this time, as he indignantly declared, "for good and
+all."
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON PREACHES ONCE MORE
+
+
+Time has wrought many changes in Trumet.  The packet long since
+ceased to ply between the village and Boston, the stage has been
+superseded by the locomotive, the old "square-riggers," commanded
+by Cape Cod men, no longer sail the seas.  Along the main road the
+houses have changed hands.  Didama Rogers peers no more from her
+parlor window; that parlor is now profaned by the frivolous and
+irreverent summer boarder.  But the old residents love to talk of
+the days that are gone and if you happen to catch Mr. Isaac
+Higgins, now postmaster and a dignified member of the board of
+selectmen, in a reminiscent mood he will very likely tell you of
+the meeting of the parish committee called by its chairman, Elkanah
+Daniels, to oust the Rev. John Ellery from the pulpit of the
+Regular church.
+
+"I'll never forget," says Mr. Higgins, "that parish committee
+meetin' if I live a thousand year.  I, and two or three other young
+shavers, was hid in the little room off the vestry--the room where
+they kept the dishes they used for church suppers--and we heard the
+whole business.  Of course nobody knew that Nat was goin' to marry
+Keziah then, but they did know that he wa'n't goin' to marry Grace
+Van Horne, and had given her up to the minister of his own accord.
+So Daniels's guns was spiked and he didn't stand no chance at all.
+However, you'd never have guessed it to look at him.  He marched
+into that meetin' and up to the platform as stiff and dignified as
+if he'd swallered a peck of starch.  He called the meetin' to
+order--'twas a full one, for all hands and the cook was there--and
+then got up to speak.
+
+"He opened fire right off.  He raked John Ellery fore and aft.  The
+parson, he said, had disgraced the society and his sacred
+profession and should be hove overboard immediate.  'Twas an open
+secret, he said.  Everybody knew how he, minister of a Reg'lar
+church, had been carryin' on with a Come-Outer girl, meetin' her
+unbeknownst to anyone, and so on.  As he got warmed up on this
+subject he got more bitter and, though he didn't come out open and
+say slanderous things, his hints was as nigh that as a pig's snout
+is to his squeal.  Even through the crack of the dish-closet door I
+could see the bristles risin' on the back of Cap'n Zeb Mayo's neck.
+
+"At last Cap'n Zeb couldn't stand it no longer.
+
+"'Belay there!' he sings out, jumpin' to his feet.  'I want to ask
+you one question, Elkanah Daniels:  Are you tryin' to say somethin'
+against Grace Van Horne's character?'
+
+"Well, that was a sort of sticker, in a way, and I cal'late Daniels
+realized it.  He 'hum-ha'd' and barked a little and then give in
+that he couldn't swear the Van Horne person's character wa'n't all
+right, but--"
+
+"'Couldn't swear!' snorts Zeb.  'You better not try to, not when
+the minister or Nat's around.  Aw, belay! you want us to fire John
+Ellery out of this society--the best minister it ever had or ever
+will have--because he had the sense to get sweet on a good clean
+girl and the spunk to ask her to marry him.  And you're down on her
+because she's been brought up in a Come-Outer family--at least,
+that's the reason you give out, though some of us have suspicions
+'tain't the real one.  Why! she risked what she thought was
+smallpox to keep him from dyin' that night she picked him up,
+ravin' distracted, in the middle of the lighthouse lane, and if he
+hadn't married her after that I, for one, would have been willin'
+to vote to give him his walkin' papers, Come-Outer she may have
+been, but, by time, she's got religion that's good enough for me
+and I'll be proud to see her the wife of my minister.  Don't let's
+have no more chin music.  We know what you want and what you called
+this meetin' for; now let's vote on it.'
+
+"Three or four sung out 'Question' and 'Vote.'  But Elkanah held up
+his hand.
+
+"'Gentlemen,' says he, 'before I ask for the vote I want to say
+just one word.  I've worshiped in this meetin' house ever sence I
+was a child.  I was christened in it; my father worshiped here
+afore me; I've presided over the meetin's of this body for years.
+But I tell you now that if you vote to keep that rascally hypocrite
+in your pulpit I shall resign from the committee and from the
+society.  It'll be like cuttin' off my right hand, but I shall do
+it.  Are you ready for the vote?  Those in favor of retaining the
+present minister of this parish will rise.  Those opposed will
+remain seated.'
+
+"Every man on the floor stood up.  Daniels himself was the only one
+that stayed settin' down.
+
+"'It is a vote,' says he, white as a sheet, and his voice
+trembling.  'Gentlemen, I bid you good day.'
+
+"He took up his hat and cane, give one look around the vestry, as
+if he was sayin' good-by to it, and marched down the aisle as
+straight and starchy as he'd come into it.  Only, when he reached
+the door, he put up one hand as if he was steadyin' himself.  There
+was precious few in that vestry that liked Elkanah Daniels, but I'm
+bettin' high there wa'n't a one who didn't feel sorry for him then.
+
+"'Twas quiet as could be for a minute or so after he'd gone.  Then
+Cap'n Zeb draws a big breath and flings up his hand.
+
+"'Shipmates,' says he, 'this is the Almighty's house and we've got
+to do it quiet, but I propose three whisperin' cheers for the Rev.
+John Ellery and the lady that's goin' to be his wife.'
+
+"So they give 'em--hearty, too, if they was whispered--and that's
+all there is to that meetin' worth tellin' about."
+
+Captain Daniels and his daughter moved to Boston that summer.  They
+never came back to Trumet to live.  Annabel remained single until
+after her father's death; then she married a man very much younger
+and poorer than she was.  It was remarked by acquaintances of the
+couple that the difference in age became less and less apparent as
+their married life continued.
+
+"Humph!" observed Captain Zeb, summing up the situation, "he
+started about ten year astern, but he'll beat her on the run into
+the cemetery, now you mark my words.  Annabel's temper's cal'lated
+to keep any average chap drivin' on that course, bows under.
+There's a three-reef breeze blowin' off her tongue, day and night."
+
+On a Sunday morning, a few weeks after the committee meeting, the
+Regular church was crowded.  John Ellery was to preach his first
+sermon since the San Jose came ashore.  Every member of the
+congregation was present.  Even Mrs. Prince, feeble but garrulous,
+was there.  Gaius Winslow, having delivered his brood of children
+at the church door, made a special trip in his carryall to fetch
+the old lady.  Captain Zebedee and Mrs. Mayo beamed from their pew.
+Dr Parker and his wife smiled at them across the aisle.  Didama
+Rogers's new bonnet was a work of art and her neck threatened to
+twist itself off as she turned to see each one who came in.
+
+Lavinia Pepper sailed to the front.  She was dressed in a new black
+alpaca which rustled so very much like silk that nearsighted people
+might have been deceived by it.  With her was a man, apparently
+suffering from strangulation because of the height and tightness of
+his collar.  "It's Caleb Pratt, from Sandwich," whispered Didama.
+"Thankful Payne's relation, you know.  Have you heard what folks
+are sayin'?  I guess it's true, because--  Look at Kyan! you'd
+think he was goin' to his own funeral."
+
+Abishai's expression was not cheerful, certainly.  He followed Mr.
+Pratt and his sister to the Pepper pew and subsided sadly in the
+corner next the wall.  Occasionally he was observed to wipe his
+forehead and once--it was during the prayer--he groaned audibly.
+Lavinia's dig in the ribs prevented his repeating the sound, but,
+judging by his looks, he continued to groan in spirit.
+
+There was a stir at the door.  All heads swung in that direction--
+all but Mr. Pepper's, that is.  The minister and Grace were coming
+up the aisle and behind them came Captain Nat Hammond and Keziah
+Coffin.  Nat was smiling and self-possessed.  Never before in his
+life had he entered the Regular meeting house as a worshiper, but
+he seemed to be bearing the ordeal bravely.  It was Grace's first
+visit to the church, also, and she was plainly embarrassed.  To be
+stared at by eighty-odd pairs of eyes, and to catch whispered
+comments from the starers' tongues, is likely to embarrass one.
+
+Yet the comments were all friendly.
+
+"I declare!" whispered Mrs. Prince, "I never see her look so pretty
+afore.  I knew she was the best lookin' girl in this town, but I
+never realized she was SUCH a beauty.  Well, there's one thing
+sartin'--we've got the handsomest parson and parson's wife in THIS
+county, by about ten mile and four rows of apple trees.  And
+there's the other bride that's goin' to be.  I never see Keziah
+look so well, neither."
+
+Keziah did look well.  Her parson had emerged triumphant from his
+battle with disease and adverse fate and was more than ever the
+idol of his congregation.  He was to marry the girl of his choice--
+and hers.  The housekeeper's ears were still ringing with the
+thanks of John and Grace.  Both seemed to feel that to her, Keziah
+Coffin, more than anyone else, they owed their great joy.  Some of
+the things they said she would never forget.  And her own life,
+too, was freed forever of its burden, the secret which had hung
+over her for so many years.  Only a very few knew that secret, and
+they would not disclose it.  Toward the memory of the man buried in
+the stranger's lot at the cemetery she felt almost kindly now.
+While he lived she had feared and dreaded him, now she was
+beginning to forgive.  For he had paid his debt with his life, and
+with her, beside her, was the other, the one whom she had loved,
+had given up, had mourned for, and who was now to be hers always.
+No wonder Keziah looked well.  She was happy, and happiness is a
+wondrous beautifier.
+
+The minister went up the stairs to the pulpit.  He was still white
+and thin, but his eyes were bright and his voice clear.  He gave
+out the opening hymn and the service began.
+
+They said it was the finest sermon ever preached in that church,
+and perhaps it was.  When it was over, before the benediction was
+pronounced, Ellery stepped out from behind the pulpit to the edge
+of the platform.  He looked over the friendly faces upturned to his
+and, for an instant, it seemed that he could not trust himself to
+speak.
+
+"My friends," he said, "I cannot let you go without a personal
+word.  I owe you so much, all of you, that nothing I can say will
+convey to you my feeling of gratitude and love for this
+congregation and this church.  You have stood by me all through.
+You trusted me and believed in me.  I came to Trumet a stranger.  I
+have found here the truest friends a man could hope to find--yes,
+and more than friends.  If I live, and while I live, I shall hope
+to prove by the best effort that is in me my realization of the
+great debt I owe you and my desire to repay it, even though the
+payment must, of necessity, be so inadequate.  God bless you all--
+and thank you."
+
+"Wa'n't it lovely!" gushed Didama.  "And when he said that about
+true friends he was lookin' straight at Gracie all the time."
+
+"Didn't seem to me so," declared Gaius Winslow.  "I thought he was
+lookin' at Cap'n Hammond."
+
+"Well, now, that's queer," put in Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife.
+"I would have sworn he was looking at Keziah Coffin."
+
+Captain Zebedee grinned.  "I cal'late you're all right," he
+observed.  "I wouldn't wonder if he was lookin' at all of 'em."
+
+There was much hand shaking and congratulation and the church
+emptied slowly.  Among the last to leave were the Peppers and Mr.
+Pratt.  Lavinia took the minister aside.
+
+"Mr. Ellery," she simpered, "I've--that is, Caleb and me--will
+prob'ly want you to--  That is, we want you to be the one--"
+
+"Yes, Miss Pepper?"
+
+"Oh, my sakes! you see--  'Bishy dear, come here a minute, won't
+you?"
+
+Kyan approached, the picture of desolation.
+
+"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.
+
+"Heavens to Betsy!  Don't look so sour.  A body'd think you was
+goin' to be hung, to look at you.  'Bishy, you tell Mr. Ellery all
+about it, there's a dear.  He'll tell you, Mr. Ellery; and remember
+we count on you.  Neither me nor Caleb wont have nobody else."
+
+She seized Mr. Pratt by the arm and led him hastily away.  Kyan
+looked after them.
+
+"Hung?" he muttered.  "I wish, by godfreys mighty, I had the
+hangin' of SOME folks!  I'd put a tighter collar on 'em than
+they've got now, I bet you!"
+
+The minister's lips twitched.  He knew what was coming.  Hints of a
+surprising nature had been circulating about Trumet.
+
+"What's the matter, Mr. Pepper?" he asked.
+
+"Matter?  Matter enough!  You know what she's goin' to do?  She's
+goin' to marry THAT!"
+
+The last word was emphasized by a furious gesticulation toward the
+back of the gentleman from Sandwich.
+
+"Who?  Mr. Pratt?  Is your sister to marry him?  Indeed!  I
+congratulate them both--and you."
+
+"Me?  What in tunket--I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery, for talkin' so
+in the meetin' house--but what are you congratulatin' me for?"
+
+"Why, because your sister is to have a good husband; at least
+people speak highly of him."
+
+"Ugh!"
+
+"And because--well, Mr. Pepper, you have been quite confidential
+with me; we have shared secrets, you know; and I thought possibly
+the new arrangement might make it a bit more pleasant for you."
+
+"Pleasant?  How?"
+
+"I suppose Mr. Pratt will take his bride home to Sandwich, and you,
+being here alone, will be more free."
+
+"Free?"  Kyan repeated the word wrathfully.  "Free!  I'll be about
+as free as a settin' hen under a barrel, I will.  Is a feller free
+when he's got two pickin' at him instead of one?  I thought I was
+goin' to have a little peace and comfort; I thought that same as
+you, Mr. Ellery.  I've had my suspicions as to her and him for some
+time.  That day when I cal'lated I'd locked her up and come back to
+find she'd gone buggy ridin', I thought 'twas queer.  When she went
+to conference and left me alone I smelt a rat.  When she took to
+letter writin' the smell got stronger; until the last few weeks
+I've been sartin of the game she was up to.  And I never
+complained, no sir!  Some brothers would have ripped up the eternal
+foundations afore they'd have let their sister break up their home
+and desert 'em for a stiff-necked, bald-headed old shoe peddler
+like--"
+
+"Hush! hush! Mr. Pepper.  You forget--"
+
+"No, I don't forget, nuther.  Mr. Ellery, you don't know it all.
+When Laviny come to me and told me what she was goin' to do, was I
+obstinate?  Did I stand on my rights as head of the family and tell
+her she couldn't do it?  No, sir-ee, I didn't!  I was resigned.  I
+says to her, 'Laviny,' I says, 'I won't say that I shan't be
+turrible lonesome without you.  I won't say that I ain't sort of
+shocked and grieved at our partin' after all these years.  But
+what's my personal feelin's when I compare 'em with your happiness?
+Nothin', nothin' at all!' I says.  'Bless you, Laviny,' says I.
+'When you goin' to go away?'  And what do you s'pose she says to
+me?  Why, that she wa'n't goin' away at all.  That--that Pratt
+thing has sold out his shoe store up to Sandwich and is comin' here
+to live.  Comin' to live at our HOUSE, mind you, with her and with
+ME! ''Twill be so nice for you, 'Bishy dear,' she says, 'to have a
+man in the house to keep you comp'ny and look out for you when I
+ain't round.'  Godfreys mighty!"
+
+This portion of Kyan's disclosure was surprising, if the
+announcement of his sister's engagement was not.
+
+"Mr. Pratt is coming to Trumet?" the minister repeated.  "What for?
+What is he going to do here?"
+
+"Keep shoe store, I s'pose likely.  Laviny says there's a good
+openin' for one in this town.  I told her the best openin' I could
+think of for him was the well and I hoped to the nation he'd fall
+into it.  Then she went for me like a dogfish after a herrin' and I
+never had a taste of vittles till I'd took it all back and said I
+was glad he was goin' to live with us.  Free!  Don't talk to me
+about freedom!  Godfreys mighty!"
+
+Ellery smothered his desire to laugh and expressed sympathy.
+Abishai listened in sullen silence.
+
+"Well," he said, turning to go, "I ain't goin' to stand it, if I
+can help it.  I've been doin' some thinkin' on my own account and
+there's two ways of gettin' even.  That Caleb critter is marryin'
+into our family 'cause he knows I'm well off.  I'll cheat him, by
+godfreys!  I'll will every cent of my fifteen hundred dollars to
+the poor or the heathen or somethin'.  I will, sure's taxes."
+
+The minister was obliged to laugh, then.
+
+"I wouldn't do that," he said.  "From what I hear, Mr. Pratt is
+worth several times fifteen hundred."
+
+"I know it; but he's so dum mean that 'twould break his heart to
+see even ten cents gettin' away from him.  However, that ain't my
+only plan.  He and Laviny ain't got any mortgage on the marryin'
+business.  Other folks can do it as well as them.  What do you
+think of Hannah Poundberry?"
+
+"What do I think of her?  What do you mean?"
+
+"Never mind what I mean.  Just you keep that in your head, Mr.
+Ellery.  You remember that I asked you, as man to man, 'What do you
+think of Hannah Poundberry?'--Yes, yes, Laviny, I'm a-comin'.  They
+want me to ask you to marry 'em," he added.  "I s'pose you'll have
+to.  But say, Mr. Ellery, when you do, just tell Pratt that your
+usual price for the job is ten dollars.  That'll spile his
+honeymoon for him, or I miss my guess."
+
+He turned away and moved sulkily toward his beckoning sister and
+her escort; but wheeled once more to add, in a mysterious whisper,
+"Don't you forget now, Mr. Ellery.  Remember that question I put to
+you:  'What do you think of'--Yes, yes, La-viny, I hear you!--of
+you know who?'"
+
+
+That evening, at the parsonage, Keziah was clearing the table and
+Captain Nat was helping her.  A happy party of four had enjoyed the
+meal, John and Mrs. Coffin acting as hosts and Grace and the
+captain being the invited guests.  Now the younger couple had gone
+over to the church, the bell of which was ringing for evening
+service.
+
+"Hurry up, Keziah," urged Nat.  "If you and me don't get decks
+cleared pretty soon we'll be late for meetin', and I'd hate to do
+that, considerin' I'm such a brand-new disciple, as you might say.
+What do we do next, shorten sail?  Like this, hey?"
+
+He pulled the cloth from the table, sending the crumbs flying in
+all directions, and proceeded to fold it, after a fashion.
+
+"There!" he exclaimed with satisfaction; "there she is, canvas
+furled and under bare poles.  Now we can clear out, can't we?
+What's the matter?"
+
+Keziah took the cloth from his hands and refolded it.
+
+"Nat Hammond," she said, laughing, "you may be a good sailor, but
+you're an awful poor housekeeper.  Look at the mess you've made of
+that floor."
+
+Nat looked at the scattered crumbs and shook his head.
+
+"By the everlastin'!" he observed, "I did make dirty weather on
+that tack, didn't I?  Cal'late I ain't much of a housekeeper, same
+as you say.  Maybe that's why I was so dreadful anxious to get a
+good one to cruise along with me.  Well, I've got her.  I'm
+satisfied."
+
+He walked to the back door of the kitchen, threw it open, and stood
+looking out.
+
+"Keziah," he said, "come here a minute."
+
+She came from the dining room and stood at his side.  He put an arm
+about her.
+
+"Look off there," he said, pointing with his free hand.  See that?"
+
+The sun was just setting and all the west was gorgeous with crimson
+and purple and yellow.  The bay was spangled with fire, the high
+sand bluffs along the shore looked like broken golden ingots.  The
+fields and swamps and salt meadows, rich in their spring glory of
+bud and new leaf, were tinged with the ruddy glow.  The Trumet
+roofs were bathed in it, the old packet, asleep at her moorings by
+the breakwater, was silhouetted against the radiance.  The church
+bell had ceased to ring and there was not a sound, except the low
+music of the distant surf.
+
+"Look at it, Keziah," urged Captain Nat.
+
+"I'm lookin', Nat," she answered.  "It's beautiful."
+
+"Ain't it?  I love it, you know that, and I never thought I should
+be anxious for the time to come when I must leave it.  But I am.  I
+want to go."
+
+They were to be married in another month.  It would be a double
+wedding, for Grace and the minister were to be married at the same
+time.  Then Nat and his wife were to go to New York, where a new
+ship, just out of the builders' hands, was to be ready for him.
+She was a fine one, this successor to the Sea Mist.  She had been
+building for more than a year and when Captain Hammond returned,
+safe and sound, and with their money in his possession, the owners
+decided at once that he should command the addition to their fleet.
+She was to sail for Liverpool and Keziah was to be a passenger.
+
+"I can't hardly wait to get to sea," went on Nat.  "Think of it!
+No more lonesome meals in the cabin, thinkin' about you and about
+home.  No, sir! you and home'll be right aboard with me.  Think of
+the fun we'll have in the foreign ports.  London, and you and me
+goin' sightseein' through it!  And Havre and Gibraltar and
+Marseilles and Genoa and--and--by and by, Calcutta and Hong Kong
+and Singapore.  I've seen 'em all, of course, but you haven't.  I
+tell you, Keziah, that time when I first saw a real hope of gettin'
+you, that time after I'd learned from John that that big trouble of
+yours was out of the way forever, on my way up to Boston in the
+cars I made myself a promise--I swore that if you did say yes to me
+I'd do my best to make the rest of your life as smooth and pleasant
+as the past so far had been rough.  I ain't rich enough to give you
+what you deserve, nowhere near; but I'll work hard and do my best,
+my girl--you see."
+
+Keziah was looking out over the bay, her eyes brighter than the
+sunset.  Now she turned to look up into his face.
+
+"Rich!" she repeated, with a little catch in her voice.  "Rich!
+there never was a woman in this world so rich as I am this minute.
+Or so happy, either."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln
+
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