diff options
Diffstat (limited to '2068.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 2068.txt | 12572 |
1 files changed, 12572 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/2068.txt b/2068.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..57840ec --- /dev/null +++ b/2068.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12572 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Keziah Coffin + +Author: Joseph C. Lincoln + +Release Date: May 13, 2006 [EBook #2068] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEZIAH COFFIN *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson + + + + + +KEZIAH COFFIN + +by Joseph C. Lincoln + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH HEARS OF TWO PROPOSALS AND THE BEGINNING OF A THIRD + +II.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH UNEARTHS A PROWLER + +III.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH ASSUMES A GUARDIANSHIP + +IV.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON DECIDES TO RUN IT BLINDFOLD + +V.-- IN WHICH THE PARSON CRUISES IN STRANGE WATERS + +VI.-- IN WHICH OLD FRIENDS MEET + +VII.-- IN WHICH CAPTAIN NAT PICKS UP A DERELICT + +VIII.-- IN WHICH THE PARSON AND MR. PEPPER DECLARE THEIR INDEPENDENCE + +IX.-- IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT + +X.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH'S TROUBLES MULTIPLY + +XI.-- IN WHICH CAPEN EBEN RECEIVES A CALLER + +XII.-- IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN MAKES PORT + +XIII.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH BREAKS THE NEWS + +XIV.-- IN WHICH THE SEA MIST SAILS + +XV.-- IN WHICH TRUMET TALKS OF CAPTAIN NAT + +XVI-- IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE + +XVII.-- IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED + +XVIII.--IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT + +XIX.-- IN WHICH A RECEPTION IS CALLED OFF + +XX.-- IN WHICH THE MINISTER RECEIVES A LETTER + +XXI.-- IN WHICH MR. STONE WASHES HIS HANDS + +XXII.-- IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON PREACHES ONCE MORE + + + + +KEZIAH COFFIN + +by Joseph C. Lincoln + + + + +CHAPTER I + +IN WHICH KEZIAH HEARS TWO PROPOSALS AND THE BEGINNING OF A THIRD + + +Trumet in a fog; a fog blown in during the night by the wind from the +wide Atlantic. So wet and heavy that one might taste the salt in it. +So thick that houses along the main road were but dim shapes behind +its gray drapery, and only the gates and fences of the front yards +were plainly in evidence to the passers-by. The beach plum and bayberry +bushes on the dunes were spangled with beady drops. The pole on Cannon +Hill, where the beacon was hoisted when the packet from Boston dropped +anchor in the bay, was shiny and slippery. The new weathervane, a +gilded whale, presented to the "Regular" church by Captain Zebedee Mayo, +retired whaler, swam in a sea of cloud. The lichened eaves of the little +"Come-Outer" chapel dripped at sedate intervals. The brick walk leading +to the door of Captain Elkanah Daniels's fine residence held undignified +puddles in its hollows. And, through the damp stillness, the muttered +growl of the surf, three miles away at the foot of the sandy bluffs by +the lighthouse, sounded ominously. + +Directly opposite Captain Elkanah's front gate, on the other side of the +main road, stood the little story-and-a-half house, also the captain's +property, which for fourteen years had been tenanted by Mrs. Keziah +Coffin and her brother, Solomon Hall, the shoemaker. But Solomon had, +the month before, given up his fight with debt and illness and was +sleeping quietly in Trumet's most populous center, the graveyard. And +Keziah, left alone, had decided that the rent and living expenses were +more than her precarious earnings as a seamstress would warrant, and, +having bargained with the furniture dealer in Wellmouth for the sale of +her household effects, was now busy getting them ready for the morrow, +when the dealer's wagon was to call. She was going to Boston, where a +distant and condescending rich relative had interested himself to the +extent of finding her a place as sewing woman in a large tailoring +establishment. + +The fog hung like a wet blanket over the house and its small yard, where +a few venerable pear trees, too conservative in their old age to venture +a bud even though it was almost May, stood bare and forlorn. The day was +dismal. The dismantled dining room, its tables and chairs pushed into a +corner, and its faded ingrain carpet partially stripped from the floor, +was dismal, likewise. Considering all things, one might have expected +Keziah herself to be even more dismal. But, to all outward appearances, +she was not. A large portion of her thirty-nine years of life had been +passed under a wet blanket, so to speak, and she had not permitted +the depressing covering to shut out more sunshine than was absolutely +necessary. "If you can't get cream, you might as well learn to love your +sasser of skim milk," said practical Keziah. + +She was on her knees, her calico dress sleeves, patched and darned, but +absolutely clean, rolled back, uncovering a pair of plump, strong arms, +a saucer of tacks before her, and a tack hammer with a claw head in +her hand. She was taking up the carpet. Grace Van Horne, Captain Eben +Hammond's ward, who had called to see if there was anything she might do +to help, was removing towels, tablecloths, and the like from the drawers +in a tall "high-boy," folding them and placing them in an old and +battered trunk. The pair had been discussing the subject which all +Trumet had discussed for three weeks, namely, the "calling" to the +pastorate of the "Regular" church of the Rev. John Ellery, the young +divinity student, who was to take the place of old Parson Langley, +minister in the parish for over thirty years. Discussion in the village +had now reached a critical point, for the Reverend John was expected +by almost any coach. In those days, the days of the late fifties, the +railroad down the Cape extended only as far as Sandwich; passengers made +the rest of their journey by stage. Many came direct from the city by +the packet, the little schooner, but Mr. Ellery had written that he +should probably come on the coach. + +"They say he's very nice-looking," remarked Miss Van Horne soberly, +but with a MISCHIEVOUS glance under her dark lashes at Keziah. The lady +addressed paused long enough to transfer several tacks from the floor to +the saucer, and then made answer. + +"Humph!" she observed. "A good many years ago I saw a theater show up +to Boston. Don't be shocked; those circumstances we hear so much tell +of--the kind you can't control--have kept me from goin' to theaters +much, even if I wanted to. But I did see this entertainment, and a fool +one 'twas, too, all singin' instead of talkin'--op'ra, I believe they +called it. Well, as I started to say, one of the leadin' folks in it was +the Old Harry himself, and HE was pretty good-lookin'." + +Grace laughed, even though she had been somewhat shocked. + +"Why, Aunt Keziah!" she exclaimed--those who knew Keziah Coffin +best usually called her aunt, though real nephews and nieces she had +none--"why, Aunt Keziah! What do you mean by comparing the--the person +you just mentioned with a MINISTER!" + +"Oh, I wasn't comparin' 'em; I'll leave that for you Come-Outers to do. +Drat this carpet! Seems's if I never saw such long tacks; I do believe +whoever put 'em down drove 'em clean through the center of the earth and +let the Chinymen clinch 'em on t'other side. I haul up a chunk of the +cellar floor with every one. Ah, hum!" with a sigh, "I cal'late +they ain't any more anxious to leave home than I am. But, far's the +minister's concerned, didn't I hear of your Uncle Eben sayin' in prayer +meetin' only a fortni't or so ago that all hands who wa'n't Come-Outers +were own children to Satan? Mr. Ellery must take after his father some. +Surprisin', ain't it, what a family the old critter's got." + +The girl laughed again. For one brought up, since her seventh year, +in the strictest of Come-Outer families, she laughed a good deal. Many +Come-Outers considered it wicked to laugh. Yet Grace did it, and hers +was a laugh pleasant to hear and distinctly pleasant to see. It made her +prettier than ever, a fact which, if she was aware of it, should have +been an additional preventive, for to be pretty smacks of vanity. +Perhaps she wasn't aware of it. + +"What do you think Uncle Eben would say if he heard that?" she asked. + +"Say I took after my father, too, I presume likely. Does your uncle know +you come here to see me so often? And call me 'aunt' and all that?" + +"Of course he does. Aunt Keziah, you mustn't think Uncle Eben doesn't +see the good in people simply because they don't believe as he does. +He's as sweet and kind as--" + +"Who? Eben Hammond? Land sakes, child, don't I know it? Cap'n Eben's the +salt of the earth. I'm a Regular and always have been, but I'd be glad +if my own society was seasoned with a few like him. 'Twould taste better +to me of a Sunday." She paused, and then added quizzically: "What d'you +s'pose Cap'n Elkanah and the rest of our parish committee would say if +they heard THAT?" + +"Goodness knows! Still, I'm glad to hear you say it. And uncle says you +are as good a woman as ever lived. He thinks you're misled, of course, +but that some day you'll see the error of your ways." + +"Humph! I'll have to hurry up if I want to see 'em without spectacles. +See my errors! Land sakes! much as I can do to see the heads of these +tacks. Takin' up carpets is as hard a test of a body's eyesight as 'tis +of their religion." + +Her companion put down the tablecloth she was folding and looked +earnestly at the other woman. To an undiscerning eye the latter would +have looked much as she always did--plump and matronly, with brown hair +drawn back from the forehead and parted in the middle; keen brown eyes +with a humorous twinkle in them--this was the Keziah Coffin the later +generation of Trumet knew so well. + +But Grace Van Horne, who called her aunt and came to see her so +frequently, while her brother was alive and during the month following +his death, could see the changes which the month had wrought. She saw +the little wrinkles about the eyes and the lines of care about the +mouth, the tired look of the whole plucky, workaday New England figure. +She shook her head. + +"Religion!" she repeated. "I do believe, Aunt Keziah, that you've got +the very best religion of anybody I know. I don't care if you don't +belong to our church. When I see how patient you've been and how +cheerful through all your troubles, it--" + +Mrs. Coffin waved the hammer deprecatingly. "There! there!" she +interrupted. "I guess it's a good thing I'm goin' away. Here's you and I +praisin' up each other's beliefs, just as if that wasn't a crime here +in Trumet. Sometimes when I see how the two societies in this little +one-horse place row with each other, I declare if it doesn't look as if +they'd crossed out the first word of 'Love your neighbor' and wrote in +'Fight,' instead. Yet I'm a pretty good Regular, too, and when it comes +to whoopin' and carryin' on like the Come-Outers, I--Well! well! +never mind; don't begin to bristle up. I won't say another word about +religion. Let's pick the new minister to pieces. ANY kind of a Christian +can do that." + +But the new minister was destined to remain undissected that morning, +in that house at least. Grace was serious now and she voiced the matter +which had been uppermost in her mind since she left home. + +"Aunt Keziah," she said, "why do you go away? What makes you? Is it +absolutely necessary?" + +"Why do I go? Why, for the same reason that the feller that was hove +overboard left the ship--cause I can't stay. You've got to have vittles +and clothes, even in Trumet, and a place to put your head in nights. +Long's Sol was alive and could do his cobblin' we managed to get along +somehow. What I could earn sewin' helped, and we lived simple. But when +he was taken down and died, the doctor's bills and the undertaker's used +up what little money I had put by, and the sewin' alone wouldn't keep +a healthy canary in bird seed. Dear land knows I hate to leave the old +house I've lived in for fourteen years and the town I was born in, but +I've got to, for all I see. Thank mercy, I can pay Cap'n Elkanah his +last month's rent and go with a clear conscience. I won't owe anybody, +that's a comfort, and nobody will owe me; though I could stand that, I +guess," she added, prying at the carpet edge. + +"I don't care!" The girl's dark eyes flashed indignantly. "I think it's +too bad of Cap'n Elkanah to turn you out when--" + +"Don't talk that way. He ain't turnin' me out. He ain't lettin' houses +for his health and he'll need the money to buy his daughter's summer +rigs. She ain't had a new dress for a month, pretty near, and here's +a young and good-lookin' parson heavin' in sight. Maybe Cap'n Elkanah +would think a minister was high-toned enough even for Annabel to marry." + +"He's only twenty-three, they say," remarked Grace, a trifle +maliciously. "Perhaps she'll adopt him." + +Annabel was the only child of Captain Elkanah Daniels, who owned the +finest house in town. She was the belle of Trumet, and had been for a +good many years. + +Keziah laughed. + +"Well," she said, "anyhow I've got to go. Maybe I'll like Boston first +rate, you can't tell. Or maybe I won't. Ah, hum! 'twouldn't be the first +thing I've had to do that I didn't like." + +Her friend looked at her. + +"Aunt," she said, "I want to make a proposal to you, and you mustn't be +cross about it." + +"A proposal! Sakes alive! What'll I say? 'This is so sudden!' That's +what Becky Ryder, up to the west part of the town, said when Jim Baker, +the tin peddler, happened to ask her if she'd ever thought of gettin' +married. 'O James! this is so sudden!' says Becky. Jim said afterwards +that the suddenest thing about it was the way he cleared out of that +house. And he never called there afterwards." + +Grace smiled, but quickly grew grave. + +"Now, auntie," she said, "please listen. I'm in earnest. It seems to me +that you might do quite well at dressmaking here in town, if you had +a little--well, ready money to help you at the start. I've got a few +hundred dollars in the bank, presents from uncle, and my father's +insurance money. I should love to lend it to you, and I know uncle +would--" + +Mrs. Coffin interrupted her. + +"Cat's foot!" she exclaimed. "I hope I haven't got where I need to +borrow money yet a while. Thank you just as much, deary, but long's I've +got two hands and a mouth, I'll make the two keep t'other reasonably +full, I wouldn't wonder. No, I shan't think of it, so don't say another +word. NO." + +The negative was so decided that Grace was silenced. Her disappointment +showed in her face, however, and Keziah hastened to change the subject. + +"How do you know," she observed, "but what my goin' to Boston may be the +best thing that ever happened to me? You can't tell. No use despairin', +Annabel ain't given up hope yet; why should I? Hey? Ain't that somebody +comin'?" + +Her companion sprang to her feet and ran to the window. Then she broke +into a smothered laugh. + +"Why, it's Kyan Pepper!" she exclaimed. "He must be coming to see you, +Aunt Keziah. And he's got on his very best Sunday clothes. Gracious! I +must be going. I didn't know you expected callers." + +Keziah dropped the tack hammer and stood up. + +"Kyan!" she repeated. "What in the world is that old idiot comin' here +for? To talk about the minister, I s'pose. How on earth did Laviny ever +come to let him out alone?" + +Mr. Pepper, Mr. Abishai Pepper, locally called "Kyan" (Cayenne) Pepper +because of his red hair and thin red side whiskers, was one of Trumet's +"characters," and in his case the character was weak. He was born in the +village and, when a youngster, had, like every other boy of good family +in the community, cherished ambitions for a seafaring life. His sister, +Lavinia, ten years older than he, who, after the death of their parents, +had undertaken the job of "bringing up" her brother, did not sympathize +with these ambitions. Consequently, when Kyan ran away she followed him +to Boston, stalked aboard the vessel where he had shipped, and collared +him, literally and figuratively. One of the mates venturing to offer +objection, Lavinia turned upon him and gave him a piece of her mind, to +the immense delight of the crew and the loungers on the wharf. Then she +returned with the vagrant to Trumet. Old Captain Higgins, who skippered +the packet in those days, swore that Lavinia never stopped lecturing her +brother from the time they left Boston until they dropped anchor behind +the breakwater. + +"I give you my word that 'twas pretty nigh a stark calm, but there was +such a steady stream of language pourin' out of the Pepper stateroom +that the draught kept the sails filled all the way home," asserted +Captain Higgins. + +That was Kyan's sole venture, so far as sailoring was concerned, but he +ran away again when he was twenty-five. This time he returned of his +own accord, bringing a wife with him, one Evelyn Gott of Ostable. Evelyn +could talk a bit herself, and her first interview with Lavinia ended +with the latter's leaving the house in a rage, swearing never to set +foot in it again. This oath she broke the day of her sister-in-law's +funeral. Then she appeared, after the ceremony, her baggage on the wagon +with her. The bereaved one, who was sitting on the front stoop of his +dwelling with, so people say, a most resigned expression on his meek +countenance, looked up and saw her. + +"My land! Laviny," he exclaimed, turning pale. "Where'd you come from?" + +"Never mind WHERE I come from," observed his sister promptly. "You just +be thankful I've come. If ever a body needed some one to take care of +'em, it's you. You can tote my things right in," she added, turning to +her grinning driver, "and you, 'Bishy, go right in with 'em. The idea +of your settin' outside takin' it easy when your poor wife ain't been +buried more'n an hour!" + +"But--but--Laviny," protested poor Kyan, speaking the truth unwittingly, +"I couldn't take it easy AFORE she was buried, could I?" + +"Go right in," was the answer. "March!" + +Abishai marched, and had marched under his sister's orders ever since. +She kept house for him, and did it well, but her one fear was that some +female might again capture him, and she watched him with an eagle +eye. He was the town assessor and tax collector, but when he visited +dwellings containing single women or widows, Lavinia always accompanied +him, "to help him in his figgerin'," she said. + +Consequently, when he appeared, unchaperoned, on the walk leading to the +side door of the Coffin homestead, Keziah and her friend were surprised. + +"He's dressed to kill," whispered Grace, at the window. "Even his tall +hat; and in this fog! I do believe he's coming courting, Aunt Keziah." + +"Humph!" was the ungracious answer. "He's come to say good-by, I s'pose, +and to find out where I'm goin' and how much pay I'm goin' to get and if +my rent's settled, and a few other little things that ain't any of +his business. Laviny put him up to it, you see. She'll be along pretty +quick. Well, I'll fix him so he won't talk much. He can help us take +down that stovepipe. I said 'twas a job for a man, and a half one's +better than none--Why, how d'ye do, 'Bishy? Come right in. Pretty thick +outside, isn't it?" + +Mr. Pepper entered diffidently. + +"Er--er--how d'ye do, Keziah?" he stammered. "I thought I'd just run in +a minute and--" + +"Yes, yes. Glad to see you. Take off your hat. My sakes! it's pretty +wet. How did Laviny come to let you--I mean how'd you come to wear a +beaver such a mornin's this?" + +Kyan removed the silk hat and inspected its limp grandeur ruefully. + +"I--I--" he began. "Well, the fact is, I come out by myself. You see, +Laviny's gone up to Sarah B.'s to talk church doin's. I--I--well, I kind +of wanted to speak with you about somethin', Keziah, so--Oh! I didn't +see you, Gracie. Good mornin'." + +He didn't seem overjoyed to see Miss Van Horne, as it was. In fact, +he reddened perceptibly and backed toward the door. The girl, her eyes +twinkling, took up her jacket and hat. + +"Oh! I'm not going to stop, Mr. Pepper," she said. "I was only helping +Aunt Keziah a little, that's all. I must run on now." + +"Run on--nonsense!" declared Keziah decisively. "You're goin' to stay +right here and help us get that stovepipe down. And 'Bishy'll help, too. +Won't you, 'Bish?" + +The stovepipe was attached to the "air-tight" in the dining room. +It--the pipe--rose perpendicularly for a few feet and then extended +horizontally, over the high-boy, until it entered the wall. Kyan looked +at it and then at his "Sunday clothes." + +"Why, I'd be glad to, of course," he declared with dubious enthusiasm. +"But I don't know's I'll have time. Perhaps I'd better come later and do +it. Laviny, she--" + +"Oh, Laviny can spare you for a few minutes, I guess; 'specially as she +don't know you're out. Better take your coat off, hadn't you? Grace, +fetch one of those chairs for Ky--for 'Bishy to stand in." + +Grace obediently brought the chair. It happened to be the one with a +rickety leg, but its owner was helping the reluctant Abishai remove the +long-tailed blue coat which had been his wedding garment and had adorned +his person on occasions of ceremony ever since. She did not notice the +chair. + +"It's real good of you to offer to help," she said. "Grace and I didn't +hardly dast to try it alone. That pipe's been up so long that I wouldn't +wonder if 'twas chock-full of soot. If you're careful, though, I don't +believe you'll get any on you. Never mind the floor; I'm goin' to wash +that before I leave." + +Reluctantly, slowly, the unwilling Mr. Pepper suffered himself to be led +to the chair. He mounted it and gingerly took hold of the pipe. + +"Better loosen it at the stove hole first," advised Keziah. "What was it +you wanted to see me about, 'Bish?" + +"Oh, nothin', nothin'," was the hasty response. "Nothin' of any +account--that is to say--" + +He turned redder than ever and wrenched at the pipe. It loosened at its +lower end and the wires holding it in suspension shook. + +"I guess," observed the lady of the house, "that you'd better move that +chest of drawers out so's you can get behind it. Grace, you help me. +There! that's better. Now move your chair." + +Kyan stepped from the chair and moved the latter to a position between +the high-boy and the wall. Then he remounted and gripped the pipe in the +middle of its horizontal section. + +"Seems to stick in the chimney there, don't it?" queried Keziah. "Wiggle +it back and forth; that ought to loosen it. What was it you wanted to +say, 'Bish?" + +Apparently, Mr. Pepper had nothing to say. The crimson tide had reached +his ears, which, always noticeable because of their size and spread, +were now lit up like a schooner's sails at sunset. His hands trembled on +the pipe. + +"Nothin', nothin', I tell you," he faltered. "I--I just run in to say +how d'ye do, that's all." + +"Really, I think I'd better be going," said Grace, glancing from Kyan's +embarrassed face to that of the unsuspecting Mrs. Coffin. "I'm afraid +I'm in the way." + +"No, no!" shouted the occupant of the chair. "No, no, you ain't!" + +"But I'm afraid I am. And they'll be expecting me at home. Aunt Keziah, +I--" + +"Don't be in such a hurry," interrupted Keziah. "Does stick in the +chimney, don't it? Tell you what you can do, Grace; you can go in the +woodshed and fetch the hammer that's in the table drawer. Hurry up, +that's a good girl." + +Kyan protested that he did not need the hammer, but his protest was +unheeded. With one more glance at the couple, Grace departed from the +kitchen, biting her lips. She shut the door carefully behind her. Mr. +Pepper labored frantically with the pipe. + +"No use to shake it any more till you get the hammer," advised Keziah. +"Might's well talk while you're waitin'. What was it you wanted to tell +me?" + +Abishai drew one hand across his forehead, leaving a decorative smooch +of blacking on his perspiring countenance. He choked, swallowed, and +then, with a look at the closed door, seemed to reach a desperate +resolve. + +"Keziah," he whispered hurriedly, "you've known me quite a spell, ain't +you?" + +"Known you? Known you ever since you were born, pretty nigh. What of +it?" + +"Yes, yes. And I've known you, you know. Fact is, we've known each +other." + +"Hear the man! Land sakes! don't everybody in Trumet know everybody +else? What ARE you drivin' at?" + +"Keziah, you're a single woman." + +His companion let go of the chair, which she had been holding in place, +and stepped back. + +"I'm a single woman?" she repeated sharply. "What do you mean by that? +Did--did anybody say I wasn't?" + +"No, no! 'Course not. But you're a widow, so you BE single, you know, +and--" + +"Well? Did you think I was twins? Get down off there this minute. You've +gone crazy. I thought so when I saw that beaver. Either that or you've +been drinkin'. Grace! What DOES make her so long gettin' that hammer?" + +Finding the hammer did seem to take a long time. There was no sound from +the kitchen. Kyan, steadying himself with one hand on the pipe, waved +the other wildly. + +"S-s-sh! s-sh-h!" he hissed. "Hush! be still! Don't get her in here. +Keziah, you're single and so am I. You ain't got nobody to take care of +you and I ain't, neither--that is, I don't want to be took care of--I +mean, I've been took care of too much." + +Mrs. Coffin took another step in the direction of the kitchen. + +"He IS loony!" she exclaimed under her breath. "I--" + +"No, no! I ain't loony. I want to make a proposal to you. I want to see +if you won't marry me. I'm sick of Laviny. Let's you and me settle down +together. I could have some peace then. And I think a whole lot of you, +too," he added, apparently as an afterthought. + +Keziah's face was red now, and growing redder every instant. + +"Kyan Pepper!" she cried in amazed incredulity. "Kyan Pepper, do you--" + +"Hurry up!" pleaded Abishai, in agitated impatience. "Say yes quick. +She'll be back in a minute." + +"Say YES! Why, you--" + +"Don't stop to argue, Keziah. I've got 'most fifteen hundred dollars in +the bank. Laviny keeps the pass book in her bureau, but you could get it +from her. I own my house. I'm a man of good character. You're poor, +but I don't let that stand in the way. Anyhow, you're a first-rate +housekeeper. And I really do think an awful lot of you." + +Mrs. Coffin stepped no farther in the direction of the kitchen. Instead, +she strode toward the rickety chair and its occupant. Kyan grasped the +pipe with both hands. + +"You poor--miserable--impudent--" began the lady. + +"Why, Keziah, don't you WANT to?" He spoke as if the possibility of +a refusal had never entered his mind. "I cal'lated you'd be glad. +You wouldn't have to go away then, nor--My soul and body! some one's +knockin' at the door! AND THIS DUMMED PIPE'S FETCHED LOOSE!" + +The last sentence was a smothered shriek. Keziah heeded not. Neither +did she heed the knock at the door. Her hands were opening and closing +convulsively. + +"Be glad!" she repeated. "Glad to marry a good-for-nothin' sand-peep +like you! You sassy--GET down off that chair and out of this house! Get +down this minute!" + +"I can't! This stovepipe's loose, I tell you! Be reason'ble, Keziah. +Do--don't you touch me! I'll fall if you do. Pl-e-ase, Keziah!--O Lordy! +I knew it. LAVINY!" + +The door opened. On the threshold, arms akimbo and lips set tight, stood +Lavinia Pepper. Her brother's knees gave way; in their collapse they +struck the chair back; the rickety leg wabbled. Kyan grasped at the pipe +to save himself and, the next moment, chair, sections of stovepipe, and +Mr. Pepper disappeared with a mighty crash behind the high-boy. A cloud +of soot arose and obscured the view. + +Keziah, too indignant even to laugh, glared at the wreck. In the doorway +of the kitchen Grace Van Horne, hammer in hand, leaned against the jamb, +her handkerchief at her mouth and tears in her eyes. Lavinia, majestic +and rigid, dominated the scene. From behind the high-boy came coughs, +sneezes, and emphatic ejaculations. + +Miss Pepper was the first to speak. + +"Abishai Pepper," she commanded, "come out of that this minute." + +Her answer was a tremendous sneeze. Then from the dusky cloud by the +wall sounded a voice feebly protesting. + +"Now, Laviny," began poor Kyan, "I never in my life--" + +"Do you hear me? Come out of that!" + +There was a sound of scrambling. More soot floated in the air. Then +around the corner of the high-boy appeared Mr. Pepper, crawling on his +hands and knees. His hair was streaked with black; his shirt front and +collar and shirt sleeves were spotted and smeared with black; and from +his blackened cheeks his red whiskers flamed like the last glowing +embers in a fire-scarred ruin. + +"Laviny," he panted, "I never was so surprised and upsot in all my life +afore." + +This was too much for Grace. She collapsed in a chair and laughed +hysterically. Even the wrathful Keziah smiled. But Lavinia did not +smile. For that matter, neither did her brother. + +"Hum!" sneered Miss Pepper. "Upsot! Yes, I see you're upsot. Get up, and +try to look as much like a Christian as you can!" + +Kyan rose from his knees to his feet and rubbed his back. He glanced +reproachfully at Grace, then fearfully at his sister. + +"I was just tryin' to help Keziah take down her stovepipe," he +explained. "You see, she didn't have no man to--" + +"Yes, I see. Well, I judge you got it down. Now you go out to the sink +and wash your face. Heavens and earth! Look at them clothes!" + +"I do hope you didn't hurt yourself, Abishai," said the sympathetic +Keziah. Then, as remembrance of what had led to the upset came to her, +she added: "Though I will say 'twas your own fault and nobody else's." + +Lavinia whirled on her. + +"His own fault, was it?" she repeated, her voice shrill and trembling. +"Thank you very much, marm. I cal'late 'twas his own fault comin' +here, too, wa'n't it? Nobody led him on, I s'pose. Nobody put him up to +riggin' out in his best bib and tucker and sneakin' here the minute I +was out of the house. No, nobody did! Of COURSE not!" + +"No, nobody did," said Keziah briskly. "And you may know what you're +hintin' at, but I don't." + +"Dear me! Ain't we innocent! We've got plenty of money, WE have. +Widowers with property ain't no attraction to US. Everybody knows +that--oh, yes! And they never talk of such a thing--oh, no! Folks don't +say that--that--Well," with a snarl in the direction of the kitchen, +"are you anywheres nigh clean yet? Get your coat and hat on and come +home with me." + +She jerked her brother into the blue coat, jammed the tall hat down upon +his head, and, seizing him by the arm, stalked to the door. + +"Good day, marm," she said. "I do hope the next widower you get to take +down your stovepipe--yes, indeed! ha! ha!--I hope you'll have better +luck with him. Though I don't know who 'twould be; there ain't no more +idiots in town that I know of. Good day, and thank you kindly for your +attentions to our family." + +She pulled the door open and was on the step; but Mrs. Coffin did not +intend to let her go in just that way. + +"Laviny Pepper," she declared, her eyes snapping, "I don't know what +you're talkin' about, but if you dare to mean that I want any of your +money, or your brother's money, you're mistaken--'cause I don't. And I +don't want your brother either--Lord help him, poor thing! And I tell +you right now that there's nobody that does; though some kind-hearted +folks have said 'twould be a Christian act to poison him, so's to put +him out of his misery. There! Good mornin' to you." + +She slammed the door. Lavinia was speechless. As for her brother, but +one remark of his reached Grace, who was watching from the window. + +"Laviny," pleaded Kyan, "just let me explain." + +At nine o'clock that night he was still "explaining." + +Keziah turned from the door she had closed behind her visitor. + +"Well!" she ejaculated. "WELL!" + +Her friend did not look at her. She was still gazing out of the window. +Occasionally she seemed to choke. + +Keziah eyed her suspiciously. + +"Humph!" she mused. "'Twas funny, wasn't it?" + +"Oh, dreadfully!" was the hurried answer. + +"Yes. Seems to me you took an awful long time findin' that hammer." + +"It was away back in the drawer. I didn't see it at first." + +"Hum! Grace Van Horne, if I thought you heard what that--that THING said +to me, I'd--I'd--Good land of mercy! somebody ELSE is comin'." + +Steps, measured, dignified steps, sounded on the walk. From without came +a "Hum--ha!" a portentous combination of cough and grunt. Grace dodged +back from the window and hastily began donning her hat and jacket. + +"It's Cap'n Elkanah," she whispered. "I must go. This seems to be your +busy morning, Aunt Keziah. I"--here she choked again--"really, I didn't +know you were so popular." + +Keziah opened the door. Captain Elkanah Daniels, prosperous, pompous, +and unbending, crossed the threshold. Richest man in the village, +retired shipowner, pillar of the Regular church and leading member of +its parish committee, Captain Elkanah looked the part. He removed +his hat, cleared his throat behind his black stock, and spoke with +impressive deliberation. + +"Good morning, Keziah. Ah--er--morning, Grace." Even in the tone given +to a perfunctory salutation like this, the captain differentiated +between Regular and Come-Outer. "Keziah, I--hum, ha!--rather expected to +find you alone." + +"I was just going, Cap'n Daniels," explained the girl. The captain bowed +and continued. + +"Keziah," he said, "Keziah, I came to see you on a somewhat important +matter. I have a proposal I wish to make you." + +He must have been surprised at the effect of his words. Keziah's face +was a picture, a crimson picture of paralyzed amazement. As for Miss Van +Horne, that young lady gave vent to what her friend described afterwards +as a "squeal," and bolted out of the door and into the grateful +seclusion of the fog. + + +CHAPTER II + +IN WHICH KEZIAH UNEARTHS A PROWLER + + +The fog was cruel to the gossips of Trumet that day. Mrs. Didama Rogers, +who lived all alone, except for the society of three cats, a canary, +and a white poodle named "Bunch," in the little house next to Captain +Elkanah's establishment, never entirely recovered from the chagrin +and disappointment caused by that provoking mist. When one habitually +hurries through the morning's household duties in order to sit by the +front window and note each passer-by, with various fascinating surmises +as to his or her errand and the reasons for it, it is discouraging to be +able to see only one's own front fence and a scant ten feet of sidewalk. +And then to learn afterwards of a dozen most exciting events, each +distinctly out of the ordinary, which might have been used as excuses +for two dozen calls and as many sensations! As Captain Zeb Mayo, the +irreverent ex-whaler, put it, "That fog shook Didama's faith in the +judgment of Providence. 'Tain't the 'all wise,' but the 'all seein'' +kind she talks about in meetin' now." + +The fog prevented Mrs. Rogers's noting the entrance of Mr. Pepper at the +Coffin front gate. Also his exit, under sisterly arrest. It shut from +her view the majestic approach of Captain Elkanah Daniels and Grace's +flight, her face dimpled with smiles and breaking into laughter +at frequent intervals. For a young lady, supposed to be a devout +Come-Outer, to hurry along the main road, a handkerchief at her mouth +and her eyes sparkling with fun, was a circumstance calculated to +furnish material for enjoyable scandal. And Didama missed it. + +Other happenings she missed, also. Not knowing of Captain Daniels's call +upon Keziah, she was deprived of the pleasure of wonder at the length of +his stay. She did not see him, in company with Mrs. Coffin, go down +the road in the opposite direction from that taken by Grace. Nor their +return and parting at the gate, two hours later. She did not see--but +there! she saw nothing, absolutely nothing--except the scraggy spruce +tree in her tiny front yard and the lonely ten feet of walk bordering +it. No one traversed that section of walk except old Mrs. Tinker, who +was collecting subscriptions for new hymn books for the Come-Outer +chapel. And Didama was particularly anxious NOT to see her. + +The dismal day dragged on. The silver-leaf trees dripped, the hedges +were shining with moisture. Through the stillness the distant surf along +the "ocean side" of the Cape growled and moaned and the fog bell at the +lighthouse clanged miserably. Along the walk opposite Didama's--the +more popular side of the road--shadowy figures passed at long intervals, +children going to and from school, people on errands to the store, and +the like. It was three o'clock in the afternoon before a visitor came +again to the Coffin front gate, entered the yard and rapped at the side +door. + +Keziah opened the door. + +"Halloa!" she exclaimed. "Back, are you? I begun to think you'd been +scared away for good." + +Grace laughed as she entered. + +"Well, auntie," she said, "I don't wonder you thought I was scared. +Truly, I didn't think it was proper for me to stay. First Kyan and then +Cap'n Elkanah, and both of them expressing their wishes to see you alone +so--er--pointedly. I thought it was time for me to go. Surely, you give +me credit for a little delicacy." + +Keziah eyed her grimly. + +"Humph!" she sniffed. "If you'd been a little less delicate about +fetchin' that hammer, we might have been spared at least one smash-up. I +don't s'pose Laviny'll ever speak to me again. Oh, dear! I guess likely +I'll never get the memory of that--that Kyan thing out of my mind. I +never was so set back in my born days. Yes, you can laugh!" + +She laughed herself as she said it. As for Grace, it was sometime before +that young lady became coherent. + +"He DID look so funny!" she gasped. "Hopping up and down on that shaky +chair and holding on to that pipe and--and--O Aunt Keziah, if you could +have seen your face when I opened that door!" + +"Yes; well, I will say you was sometime gettin' it open. And then, on +top of the whole fool business, in parades Elkanah Daniels and--" + +She paused. Her companion looked delightedly expectant. + +"Yes," she cried eagerly. "Then Cap'n Elkanah came and the very first +thing he said was--I almost laughed in his face." + +"Almost! Humph! that's no exaggeration. The way you put out of that door +was a caution." + +"Yes, but what did the cap'n mean? Is it a secret? Ahem! shall I +congratulate you, auntie?" + +"Grace Van Horne! there's born fools enough in this town without your +tryin' to be one. You know 'twa'n't THAT. Though what 'twas was surprise +enough, I will say," she added. "Grace, I ain't goin' away to-morrow." + +"You're not? Oh, splendid! Has the cap'n decided to let you stay here?" + +"I guess his decidin' wouldn't influence me, if twas stayin' in his +house he meant. The only way I could live here would be on his charity, +and that would be as poor fodder as sawdust hasty puddin', even if I +was fond of charity, which I ain't. He said to me--Well, you take your +things off and I'll tell you about it. You can stay a little while, +can't you?" + +"Yes, I was going to stay all the afternoon and for supper, if you'd let +me. I knew you had so much to do and I wanted to help. I told uncle and +he said certainly I ought to come. He said he should try to see you and +say good-by before you left tomorrow." + +"You don't say! And me a Regular! Well, I'm much obliged, though I guess +your Uncle Eben won't see me to-morrow--nor speak to me again, when he +knows what I AM going to do. Grace, I ain't goin' to leave Trumet, not +for the present, anyhow. I've got a way of earnin' my livin' right here. +I'm goin' to keep house for the new minister." + +The girl turned, her hat in her hand. + +"Oh!" she cried in utter astonishment. + +Keziah nodded. "Yes," she affirmed. "That was what Elkanah's proposal +amounted to. Ha! ha! Deary me! When he said 'proposal,' I own up for +a minute I didn't know WHAT was comin'. After Kyan I was prepared +for 'most anything. But he told me that Lurany Phelps, who the parish +committee had counted on to keep house for Mr. Ellery, had sent word her +sister was sick and couldn't be left, and that somebody must be hired +right off 'cause the minister's expected by day after to-morrow's coach. +And they'd gone over every likely candidate in town till it simmered +down to Mehitable Burgess. And Cap'n Zeb Mayo spoke right up in the +committee meetin' and gave out that if Mehitable kept house for Mr. +Ellery he, for one, wouldn't come to church. Said he didn't want to hear +sermons that was inspired by HER cookin'. Seems she cooked for the Mayos +one week when Mrs. Mayo had gone to Boston, and Cap'n Zeb declares his +dreams that week was somethin' awful. 'And I'm a man with no nerves and +mighty little imagination,' he says. 'Land knows what effect a dose of +Mehitable's biscuits might have on a MINISTER.' + +"And so," continued Keziah, "they decided Mehitable wouldn't do, and +finally somebody thought of me. I have a notion 'twas Zeb, although +Cap'n Elkanah did his best to make me think 'twas himself. And the cap'n +was made a delegate to come and see me about it. Come he did, and we +settled it. I went down to the parsonage with him before dinner and +looked the place over. There's an awful lot of sweepin' and dustin' to +be done afore it's fit for a body to live in. I did think that when I'd +finished with this house I could swear off on that kind of dissipation +for a while, but I guess, judgin' by the looks of that parsonage, what +I've done so far is only practice." She paused, glanced keenly at her +friend and asked: "Why! what's the matter? You don't act nigh so glad as +I thought you'd be." + +Grace said of course she was glad; but she looked troubled, +nevertheless. + +"I can hardly make it seem possible," she said. "Is it really +settled--your salary and everything? And what will you do about your +position in Boston?" + +"Oh, I'll write Cousin Abner and tell him. Lord love you, HE won't care. +He'll feel that he did his duty in gettin' me the Boston chance and if I +don't take it 'tain't his fault. HIS conscience'll be clear. Land sakes! +if I could clean house as easy as some folks clear their consciences I +wouldn't have a backache this minute. Yes, the wages are agreed on, too. +And totin' them around won't make my back ache any worse, either," she +added drily. + +Grace extended her hand. + +"Well, Aunt Keziah," she said, "I'm ever and ever so glad for you. +I know you didn't want to leave Trumet and I'm sure everyone will be +delighted when they learn that you're going to stay." + +"Humph! that includes Laviny Pepper, of course. I cal'late Laviny's +delight won't keep her up nights. But I guess I can stand it if she can. +Now, Grace, what is it? You AIN'T real pleased? Why not?" + +The girl hesitated. + +"Auntie," she said, "I'm selfish, I guess. I'm glad for your sake; you +mustn't think I'm not. But I almost wish you were going to do something +else. You are going to live in the Regular parsonage and keep house +for, of all persons, a Regular minister. Why, so far as my seeing you is +concerned, you might as well be in China. You know Uncle Eben." + +Keziah nodded understandingly. + +"Yes," she said, "I know him. Eben Hammond thinks that parsonage is +the presence chamber of the Evil One, I presume likely. But, Grace, you +mustn't blame me, and if you don't call I'll know why and I shan't blame +you. We'll see each other once in a while; I'll take care of that. And, +deary, I HAD to do it--I just had to. If you knew what a load had been +took off my mind by this, you'd sympathize with me and understand. I've +been happier in Trumet than I ever was anywhere else, though I've seen +some dark times here, too. I was born here; my folks used to live here. +My brother Sol lived and died here. His death was a heavy trouble to +me, but the heaviest came to me when I was somewheres else and--well, +somehow I've had a feelin' that, if there was any real joys ever planned +out for me while I'm on this earth, they'd come to me here. I don't know +when they'll come. There's times when I can't believe they ever will +come, but--There! there! everybody has to bear burdens in this life, I +cal'late. It's a vale of tears, 'cordin' to you Come-Outer folks, though +I've never seen much good in wearin' a long face and a crape bathin' +suit on that account. Hey? What are you listenin' to?" + +"I thought I heard a carriage stop, that was all." + +Mrs. Coffin went to the window and peered into the fog. + +"Can't see anything," she said. "'Tain't anybody for here, that's sure. +I guess likely 'twas Cap'n Elkanah. He and Annabel were goin' to drive +over to Denboro this afternoon. She had some trimmin' to buy. Takes more +than fog to separate Annabel Daniels from dressmakin'. Well, there's a +little more packin' to do; then I thought I'd go down to that parsonage +and take a whack at the cobwebs. I never saw so many in my born days. +You'd think all the spiders from here to Ostable had been holdin' camp +meetin' in that shut-up house." + +The packing took about an hour. When it was finished, the carpet rolled +up, and the last piece of linen placed in the old trunk, Keziah turned +to her guest. + +"Now, Gracie," she said, "I feel as though I ought to go to the +parsonage. I can't do much more'n look at the cobwebs to-night, but +to-morrow those spiders had better put on their ascension robes. The +end of the world's comin' for them, even though it missed fire for the +Millerites when they had their doin's a few years ago. You can stay +here and wait, if 'twon't be too lonesome. We'll have supper when I get +back." + +Grace looked tempted. + +"I've a good mind to go with you," she said. "I want to be with you as +much as I can, and HE isn't there yet. I'm afraid uncle might not like +it, but--" + +"Sho! Come along. Eben Hammond may be a chronic sufferer from acute +Come-Outiveness, but he ain't a ninny. Nobody'll see you, anyway. This +fog's like charity, it'll cover a heap of sins. Do come right along. +Wait till I get on my things." + +She threw a shawl over her shoulders, draped a white knitted "cloud" +over her head, and took from a nail a key, attached by a strong cord to +a block of wood eight inches long. + +"Elkanah left the key with me," she observed. "No danger of losin' it, +is there. Might as well lose a lumber yard. Old Parson Langley tied it +up this way, so he wouldn't miss his moorin's, I presume likely. The +poor old thing was so nearsighted and absent-minded along toward the +last that they say he used to hire Noah Myrick's boy to come in and look +him over every Sunday mornin' before church, so's to be sure he hadn't +got his wig on stern foremost. That's the way Zeb Mayo tells the yarn, +anyhow." + +They left the house and came out into the wet mist. Then, turning to +the right, in the direction which Trumet, with unconscious irony, calls +"downtown," they climbed the long slope where the main road mounts the +outlying ridge of Cannon Hill, passed Captain Mayo's big house--the +finest in Trumet, with the exception of the Daniels mansion--and +descended into the hollow beyond. Here, at the corner where the +"Lighthouse Lane" begins its winding way over the rolling knolls and +dunes to the light and the fish shanties on the "ocean side," stood +the plain, straight-up-and-down meeting house of the Regular society. +Directly opposite was the little parsonage, also very straight up and +down. Both were painted white with green blinds. This statement is +superfluous to those who remember Cape architecture at this period; +practically every building from Sandwich to Provincetown was white and +green. + +They entered the yard, through the gap in the white fence, and went +around the house, past the dripping evergreens and the bare, wet lilac +bushes, to the side door, the lock of which Keziah's key fitted. There +was a lock on the front door, of course, but no one thought of meddling +with that. That door had been opened but once during the late pastor's +thirty-year tenantry. On the occasion of his funeral the mourners came +and went, as was proper, by that solemn portal. + +Mrs. Coffin thrust the key into the keyhole of the side door and essayed +to turn it. + +"Humph!" she muttered, twisting to no purpose; "I don't see why--This +must be the right key, because--Well, I declare, if it ain't unlocked +already! That's some of Cap'n Elkanah's doin's. For a critter as fussy +and particular about some things, he's careless enough about others. +Mercy we ain't had any tramps around here lately. Come in." + +She led the way into the dining room of the parsonage. Two of the blinds +shading the windows of that apartment had been opened when she and +Captain Daniels made their visit, and the dim gray light made the room +more lonesome and forsaken in appearance than a deeper gloom could +possibly have done. The black walnut extension table in the center, +closed to its smallest dimensions because Parson Langley had eaten alone +for so many years; the black walnut chairs set back against the wall at +regular intervals; the rag carpet and braided mats--homemade donations +from the ladies of the parish--on the green painted floor; the dolorous +pictures on the walls; "Death of Washington," "Stoning of Stephen," and +a still more deadly "fruit piece" committed in oils years ago by a now +deceased boat painter; a black walnut sideboard with some blue-and-white +crockery upon it; a gilt-framed mirror with another outrage in oils +emphasizing its upper half; dust over everything and the cobwebs +mentioned by Keziah draping the corners of the ceiling; this was the +dining room of the Regular parsonage as Grace saw it upon this, her +first visit. The dust and cobwebs were, in her eyes, the only novelties, +however. Otherwise, the room was like many others in Trumet, and, if +there had been one or two paintings of ships, would have been typical of +the better class. + +"Phew!" exclaimed Keziah, sniffing disgustedly. "Musty and shut up +enough, ain't it? Down here in the dampness, and 'specially in the +spring, it don't take any time for a house to get musty if it ain't +aired out regular. Mr. Langley died only three months ago, but we've +been candidatin' ever since and the candidates have been boarded round. +There's been enough of 'em, too; we're awful hard to suit, I guess. +That's it. Do open some more blinds and a window. Fresh air don't hurt +anybody--unless it's spiders," with a glare at the loathed cobwebs. + +The blinds and a window being opened, more light entered the room. Grace +glanced about it curiously. + +"So this is going to be your new home now, Aunt Keziah," she observed. +"How queer that seems." + +"Um--h'm. Does seem queer, don't it? Must seem queer to you to be so +near the headquarters of everything your uncle thinks is wicked. Smell +of brimstone any, does it?" she asked with a smile. + +"No, I haven't noticed it. You've got a lot of cleaning to do. I wish I +could help. Look at the mud on the floor." + +Keziah looked. + +"Mud?" she exclaimed. "Why, so 'tis! How in the world did that come +here? Wet feet, sure's you're born. Man's foot, too. Cap'n Elkanah's, +I guess likely; though the prints don't look hardly big enough for his. +Elkanah's convinced that he's a great man and his boots bear him out +in it, don't they? Those marks don't look broad enough for his +understandin', but I guess he made 'em; nobody else could. Here's the +settin' room." + +She threw open another door. A room gloomy with black walnut and +fragrant with camphor was dimly visible. + +"Cheerful's a tomb, ain't it?" was Mrs. Coffin's comment. "Well, we'll +get some light and air in here pretty soon. Here's the front hall and +there's the front stairs. The parlor's off to the left. We won't bother +with that yet a while. This little place in here is what Mr. Langley +used to call his 'study.' Halloa! how this door sticks!" + +The door did stick, and no amount of tugging could get it open, though +Grace added her efforts to those of Keziah. + +"'Tain't locked," commented Mrs. Coffin, "cause there ain't any lock on +it. I guess it's just swelled and stuck from the damp. Though it's odd, +I don't remember--Oh, well! never mind. Let's sweeten up this settin' +room a little. Open a window or two in here. We'll have to hurry if we +want to do anything before it gets dark. I'm goin' into the kitchen to +get a broom." + +She hurried out, returning in a moment or two with a broom and a most +disgusted expression. + +"How's a body goin' to sweep with that?" she demanded, exhibiting the +frayed utensil, the business end of which was worn to a stub. "More +like a shovel, enough sight. Well, there's pretty nigh dust enough for +a shovel, so maybe this'll take off the top layers. S'pose I'll ever get +this house fit for Mr. Ellery to live in before he comes? I wonder if +he's a particular man?" + +Grace, who was struggling with a refractory window, paused for breath. + +"I'm sure I don't know," she replied. "I've never seen him." + +"Nor I either. Sol was so bad the Sunday he preached that I couldn't go +to meetin'. They say his sermon was fine; all about those who go down to +the sea in ships. That's what got the parish committee, I guess; they're +all old salts. I wonder if he's as fine-lookin' as they say?" + +Miss Van Horne tossed her head. She was resting, prior to making another +assault on the window. + +"I don't know," she said. "And I'm sure I don't care. I don't like +good-looking ministers." + +"Deary me! You're different from most females in this town, then. And +you spoke of his good looks yourself this very mornin'. Why don't you +like the good-lookin' ones?" + +"Oh, because they're always conceited and patronizing and superior--and +spoiled. I can just imagine this Mr. Ellery of yours strutting about in +sewing circle or sociables, with Annabel and Georgianna Lothrop and the +rest simpering and gushing and getting in his way: 'O Mr. Ellery, I did +so enjoy that sermon of yours Sunday!' and 'O Mr. Ellery, it was SO good +of you to come this afternoon!' Pooh! I'm glad I'm a Come-Outer. Not +that I would simper over him if I wasn't. He couldn't patronize me--not +more than once, at any rate." + +Keziah was greatly amused. + +"Sakes alive!" she chuckled. "You're awfully high and mighty, seems to +me. And changeable since mornin'. You was willin' enough to talk about +him then. Now, Gracie, you mustn't take a spite against poor Mr. Ellery +just because I've got to keep house for him. 'Tain't his fault; he don't +even know it yet." + +"I don't care. I know he'll be a conceited little snippet and I shall +hate the sight of him. There! there! Auntie, you mustn't mind me. I +told you I was a selfish pig. But don't you ask me to LIKE this precious +minister of yours, because I shan't do it. He has no business to come +and separate me from the best friend I've got. I'd tell him so if he was +here--What was that?" + +Both women looked at each other with startled faces. They listened +intently. + +"Why, wa'n't that funny!" whispered Keziah. "I thought I heard--" + +"You DID hear. So did I. What do you suppose--" + +"S-s-s-h-h! It sounded from the front room somewhere. And yet there +can't be anybody in there, because--My soul! there 'tis again. I'm goin' +to find out." + +She grasped the stubby broom by the handle and moved determinedly toward +the front hall. Grace seized her by the arm. + +"Don't you do it, auntie!" she whispered frantically. "Don't you DO it! +It may be a tramp." + +"I don't care. Whoever or whatever it is, it has no business in this +house, and I'll make that plain in a hurry. Just like as not it's a cat +got in when Elkanah was here this forenoon. Don't be scared, Grace. Come +right along." + +The girl came along, but not with enthusiasm. They tiptoed through the +dark, narrow hall and peered into the parlor. This apartment was dim and +still and gloomy, as all proper parlors should be, but there was no sign +of life. + +"Humph!" sniffed Keziah. "It might have been upstairs, but it didn't +sound so. What did it sound like to you?" + +"Like a footstep at first; and then like something falling--and +rustling. Oh, what is the matter?" + +Mrs. Coffin was glancing back down the hall with a strange expression on +her face. Her grip upon the broom handle tightened. + +"What IS it?" pleaded the girl in an agonized whisper. + +"Grace," was the low reply, "I've just remembered somethin'. That study +door isn't stuck from the damp, because--well, because I remember now +that it was open this mornin'." + +Before her companion could fully grasp the import of this paralyzing +fact, Keziah strode down the hall and seized the knob of the study door. + +"Whoever you are in there," she commanded sternly, "open this door and +come out this minute. Do you hear? I'm orderin' you to come out." + +There was an instant of silence; then a voice from within made answer, a +man's voice, and its tone indicated embarrassment. + +"Madam," it said, "I--I am--I will be out in another minute. If you will +just be patient--" + +Grace interrupted with a smothered shriek. Keziah brandished the broom. + +"Patient!" she repeated sharply. "Well, I like that! What do you mean +by--Open that door! Grace, run out and get the--the constable." + +This command was delivered entirely for effect. The office of constable +in Trumet is, generally speaking, a purely honorary one. Its occupant +had just departed for a week's cruise as mate of a mackerel schooner. +However, the effect was instantaneous. From behind the door came sounds +of hurry and commotion. + +"Don't get the police on my account, please," said the voice. "If you +will be patient until I get this--I'm just as anxious to come out as you +can be to have me. Of all the ridiculous--" + +"Come out then!" snapped Keziah. "Come out! If you're so everlastin' +anxious, then come out. Patience! Of all the cheek! Why don't you come +out NOW?" + +The answer was brisk and to the point. Evidently, the unknown's stock of +the virtue which he demanded of others was diminishing. + +"Well, to be frank, since you insist," snapped the voice, "I'm not fully +dressed." + +This was a staggerer. For once Keziah did not have a reply ready. +She looked at Grace and the latter at her. Then, without words, they +retreated to the sitting room. + +"Shall--shall I go for help?" whispered the girl. "Hadn't we better +leave him here and--He doesn't sound like a tramp, does he. What DO you +suppose--" + +"I hope you won't be alarmed," continued the voice, broken by panting +pauses, as if the speaker was struggling into a garment. "I know this +must seem strange. You see, I came on the coach as far as Bayport +and then we lost a wheel in a rut. There was a--oh, dear! where IS +that--this is supremely idiotic!--I was saying there happened to be a +man coming this way with a buggy and he offered to help me along. He was +on his way to Wellmouth. So I left my trunk to come later and took my +valise. It rained on the way and I was wet through. I stopped at Captain +Daniels's house and the girl said he had gone with his daughter to the +next town, but that they were to stop here at the parsonage on their +way. So--there! that's right, at last!--so I came, hoping to find them. +The door was open and I came in. The captain and his daughter were not +here, but, as I was pretty wet, I thought I would seize the opportunity +to change my clothes. I had some dry--er--things in my valise and +I--well, then you came, you see, and--I assure you I--well, it was the +most embarrassing--I'm coming now." + +The door opened. The two in the sitting room huddled close together, +Keziah holding the broom like a battle-ax, ready for whatsoever might +develop. From the dimness of the tightly shuttered study stepped the +owner of the voice, a stranger, a young man, his hair rumpled, his +tie disarranged, and the buttons of his waistcoat filling the wrong +buttonholes. Despite this evidence of a hasty toilet in semidarkness, he +was not unprepossessing. Incidentally, he was blushing furiously. + +"I'm--I'm sure I beg your pardon, ladies," he stammered. "I scarcely +know what to say to you. I--" + +His eyes becoming accustomed to the light in the sitting room, he was +now able to see his captors more clearly. He looked at Keziah, then at +Miss Van Horne, and another wave of blushes passed from his collar up +into the roots of his hair. Grace blushed, too, though, as she perfectly +well knew, there was no reason why she should. + +Mrs. Coffin did not blush. This young fellow, although evidently not a +tramp or a burglar, had caused her some moments of distinct uneasiness, +and she resented the fact. + +"Well," she observed rather tartly, "I'm sorry you don't know what to +say, but perhaps you might begin by telling us who you are and what you +mean by makin' a--er--dressin' room of a house that don't belong to +you, just because you happened to find the door unlocked. After that +you might explain why you didn't speak up when we first come, instead +of keepin' so mighty quiet. That looks kind of suspicious to me, I must +say." + +The stranger's answer was prompt enough now. It was evident he resented +the suspicion. + +"I didn't speak," he said, "because you took me by surprise and I +wasn't, as I explained--er--presentable. Besides, I was afraid of +frightening you. I assure you I hurried as fast as I could, quietly, and +when you began to talk"--his expression changed and there was a twitch +at the corner of his mouth--"I tried to hurry still faster, hoping you +might not hear me and I could make my appearance--or my escape--sooner. +As for entering the house--well, I considered it, in a way, my house; at +least, I knew I should live in it for a time, and--" + +"Live in it?" repeated Keziah. "LIVE in it? Why! mercy on us! you don't +mean to say you're--" + +She stopped to look at Grace. That young lady was looking at her with +an expression which, as it expressed so very much, is beyond ordinary +powers of description. + +"My name is Ellery," said the stranger. "I am the minister--the new +minister of the Regular society." + +Then even Keziah blushed. + + +CHAPTER III + +IN WHICH KEZIAH ASSUMES A GUARDIANSHIP + + +Didama would have given her eyeteeth--and, for that matter, the entire +upper set--to have been present in that parsonage sitting room when the +Rev. John Ellery made his appearance. But the fates were against Didama +that day and it was months afterwards before she, or any of what +Captain Zeb Mayo called the "Trumet Daily Advertisers," picked up a hint +concerning it. Keziah and Grace, acquainted with the possibilities of +these volunteer news gatherers, were silent, and the Reverend John, +being in some respects a discreet young man with a brand-new ministerial +dignity to sustain, refrained from boasting of the sensation he had +caused. He thought of it very often, usually at most inconvenient times, +and when, by all the requirements of his high calling, his thought +should have been busy with different and much less worldly matters. + +"I declare!" said Mrs. Thankful Payne, after the new minister's first +call at her residence, a week after his arrival at Trumet, "if Mr. +Ellery ain't the most sympathetic man. I was readin' out loud to him +the poem my cousin Huldy B.--her that married Hannibal Ellis over to +Denboro--made up when my second husband was lost to sea, and I'd just +got to the p'int in the ninth verse where it says: + + 'The cruel billows crash and roar, + And the frail craft is tempest-tossed, + But the bold mariner thinks not of life, but says, + "It is the fust schooner ever I lost."' + +And 'twas, too, and the last, poor thing! Well, I just got fur as this +when I looked up and there was the minister lookin' out of the window +and his face was just as red, and he kept scowlin' and bitin' his +lips. I do believe he was all but sheddin' tears. Sympathy like that I +appreciate." + +As a matter of fact, Mr. Ellery had just seen Grace Van Horne pass that +window. She had not seen him, but for the moment he was back in that +disgusting study, making a frenzied toilet in the dusk and obliged to +overhear remarks pointedly personal to himself. + +Grace left the parsonage soon after the supposed tramp disclosed +his identity. Her farewells were hurried and she firmly refused Mrs. +Coffin's not too-insistent appeal to return to the house "up street" +and have supper. She said she was glad to meet Mr. Ellery. The young +minister affirmed his delight in meeting her. Then she disappeared in +the misty twilight and John Ellery surreptitiously wiped his perspiring +forehead with his cuff, having in his late desire for the primal +necessities forgotten such a trifling incidental as a handkerchief. + +"Well, Mr. Ellery," observed Keziah, turning to her guest, or employer, +or incumbrance--at present she was more inclined to consider him the +latter--"well, Mr. Ellery, this has been kind of unexpected for all +hands, ain't it? If I'd known you was comin' to-day, I'd have done my +best to have things ready, but Cap'n Elkanah said not before day after +to-morrow and--but there, what's the use of talkin' that way? I didn't +know I was goin' to keep house for you till this very forenoon. Mercy +me, what a day this has been!" + +The minister smiled rather one-sidedly. + +"It's been something of a day for me," he admitted. "I am ahead of time +and I've made a lot of trouble, I'm afraid. But yesterday afternoon I +was ready and, to tell the truth, I was eager to come and see my new +home and get at my work. So I started on the morning train. Then the +stage broke down and I began to think I was stranded at Bayport. +But this kind-hearted chap from Wellmouth--I believe that's where he +lived--happened to pull up to watch us wrestling with the smashed wheel, +and when he found I was in a hurry to get to Trumet, offered to give me +a lift. His name was--was Bird. No, that wasn't it, but it was something +like Bird, or some kind of a bird." + +"Bird?" repeated Keziah thoughtfully. "There's no Birds that I know of +in Wellmouth. Hum! Hey? 'Twa'n't Sparrow, was it?" + +"That was it--Sparrow." + +"Good land! Emulous Sparrow. Run consider'ble to whiskers and tongue, +didn't he?" + +"Why, yes; he did wear a beard. As for tongue--well, he was +conversational, if that's what you mean." + +"That's what I mean. If you rode twelve mile with Emulous, you must have +had an earache for the last six. Did he ask a question or two about your +personal affairs, here and there between times?" + +Mr. Ellery laughed. + +"Yes, one or two, between times," he admitted. + +"I shan't die of surprise. Did you tell him who you was?" + +"No-o, to be honest, I didn't. He was so very anxious to find out, +that--well, I dodged. I think he believed I was going to visit Captain +Daniels." + +"Good enough! If I was governor of this state I wouldn't send any +Thanksgivin' proclamations down this way. I'd just write Em Peters and +Didama Rogers and a couple more like them and save myself the trouble. +They'd have all I wanted to proclaim spread from one end of the county +to the other in less'n a day, and a peck or two of extrys pitched in +for good measure. I'm awful glad you didn't tell Emulous you was the +minister. You see, Trumet's Trumet, and, considerin' everything, maybe +it's just as well nobody knows about your bein' shut up in that study. +Not but what 'twas all right, you know, but--" + +"I understand. I'm not proud of it. Still, some one may have seen me +come here." + +"No, no, they didn't. This fog is as thick as Injun-meal puddin'. Nobody +saw you." + +"Well," with some hesitation, "the young lady who was here with you--" + +"Oh, Grace Van Horne! She's all right. She won't tell. She ain't that +kind." + +"Van Horne? That doesn't sound like a New England name." + +"'Tisn't. Her folks come from Jersey somewheres. But she was adopted +by old Cap'n Hammond, who keeps the tavern down on the bay shore by the +packet wharf, and she's lived in Trumet since she was six years old. Her +father was Teunis Van Horne, and he was mate on Cap'n Eben's coastin' +schooner and was drowned off Hatteras. Eben was saved just by the skin +of his teeth and got a broken hip and religion while it happened. His +hip's better except that he's some lame; but his religion's been more +and more feverish ever since. He's one of the head Come-Outers, and +built their chapel with his own money. You mustn't think I'm speakin' +lightly of religion, nor of Cap'n Eben, either. He's a dear good soul as +ever was, but he is the narrowest kind of Come-Outer. His creed is +just about as wide as the chapel door, and that's as narrow as the way +leadin' to salvation; it IS the way, too, so the Come-Outers think." + +"What are Come-Outers? Some new sect?" + +"Sakes alive! Haven't you heard of Come-Outers? Cat's foot! Well, you'll +hear of 'em often enough from now on. They're folks who used to go to +our church, the Regular, but left because the services was too worldly, +with organs and choir singin', and the road to paradise too easy. No +need for me to tell you any more. You'll learn." + +Mr. Ellery was interested. He had been in Trumet but once before, on the +occasion when he preached his trial sermon, and of that memorable +visit remembered little except the sermon itself, the pews filled +with captains and their families, and the awe-inspiring personality of +Captain Elkanah Daniels, who had been his host. To a young man, the ink +upon his diploma from the theological school still fresh, a trial sermon +is a weighty matter, and the preaching of it weightier still. He had +rehearsed it over and over in private, had delivered it almost through +clinched teeth, and had returned to his room in the Boston boarding +house with the conviction that it was an utter failure. Captain Elkanah +and the gracious Miss Annabel, his daughter, had been kind enough to +express gratification, and their praise alone saved him from despair. +Then, to his amazement, the call had come. Of casual conversation at the +church and about the Daniels's table he could recall nothing. So there +was another religious organization in town and that made up of seceders +from his own church. He was surprised. + +"Er--this Miss Van Horne?" he asked. "Is she a--Come-Outer?" + +Mrs. Coffin nodded. + +"Yes," she said. "She's one. Couldn't be anything else and live with her +Uncle Eben, as she calls him." + +The minister experienced a curious feeling of disappointment and +chagrin. This young person, already predisposed to regard a clergyman of +his denomination with disapproval, had seen him for the first time under +most humiliating circumstances. And he should never have the opportunity +to regain her favor, or his own self-respect, by his efforts in the +pulpit. No matter how well he might preach she would never hear him. + +"Has this Captain Hammond no children of his own?" he asked. + +Keziah's answer was short for her. + +"Yes," she said. "One." + +"Ah! another daughter?" + +"No, a son. Name's Nathaniel, and he's a sea captain. He's on his way +from Surinam to New York now. They expect him to make port most any +time, I believe. Now, Mr. Ellery, I s'pose we've got to arrange for your +supper and stayin' overnight; and with this house the way 'tis and all, +I don't see--" + +But the minister was still interested in the Hammond household. + +"This Nathaniel Hammond?" he asked. "You don't seem enthusiastic over +him. Is he a black sheep?" + +This reply also was short, but emphatic. + +"No," said Keziah. "He's a fine man." + +Then she resumed her semisoliloquy concerning her companion's +entertainment. + +"I guess," she said, "that the best thing for you to do will be to go to +Cap'n Elkanah's. They'll be real glad to see you, I know, and you'll +be in time for supper, for Elkanah and Annabel have been to Denboro and +they'll be late home. They can keep you overnight, too, for it's a big +house with lots of rooms. Then, after breakfast to-morrow you come right +here. I'll have things somewhere near shipshape by then, I guess, though +the cleanin'll have to be mainly a lick and a promise until I can really +get at it. Your trunk'll be here on the coach, I s'pose, and that'll be +through early in the forenoon. Get on your hat and coat and I'll go with +you to Elkanah's." + +The young man demurred a little at thrusting himself upon the +hospitality of the Daniels's home, but Keziah assured him that his +unexpected coming would cause no trouble. So he entered the now dark +study and came out wearing his coat and carrying his hat and valise in +his hand. + +"I'm sure I'm ever so much obliged to you," he said. "And, as we are +going to be more or less together--or at least I guess as much from what +you say--would you mind if I suggest a mutual introduction. I'm John +Ellery; you know that already. And you--" + +Keziah stopped short on her way to the door. + +"Well, I declare!" she exclaimed. "If I ain't the very worst! Fact is, +you dropped in so ahead of time and in such a irregular sort of way, +that I never once thought of introducin' anybody; and I'm sure Grace +didn't. I'm Keziah Coffin, and Cap'n Elkanah and I signed articles, so +to speak, this mornin', and I'm goin' to keep house for you." + +She explained the reason upsetting the former arrangement by which +Lurania Phelps was to have had the position. + +"So I'm to keep house for you," she concluded. Adding: "For a spell, +anyhow." + +"Why do you say that?" asked the minister. + +"Well, you might not like me. You may be particular, you know." + +"I think I can run that risk." + +"Yes; well, you can't tell. Or I might not like you. You see, I'm pretty +particular myself," she added with a laugh. + +At the Daniels's door Keziah turned her new charge over to Matilda Snow, +the hired girl. It was an indication of the family's social position +that they kept "hired help." This was unusual in Trumet in those days, +even among the well to do. + +"Good night," said the young man, extending his hand. "Good night, +Miss--or is it Mrs.--Coffin?" + +"Mrs. Good night." + +"She's a widow," explained Matilda. "Husband died 'fore she come back +here to live. Guess he didn't amount to much; she never mentions his +name." + +"There was one thing I meant to tell her," mused the minister, +hesitating on the threshold. "I meant to tell her not to attempt any +cleaning up at the parsonage to-night. To-morrow will do just as well." + +"Heavens to Betsy!" sniffed the "hired help," speaking from the depths +of personal conviction, "nobody but a born fool would clean house in the +night, 'specially after the cleanin' she's been doin' at her own place. +I guess you needn't worry." + +So Mr. Ellery did not worry. And yet, until three o'clock of the +following morning, the dull light of a whale-oil lantern illuminated the +rooms of the parsonage as Keziah scrubbed and swept and washed, giving +to the musty place the "lick and promise" she had prophesied. If the +spiders had prepared those ascension robes, they could have used them +that night. + +After breakfast the wagons belonging to the Wellmouth furniture dealer +drove in at the gate of the little house opposite Captain Elkanah's, and +Keziah saw, with a feeling of homesickness which she hid beneath smiles +and a rattle of conversation, the worn household treasures which had +been hers, and her brother's before her, carried away out of her life. +Then her trunks were loaded on the tailboards of the wagons, to be left +at the parsonage, and with a sigh and a quick brush of her hand across +her eyes, she locked the door for the last time and walked briskly down +the road. Soon afterwards John Ellery, under the eminently respectable +escort of Captain Elkanah and Miss Annabel, emerged from the Daniels's +gate and followed her. Mrs. Didama Rogers, thankful for a clear +atmosphere and an unobstructed view, saw them pass and recognized the +stranger. And, within a quarter of an hour, she, arrayed in a hurried +calling costume, was spreading the news along the main road. The "Trumet +Daily Advertiser" had, so to speak, issued an extra. + +Thus the new minister came to Trumet and thus Keziah Coffin became his +housekeeper. She entered upon her duties with the whole-hearted energy +peculiar to her. She was used to hard work, and, as she would have said, +felt lonesome without it. She cleaned that parsonage from top to bottom. +Every blind was thrown open and the spring sunshine poured in upon the +braided mats and the rag carpets. Dust flew in clouds for the first +day or two, but it flew out of windows and doors and was not allowed to +settle within. The old black walnut furniture glistened with oil. The +mirrors and the crockery sparkled from baths of hot water and soap. Even +St. Stephen, in the engravings on the dining-room wall, was forced to a +martyrdom of the fullest publicity, because the spots and smears on the +glass covering his sufferings were violently removed. In the sleeping +rooms upstairs the feather beds were beaten and aired, the sheets and +blankets and patchwork comforters exposed to the light, and the window +curtains dragged down and left to flap on the clothesline. The smell of +musty dampness disappeared from the dining room and the wholesome odors +of outdoors and of good things cooking took its place. + +Keziah, in the midst of her labors, found time to coach her employer +and companion in Trumet ways, and particularly in the ways which Trumet +expected its clergymen to travel. On the morning following his first +night in the parsonage, he expressed himself as feeling the need of +exercise. He thought he should take a walk. + +"Well," said his housekeeper from her station opposite him at the +breakfast table, "if I was you I wouldn't take too long a one. You'd +better be back here by ten, anyhow. Where was you thinkin' of goin'?" + +Mr. Ellery had no particular destination in mind. He would like to see +something of the village and, perhaps, if she could give him the names +of a few of his parishioners, he might make a few calls. Keziah shook +her head. + +"Gracious goodness!" she exclaimed. "I wouldn't advise you to do that. +You ain't been here long enough to make forenoon calls. If you should +catch some of the women in this town with aprons and calico on, they'd +never forgive you in this world. Wait till afternoon; they'll be +expectin' you then and they'll be rigged out in their best bibs and +tuckers. S'pose you found Annabel Daniels with her hair done up in +curl papers; what do you think would happen? Mornin's are no time +for ministers' calls. Even old Mr. Langley never made calls in the +forenoon--and he'd been here thirty-odd years." + +"All right, you know best. Much obliged for the advice. Then I'll simply +take my walk and leave the calls until later." + +"I'd be back by ten, though. Folks'll begin callin' on you by that +time." + +"They will? Doesn't the rule work both ways?" + +"Not with new ministers it don't. Cat's foot! You don't s'pose Didama +Rogers and Laviny Pepper and their kind'll wait any longer'n they can +help afore they come to see what you look like, do you?" + +"Well, they must have seen me when I preached here before. I remember--" + +"Mercy on us! that was in meetin'. Meetin's diff'rent. All they could +say to you then was how much they liked your sermon. They say that to +every minister that comes, no matter how they may pick him to pieces +afterwards. But here they can ask you questions; about how you came to +come here and what you think of it far's you've got, and what your views +are on certain points in the creed. Likewise, who your folks were and +whether they was well off, and a few things like that. Then they'll want +to see what kind of clothes you wear and--" + +"Whew!" Ellery whistled. "You're unfolding a pleasant prospect for me, I +must say. Am I supposed to be catechized on all of my private affairs?" + +"Of course! A minister hasn't got any private affairs; he's a public +character. There!" she laughed, as she poured the coffee, "I mustn't +discourage you. But don't you see that every mother's son--and, for that +matter, every daughter and children's child unto the third and fourth +generation--feel that, so long as they pay pew rent or put a cent in the +collection, they own a share in you. And we always keep a watch on our +investments down this way. That's the Yankee shrewdness you read so much +about, I guess." + +The minister absently played with his spoon. + +"I'm afraid you're a cynic," he said. + +"No, no, I ain't. Though sometimes, considerin' everything, I feel as +though I had excuse enough if I wanted to belong to that tribe. But +you're young. You mustn't mind my sayin' that; if you was old, of +course, I wouldn't talk about ages. But you are young and this is your +first church. So you must start right. I'm no cynic, bless you. I've got +trust in human nature left--most kinds of human nature. If I hadn't, I'd +have more money, I s'pose. Perhaps you've noticed that those who trust a +good deal are usually poor. It's all right, Mr. Ellery; you go and take +your walk. And I'll walk into that pantry closet. It'll be a good deal +like walkin' into the Slough of Despond, but Christian came out on the +other side and I guess likely I will, if the supply of soapsuds holds +out." + +When, promptly at ten o'clock, the minister returned from his walk, +he found Mrs. Rogers waiting in the sitting room. It is a prime +qualification of an alert reporter to be first on the scene of +sensation. Didama was seldom beaten. Mr. Ellery's catechism began. +Before it was over Keziah opened the door to admit Miss Pepper and +her brother. "Kyan" was nervous and embarrassed in the housekeeper's +presence. Lavinia was a glacier, moving majestically and freezing as it +moved. Keziah, however, was not even touched by the frost; she greeted +the pair cordially, and begged them to "take off their things." + +It was dinner time before the catechizers departed. The catechized came +to the table with an impaired appetite. He looked troubled. + +"Don't let it worry you, Mr. Ellery," observed Keziah calmly. "I think +I can satisfy you. Honest and true, I ain't half as bad as you might +think." + +The minister looked more troubled than before; also surprised. + +"Why, Mrs. Coffin!" he cried. "Could you hear--" + +"No, no! I couldn't hear nothin' in that closet except my own opinion +on dirt and dust. But if I was as deaf as the man that set on the +powder keg and dropped his pipe ashes into it, it wouldn't have made any +difference. The man said after they picked him up that they needn't have +been so rough, he'd have moved without bein' pushed if they'd have made +signs they wanted to use the keg. And if I was out in the next lot I'd +have known what you was listenin' to in that sittin' room. They hinted +that they were real sorry for you, but 'twasn't any of THEIR doin's. The +parish committee, bein' just men, was apt to make mistakes in certain +matters. Of course everything MIGHT be well enough, and if you wa'n't +TOO particular about cookin' and so on, why--Anyhow, you mustn't think +that THEY were criticisin'. 'Twas only that they took an interest +and--That was about it, wasn't it?" + +"Mrs. Coffin, I--I hope you don't think I paid any attention to their +remarks--of that kind, I mean. Honestly, I did my best to stop them. I +said--" + +"Man alive! I'm not worried. Why should you be? We were talkin' about +trust just now--or I was. Well, you and I'll have to take each other on +trust for a while, until we see whether we're goin' to suit. If you see +anything that I'm goin' wrong in, I wish you'd tell me. And I'll do the +same by you, if that's agreeable. You'll hear a lot of things said about +me, but if they're very bad I give you my word they ain't true. And, to +be real frank, I'll probably hear some about you, which I'll take for +what they're worth and considerin' who said 'em. That's a good wholesome +agreement, I think, for both of us. What do you think?" + +John Ellery said, with emphasis, that he thought well of it. He began to +realize that this woman, with her blunt common sense, was likely to be +a pilot worth having in the difficult waters which he must navigate as +skipper of the Regular church in Trumet. Also, he began to realize that, +as such a skipper, he was most inexperienced. And Captain Daniels +had spoken highly--condescendingly but highly--of his housekeeper's +qualifications and personality. So the agreement was ratified, with +relief on his part. + +The first Sunday came and with it the first sermon. He read that sermon +to Keziah on Saturday evening and she approved of it as a whole, though +she criticised some of its details. + +"Don't be afraid to put in plenty of salt," she said. "Where you've +got the Christian life and spirit written down as bein' like a quiet, +peaceful home, free from all distrust, and like that, why don't you +change it to a good safe anchorage, where the soul can ride forever +without fear of breakers or no'theasters or the dangers besettin' the +mariner on a lee shore. They'll understand that; it gets right home to +'em. There's scarcely a man or a woman in your congregation that ain't +been out of sight of land for weeks on a stretch." + +The breakfast hour on Sunday would be at nine o'clock, instead of seven, +as on week days, she told him. + +"Trumet lays to bed Sunday mornin's," she explained. "It's almost a part +of its religion, as you might say, and lived up to more conscientious +than some other parts, I'm afraid. Six days shalt thou labor and wear +comfort'ble clothes; and on the seventh you must be lazy and dress up. +Likewise you must have baked beans Saturday for supper, as we're havin' +'em, and more beans with fish balls next mornin'. That is, if you want +to be orthodox." + +The service began at eleven o'clock. At half past ten the sexton, +old Mr. Jubal Knowles, rang the "first bell," a clanging five-minute +reminder. Twenty minutes later he began on the second and final call. +Mr. Ellery was ready--and nervous--before the first bell had finished +ringing. But Keziah, entering the sitting room dressed in black alpaca +and carrying the hymn book with her name in gilt letters on the cover, +forbade his leaving the parsonage thus early. + +"I shall go pretty soon," she said, "but you mustn't. The minister ain't +expected until the last bell's 'most done. Parson Langley used to wait +until the Winslows went in. Gaius Winslow is a widower man who lives up +to the west end of the town and he's got nine children, all boys. You'll +know 'em because they always drive down to meetin' in one carryall with +a white horse. Gaius is as punctual as a boardin'-house dinner. The +old parson used to wait until the last Winslow had toddled up the +meetin'-house steps and then he'd come out of this side door with +his sermon in his hand. It's a pretty good rule to remember and saves +watchin' the clock. Besides, it's what we've been used to, and that goes +a good ways with some folks. Good-by, Mr. Ellery. You'll see me in the +third pew from the back, on the right side, wishin' you luck just as +hard as I can." + +So, as in couples or family groups, afoot or in all sorts of vehicles, +the members of Trumet's Regular society came to the church to hear their +new minister, that functionary peeped under the parlor window shade of +the parsonage and waited, fidgetting and apprehensive, for the +Winslows. They arrived at last, and were not hard to recognize, for ten +individuals packed into one carriage are hard to overlook anywhere. As +Gaius, with the youngest in his arms, passed in at the church door, John +Ellery passed out of the parsonage gate. The last bell clanged its final +stroke, the vibrations ceased, the rustle of skirts and the sounds of +decorous coughing subsided and were succeeded by the dry rattle of the +hymn-book pages, the organ, presented by Captain Elkanah and played by +his daughter, uttered its preliminary groan, the service began. + +Outside the spring breeze stirred the budding silver-leafs, the distant +breakers grumbled, the crows in the pines near Captain Eben Hammond's +tavern cawed ribald answers to the screaming gulls perched along the top +of the breakwater. And seated on one of the hard benches of the little +Come-Outer chapel, Grace Van Horne heard her "Uncle Eben," who, as +usual, was conducting the meeting, speak of "them who, in purple and +fine linen, with organs and trumpets and vain shows, are gathered +elsewhere in this community to hear a hired priest make a mock of the +gospel." (A-MEN!) + +But John Ellery, the "hired priest," knew nothing of this. He did know, +however, that he was the center of interest for his own congregation, +the people among whom he had been called to labor. Their praise or +criticism meant everything to him; therefore he preached for dear life. + +And Keziah Coffin, in the third pew from the back, watched him intently, +her mind working in sympathetic unison with his. She was not one to +be greatly influenced by first impressions, but she had been favorably +impressed by this young fellow, and had already begun to feel that sense +of guardianship and personal responsibility which, later on, was to make +Captain Zebedee Mayo nickname the minister "Keziah's Parson." + +The sermon was a success. + + +CHAPTER IV + +IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON DECIDES TO RUN IT BLINDFOLD + + +On Monday afternoon the minister made a few calls. Keziah made out a +short list for him to follow, a "sort of chart of the main channel," she +called it, "with the safe ports marked and the shoals and risky places +labeled dangerous." + +"You see," she said, "Trumet ain't a course you can navigate with your +eyes shut. We divide ourselves into about four sets--aristocrats, poor +relations, town folks, and scum. The aristocrats are the big bugs like +Cap'n Elkanah and the other well-off sea captains, afloat or ashore. +They 'most all go to the Regular church and the parish committee is +steered by 'em. The poor relations are mainly widows and such, whose +husbands died or were lost at sea. Most of them are Regulars. The town +folks are those that stay ashore and keep store or run salt works or +somethin'. And the scum work around on odd jobs or go fishin'. So, if +you really want to be safe, you must call on the aristocrats first, +after that on the poor relations, and so on down. You won't be bothered +with scum much; they're mainly Come-Outers." + +Ellery took the list from her hand and looked it over. + +"Hum!" he said musingly. "Am I supposed to recognize these--er--class +distinctions?" + +"Yes. That is, not in meetin' or sewin' circle or anything like that, or +not out and out and open anywhere. But you want to cultivate a sort of +different handshake and how-dy-do for each set, so's to speak. Gush all +you want to over an aristocrat. Be thankful for advice and always SO +glad to see 'em. With the poor relations you can ease up on the gush and +maybe condescend some. Town folks expect condescension and superiority; +give it to 'em. When it comes to scum, why--well, any short kind of a +bow and a 'Mornin' 'll do for them. 'Course the Lord, in His infinite +mercy, made 'em, same as He did potato bugs, but it's necessary to keep +both bugs and them down to their proper place." + +She delivered this in the intervals between trips to the kitchen with +the dinner dishes. The minister listened with a troubled expression on +his face. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "I guess I'm dull. There was a Scotch professor +at college and the fellows used to say his bump of humor was a dent. +Maybe mine isn't much better. Are you joking?" + +Keziah stacked the cups and saucers. + +"I ain't jokin'," she declared. "I've been a poor relation in this +village for a good while and my brother was a shoemaker and on the upper +fringe of the town-folk class. My humor bump would have to stick up like +Cannon Hill afore I could see any joke in that." + +"But you're not seriously advising me to treat a rich man differently +from a poor one?" + +"Not openly different--no. But if you want to steer a perfectly SAFE +course, one that'll keep deep water under your keel the whole voyage, +why, there's your chart." + +Mr. Ellery promptly tore the "chart" into small pieces. + +"I'm going out," he said. "I shall be back by supper time." + +Mrs. Coffin eyed him grimly. + +"Goin' to run it blindfold, are you?" she asked. + +"Yes, I am." + +Her grimness disappeared and she smiled. + +"I'll have your supper ready for you," she said. "Bring back a good +appetite." + +The young man hesitated on the threshold. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he demanded, "would YOU have called only on the +aristocrats at first?" + +She shook her head, smiling still. + +"No," she replied, "not me. I've always taken risks. But I didn't +know but you might be a safe sailor. It saves a lot of trouble in this +world." + +"How about the next?" + +"Oh, well, perhaps even the scum may count for somethin' over there." +She turned to face him and her smile vanished. "Go on, Mr. Ellery," she +said. "Go and call where you please. Far be it from me that I should +tell you to do anything else. I suppose likely you hope some day to be +a great preacher. I hope you will. But I'd enough sight rather you was a +good man than the very greatest. No reason why you can't be both. There +was a preacher over in Galilee once, so you told us yesterday, who was +just good. 'Twa'n't till years afterwards that the crowd came to realize +that he was great, too. And, if I recollect right, he chummed in with +publicans and sinners. I'm glad you tore up that fool paper of mine. I +hoped you might when I gave it to you. Now you run along, and I'll wash +dishes. If cleanliness is next to godliness, then a parson ought to eat +out of clean plates." + +As a matter of fact, the minister's calls were in the nature of a +compromise, although an unintentional one. He dropped in on Zebedee +Mayo, owner of the big house on the slope of the hill. Captain Zeb took +him up into what he called his "cupoler," the observatory on the top of +the house, and showed him Trumet spread out like a map. The main road +was north and south, winding and twisting its rutted, sandy way. Along +it were clustered the principal houses and shops, shaded by silver-leaf +poplars, a few elms, and some willows and spruces. Each tree bent +slightly away from the northeast, the direction from which blew the +heavy winter gales. Beyond the main road were green slopes and pastures, +with swamps in the hollows, swamps which were to be cranberry bogs in +the days to come. Then the lower road, with more houses, and, farther +on, the beach, the flats--partially uncovered because it was high +tide--and the bay. + +Behind the Mayo house was the crest of Cannon Hill, more hills, pastures +and swamps, scattered houses and pine groves. Then began the tumbled, +humped waste of sand dunes, and, over their ragged fringes of beach plum +and bayberry bushes, the deep blue of the wide Atlantic. The lighthouse +was a white dot and the fish shanties a blotch of brown. Along the inner +edge of the blue were scars of dancing white, the flashing teeth of +hungry shoals which had torn to pieces and swallowed many a good ship. +And, far out, dotted and sprinkled along the horizon, were sails. + +"See?" said Captain Zeb, puffing still from the exertion of climbing +the ladder to the "cupoler," for he was distinctly "fleshy." "See? The +beacon's up. Packet come in this mornin'. There she is. See her down +there by the breakwater?" + +Sure enough, the empty barrel, painted red, was hoisted to the top of +its pole on the crest of Cannon Hill. And, looking down at the bay and +following the direction of the stubby pointing finger, Ellery saw a +little schooner, with her sails lowered, lying, slightly on her side, +in a shallow pool near a long ridge of piled stones--the breakwater. A +small wharf made out from the shore and black figures moved briskly upon +it. Carts were alongside the schooner and there more dots were busy. + +"Eben's pennant's flyin'," said Captain Zeb. "He always sets colors +when the packet's in. Keeps packet tavern, Eben does. That's it, that +old-fashioned, gambrel-roofed house on the rise by the wharf. Call it +'Saints' Rest,' they do now, 'cause Eben's so mighty religious." + +The minister saw the long, rambling house, with one lonely, twisted tree +in its yard, a flag flying from a pole beside it. So that was where +the Hammonds lived. And where the girl lived who was certain he was a +"conceited snippet." Whatever he might be in reality he hoped it was not +that. "Snippet" was not in his dictionary, but he didn't like the sound +of it. + +"Who owns the packet?" he asked, to make conversation. + +"Zach Foster. Married Freewill Doane's daughter over to Harniss. She's +dead now." + +"A good sailor, is he?" + +Captain Zeb spat in supreme disgust. + +"Good farmer!" he snorted. "Zach took over the packet for a debt when +the chap that used to run her died. His dad, old man Foster, raised +garden truck at the same time mine went to sea. Both of us took after +our fathers, I guess. Anyhow, my wife says that when I die 'twill be of +salt water on the brain, and I'm sure Zach's head is part cabbage. Been +better for him if he'd stuck to his garden. However, I s'pose he does +his best." + +"They say angels can do no more." + +"Um-m. Well, Zach'll be an angel pretty soon if he keeps on cruisin' +with that old hooker as she is. 'Bijah Perry, he's mate and the only +good seaman aboard, tells me that most of the riggin's rotten and the +main topmast ain't sound, by a good deal. The old man's put off havin' +her overhauled for two reasons, one that repairs cost money, and t'other +that puttin' off is the main sheet of his gospel. When there's no rain +the roof don't leak and long's it don't blow too hard 'most any kind of +gear'll hold. That's philosophy--cabbage philosophy." + +Ellery decided that he should like Captain Zeb, although it was evident +that the old whaler had decided opinions of his own which he did not +hesitate to express. He judged that the Mayos were of the so-called +aristocracy, but undoubtedly unique specimens. He visited four more +households that afternoon. The last call was at Mrs. Thankful Payne's, +and while there, listening to the wonderful "poem," he saw Miss Van +Horne pass the window, as has already been told. He came home to a Cape +Cod supper of scalloped clams, hot biscuits, and baked Indian pudding, +and Keziah greeted him with a cheery smile which made him feel that it +WAS home. His summary disposal of the "chart" had evidently raised him +in his housekeeper's estimation. She did not ask a single question as to +where he had been. + +Next day he had a taste of Trumet's real aristocracy, the genuine +article. Captain Elkanah Daniels and his daughter made their first +formal call. The captain was majestic in high hat, fur-collared cape, +tailed coat, and carrying a gold-headed cane. Miss Annabel wore her +newest gown and bonnet and rustled as she walked. They entered the +sitting room and the lady glanced superciliously about the apartment. + +"Hum--ha!" barked Captain Elkanah. "Ahem! Mr. Ellery, I trust you're +being made comfortable. The parish committee are--hum--ah--anxious that +you should be. Yes?" + +The minister said that he was very comfortable indeed. + +"It isn't what you've been used to, we know," observed Miss Annabel. +"Mr. Langley, our former pastor, was a sweet old gentleman, but he was +old-fashioned and his tastes were queer, especially in art. Have you +noticed that 'fruit piece' in the dining room? Isn't it too ridiculous?" + +Ellery admitted that the fruit piece was rather funny; but no doubt it +had been a gift and so + +--"Yes, indeed. I guess it was a present, fast enough. Nobody would buy +such a thing. It seems strange to pa and me that, although so many of +our people have been abroad, they have such strange ideas of art. Do you +remember the beautiful marbles in the palaces at Florence, Mr. Ellery? +Of course you've seen them?" + +The minister was obliged to admit that he had never been abroad. + +"Oh, is that so? I've been so many times with pa that it seems almost +as if everybody was as familiar with Yurrup as I am. You remember what I +said about the marbles, pa?" + +Her parent nodded. + +"Hum--ha! Oh, yes, yes," he said. "That was when I was in the +fruit-carrying trade and made a voyage to Valenchy." + +"Valencia, pa," corrected Annabel. "And Valencia is in Spain." + +"I know it. But we went to Leghorn afterwards. I sailed to Cronstadt for +some years regular. Cronstadt is in Rooshy, Mr. Ellery." + +"Russia, pa," snapped his daughter. Then she changed the subject to +church and parish affairs. They spoke of the sewing circle and the +reading society and the Friday-evening meetings. + +"The Come-Outers are so vexed with us," tittered Miss Annabel, "that +they won't even hold prayer meeting on the same night as ours. They have +theirs on Thursday nights and it's as good as a play to hear them shout +and sing and carry on. You'll enjoy the Come-Outers, Mr. Ellery. They're +a perfect delight." + +And as they rose to go Captain Elkanah asked: + +"Is there anything you'd like done about the parsonage, Mr. Ellery? +If so, it shall be done immejitly. How are you satisfied with your +housekeeper?" + +"Very well, indeed, Captain Daniels," was the prompt reply. + +"She's a character, isn't she?" giggled Annabel. "She was born here +in Trumet, but went away to New Bedford when she was young and grew up +there. Her maiden name was Hall, but while she was away she married a +man named Ansel Coffin. They didn't live together very long and weren't +happy, I guess. I don't know whose fault it was, nobody knows much +of anything about it, for that's the one thing she won't talk about. +Anyhow, the Coffin man was lost to sea, and after a while she came back +to keep house for her brother Solomon. She's an awful odd stick, but +she's a good cook, I believe; though I'm afraid you won't get the meals +people such as ourselves, who've been so much in the city, are used to." + +Ellery thought of the meals at his city boarding house and shuddered. He +was an orphan and had boarded for years. Incidentally, he had worked his +way through college. Captain Elkanah cleared his throat. + +"Keziah," he commanded. "Hum--ha! Keziah, come in here a minute." + +Keziah came in response to the call, her sewing in her hand. The +renovation of the parsonage had so far progressed that she could now +find time for a little sewing, after the dinner dishes were done. + +"Keziah," said the captain pompously, "we expect you to look out for Mr. +Ellery in every respect. The parish committee expects that--yes." + +"I'll try," said Mrs. Coffin shortly. + +"Yes. Well, that's all. You can go. We must be going, too, Mr. +Ellery. Please consider our house at your disposal any time. Be +neighborly--hum--ha!--be neighborly." + +"Yes," purred Annabel. "DO come and see us often. Congenial society is +very scarce in Trumet, for me especially. We can read together. Are you +fond of Moore, Mr. Ellery? I just dote on him." + +The last "hum--ha" was partially drowned by the click of the gate. +Keziah closed the dining-room door. + +"Mrs. Coffin," said the minister, "I shan't trouble the parish +committee. Be sure of that. I'm perfectly satisfied." + +Keziah sat down in the rocker and her needle moved very briskly for a +moment. Then she said, without looking up: + +"That's good. I own up I like to hear you say it. And I am glad there +are some things I do like about this new place of mine. Because--well, +because there's likely to be others that I shan't like at all." + +On Friday evening the minister conducted his first prayer meeting. +Before it, and afterwards, he heard a good deal concerning the +Come-Outers. He learned that Captain Eben Hammond had preached against +him in the chapel on Sunday. Most of his own parishioners seemed to +think it a good joke. + +"Stir 'em up, Mr. Ellery," counseled Lavinia Pepper. "Stir 'em up! Don't +be afraid to answer em from the pulpit and set 'em where they belong. +Ignorant, bigoted things!" + +Others gave similar counsel. The result was that the young man became +still more interested in these people who seemed to hate him and all he +stood for so profoundly. He wished he might hear their side of the case +and judge it for himself. It may as well be acknowledged now that John +Ellery had a habit of wishing to judge for himself. This is not always a +politic habit in a country minister. + +The sun of the following Thursday morning rose behind a curtain of fog +as dense as that of the day upon which Ellery arrived. A flat calm in +the forenoon, the wind changed about three o'clock and, beginning with +a sharp and sudden squall from the northwest, blew hard and steady. Yet +the fog still cloaked everything and refused to be blown away. + +"There's rain astern," observed Captain Zeb, with the air of authority +which belongs to seafaring men when speaking of the weather. "We'll get +a hard, driving rain afore mornin', you see. Then, if she still holds +from the northwest'ard, it'll fair off fine." + +"Goin' out in this, Mr. Ellery!" exclaimed Keziah, in amazement, as the +minister put on his hat and coat about seven that evening. "Sakes alive! +you won't be able to see the way to the gate. It's as dark as a nigger's +pocket and thicker than young ones in a poor man's family, as my father +used to say. You'll be wet through. Where in the world are you bound for +THIS night?" + +The minister equivocated. He said he had been in the house all day and +felt like a walk. + +"Well, take an umbrella, then," was the housekeeper's advice. "You'll +need it before you get back, I cal'late." + +It was dark enough and thick enough, in all conscience. The main road +was a black, wet void, through which gleams from lighted windows were +but vague, yellow blotches. The umbrella was useful in the same way +that a blind man's cane is useful, in feeling the way. The two or +three stragglers who met the minister carried lanterns. One of these +stragglers was Mr. Pepper. Kyan was astonished. + +"Well, I snum!" cried Kyan, raising the lantern. "If 'tain't Mr. Ellery. +Where you bound this kind of night?" + +Before the minister could answer, a stately figure appeared and joined +the pair. Lavinia, of course. + +"Well, Mr. Ellery," she said. "Ain't you lost, out in this fog? Anybody +sick?" + +No, no one was sick. + +"That's a mercy. Goin' callin', be you?" + +"No." + +"Hum! Queer weather for a walk, I call it. Won't be many out to-night, +except Come-Outers goin' to holler their lungs loose at prayer meetin'. +He, he! You ain't turned Come-Outer, have you, Mr. Ellery? You've headed +right for the chapel." + +Ellery's reply was hurried and a bit confused. He said good night and +went on. + +"Laviny," whispered the shocked Kyan, "do you think that was +a--er--polite thing to say to a parson? That about his turnin' +Come-Outer? He didn't make much answer, seemed to me. You don't think he +was mad, do ye?" + +"I don't care if he was," snorted Miss Pepper. "He could tell a body +where he was goin' then. Nobody can snub me, minister or not. I think +he's kind of stuck-up, if you want to know, and if he is, he'll get took +down in a hurry. Come along, don't stand there with your mouth open like +a flytrap. I'd like to know what he was up to. I've a precious good mind +to follow him; would if 'twa'n't so much trouble." + +She didn't. Yet, if she had, she would have deemed the trouble worth +while. For John Ellery stumbled on through the mist till he reached the +"Corners" where the store was located and the roads forked. There, he +turned to the right, into the way called locally "Hammond's Turn-off." +A short distance down the "Turn-off" stood a small, brown-shingled +building, its windows alight. Opposite its door, on the other side of +the road, grew a spreading hornbeam tree surrounded by a cluster of +swamp blackberry bushes. In the black shadow of the hornbeam Mr. Ellery +stood still. He was debating in his mind a question: should he or should +he not enter that building? + +As he stood there, groups of people emerged from the fog and darkness +and passed in at the door. Some of them he had seen during his fortnight +in Trumet. Others were strangers to him. A lantern danced and wabbled up +the "Turn-off" from the direction of the bay shore and the packet wharf. +It drew near, and he saw that it was carried by an old man with long +white hair and chin beard, who walked with a slight limp. Beside him was +a thin woman wearing a black poke bonnet and a shawl. In the rear of +the pair came another woman, a young woman, judging by the way she was +dressed and her lithe, vigorous step. The trio halted on the platform of +the building. The old man blew out the lantern. Then he threw the door +open and a stream of yellow light poured over the group. + +The young woman was Grace Van Horne. The minister recognized her at +once. Undoubtedly, the old man with the limp was her guardian, Captain +Eben Hammond, who, by common report, had spoken of him, Ellery, as a +"hired priest." + +The door closed. A few moments thereafter the sound of a squeaky +melodeon came from within the building. It wailed and quavered and +groaned. Then, with a suddenness that was startling, came the first +verse of a hymn, sung with tremendous enthusiasm: + + "Oh, who shall answer when the Lord shall call + His ransomed sinners home?" + +The hallelujah chorus was still ringing when the watcher across the +street stepped out from the shadow of the hornbeam. Without a pause he +strode over to the platform. Another moment and the door had shut behind +him. + +The minister of the Trumet Regular church had entered the Come-Outer +chapel to attend a Come-Outer prayer meeting! + + +CHAPTER V + +IN WHICH THE PARSON CRUISES IN STRANGE WATERS + + +The Come-Outer chapel was as bare inside, almost, as it was without. +Bare wooden walls, a beamed ceiling, a raised platform at one end with +a table and chairs and the melodeon upon it, rows of wooden settees for +the congregation--that was all. As the minister entered, the worshipers +were standing up to sing. Three or four sputtering oil lamps but dimly +illumined the place and made recognition uncertain. + +The second verse of the hymn was just beginning as Ellery came in. Most +of the forty or more grown people in the chapel were too busy wrestling +with the tune to turn and look at him. A child here and there in the +back row twisted a curious neck but twisted back again as parental +fingers tugged at its ear. The minister tiptoed to a dark corner and +took his stand in front of a vacant settee. + +The man whom Ellery had decided must be Captain Eben Hammond was +standing on the low platform beside the table. A quaint figure, +patriarchal with its flowing white hair and beard, puritanical with its +set, smooth-shaven lips and tufted brows. Captain Eben held an open hymn +book back in one hand and beat time with the other. He wore brass-bowed +spectacles well down toward the tip of his nose. Swinging a heavy, +stubby finger and singing in a high, quavering voice of no particular +register, he led off the third verse: + + "Oh, who shall weep when the roll is called + And who shall shout for joy?" + +The melodeon and the hymn book were in accord as to the tune, but +Captain Eben and the various members of the congregation seemed to have +a desire to improvise. They sang with spirit, however, and the rhythmic +pat of feet grew louder and louder. Here and there men and women were +swaying and rocking their bodies in time to the music. The chorus for +each verse was louder than the one preceding it. + +Another hymn was given out and sung. And another and still another. The +windows rattled. The patting grew to a steady "thump! thump!" Momentary +pauses between lines were punctuated by hallelujahs and amens. Standing +directly in front of the minister was a six-foot, raw-boned individual +whose clothes smelled strongly of fish, and whose hands, each swung +at the end of an exposed five inches of hairy red wrist, looked like +flippers. At the end of the third hymn this personage sprang straight up +into the air, cracked the heels of a pair of red cowhide boots together, +and whooped: "Glory be! Send the PAOWER!" in a voice like the screech +of a northeast gale. Mr. Ellery, whom this gymnastic feat had taken by +surprise, jumped in sympathy, although not as high. + +The singing over, the worshipers sat down. Captain Eben took a +figured handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. The thin, +nearsighted young woman who had been humped over the keyboard of the +melodeon, straightened up. The worshipers relaxed a little and began to +look about. + +Then the captain adjusted his spectacles and opened a Bible, which he +took from the table beside him. Clearing his throat, he announced that +he would read from the Word, tenth chapter of Jeremiah: + +"'Thus saith the Lord. Learn not the way of the heathen, and be not +dismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed at them. + +"'For the customs of the people are vain: for one cutteth a tree out of +the forest, the work of the hands of the workmen, with the ax.'" + +He read in a measured singsong, stopping occasionally to hold the book +in a better light and peering at the fine print through his spectacles. +And as he read, there was a sudden rustle on one of the back benches. A +child had turned, stared, and pulled at its mother's sleeve. The rustle +grew and spread. + +Captain Eben drawled on to the twentieth verse: + +"'My tabernacle is spoiled and all my cords are broken: my children are +gone forth from me, and they are not: there is none to stretch forth my +tent any more, and to set up my curtains! + +"'For the pastors are become brutish and have not sought the Lord: +therefore they shall not prosper, and--'" + +"A-MEN!" + +The shout came from the second bench from the front, where Ezekiel +Bassett, clam digger and fervent religionist, was always to be found on +meeting nights. Ezekiel was the father of Susannah B. Bassett, "Sukey +B." for short, who played the melodeon. He had been, by successive +seizures, a Seventh Day Baptist, a Second Adventist, a Millerite, a +Regular, and was now the most energetic of Come-Outers. Later he was to +become a Spiritualist and preside at table-tipping seances. + +Ezekiel's amen was so sudden and emphatic that it startled the reader +into looking up. Instead of the faces of his congregation, he found +himself treated to a view of their back hair. Nearly every head +was turned toward the rear corner of the room, there was a buzz of +whispering and, in front, many men and women were standing up to look. +Captain Eben was scandalized. + +"Well!" he exclaimed. "Is this a prayer meetin' or--or--what? Brethren +and sisters, I must say--" + +Ezekiel Bassett stepped forward and whispered in his ear. The +captain's expression of righteous indignation changed to one of blank +astonishment. He, too, gazed at the dark corner. Then his lips tightened +and he rapped smartly on the table. + +"Brethren and sisters," he thundered, in the voice which, of old, had +enforced obedience aboard his coasting schooner, "remember this is the +house of the Lord. Be reverent!" + +He waited until every eye had swung about to meet his. Then he regarded +his abashed but excited hearers with a steady and prolonged stare. + +"My friends," he said, "let us bow in prayer." + +John Ellery could have repeated that prayer, almost word for word, years +after that night. The captain prayed for the few here gathered together: +Let them be steadfast. Let them be constant in the way. The path they +were treading might be narrow and beset with thorns, but it was the path +leading to glory. + +"Scoffers may sneer," he declared, his voice rising; "they may make a +mock of us, they may even come into Thy presence to laugh at us, but +theirs is the laugh that turns to groanin'. O Lord, strengthen us +to-night to speak what's in our hearts, without fear." ("A-men!") "To +prophesy in Thy name! To bid the mockers and them that dare--dare to +profane this sanctuary be careful. Hired singers and trumpets and vain +shows we have not" ("Thank the Lord! Amen!"), "but the true faith and +the joy of it we do have." ("Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Glory!") + +And so on, his remarks becoming more personal and ever pointing like +a compass needle to the occupant of that seat in the corner. The +minister's determination to attend a Come-Outer meeting, though it had +reached the sticking point only a half hour before, was the result of +considerable deliberation. He had argued with himself and had made up +his mind to find out for himself just what these people did. He was +finding out, certainly. His motives were good and he had come with no +desire to scoff, but, for the life of him, he could not help feeling +like a criminal. Incidentally, it provoked him to feel that way. + +"O Lord," prayed Captain Hammond, the perspiration in beads on his +forehead, "Thou hast said that the pastors become brutish and have not +sought Thee and that they shan't prosper. Help us tonight to labor with +this one that he may see his error and repent in sackcloth and ashes." + +They sang once more, a hymn that prophesied woe to the unbeliever. +Then Ezekiel Bassett rose to "testify." The testimony was mainly to the +effect that he was happy because he had fled to the ark of safety while +there was yet time. + +"I found out," he shouted, "that fancy music and--ah--and--ah--sot +sermons and fine duds and suchlike wa'n't goin' to do ME no good. +I needed somethin' else. I needed good times in my religion" +("Hallelujah!") "and I've found 'em right here. Yes, sir! right here. +And I say this out loud," turning to glare at the intruder, "and I don't +care who comes to poke fun at me for sayin' it." ("Amen!") + +A sharp-nosed female followed Mr. Bassett. She spoke with evident +feeling and in a voice that trembled and shook when her emotion carried +it aloft. SHE'D had enough of high-toned religion. Yes, and of them that +upheld it. When her brother Simeon was took bad with phthisic, "wheezin' +like a busted bellerses" and 'twas "up and down, trot, trot, trot," to +fetch and carry for him day in and night out, did the folks from the +Reg'lar church help her? She guessed NOT. The only one that came nigh +her was Laviny Pepper, and she came only to gas and gabble and find out +things that wa'n't none of her business. What help she got was from +a Come-Outer, from Eben Hammond, bless his good soul! ("Amen!") That +phthisic settled her for Reg'larism. Yes, and for them that preached it, +too. So there! + +Captain Eben called for more testimony. But the testifiers were, to use +the old minstrel joke, backward in coming forward that evening. At an +ordinary meeting, by this time, the shouts and enthusiasm would have +been at their height and half a dozen Come-Outers on their feet at once, +relating their experiences and proclaiming their happiness. But tonight +there was a damper; the presence of the leader of the opposition cast a +shadow over the gathering. Only the bravest attempted speech. The others +sat silent, showing their resentment and contempt by frowning glances +over their shoulders and portentous nods one to the other. + +"Come, brethren," commanded the captain sharply; "we are waitin' to hear +you. Are you afraid? If your faith is real, nothin' nor nobody should +keep you from cryin' it out loud. Now, if ever, is the accepted time. +Speak up for the spirit that's in you." + +An elderly man, grave and quiet, arose and said a few words, dignified +and solemn words of prayer and thankfulness for the comfort this little +society of true believers had been to him. Ellery realized that here +was another sort of Come-Outer, one of the Hammond type. Evidently, they +were not all like Ezekiel and the shrill-voiced woman. + +Then, from the settee in front of him, rose the lengthy and fishy person +with the cowhide boots and enormous hands. His name was Josiah Badger +and he was, according to Trumet's estimate, "a little mite lackin' in +his top riggin'." He stuttered, and this infirmity became more and more +apparent as he grew eloquent. + +"I--I ain't afraid," he proclaimed. "They can call me a C-C-Come-Outer +all they want to. I--I don't care if they do. Let 'em, I say; l-let 'em! +They can p-p-poke their fun and p-p-p-pup-pup-poke it, but I tell 'em +to h-heave ahead and p-pup-pup-POKE. When I used to g-go to their old +Reg'lar meetin' house, all I done was to go to sleep. But I don't go +to sleep here, glory hallelujah! No, sir! There's too much b-b-blessed +noise and we have too g-good times to g-go to sleep here. That old +K-Kyan Pepper called me t-town f-fool t'other day. T-tut-town fool's +what he called me. Says I to him, says I: 'You-you-y-you ain't got spunk +enough to be a fool,' I says, 'unless Laviny says you c-can be. You old +Reg'lar p-p-pepper shaker, you!" + +By this time tee-hees from the children and chuckles from some of the +older members interfered with Mr. Badger's fervent but jerky discourse. +Captain Eben struck the table smartly. + +"Silence!" he thundered. "Silence! Brother Badger, I beg your pardon for +'em. Go on!" + +But Josiah's train of thought had evidently been derailed by the +interruption. + +"I--I--I cal'late that's about all," he stammered and sat down. + +The captain looked over the meeting. + +"I'm ashamed," he said, "ashamed of the behavior of some of us in the +Lord's house. This has been a failure, this service of ours. We have +kept still when we should have justified our faith, and allowed the +presence of a stranger to interfere with our duty to the Almighty. And +I will say," he added, his voice rising and trembling with indignation, +"to him who came here uninvited and broke up this meetin', that it would +be well for him to remember the words of Scriptur', 'Woe unto ye, false +prophets and workers of iniquity.' Let him remember what the Divine +wisdom put into my head to read to-night: 'The pastors have become +brutish and have not sought the Lord; therefore they shall not +prosper.'" + +"Amen!" "Amen!" "Amen!" "So be it!" The cries came from all parts of the +little room. They ceased abruptly, for John Ellery was on his feet. + +"Captain Hammond," he said, "I realize that I have no right to speak in +this building, but I must say one word. My coming here to-night may have +been a mistake; I'm inclined to think it was. But I came not, as you +seem to infer, to sneer or to scoff; certainly I had no wish to disturb +your service. I came because I had heard repeatedly, since my arrival +in this town, of this society and its meetings. I had heard, too, that +there seemed to be a feeling of antagonism, almost hatred, against me +among you here. I couldn't see why. Most of you have, I believe, been at +one time members of the church where I preach. I wished to find out for +myself how much of truth there was in the stories I had heard and to +see if a better feeling between the two societies might not be brought +about. Those were my reasons for coming here to-night. As for my being +a false prophet and a worker of iniquity"--he smiled--"well, there is +another verse of Scripture I would call to your attention: 'Judge not, +that ye be not judged.'" + +He sat down. There was silence for a moment and then a buzz of +whispering. Captain Eben, who had heard him with a face of iron +hardness, rapped the table. + +"We will sing in closin'," he said, "the forty-second hymn. After which +the benediction will be pronounced." + +The Regular minister left the Come-Outers' meeting with the unpleasant +conviction that he had blundered badly. His visit, instead of tending +toward better understanding and more cordial relationship, had +been regarded as an intrusion. He had been provoked into a public +justification, and now he was quite sure that he would have been more +politic to remain silent. He realized that the evening's performance +would cause a sensation and be talked about all over town. The +Come-Outers would glory in their leader's denunciation of him, and his +own people would perhaps feel that it served him right. If he had only +told Mrs. Coffin of what he intended to do. Yet he had not told her +because he meant to do it anyhow. Altogether it was a rather humiliating +business. + +So that old bigot was the Van Horne girl's "uncle." It hardly seemed +possible that she, who appeared so refined and ladylike when he met her +at the parsonage, should be a member of that curious company. When +he rose to speak he had seen her in the front row, beside the thin, +middle-aged female who had entered the chapel with Captain Hammond and +with her. She was looking at him intently. The lamp over the speaker's +table had shone full on her face and the picture remained in his memory. +He saw her eyes and the wavy shadows of her hair on her forehead. + +He stepped off the platform, across the road, out of the way of +homeward-bound Come-Outers, and stood there, thinking. The fog was +as heavy and wet as ever; in fact, it was almost a rain. The wind +was blowing hard from the northwest. The congregation dispersed in +chattering groups, their lanterns dipping and swinging like fireflies. +The chatter dealt entirely with one subject--himself. He heard his name +mentioned at least twenty times. Out of the gusty, dripping blackness +came Mr. Badger's voice. + +"By time!" crowed Josiah, "he was took down a few p-p-pup-pegs, wa'n't +he! My! how Eben did g-gi-gi-give it to him. He looked toler'ble white +under the gills when he riz up to heave out his s-s-sus-sassy talk. And +foolish, too. I cal'late I won't be the only town fuf-fuf-fool from now +on. He! he!" + +The noises died away in the distance. Within the chapel the tramp +of heavy boots sounded as the lights were blown out, one by one. The +minister frowned, sighed, and turned homeward. It is not pleasant to be +called a fool, even by a recognized member of the fraternity. + +He had taken but a few steps when there was a rustle in the wet grass +behind him. + +"Mr. Ellery," whispered a voice, "Mr. Ellery, may I speak to you just a +moment?" + +He wheeled in surprise. + +"Why! why, Miss Van Horne!" he exclaimed. "Is it you?" + +"Mr. Ellery," she began, speaking hurriedly and in a low voice, "I--I +felt that I must say a word to you before--" + +She paused and glanced back at the chapel. Ezekiel Bassett, the janitor, +having extinguished the last lamp, had emerged from the door and was +locking up. In another moment he clumped past them in the middle of the +road, the circle of light from his lantern just missing them as they +stood in the grass at the side under the hornbeam and blackberry bushes. +He was alone; Sukey B. had gone on before, other and younger masculine +escort having been providentially provided. + +Mr. Bassett was out of hearing before Grace finished her sentence. The +minister was silent, waiting and wondering. + +"I felt," she said, "that I must see you and--explain. I am SO sorry you +came here to-night. Oh, I wish you hadn't. What made you do it?" + +"I came," began Ellery, somewhat stiffly, "because I--well, because I +thought it might be a good thing to do. As I said--" + +"Yes, I know. But it wasn't. It was so--so--" + +"So foolish. Thank you, I'm aware of it. I've heard myself called a +fool already since I left your church. Not that I needed to hear it. I +realize the fact." + +There was a bitterness in his tone, unmistakable. And a little laugh +from his companion did not tend to soothe his feelings. + +"Thank you," he said. "Perhaps it is funny. I did not find it so. Good +evening." + +This was priggish, but it must be borne in mind that John Ellery was +very, very fresh from the theological school, where young divines are +taught to take themselves seriously. He was ashamed of himself as soon +as he said it, which proved that his case was not beyond hope. + +The girl detained him as he was turning away. + +"I wasn't laughing at that," she said. "I know who called you that--that +name. It was Josiah Badger, and he really is one, you know. I was +thinking of his testimony in meeting and how he called Ky--Abishai--a +pepper shaker. That was ridiculous enough, but it reminded me of +something else about Mr. Pepper, and I HAD to laugh. It wasn't at you, +truly." + +So the minister begged her pardon; also he remained where he was, and +heard the drops from the tree patter hollow on his hat. + +"I came after you," went on Grace rapidly and with nervous haste, +"because I felt that you ought not to misjudge my uncle for what he said +to-night. He wouldn't have hurt your feelings for the world. He is a +good man and does good to everybody. If you only knew the good he does +do, you wouldn't--you wouldn't DARE think hardly of him." + +She stamped her foot in the wet grass as she said it. She was evidently +in earnest. But Ellery was not in the mood to be greatly impressed +by Eben Hammond's charity or innate goodness. The old tavern keeper's +references to himself were too fresh in his mind. "False prophet" and +"worker of iniquity!" + +"I'm not judging your uncle," he declared. "It seemed to me that the +boot was on the other leg." + +"I know, but you do judge him, and you mustn't. You see, he thought +you had come to make fun of him--and us. Some of the Regular people do, +people who aren't fit to tie his shoes. And so he spoke against you. +He'll be sorry when he thinks it over. That's what I came to tell you. I +ask your pardon for--for him." + +"Why--why, that's all right. I think I understood--" + +"I'm not asking it because he's a Come-Outer and you're a Regular +minister. He isn't ashamed of his religion. Neither am I. I'm a +Come-Outer, too." + +"Yes. I--I supposed you were." + +"Yes, I am. There, good night, Mr. Ellery. All I ask is that you don't +think too hardly of uncle. He didn't mean it." + +She turned away now, and it was the minister who detained her. + +"I've been thinking," he said slowly, for in his present state of mind +it was a hard thing to say, "that perhaps I ought to apologize, too. +I'm afraid I did disturb your service and I'm sorry. I meant well, +but--What's that? Rain?" + +There was no doubt about it; it was rain and plenty of it. It came in +a swooping downpour that beat upon the trees and bushes and roared upon +the roof of the chapel. The minister hurriedly raised his umbrella. + +"Here!" he cried, "let me--Miss Van Horne! Where are you?" + +The answer came from a short distance down the "Turn-off." + +"Good night," called the girl. "I must run." + +Evidently, she WAS running. Therefore the young man ran after her. He +caught up with her in a moment, in spite of some stumbles over the rough +road. + +"Here!" he commanded, "you must take the umbrella. Really, you must. You +haven't one and you'll be wet through." + +She pushed the umbrella aside. + +"No, no," she answered. "I don't need it; I'm used to wet weather; truly +I am. And I don't care for this hat; it's an old one. You have a long +way to go and I haven't. Please, Mr. Ellery, I can't take it." + +"Very well," was the sternly self-sacrificing reply, "then I shall +certainly go with you." + +"But I don't wish you to." + +"I can't help that. I'm not going to let you go unprotected through +this flood. Especially as you might have been at home before this if you +hadn't stopped to speak with me." + +"But you mustn't." + +"I shall." + +Here was the irresistible force and the immovable object. They stood +stock still in the middle of the road, while the rain drops jumped as +they struck the umbrella top. The immovable object, being feminine, +voiced the unexpected. + +"All right," she said; "then I suppose I shall have to take it." + +"What?" + +"The umbrella. I'm sorry, and you'll get dreadfully wet, but it's your +own fault." + +He could feel her hand near his own on the handle. He did not relinquish +his grasp. + +"No," he said. "I think, on the whole, that that is unreasonable. I +SHOULD get wet and, though I don't mind it when it is necessary, I--" + +"Well?" rather sharply, "what are you going to do?" + +"Go with you as far as your gate. I'm sorry, if my company is +distasteful, but--" + +He did not finish the sentence, thinking, it may be, that she might +finish it for him. But she was silent, merely removing her hand from the +handle. She took a step forward; he followed, holding the umbrella above +her head. They plashed on, without speaking, through the rapidly forming +puddles. + +Presently she stumbled and he caught her arm to prevent her falling. To +his surprise he felt that arm shake in his grasp. + +"Why, Miss Van Horne!" he exclaimed in great concern, "are you crying? +I beg your pardon. Of course I wouldn't think of going another step with +you. I didn't mean to trouble you. I only--If you will please take this +umbrella--" + +Again he tried to transfer the umbrella and again she pushed it away. + +"I--I'm not crying," she gasped; "but--oh, dear! this is SO funny!" + +Mr. Ellery gazed blankly at her through the rain-streaked dark. This was +the most astonishing young person he had met in his twenty-three years +of worldly experience. + +"Funny!" he repeated. "Well, perhaps it is. Our ideas of fun seem to +differ. I--" + +"Oh, but it IS so funny. You don't understand. What do you think your +congregation would say if they knew you had been to a Come-Outers' +meeting and then insisted on seeing a Come-Outer girl home?" + +John Ellery swallowed hard. A vision of Captain Elkanah Daniels and the +stately Miss Annabel rose before his mind's eye. He hadn't thought of +his congregation in connection with this impromptu rescue of a damsel in +distress. + +"Ha, ha!" he laughed mournfully. "I guess it is rather funny, after +all." + +"It certainly is. Now will you leave me and go back to your parsonage?" + +"Not unless you take the umbrella." + +"Very well. It is a beautiful evening for a walk, don't you think so? +Mr. Ellery, I'm afraid we shan't have you with us in Trumet very long." + +"Why not?" + +"Oh, because you're so very, very original. Are your sermons that way, +too? Captain Elkanah doesn't like his ministers to be too original." + +The minister set his teeth. At that moment he felt an intense desire +to bid the Daniels family mind their own business. Then another thought +struck him. + +"Possibly your Uncle Eben might be somewhat--er--surprised if he +knew you were with me. Perhaps he might have something to say on the +subject." + +"I guess he would. We shall know very soon. I ran away and left him with +Mrs. Poundberry, our housekeeper. He doesn't know where I am. I wonder +he hasn't turned back to look for me before this. We shall probably meet +him at any moment." + +She seemed to enjoy the prospect of the meeting. Ellery wondered what on +earth he should say to Captain Hammond--that is, provided he was allowed +to say anything. + +Suddenly a heavier gust of rain and wind beat upon them. The minister +struggled with the umbrella. The gust passed and with it the fog. An +instant before it had been all about them, shutting them within inky +walls. Now it was not. Through the rain he could see the shadowy +silhouettes of bushes at the road side. Fifty yards away the lighted +windows of the Hammond tavern gleamed yellow. Farther on, over a ragged, +moving fringe of grass and weeds, was a black flat expanse--the bay. And +a little way out upon that expanse twinkled the lights of a vessel. A +chain rattled. Voices shouting exultingly came to their ears. + +"Why!" exclaimed Grace in excited wonder, "it's the packet! She was due +this morning, but we didn't expect her in till to-morrow. How did she +find her way in the fog? I must tell uncle." + +She started to run toward the house. The minister would have followed +with the umbrella, but she stopped him. + +"No, Mr. Ellery," she urged earnestly. "No, please don't. I'm all right +now. Thank you. Good night." + +A few steps farther on she turned. + +"I hope Cap'n Elkanah won't know," she whispered, the laugh returning to +her voice. "Good night." + +Ellery stood still in the rain and watched her. He saw her pass the +lighted windows and open a door. Into the yellow radiance she flashed +and disappeared. A minute more and the bulky form of Eben Hammond, +lantern in hand, a sou'wester on his head and his shoulders working +themselves into an oilskin coat, burst out of the door and hurriedly +limped down toward the shore. On the threshold, framed in light, stood +his ward, gazing after him. And the minister gazed at her. + +From the bay came the sound of oars in row-locks. A boat was approaching +the wharf. And suddenly from the boat came a hail. + +"Halloo! Ahoy, dad! Is that you?" + +There was an answering shout from the wharf; a shout of joy. Then +a rattle of oars and a clamor of talk. And Grace still stood in the +doorway, waiting. + +The lantern bobbed up the slope. As it reached the tavern gateway, the +minister saw that it was now carried by a tall, active man, who walked +with a seaman's stride and roll. Captain Eben was close beside him, +talking excitedly. + +They entered the yard. + +"Grace! Grace!" screamed Captain Eben. "Gracie, girl, look who's come! +Look!" + +The tall man ran forward. + +"Hi, Grace!" he cried in a deep, hearty voice. "Is that you? Ain't you +got a word for your old messmate?" + +The girl stepped out into the rain. + +"Why! why, NAT!" she cried. + +The big man picked her up bodily in his arms and carried her into the +house. Captain Eben followed and the door closed. + +John Ellery picked his way homeward through the puddles and the pouring +rain. + +He found Keziah in the sitting room, seated by the table, evidently +writing a letter. She looked tired and grave--for her. + +"Well!" she exclaimed as he entered. "I guess you're soppin' now, sartin +sure. There's a light in your room. Take off your wet things and throw +'em down to me, and I'll dry 'em in the kitchen. Better leave your boots +here now and stand that umbrella in the sink. The kettle's on the stove; +you'd better have somethin' hot--ginger tea or somethin'. I told you not +to go out such a night as this. Where in the world have you been?" + +The minister said he would tell her all about it in the morning. Just +now he thought he had better go up and take off his wet clothes. He +declined the ginger tea, and, after removing his boots, went upstairs to +his room. + +Keziah dipped her pen in the ink and went on with her letter. + +"I inclose ten dollars," she wrote. "It is all I can send you now. More +than I ought to afford. Goodness knows why I send anything. You don't +deserve it. But while I live and you do I can't--" + +The minister called from the landing. + +"Here is my coat," he said. "The cuffs and lower part of the sleeves are +pretty wet. By the way, the packet came in to-night. They didn't expect +her so soon on account of the fog. There was a passenger aboard whom I +think must be that Nathaniel Hammond you told me of." + +Keziah's pen stopped. The wet coat struck the hall floor with a soft +thump. The tick of the clock sounded loud in the room. A sheet of +wind-driven rain lashed the windows. + +"Did you hear?" called the minister. "I said that Nathaniel Hammond, +Captain Eben's son, came on the packet. I didn't meet him, but I'm sure +it was he. Er--Mrs. Coffin, are you there? Do you hear me?" + +The housekeeper laid the pen down beside the unfinished letter. + +"Yes," she said, "I hear you. Good night." + +For minutes she sat there, leaning back in her chair and staring at the +wall. Then she rose, went into the hall, picked up the coat, and took it +out into the kitchen, where she hung it on the clotheshorse by the cook +stove. After a while she returned to the table and took up the pen. Her +face in the lamplight looked more tired and grave than ever. + +It was a long time before John Ellery fell asleep. He had much to think +of--of the morrow, of the talk his rash visit to the chapel would cause, +of the explanation he must make to Captain Elkanah and the rest. But the +picture that was before his closed eyes as he lay there was neither of +Captain Elkanah nor the parish committee; it was that of a girl, with +dark hair and a slim, graceful figure, standing in a lighted doorway and +peering out into the rain. + + +CHAPTER VI + +IN WHICH OLD FRIENDS MEET + + +When Ellery came down to breakfast the rain was over, the wind had +gone down, and the morning sunshine was pouring in at the dining-room +windows. Outside the lilacs were in bud, the bluebirds were singing, and +there was a sniff of real spring in the air. The storm was at an end and +yet the young minister was conscious of a troublesome feeling that, for +him, it was just beginning. + +However, he had determined while dressing to make a clean breast of it +to his housekeeper--a nominally clean breast, that is. There were some +things he would not tell her, some that he would not speak of to anyone, +the picture in the doorway for instance. True, it was only a picture +and of no moment, but it was pleasant to remember. One of the very few +pleasant things connected with the previous evening. + +So, as they sat opposite each other at the table, he began his +confession. The muffins scorched in the oven and the coffeepot boiled +over as he told his story, for Keziah was too much interested to think +of trifles. Interested and astounded, for, since Come-Outers had been +Come-Outers and the split in the society took place, no Regular minister +had crossed the threshold of a seceder's dwelling, much less attended +their services and walked home with a member of their congregation. She +knew what this amazing procedure was likely to mean, if her parson did +not. + +"Well!" she exclaimed when the recital was finished. "Well!" + +"I--I'm afraid I was too hasty," observed Mr. Ellery thoughtfully. +"Perhaps it would have been wiser not to have done it." + +"Perhaps 'twould. Yes, I wouldn't wonder a mite." + +"It will be talked about some, I suppose. Don't you think so?" + +"Some, yes." + +"I'm afraid some of my own people may think it queer." + +"Queer! Say, Mr. Ellery, you remind me of a half-breed Portugee +feller--half Portugee and a half Indian--that went to sea with my +father, back in the old days. He hardly ever spoke a word, mainly +grunted and made signs. One day he and another fo'mast hand went aloft +in a calm to do somethin' to the tops'l. The half-breed--they called him +Billy Peter and he always called himself that--was out on the end of +the yard, with his foot on the rope underneath, I forget the name of it, +when the tarred twine he had for a shoe string caught. Tryin' to get +it loose it broke sudden, his shoe pulled off, he lost his balance and +fell. He grabbed at the yard, saved himself for a second, fell again, +grabbed the next yard, then a rope and so on down, grabbin' and pullin' +all the way. First his shoe hit the deck, then his sheath knife, then +a piece of rope, and finally himself, landin' right on top of the Irish +cook who was goin' aft from the galley with father's dinner. + +"There was the greatest racket you ever heard, pans fallin', dishes +smashin', men yellin', and the cook swearin'. Father run on deck, +thinkin' the ship was dismasted. He found the cook and Billy Peter +sittin' in the middle of the mess, lookin' at each other. Neither was +hurt a mite. The mates and the crew, part of 'em, was standin' starin' +at the pair. + +"'For Heaven sakes!' says father; 'what happened?' + +"The half-breed looked up and rubbed his head. 'Ugh!' says he, 'Billy +Peter bust his shoe string.' + +"The cook, his name was O'Neill, looked at him disgusted. 'Well, +begorra!' says he, 'Billy Peter, you don't exaggerate none, do ye! It's +a good thing BOTH of 'em didn't bust or we'd have foundered.' + +"You remind me of Billy Peter, Mr. Ellery, you don't exaggerate. Queer? +Some folks think your goin' to that meetin' last night QUEER? At this +moment one half of Trumet is talkin' about it and runnin' out to tell +the other half. I guess I'd better hurry up with this breakfast. We're +goin' to have callers." + +Strange to say, however, this prophecy of early morning visitors did +not prove true. Nine o'clock, then ten, and no visitor came to the +parsonage. Mrs. Coffin affirmed that she did not understand it. Where +was Didama? Where Lavinia Pepper? Had the "Trumet Daily Advertiser" +suspended publication? + +At half past ten the gate slammed. Keziah peered from the window. + +"Humph!" she ejaculated. "Here comes Elkanah and he's got storm signals +set, by the looks. He's comin' after you, Mr. Ellery." + +"Very well," was the calm reply; "let him come." + +"What are you goin' to say to him?" + +"Nothing, except that I did what I considered right at the time. Show +him into the study, Mrs. Coffin, please." + +Captain Daniels marched to the dining-room door, his gold-headed cane +marking time like a drumbeat. He nodded curtly to Keziah, who answered +the knock, and stepped across the threshold. + +"Hum--ha!" he barked. "Is the minister--hum--ha! is Mr. Ellery in?" + +"Yes, he's in." + +"Tell him I want to see him." + +The housekeeper announced the visitor. + +"He's as sour as a skimmin' of last week's milk," she whispered. "Don't +be afraid of him, though." + +"Oh, I'm not. Show him in." + +"All right. Say, Mr. Ellery, it's none of my business, but I wouldn't +say anything about your seein' Grace home. That's none of HIS business, +either, or anybody else's." + +The head of the parish committee stalked into the study and the +door closed behind him. A rumble of voices in animated conversation +succeeded. + +Mrs. Coffin went out into the kitchen and resumed her business of making +a dried-apple pie. There was a hot fire in the stove and she opened the +back door to let in the fresh air. She worked briskly, rolling out the +dough, filling the deep dish, and pinking the edges of the upper crust +with a fork. She was thinking as she worked, but not of the minister or +his visitor. + +She put the pie in the oven and set the damper. And, as she knelt by the +stove, something struck her lightly on the back of the neck. She looked +up and about her, but there was no one in sight. Then she picked up the +object which had struck her. It was a cranberry, withered and softened +by the winter frosts. + +She looked at the cranberry, then at the open door, and her eyes +twinkled. Running quickly to the threshold she peered out. The back yard +was, apparently, empty, save for a few hens belonging to near neighbors, +and these had stopped scratching for a living and were huddled near the +fence. + +"Hum!" she mused. "You rascal! Eddie Snow, if it's you, I'll be after +you in a minute. Just because you're big enough to quit school and drive +store wagon is no reason why I can't--Hey? Oh!" + +She was looking down below the door, which opened outward and was swung +partly back on its hinges. From under the door projected a boot, a man's +boot and one of ample size. + +Keziah's cheeks, already red from the heat of the stove, reddened still +more. Her lips twitched and her eyes sparkled. + +"Hum!" she said again. "They say you can tell the Old Scratch by his +footprints, even if you can't smell the sulphur. Anyhow, you can tell +a Hammond by the size of his boots. Come out from behind that door this +minute. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?" + +The owner of the boot stepped forth from behind the door and seized her +by both hands. + +"Halloo, Keziah!" he cried joyfully. "My, but it's good to see you." + +"Halloo, Nat!" said Keziah heartily. "It's kind of good to see you, +too." + +The rest of him was in keeping with his boots. He was big and +broad-shouldered and bearded. His face, above the beard, was tanned to a +deep reddish brown, and the corners of his eyes were marked with dozens +of tiny wrinkles. He was dressed in blue cloth and wore a wide-brimmed, +soft felt hat. He entered the kitchen and tossed the hat into a corner. + +"Well!" he exclaimed. "Why don't you act surprised to see a feller? Here +I've been cruisin' from the Horn to Barnegat and back again, and you +act as if I'd just dropped in to fetch the cup of molasses I borrowed +yesterday. What do you mean by it?" + +"Oh, I heard you'd made port." + +"Did, hey? That's Trumet, sure pop. You ain't the only one. I sneaked +off acrost lots so's to dodge the gang of neighbors that I knew would +be sailin' into our yard, the whole fleet loaded to the gunwale with +questions. Wanted to see you first, Keziah." + +"Yes. So, instead of callin' like a Christian, you crept up the back way +and threw cranberries at me. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?" + +"Not a mite." He took a handful of the frostbitten berries from his +coat pocket and inspected them lovingly. "Ain't they fine?" he asked, +crunching two or three between his teeth. "I picked 'em up as I came +along. I tell you, that's the home taste, all right." + +"Don't eat those frozen things. They'll give you your never-get-over." + +"What? Cape Cod cranberries! Never in the world. I'd rather eat sand +down here than the finest mug my steward can cook. Tell you what I'll +do, though; I'll swear off on the cranberries if you'll give me a +four-inch slice of that pie I saw you put in the oven. Dried-apple, I'll +bet my sou'wester. Think you might ask a feller to sit down. Ain't you +glad to see me?" + +Mrs. Coffin pulled forward one of the kitchen chairs. He seated himself +on it and it groaned under his weight. + +"Whew!" he whistled. "Never made to stand rough weather, was it? Well, +AIN'T you glad?" + +Keziah looked at him gravely. + +"You know I'm glad, Nat," she said. + +"So? I hoped you would be, but I did want to hear you say it. Now you +come to anchor yourself and let's have a talk. I've been countin' on it +ever since we set tops'ls off Surinam." + +The housekeeper took the other chair. + +"How are you--" she began. He stopped her. + +"S-shh!" he interrupted. "Don't say anything for a minute. Let me look +at you. Just as clean and wholesome and good-lookin' as ever. They don't +make girls like that anywhere else but down on this old sand bar. Not a +day older, by the jumpin'--" + +She held up her hand. + +"Hush, Nat," she protested; "don't talk foolish. Girl? Not a day older? +Why, if feelin's count for anything, I'm as old as Methusaleh. Haven't I +had enough to make me old?" + +He was grave immediately. + +"I beg your pardon, Keziah," he said. "I'm a dough head, that's a fact. +I hadn't forgot about Sol, but I was so glad to be home again and to see +dad and Grace and the old town and you that everything else flew out of +my mind. Poor Sol! I liked him." + +"He liked you, too. No wonder, considerin' what you did to--" + +"Belay! Never mind that. Poor chap! Well, he's rid of his sufferin's at +last. Tell me about it, if you can without bringin' all the trouble back +too plain." + +So she told him of her brother's sickness and death, of having to give +up the old home, and, finally, of her acceptance of the housekeeper's +position. He listened, at first with sympathy and then with suppressed +indignation. + +"By the jumpin' Moses!" he exclaimed. "And Elkanah was goin' to turn you +out of house and home. The mean, pompous old--" + +"Hush! hush! he's in there with Mr. Ellery." + +"Who? Elkanah?" + +"Yes; they're in the study." + +"By the jumpin'--Let me talk to him for a few minutes. I'LL tell him +what's good for his health. You just listen." + +He rose from the chair, but she made him sit down again. + +"No, no," she protested. "He wasn't to blame. He had to have his rent +and I didn't feel that I could afford to keep up a whole house, just for +myself. And, besides, I ought to be thankful to him, I suppose. He got +me this place." + +"He did?" + +"Yes, he did. I rather guess Zeb Mayo or somebody may have suggested it +to him first, but--" + +"Humph! I rather guess so, too." + +"Well, you can't always tell. Sometimes when you really get inside of a +person you find a generous streak that--" + +"Not in a Daniels. Anybody that got inside of Elkanah would find nothin' +but Elkanah there, and 'twould be crowded at that. So he's talkin' to +the new parson, hey? Bossin' him, too, I'll bet." + +"I ain't so sure. Mr. Ellery's young, but he's got a mind of his own." + +Captain Hammond chuckled and slapped his knee. + +"Ho, ho!" he laughed. "I've been hearin' somethin' about that mind. Went +to the chapel last night, I understand, and he and dad had a set-to. Oh, +I heard about it! Wish I might have been there." + +"How does your father act about it?" + +"'Bout the way a red-hot stove acts when you spill water on it; every +time he thinks of the minister he sizzles. Ho, ho! I do wish I could +have been there." + +"What does Grace say?" + +"Oh, she doesn't say much. I wouldn't wonder if she felt the way I do, +though we both keep quiet. I'll tell you, between ourselves and the +ship's pump, that I sort of glory in the young chap's spunk." + +"Good! So do I. I like him." + +"See here, Keziah! I'm gettin' frightened. You ain't settin' your cap to +be a parson's wife, are you? Because--" + +"Don't be silly. I might adopt him, but that's all, I guess." + +Her friend leaned forward. + +"Keziah," he said earnestly, "there's no sense in your slavin' yourself +to death here. I can think of a good deal pleasanter berth than that. +Pleasanter for me, anyhow, and I'd do my best to make it pleasant for +you. You've only got to say the word and--No? Well, then all I can do is +hope through another voyage." + +"Please don't, Nat. You know." + +"No, I don't know." + +"Well, perhaps you don't. But I know. I like you, Nat. I count on you as +the straightest, truest friend I've got; and I want to keep on countin' +on you just that way. Mayn't I?" + +"'Course you can, Keziah. But--" + +"Then don't say another word, please." + +He sighed and looked out at the open door. The kitchen clock ticked loud +in the silence. + +"All right," he said at last. "All right, but I'm goin' to keep on +hopin'." + +"You mustn't, Nat." + +"Keziah, when you set your foot down you're pretty stubborn; but I've +got somethin' of a foot myself. You remember you said so a few minutes +ago. Hi, hum! Well, speakin' of dad reminds me that I'm kind of worried +about him." + +"You are? Why? Isn't he well?" + +"Pretty well, but he ain't strong, and he gets too excited over things +like last night's foolishness. Grace tells me that the doctor says he +must be careful or he'll drop off sudden some of these days. He had a +shock five or six years ago, a little one, and I've been anxious about +him ever since. I've got to go to New York off and on for the next +month; after that I hope to be home for a spell and I can keep an eye on +him. Keziah, if you'll listen I'll whisper somethin' to you--religion's +a good thing and so's a mustard plaster, but both of 'em can be put on +too strong. Dad is just a little mite crazy on Come-Outers, I'm afraid." + +"Oh, no, I guess not! You mustn't worry. How did Grace look to you?" + +"Like the harbor light on a stormy night. She's a brick, that girl, and +gets prettier every minute. Wonder to me some of the young chaps down +here don't carry her off by main strength. She'll make somebody a good +wife." + +"Um-hm. Have--have you ever thought of her that way yourself?" + +"Keziah!" + +"Well, don't get mad. I think a lot of Grace, and I don't know anyone +I'd rather see you marry." + +"I do. Keziah, that's enough of that. Are you and dad in partnership to +get me spliced and out of the way? He was at me this mornin' along the +same line. Don't say anything like that again, even in fun. YOU know +why." + +"All right, all right. Now tell me about yourself. Have you had a good +voyage? How do you like your owners? How did Zach Foster ever get the +packet in through yesterday's fog?" + +"Voyage was all right. Some rugged weather on the trip out, but homeward +bound we slid along like a slush bucket on a greased plank. Owners +are all right. Good people as ever I sailed for. As for Zach and the +packet--Ho, ho!" + +He laughed, rocking back and forth on the chair, which creaked in +sympathy. + +"What's the joke?" demanded the housekeeper. "Don't do that! That chair +wasn't made for elephants to use." + +"Hey? 'Tis pretty weak in the knees, ain't it? Dad would say 'twas a +piece with the creed of those that owned it. I--What's that? Somebody's +comin'. I'm goin' to clear out. I don't want to be put through my +catechism yet a while." + +"No, you mustn't go. I want you to meet Mr. Ellery. You sit out on +the wash bench by the back door till I get rid of whoever 'tis that's +comin'. Scoot!" + +Nat "scooted," stopping to snatch up his hat as he ran. Keziah went into +the dining room and admitted Captain Zebedee Mayo, who was panting from +the exertion of his walk. + +"Whew!" puffed Captain Zeb, mopping his forehead. "How be you, Keziah? +What? You ain't all alone! Thought you'd have a cabin full of gab +machines by this time. Have they been and gone?" + +"No, they haven't been. I--My land, my pie!" + +She rushed into the kitchen and snatched the pastry from the oven. Her +new caller followed her. + +"So they ain't been, hey?" he said. "That's queer." + +"Elkanah's here. He's in there with the minister now." + +"He is? Givin' the young feller Hail Columby, I cal'late. Well, now, +he shan't. He, he! When they told me how the minister passed old +hop-and-go-fetch-it what was due him at the chapel last night I riz up +and hoorayed till my wife shut the windows. She said the neighbors all +thought I was loony, anyhow, and I needn't prove it to 'em. He, he! But +Elkanah ain't got any funny bone. He's as solemn as a stuffed owl, and +he'll--Well, I'm goin' to put MY oar in. I'm parish committee, too, I +cal'late, and I've got somethin' to say, even if I wa'n't christened +Daniels. Here goes!" + +He headed for the study, but before he crossed the threshold of the +kitchen Ellery and his visitor came out into the dining room. Captain +Elkanah's face was flushed, and he fidgeted. The minister looked +determined but calm. + +"Ahoy there, Elkanah!" hailed Zebedee cheerfully. "'Mornin', Mr. Ellery. +Been havin' officers' counsel, have you?" + +"Good morning, Captain Mayo," said the minister. + +"'Mornin', Zebedee," grunted Elkanah. "I have--hum--ha!--been +discussing the regrettable affair of last night with Mr. Ellery. I have +tried--hum--ha! to show him that respectable people of our society don't +associate with Come-Outers, and that for a Regular minister to go to +their meetings is something neither the congregation nor the parish +committee approves of. No--er--hum--ha! no!" + +"And I explained to Captain Daniels," observed the minister, "that I +went there for what seemed to me good reasons, and, as they did seem to +me good at the time, I'm not ashamed of having gone. It was an honest +mistake on my part and I may make more." + +"But the society--" began Elkanah. Captain Zeb interrupted him. + +"Don't worry about the society, Mr. Ellery," he said with emphasis. "Nor +about the parish committee, either. Great fishhooks! the most of us are +tickled to death over what you said to Eben Hammond. We think it's a +mighty good joke. YOU didn't know, of course, and what you did was done +innocent. He! he! he! Did you lay him out, hey?" + +"Zebedee," began Captain Daniels, "I must say I can't see anything to +laugh at." + +"You never could, Elkanah. I remember that time when you and me and some +of the fellers home from sea went out sailin' and the boom knocked you +overboard with your Sunday clothes on. Lordy, how the rest of us did +holler! but you never cracked a smile. If you'd seen yourself when we +hauled you in! whiskers runnin' salt water; beaver hat lookin' like a +drownded kitten--" + +"There! There! Never mind that. I think you'll find a good many of the +society feel as I do, shocked and--hum--ha!--sorry. I'm surprised they +haven't been here to say so." + +"I expected them," remarked the minister. + +"So did I," chimed in Captain Zeb. "But I cal'late to know why they +ain't been. They're all too busy crowin' over the way Nat Hammond +fetched the packet home last night. WHAT? You ain't heard? Great +fishhooks! it's the best thing ever--" + +"I've heard about it," snapped Elkanah impatiently. "Mr. Ellery, I'm +glad you realize that your action was a mistake and I will take pains to +have that immejitly made plain to--" + +"YOU ain't heard, Keziah, have you?" broke in Zebedee. "Nor you, Mr. +Ellery? Well, I must tell you. Here's where I gain a lap on Didama +Rogers. Seems the Deborah S.--that's the packet's name, Mr. Ellery--she +hauled out of Boston night afore last on the ebb, with a fair wind and +sky clear as a bell. But they hadn't much more'n got outside of Minot's +'fore the fog shut down, thicker'n gruel for a sick rich man. The wind +held till 'long toward mornin'; then she flattened to a dead calm. 'Bije +Perry, the mate, he spun the yarn to me, and he said 'twas thick and +flat as ever he see and kept gettin' no better fast. + +"They drifted along till noon time and then they was somewheres out in +the bay, but that's about all you could say. Zach, he was stewin' and +sputterin' like a pair of fried eels, and Lafayette Gage and Emulous +Peters--they're Denboro folks, Mr. Ellery, and about sixteen p'ints +t'other side of no account--they was the only passengers aboard except +Nat Hammond, and they put in their time playin' high low jack in the +cabin. The lookout was for'ard tootin' a tin horn and his bellerin' +was the most excitin' thing goin' on. After dinner--corned beef and +cabbage--trust Zach for that, though it's next door to cannibalism to +put cabbage in HIS mouth--after dinner all hands was on deck when Nat +says: 'Hush!' he says. 'Don't I hear somethin'?' + +"They listened, and then they all heard it--all 'cept Zach, who's deef +in his larboard ear. + +"'Stand by!' roars Nat. 'It's a squall, dead astern and comin' abilin'! +I'll take her, 'Bije. You look out for them tops'ls.' + +"So Nat grabs the wheel and 'Bije tears for'ard and sends the two +fo'mast hands aloft on the jump. Zach was skipper, but all he done was +race around and holler and trip over his own feet. Oh, he's a prize +sailor, he is! Don't talk to me about them Fosters! I--" + +"Nobody is talkin' about 'em but you, Zeb," observed Keziah drily. "Go +on. How about the squall?" + +"It hit 'em 'fore they got even one tops'l clewed down. That one, the +foretops'l 'twas, split to rags. The main tops'l was set, and when the +squall struck, the rotten old topmast went by the board 'Kerrash-o!' +'Course splinters flew like all possessed, and one of 'em, about a foot +long, sailed past Nat's head, where he stood heavin' his whole weight on +the wheel, and lit right on the binnacle, smashin' it to matches. + +"They say Nat never paid the least attention, no more'n if the chunk of +wood had been a June bug buzzin' past. He just held that wheel hard down +and that saved the packet. She come around and put her nose dead in +the wind just in time. As 'twas, 'Bije says there was a second when the +water by her lee rail looked right underneath him as he hung onto the +deck with finger nails and teeth. + +"Well, there they was, afloat, but with their upper riggin' gone and +the compass smashed flat. A howlin' no'thwester blowin' and fog thick as +ever. Zach was a whimperin', fidgetin' old woman, Lafayette and Emulous +was prayin' in the scuppers--and that ain't an exercise they're used to, +neither--and even 'Bije was mighty shook up and worried--he says he was +himself. But Nat Hammond was as cool and refreshin' as the bottom of my +well up home. + +"'Better clear away that mess aloft, hadn't you?' he says to the +skipper. + +"Zach said he guessed so; he wa'n't sure of nothin'. However, they +cleared it away, and incidentally 'Bije yanked the prayer meetin' out +of the scuppers and set 'em to work. Then Nat suggests gettin' the spare +compass and, lo and behold you! there wa'n't any. Compasses cost money +and money's made to keep, so Zach thinks. + +"So there they was. Wind was fair, or ought to be, but 'twas blowin' +hard and so thick you couldn't hardly see the jib boom. Zach he wanted +to anchor, then he didn't, then he did, and so on. Nobody paid much +attention to him. + +"'What'll we do, Nat?' says 'Bije. He knew who was the real seaman +aboard. + +"'Keep her as she is, dead afore it, if you ask me, says Nat. 'Guess +we'll hit the broadside of the cape somewheres if this gale holds.' + +"So they kept her as she was. And it got to be night and they knew +they'd ought to be 'most onto the edge of the flats off here, if their +reck'nin' was nigh right. They hove the lead and got five fathom. No +flats about that. + +"Zach was for anchorin' again. 'What do you think, Nat?' asks 'Bije. + +"'Anchor, of course, if you want to,' Nat says. 'You're runnin' this +craft. I'm only passenger.' + +"'But what do you THINK?' whines Zach. 'Can't you tell us what you do +think?' + +"'Well, if 'twas me, I wouldn't anchor till I had to. Prob'ly 'twill +fair off to-morrow, but if it shouldn't, we might have to lay out here +all day. Anyhow, we'd have to wait for a full tide.' + +"'I'm afraid we're off the course,' says 'Bije, else we'd been acrost +the bar by this time.' + +"'Well,' Nat tells him, 'if we are off the course and too far inshore, +we would have made the bar--the Bayport bar--if not the Trumet one. And +if we're off the course and too far out, we'd ought to have deeper water +than five fathom, hadn't we? 'Course I'm not sure, but--What's that, +lands-man?' + +"'Three and a half, sir,' says the feller with the lead. That showed +they was edgin' in somewheres. Nat he sniffed, for all the world like a +dog catchin' a scent, so 'Bije declares. + +"'I can smell home,' he says. + +"Three fathom the lead give 'em, then two and a half, then a scant two. +They was drawin' six feet. Zach couldn't stand it. + +"'I'm goin' to anchor,' he squeals, frantic. 'I believe we're plumb over +to Wellmouth and drivin' right onto Horsefoot Shoal.' + +"'It's either that or the bar,' chimes in 'Bije. 'And whichever 'tis, we +can't anchor in the middle of it.' + +"'But what'll we do?' shouts Zach. 'Can't nobody say somethin' to DO?' + +"'Tell you I smell home,' says Nat, calm and chipper, 'and I'd know that +smell if I met it in Jericho. Ha! there she deepens again. That was the +bar and we're over it.' + +"The wind had gone down to a stiff sailin' breeze, and the old Debby S. +slapped along afore it. Sometimes there was twelve foot under her keel +and sometimes eight or nine. Once 'twas only seven and a half. Zach and +'Bije both looked at each other, but Nat only smiled. + +"'Oh, you can laugh!' hollers Zach. ''Tain't your vessel you're runnin' +into danger. YOU aint paid out your good money--' + +"Nat never answered; but he stopped smilin'. + +"And all to once the water deepened. Hammond swung her up into the wind. + +"'NOW you can anchor,' says he. + +"'And 'bout time, too, I guess,' says 'Bije. 'I cal'late the skipper's +right. This IS Horsefoot and we're right between the shoals. Yes, sir, +and I hear breakers. Lively there!' + +"They hove over the mudhook and dropped the sails. Nat shook his head. + +"'Breakers or not,' says he, 'I tell you I've smelt home for the last +half hour. Now, by the jumpin' Moses, I can TASTE it!' + +"And inside of a couple of shakes come the rain. It poured for a while +and then the fog cleared. Right acrost their bows was Trumet, with the +town clock strikin' ten. Over the flat place between the hills they +could see the light on the ocean side. And they was anchored right +in the deep hole inside the breakwater, as sure as I'm knee high to a +marlin spike! + +"'Bije just stared at Hammond with his mouth open. + +"'Nat,' says he, 'you're a seaman, if I do say it. I thought I was a +pretty good bay pilot, but I can't steer a vessel without a compass +through a night as black as Pharaoh's Egypt, and in a thick fog besides, +and land her square on top of her moorin's. If my hat wa'n't sloshin' +around thirty mile astern, I snum if I wouldn't take it off to you this +minute!' + +"'Nat,' stammers Zach, 'I must say I--' + +"Nat snapped him shut like a tobacco box. 'You needn't,' says he. 'But +I'll say this to you, Zach Foster. When I undertake to handle a vessel +I handle her best I know how, and the fact that I don't own her makes no +difference to me. You just put that down somewheres so you won't forget +it.' + +"And this mornin'," crowed Captain Zebedee, concluding his long yarn, +"after that, mind you, that lubber Zach Foster is around town tellin' +folks that his schooner had been over the course so often she COULDN'T +get lost. She found her way home herself. WHAT do you think of that?" + +The two members of the parish committee left the parsonage soon after +Captain Mayo had finished his story. Elkanah had listened with growing +irritation and impatience. Zebedee lingered a moment behind his +companions. + +"Don't you fret yourself about what happened last night, Mr. Ellery," +he whispered. "It'll be all right. 'Course nobody'd want you to keep up +chummin' in with Come-Outers, but what you said to old Eben'll square +you this time. So long." + +The minister shut the door behind his departing guests. Then he went out +into the kitchen, whither the housekeeper had preceded him. He found her +standing on the back step, looking across the fields. The wash bench was +untenanted. + +"Hum!" mused Ellery thoughtfully, "that was a good story of Captain +Mayo's. This man Hammond must be a fine chap. I should like to meet +him." + +Keziah still looked away over the fields. She did not wish her employer +to see her face--just then. + +"I thought you would meet him," she said. "He was here a little while +ago and I asked him to wait. I guess Zeb's yarn was too much for him; he +doesn't like to be praised." + +"So? Was he here? At the Regular parsonage? I'm surprised." + +"He and I have known each other for a long while." + +"Well, I'm sorry he's gone. I think I should like him." + +Keziah turned from the door. + +"I know you would," she said. + + +CHAPTER VII + +IN WHICH CAPTAIN NAT PICKS UP A DERELICT + + +It is probable that John Ellery never fully realized the debt of +gratitude he owed to the fog and the squall and to Captain Nat Hammond. +Trumet, always hungry for a sensation, would have thoroughly enjoyed +arguing and quarreling over the minister's visit to Come-Outer meeting, +and, during the fracas, Keziah's parson might have been more or less +battered. But Captain Nat's brilliant piloting of the old packet was +a bit of seamanship which every man and woman on that foam-bordered +stretch of sand could understand and appreciate, and the minister's +indiscretion was all but forgotten in consequence. The "Daily +Advertisers" gloated over it, of course, and Captain Elkanah brought it +up at the meeting of the parish committee, but there Captain Zeb Mayo +championed the young man's course and proclaimed that, fur's he was +concerned, he was for Mr. Ellery more'n ever. "A young greenhorn +with the spunk to cruise single-handed right into the middle of the +Come-Outer school and give an old bull whale like Eben the gaff is the +man for my money," declared Zebedee. Most of his fellow-committee agreed +with him. "Not guilty, but don't do it again," was the general verdict. + +As for the Come-Outers, they professed to believe that their leader had +much the best of the encounter, so they were satisfied. There was a +note of triumph and exultation in the "testimony" given on the following +Thursday night, and Captain Eben divided his own discourse between +thankfulness for his son's safe return and glorification at the +discomfiture of the false prophets. Practically, then, the result of +Ellery's peace overture was an increased bitterness in the feeling +between the two societies and a polishing of weapons on both sides. + +Keziah watched anxiously for a hint concerning her parson's walk in the +rain with Grace, but she heard nothing, so congratulated herself that +the secret had been kept. Ellery did not again mention it to her, nor +she to him. A fortnight later he preached his great sermon on "The +Voyage of Life," and its reference to gales and calms and lee shores and +breakers made a hit. His popularity took a big jump. + +He met Nat Hammond during that fortnight. The first meeting was +accompanied by unusual circumstances, which might have been serious, but +were actually only funny. + +The tide at Trumet, on the bay side, goes out for a long way, leaving +uncovered a mile and a half of flats, bare and sandy, or carpeted with +seaweed. Between these flats are the channels, varying at low water from +two to four feet in depth, but deepening rapidly as the tide flows. + +The flats fascinated the young minister, as they have many another +visitor to the Cape, before or since. On cloudy days they lowered with +a dull, leaden luster and the weed-grown portions were like the dark +squares on a checkerboard, while the deep water beyond the outer bar was +steely gray and angry. When the sun shone and the wind blew clear from +the northwest the whole expanse flashed into fire and color, sapphire +blue, emerald green, topaz yellow, dotted with white shells and ablaze +with diamond sparkles where the reflected light leaped from the flint +crystals of the wet, coarse sand. + +The best time to visit the flats--tide serving, of course--is the early +morning at sunrise. Then there is an inspiration in the wide expanse, a +snap and tang and joy in the air. Ellery had made up his mind to take a +before-breakfast tramp to the outer bar and so arose at five, tucked a +borrowed pair of fisherman's boots beneath his arm, and, without saying +anything to his housekeeper, walked down the lawn behind the parsonage, +climbed the rail fence, and "cut across lots" to the pine grove on the +bluff. There he removed his shoes, put on the boots, wallowed through +the mealy yellow sand forming the slope of the bluff, and came out on +the white beach and the inner edge of the flats. Then he plashed on, +bound out to where the fish weirs stood, like webby fences, in the +distance. + +It was a wonderful walk on a wonderful day. The minister enjoyed every +minute of it. Out here he could forget the petty trials of life, the +Didamas and Elkanahs. The wind blew his hat off and dropped it in a +shallow channel, but he splashed to the rescue and laughed aloud as he +fished it out. It was not much wetter than it had been that night of +the rain, when he tried to lend his umbrella and didn't succeed. This +reflection caused him to halt in his walk and look backward toward the +shore. The brown roof of the old tavern was blushing red in the first +rays of the sun. + +A cart, drawn by a plodding horse and with a single individual on its +high seat, was moving out from behind the breakwater. Some fisherman +driving out his weir, probably. + +The sand of the outer bar was dimpled and mottled like watered silk by +the action of the waves. It sloped gradually down to meet the miniature +breakers that rolled over and slid in ripples along its edge. Ellery +wandered up and down, picking up shells and sea clams, and peering +through the nets of the nearest weir at the "horsefoot crabs" and squid +and flounders imprisoned in the pound. There were a few bluefish there, +also, and a small school of mackerel. + +The minister had been on the bar a considerable time before he began to +think of returning to the shore. He was hungry, but was enjoying himself +too well to mind. The flats were all his that morning. Only the cart and +its driver were in sight and they were half a mile off. He looked at +his watch, sighed, and reluctantly started to walk toward the town; he +mustn't keep Mrs. Coffin's breakfast waiting TOO long. + +The first channel he came to was considerably deeper than when he forded +it on the way out. He noticed this, but only vaguely. The next, however, +was so deep that the water splashed in at the top of one of his boots. +He did notice that, because though he was not wearing his best clothes, +he was not anxious to wet his "other ones." The extent of his wardrobe +was in keeping with the size of his salary. + +And the third channel was so wide and deep that he saw at once it could +not be forded, unless he was willing to plunge above his waist. This +was provoking. Now he realized that he had waited too long. The tide had +been flowing for almost an hour; it had flowed fast and, as he should +have remembered, having been told, the principal channels were eight +feet deep before the highest flats were covered. + +He hurried along the edge, looking for a shallower place, but found +none. At last he reached the point of the flat he was on and saw, to +his dismay, that here was the deepest spot yet, a hole, scoured out by a +current like a mill race. Turning, he saw, creeping rapidly and steadily +together over the flat behind him, two lines of foam, one from each +channel. His retreat was cut off. + +He was in for a wetting, that was sure. However, there was no help for +it, so he waded in. The water filled his boots there, it gurgled about +his hips, and beyond, as he could see, it seemed to grow deeper and +deeper. The current was surprisingly strong; he found it difficult to +keep his footing in the soft sand. It looked as though he must swim for +it, and to swim in that tide would be no joke. + +Then, from behind him, came a hail. He turned and saw moving toward him +through the shallow water now covering the flat beyond the next channel, +the cart he had seen leave the shore by the packet wharf, and, later, on +the outer bar. The horse was jogging along, miniature geysers spouting +beneath its hoofs. The driver waved to him. + +"Hold on, mate," he called. "Belay there. Stay where you are. I'll be +alongside in a shake. Git dap, January!" + +Ellery waded back to meet this welcome arrival. The horse plunged into +the next channel, surged through it, and emerged dripping. The driver +pulled the animal into a walk. + +"Say," he cried, "I'm cruisin' your way; better get aboard, hadn't you? +There's kind of a heavy dew this mornin'. Whoa, Bill!" + +"Bill" or "January" stopped with apparent willingness. The driver leaned +down and extended a hand. The minister took it and was pulled up to the +seat. + +"Whew!" he panted. "I'm much obliged to you. I guess you saved me from a +ducking, if nothing worse." + +"Yes," was the answer, "I wouldn't wonder if I did. This ain't Saturday +night and 'twould be against Trumet principles to take a bath any other +time. All taut, are you? Good enough! then we'll get under way." He +flapped the reins and added, "G'long, Julius Caesar!" + +The horse, a sturdy, sedate beast to whom all names seemed to be alike, +picked up his feet and pounded them down again. Showers of spray flew +about the heads of the pair on the seat. + +"I ain't so sure about that duckin'," commented the rescuer. "Hum! I +guess likely we'll be out of soundin's if we tackle that sink hole you +was undertakin' to navigate. Let's try it a little further down." + +Ellery looked his companion over. + +"Well," he observed with a smile, "from what I've heard of you, Captain +Hammond, I rather guess you could navigate almost any water in this +locality and in all sorts of weather." + +The driver turned in surprise. + +"So?" he exclaimed. "You know me, do you? That's funny. I was tryin' to +locate you, but I ain't been able to. You ain't a Trumetite I'll bet on +that." + +"Yes, I am." + +"Tut! tut! tut! you don't tell me. Say, shipmate, you hurt my pride. I +did think there wa'n't a soul that ever trod sand in this village that I +couldn't name on sight, and give the port they hailed from and the names +of their owners. But you've got me on my beam ends. And yet you knew +ME." + +"Of course I did. Everybody knows the man that brought the packet home." + +Nat Hammond sniffed impatiently. + +"Um--hm!" he grunted. "I cal'late everybody does, and knows a lot more +about that foolishness than I do myself. If ever a craft was steered +by guess and by godfrey, 'twas that old hooker of Zach's t'other night. +Well--Humph! here's another piece of pilotin' that bids fair to be a +mighty sight harder. Heave ahead, Hannibal! hope you've got your web +feet with you." + +They had moved along the edge of the flat a short distance and now +turned into the channel. The horse was wading above its knees; soon the +water reached its belly and began to flow into the body of the cart. + +"Pick up your feet, shipmate," commanded Nat. "You may get rheumatiz if +you don't. This'll be a treat for those sea clams back in that bucket +amidships. They'll think I've repented and have decided to turn 'em +loose again. They don't know how long I've been countin' on a sea-clam +pie. I'll fetch those clams ashore if I have to lug 'em with my teeth. +Steady, all hands! we're off the ways." + +The cart was afloat. The horse, finding wading more difficult than +swimming, began to swim. + +"Now I'm skipper again, sure enough," remarked Hammond. "Ain't gettin' +seasick, are you?" + +The minister laughed. + +"No," he said. + +"Good! she keeps on a fairly even keel, considerin' her build. THERE +she strikes! That'll do, January; you needn't try for a record voyage. +Walkin's more in your line than playin' steamboat. We're over the worst +of it now. Say! you and I didn't head for port any too soon, did we?" + +"No, I should say not. I ought to have known better than to wait out +there so long. I've been warned about this tide. I--" + +"S-sh-sh! YOU ought to have known better! What do you think of me? Born +and brought up within sight and smell of this salt puddle and let myself +in for a scrape like this! But it was so mighty fine off there on the +bar I couldn't bear to leave it. I always said that goin' to sea on +land would be the ideal way, and now I've tried it. But you took bigger +chances than I did. Are you a good swimmer?" + +"Not too good. I hardly know what might have happened if you hadn't--" + +"S-sh-sh! that's all right. Always glad to pick up a derelict, may be a +chance for salvage, you know. Here's the last channel and it's an easy +one. There! now it's plain sailin' for dry ground." + +The old horse, breathing heavily from his exertions, trotted over the +stretch of yet uncovered flats and soon mounted the slope of the beach. +The minister prepared to alight. + +"Captain Hammond," he said, "you haven't asked me my name." + +"No, I seldom do more'n once. There have been times when I'D just as +soon cruise without too big letters alongside my figurehead." + +"Well, my name is Ellery." + +"Hey? WHAT? Oh, ho! ho! ho!" + +He rocked back and forth on the seat. The minister's feelings were a bit +hurt, though he tried not to show it. + +"You mustn't mind my laughin'," explained Nat, still chuckling. "It +ain't at you. It's just because I was wonderin' what you'd look like if +I should meet you and now--Ho! ho! You see, Mr. Ellery, I've heard of +you, same as you said you'd heard of me." + +Ellery smiled, but not too broadly. + +"Yes," he admitted, "I imagined you had." + +"Yes, seems to me dad mentioned your name once or twice. As much as +that, anyhow. Wonder what he'd say if he knew his son had been takin' +you for a mornin' ride?" + +"Probably that it would have been much better to have left me where you +found me." + +The captain's jolly face grew serious. + +"No, no!" he protested. "Not so bad as that. Dad wouldn't drown anybody, +not even a Regular minister. He's a pretty square-built old craft, even +though his spiritual chart may be laid out different from yours--and +mine." + +"From yours? Why, I supposed--" + +"Yes, I know. Well, WHEN I go to meetin', I generally go to the chapel +to please father. But when it comes right down to a confession of faith, +I'm pretty broad in the beam. Maybe I'd be too broad even for you, Mr. +Ellery." + +The minister, who had jumped to the ground, looked up. + +"Captain Hammond," he said, "I'm very glad indeed that I met you. Not +alone because you helped me out of a bad scrape; I realize how bad it +might have been and that--" + +"Shsh! shh! Nothin' at all. Don't be foolish." + +"But I'm glad, too, because I've heard so many good things about you +that I was sure you must be worth knowing. I hope you won't believe I +went to your father's meeting with any--" + +"No, no! Jumpin' Moses, man! I don't find fault with you for that. I +understand, I guess." + +"Well, if you don't mind the fact that I am what I am, I'd like to shake +hands with you." + +Nat reached down a big brown hand. + +"Same here," he said. "Always glad to shake with a chap as well +recommended as you are. Yes, indeed, I mean it. You see, you've got a +friend that's a friend of mine, and when she guarantees a man to be A. +B., I'll ship him without any more questions." + +"Well, then, good-by. I hope we shall meet again and often. And I +certainly thank you for--" + +"That's all right. Maybe you'll fish ME out of the drink some day; you +never can tell. So long! Git dap, Gen'ral Scott!" + +He drove off up the beach, but before he turned the corner of the +nearest dune he called back over his shoulder: + +"Say, Mr. Ellery, if you think of it you might give my regards +to--to--er--the lady that's keepin' house for you." + +Breakfast had waited nearly an hour when the minister reached home. +Keziah, also, was waiting and evidently much relieved at his safe +arrival. + +"Sakes alive!" she exclaimed, as she met him at the back door. "Where in +the world have you been, Mr. Ellery? Soakin' wet again, too!" + +Ellery replied that he had been for a walk out to the bar. He sat down +on the step to remove the borrowed boots. A small rivulet of salt water +poured from each as he pulled them off. + +"For a walk! A swim, you mean. How could you get in up to your waist if +you just walked? Did you fall down?" + +"No, not exactly. But I waited too long and the tide headed me off." + +"Mercy on us! you mustn't take chances on that tide. If you'd told me +you was goin', I'd have warned you to hurry back." + +"Oh, I've been warned often enough. It was my own fault, as usual. I'm +not sure that I don't need a guardian." + +"Humph! well, I ain't sure either. Was the channels very deep?" + +"Deep enough. The fact is, that I might have got into serious trouble if +I hadn't been picked up." + +He told briefly the story of his morning's adventure. The housekeeper +listened with growing excitement. + +"Heavens to Betsy!" she interrupted. "Was the channel you planned to +swim the one at the end of the flat by the longest weir leader?" + +"Yes." + +"My soul! there's been two men drowned in that very place at half tide. +And they were good swimmers. After this I shan't dare let you out of my +sight." + +"So? Was it as risky as that? Why, Captain Hammond didn't tell me so. I +must owe him more even than I thought." + +"Yes, I guess you do. He wouldn't tell you, though; that ain't his way. +Deary me! for what we've received let us be thankful. And that reminds +me that biscuits ought to be et when they're first made, not after +they've been dried up on the back of the stove forever and ever amen. +Go on and change those wet things of yours and then we'll eat. Tryin' to +swim the main channel on the flood! My soul and body!" + +"Captain Nat sent his regards to you, Mrs. Coffin," said the minister, +moving toward the stairs. + +"Did, hey?" was the housekeeper's reply. "Want to know!" + + +CHAPTER VIII + +IN WHICH THE PARSON AND MR. PEPPER DECLARE THEIR INDEPENDENCE + + +That afternoon, when dinner was over, the Reverend John decided to make +a few duty calls. The first of these he determined should be on the +Peppers. Lavinia and her brother had called at the Parsonage several +times, but as yet he had not paid them a visit. It was not a ceremony +to which he looked forward with delight, but it must be performed. +Miss Pepper had hinted several times, at sewing circle and after prayer +meeting, of "partiality" and "only stoppin' in where they had fancy +curtains up to the windows." So, as it could not be put off longer, +without causing trouble, he determined to go through with it. + +The Pepper house was situated just off the main road on the lane leading +over the dunes to the ocean and the light. It was a small building, its +white paint dingy and storm beaten, and its little fenced-in front +yard dotted thickly with clumps of silver-leaf saplings. A sign, nailed +crookedly on a post, informed those seeking such information that within +was to be found "Abishai G. W. Pepper, Tax Collector, Assessor, Boots +and Shoes Repaired." And beneath this was fastened a shingle with the +chalked notice, "Salt Hay for sale." + +The boot and shoe portion of the first sign was a relic of other days. +Kyan had been a cobbler once, but it is discouraging to wait three +or four weeks while the pair of boots one has left to be resoled are +forgotten in a corner. Captain Zeb Mayo's pointed comment, "I want my +shoe leather to wear while I'm alive, not to be laid out in after I die +of old age," expressed the general feeling of the village and explained +why custom had left Mr. Pepper and flown to the more enterprising +shoemaker at "The Corners." The tax collectorship might have followed +it, but here Lavinia kept her brother up to the mark. She went with +him on his rounds and it gave her opportunity to visit, and afterwards +comment upon, every family in town. + +The minister walked up the dusty lane, lifted the Pepper gate and swung +it back on its one hinge, shooed away the three or four languid and +discouraged-looking fowls that were taking a sun bath on the clam-shell +walk, and knocked at the front door. No one coming in answer to the +knock, he tried again. Then he discovered a rusty bell pull and gave it +a sharp tug. The knob came off in his hand and he hurriedly thrust it +back again into its place. Evidently, that bell was solely for ornament. + +He came to the conclusion that no one was at home and felt a guilty +sense of relief in consequence. But his conscience would not let him +depart without another try, so he clenched his fist and gave the cracked +door panel a series of tremendous thumps. A thin black cat, which had +evidently been asleep beneath the step, burst from its concealment and +fled in frantic terror. Then from somewhere in the rear of the house +came the sound of a human voice. + +"Hi!" it called faintly. "Whoever you be, don't bust that door down. +Come round here." + +Ellery walked around the corner of the building. The voice came again. + +"Say!" it wailed, "why don't you answer? Be you comin'? If you're a +peddler, you needn't." + +"I'm not a peddler," was the minister's amused reply. + +"Oh, ain't ye? All right. Come along, then." + +Ellery "came along" as far as the angle where the ell joined the main +body of the house. So far as he could see every door and window was +closed and there were no signs of life. However, he stepped to the door, +a green-painted affair of boards, and ventured another knock. + +"Don't start that poundin' again!" protested the voice. "Come round to +t'other side where I be." + +So around went the Reverend John, smiling broadly. But even on "t'other +side" there was no one to be seen. And no door, for that matter. + +"Why!" exclaimed the voice, "if 'tain't Mr. Ellery! How d'ye do? Glad to +see you, Mr. Ellery. Fine day, ain't it? Here I be at this window." + +Sure enough; one of the windows on this side of the house was raised +about six inches at the bottom, the shade was up, and peering beneath +the sash the minister discerned the expressive features of Abishai +Pepper--or as much of those features as the size of the opening +permitted to be seen. + +"Oh!" exclaimed the visitor, "is that you, Mr. Pepper? Well, I'm glad to +see you, at last. You are rather hard to see, even now." + +Kyan was plainly embarrassed. He stammered as he answered. + +"Yes," he agreed, "I--I shouldn't wonder if I be. How be you? Pretty +smart?" + +"Yes, thank you. I'm well." + +"Er--er--come to call, did you?" + +"Why, yes, that was my intention." + +"Hum! Er--er--Laviny, she's gone over to Thankful Payne's. She heard +that Thankful's cousin up to Middleboro had died--passed away, I +mean--and she thought she'd run over and find out if Thankful was willed +anything. She said she'd be back pretty soon." + +"Very well. Then, as she won't be gone long, perhaps I'll come in and +wait." + +He was moving away toward the corner when a shout from beneath the +window sash brought him to a halt. + +"Hi!" called Abishai. "Hi, Mr. Ellery! don't go to that door. 'Tain't no +use; it's locked." + +"Locked? Well, you can unlock it, can't you?" + +"No, not very well. That is, I--Mr. Ellery, come back here, won't ye? I +don't want anybody to hear." + +The house of the nearest neighbor being several hundred yards away, +the likelihood of being overheard was improbable; but the minister came +back, nevertheless. + +"You see, Mr. Ellery," stammered Kyan, "I--I'd like to have you come in +fust rate, but--er--Laviny she's got the key." + +Ellery was surprised. + +"She has!" he exclaimed. + +"Um--hm, she's got it. She took it with her." + +"But there are other doors. She didn't take them all, did she?" + +"No--o, but--Well, the fact is, Mr. Ellery, I--I--I'm locked in." + +"Locked in?" + +"Yes, locked in this room. She--she--Oh, consarn it all, Mr. Ellery, +she's locked me in this room a-purpose, so's I won't get out and go +somewheres without her knowin' it." + +"What?" + +"Um--h'm; that's what she's done. Did you ever hear of anything like +that in your born days?" + +This surprising disclosure was funny enough, but the tone of grieved +indignation in which Mr. Pepper told of his imprisonment was funnier +still. The minister coughed violently and looked the other way. + +"She done it a-purpose," continued Kyan, in a burst of confidence. "She +had me put one of them new-fangled spring locks on the door of this room +t'other day, 'cause she said she was afraid of tramps and wanted some +place to shut herself up in if one of em come. And--and after dinner +to-day she sent me in here for somethin' and then slammed the door on +me. Said she cal'lated I'd stay put till she got back from Thankful's. +She knew mighty well I couldn't get out of the window, 'cause it won't +open no further'n 'tis now. I wa'n't never so provoked in my life. +'Tain't no way to treat your own brother, lockin' him up like a young +one; now, is it?" + +Ellery's reply was not made immediately. He had heard numerous stories +concerning this odd household, some of which seemed too absurd for +belief. But this performance was more ridiculous than anything he had +heard. + +"'Tain't right, is it, Mr. Ellery?" demanded Kyan. + +"Why," answered the caller chokingly, "I--I--it is rather unusual, +that's a fact. May I ask what you've done to--" + +"Done? I ain't done nothin'. She's so darned scared some other woman'll +get my money that--you see, a month or so ago I--I--well, she thought +I done somethin', or was plannin' to do somethin' that--Keziah Coffin +never told you anything about me, did she?" + +"No, indeed. What could Mrs. Coffin tell me about you?" + +"All right. Nothin', nothin'. Only if she did, tain't so. But I ain't +goin' to stand it no more, Mr. Ellery. Bein' shut up in a darned +old--excuse my swearin', I didn't mean to, though I got reason enough, +land knows--bein' shut up in a room full of trunks and odds and ends is +goin' too fur. I never want to smell old clothes ag'in long's I live. +Would you stand it if you was me, Mr. Ellery?" + +"Why, of course I mustn't interfere in your family matters, Mr. Pepper. +Perhaps I'd better call some other time. Good afternoon." + +"Hold on! hold on! you ain't answered me yet. You're a minister and I +go to your meetin' house. Tell me what you'd do if you was me. Would you +stand it?" + +Ellery laughed aloud. + +"No," he said, "I suppose I shouldn't." + +"I bet you wouldn't! What would you do?" + +"I don't know. You're of age, Mr. Pepper, and you must decide for +yourself. I think I should declare my independence. Really, I must go. +I--" + +"Don't be in such a hurry. I want advice. I need it. And, so fur's +DECLARIN' goes, that don't do me no good. She can declare more things in +a minute than I can think of in a week. Tongue! I never heard--No, no! +Never mind the declarin'. What would you DO? S'posin' you wanted to go +outdoor without havin' her tagged to your coat tails, how'd you stop the +taggin'?" + +The absurdity of the affair was too much for the visitor. He roared a +"Ha, ha!" that caused Abishai to wave a warning hand beneath the sash. + +"Ss-h-h! sshh!" he hissed. "Folks'll hear ye, and I'd be so ashamed if +they did that I wouldn't dast to show my head. Can't show much of it, +anyhow, just now. By gum! I'll do somethin' desperate. I--I dunno as I +won't pizen her. I--" + +"Hush! hush! you mustn't talk that way. I'm afraid you must be very +fascinating, Mr. Pepper. If your sister is so very fearful of your +meeting other women, it must be because she has good reason to fear." + +"Stop your foolishness! Oh!--I--I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery. That +ain't no way to talk to a minister. But I'm goin' to go out when I want +to if I bust a hole through the clapboards. I AIN'T fascinatin'. You ask +any woman--except her--if I be, and see what they say. What'll I DO?" + +"Ha, ha! I don't know, I'm sure. You might lock HER up, I suppose, just +for a change." + +"Hey!" There was a sound from behind the pane as if the imprisoned one +had slapped his knee. "By gum! I never thought of that. Would you now, +Mr. Ellery? Would you? Sshh! sshh! somebody's comin'. Maybe it's her. +Run around to the door, Mr. Ellery, quick. And don't tell her I've seen +you, for mercy sakes! Don't now, will ye? Please! Run!" + +The minister did not run, but he walked briskly around the corner. +Sure enough, Lavinia was there, just unlocking the door. She expressed +herself as very glad to see the caller, ushered him into the sitting +room and disappeared, returning in another moment with her brother, whom +she unblushingly said had been taking a nap. Abishai did not contradict +her; instead, he merely looked apprehensively at the minister. + +The call was a short one. Lavinia did seven eighths of the talking and +Ellery the rest. Kyan was silent. When the visit was over, Miss Pepper +escorted her guest to the door and bade him a voluble good-by. Over +her shoulder the minister saw Kyan making frantic signs to him; +he interpreted the signals as a request for secrecy concerning the +interview by the window. + +Several times during the remainder of that week he surprised his +housekeeper by suddenly laughing aloud when there was, apparently, +nothing to laugh at. He explained these outbursts by saying that he +had thought of something funny. Keziah suggested that it must be mighty +funny to make him laugh in the middle of sermon writing. + +"I've heard sermons that were funny," she said, "though they wasn't +intended to be; but what I've heard of yours ain't that kind. I wish +you'd let me in on the joke. I haven't been feelin' like laughin' for +the last fortni't." + +She had been rather grave and preoccupied, for her, of late. Bustling +and busy she always was, never sitting down to "rest," as she called it, +without a lap full of sewing. The minister's clothes were mended and his +socks darned as they had not been since his mother's day. And with +him, at meal times, or after supper in the sitting room, she was always +cheerful and good-humored. But he had heard her sigh at her work, and +once, when she thought herself unobserved, he saw her wipe her eyes with +her apron. + +"No, no," she protested, when he asked if anything had gone wrong. "I'm +all right. Got a little cold or somethin', I guess, that's all." + +She would not give any other explanation and absolutely refused to see +the doctor. Ellery did not press the matter. He believed the "cold" to +be but an excuse and wondered what the real trouble might be. It seemed +to him to date from the evening of his chapel experience. + +He told no one, not even her, of Kyan's confidential disclosure, and, +after some speculation as to whether or not there might be a sequel, put +the whole ludicrous affair out of his mind. He worked hard in his study +and at his pastoral duties, and was conscious of a pleasant feeling that +he was gaining his people's confidence and esteem. + +A week from the following Sunday he dined in state at the Daniels's +table. Captain Elkanah was gracious and condescending. Annabel was more +than that. She was dressed in her newest gown and was so very gushing +and affable that the minister felt rather embarrassed. When, after the +meal was over, Captain Elkanah excused himself and went upstairs for +his Sabbath nap, the embarrassment redoubled. Miss Annabel spoke very +confidentially of her loneliness, without "congenial society," of +how VERY much she did enjoy Mr. Ellery's intellectual sermons, and +especially what a treat it had been to have him as a guest. + +"You must dine here every Sunday," she said. "It will be no trouble at +all, and if you say no, I shall feel that it is because you don't want +to see me--FATHER and me, of course, I mean." + +The minister didn't accept this pressing invitation; on the other +hand, he could not refuse it absolutely. He did not like Miss Daniels +overmuch, but she was the daughter of his leading parishioner and she +and her parent did seem to like him. So he dodged the issue and said she +was very kind. + +He left the big house as soon as he could without giving offense, and +started back toward the parsonage. But the afternoon was so fine and the +early summer air so delightful that he changed his mind and, jumping the +fence at the foot of Cannon Hill, set off across the fields toward the +bluffs and the bay shore. + +The sun was low in the west as he entered the grove of pines on the +bluff. The red light between the boughs made brilliant carpet patterns +on the thick pine needles and the smell was balsamy and sweet. Between +the tree trunks he caught glimpses of the flats, now partially covered, +and they reminded him of his narrow escape and of Nat Hammond, his +rescuer. He had met the captain twice since then, once at the store and +again on the main road, and had chatted with him. He liked him immensely +and wished he might count him as an intimate friend. But intimacy +between a Regular clergyman and the son of the leader of the Come-Outers +was out of the question. Partisans on both sides would shriek at the +idea. + +Thinking of the Hammond family reminded him of another member of it. Not +that he needed to be reminded; he had thought of her often enough since +she ran away from him in the rain that night. And the picture in the +doorway was not one that he could forget--or wanted to. If she were +not a Come-Outer, he could meet her occasionally and they might become +friends. She was a disconcerting young person, who lacked proper respect +for one of his profession and laughed when she shouldn't--but she was +interesting, he admitted that. + +And then he saw her. She was standing just at the outer edge of the +grove, leaning against a tree and looking toward the sunset. She wore a +simple white dress and her hat hung upon her shoulders by its ribbons. +The rosy light edged the white gown with pink and the fringes of her +dark hair were crinkly lines of fire. Her face was grave, almost sad. + +John Ellery stood still, with one foot uplifted for a step. The girl +looked out over the water and he looked at her. Then a crow, one of +several whirling above the pines, spied the intruder and screamed a +warning. The minister was startled and stepped back. A dead limb beneath +his foot cracked sharply. Grace turned and saw him. + +"Oh!" she cried. "Who is it?" + +Ellery emerged from the shadow. + +"Don't be frightened, Miss Van Horne," he said. "It is--er--I." + +This statement was neither brilliant nor original; even as an +identification it lacked considerable. + +"I?" repeated the girl. "Who? Oh! Why--" + +The minister came forward. + +"Good afternoon, Miss Van Horne," he stammered. "I'm afraid I frightened +you." + +She was looking at him with a queer expression, almost as if she +scarcely believed him real. + +"I hope--" he began again. She interrupted him. + +"No," she said confusedly, "you didn't frighten me. I was a little +startled when I saw you there behind me. It seemed so odd, because I was +just thinking--No, I wasn't frightened. What is there to be frightened +of--in Trumet?" + +He had extended his hand, but partially withdrew it, not sure how even +such a perfunctory act of friendliness might be received. She saved him +embarrassment by frankly offering her own. + +"Not much, that's a fact," he said, in answer to her question. He +would have liked to ask what she had been thinking that made his sudden +appearance seem so odd. + +"You came to see the sunset, I suppose?" she said hurriedly, as if to +head off a question. "So did I. It is a beautiful evening for a walk, +isn't it?" + +She had said precisely the same thing on that other evening, when they +stood in the middle of "Hammond's Turn-off" in the driving rain. He +remembered it, and so, evidently, did she, for she colored slightly and +smiled. + +"I mean it this time," she said. "I'm glad you didn't get cold from your +wetting the other day." + +"Oh! I wasn't very wet. You wouldn't let me lend you the umbrella, so I +had that to protect me on the way home." + +"Not then; I meant the other morning when Nat--Cap'n Hammond--met you +out on the flats. He said you were wading the main channel and it was +over your boots." + +"Over my boots! Is that all he said? Over my head would be the plain +truth. To cross it I should have had to swim and, if what I've heard +since is true, I doubt if I could swim that channel. Captain Hammond +helped me out of a bad scrape." + +"Oh, no! I guess not. He said you were cruising without a pilot and he +towed you into port; that's the way he expressed it." + +"It was worse than that, a good deal worse. It might have been my last +cruise. I'm pretty certain that I owe the captain my life." + +She looked at him uncomprehendingly. + +"Your life?" she repeated. + +"I believe it. That part of the channel I proposed swimming was exactly +where two men have been drowned, so people say. I'm not a very strong +swimmer, and they were. So, you see." + +Grace cried out in astonishment. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed. Then pointing toward the bay, she asked: "Out +there, by the end of that leader, was it?" + +"Yes, that was it." + +She drew a long breath. Then, after a moment: + +"And Nat spoke as if it was all a joke," she said. + +"No doubt he did. From what I hear of your brother, he generally refers +to his own plucky, capable actions as jokes. Other people call them +something else." + +She did not answer, but continued to gaze at the half-submerged +"leader," with the pine bough tied at its landward end to mark the edge +of deep water, and the tide foaming through its lath gratings. + +"Your brother--" went on the minister. + +"He isn't my brother," she interrupted absently. "I wish he was." + +She sighed as she uttered the last sentence. + +"No, of course he isn't your real brother; I forgot. But he must seem +like one." + +"Yes," rather doubtfully. + +"You must be proud of him." + +"I am." There was nothing doubtful this time. + +"Well, he saved me from drowning. I'm almost certain of that." + +"I'm so glad." + +She seemed to mean it. He looked at her. + +"Thank you," he said drily. "I'm rather glad myself." + +"Oh! I didn't mean it exactly that way. Of course I'm glad you weren't +drowned, but I'm especially glad that--that one of our family saved you. +Now you won't believe that Come-Outers are all bad." + +"I never believed it." + +She shook her head. + +"Oh, yes, you did," she affirmed stubbornly. "You've heard nothing good +of us since you came here. Don't tell fibs, Mr. Ellery." + +"But I assure you--" + +"Nonsense! Does--well, does Cap'n Daniels, or his daughter, say anything +good of us? Be honest, do they?" + +"I hardly think--that is, I shouldn't call their opinions unprejudiced. +And, Miss Van Horne, perhaps the prejudice isn't all on one side. What +did your uncle say about Cap'n Nat's meeting me the other day?" + +"Uncle Eben doesn't know. Nat didn't tell anyone but me. He doesn't +boast. And uncle would be glad he helped you. As I told you before, Mr. +Ellery, I'm not ashamed of my uncle. He has been so good to me that I +never can repay him, never! When my own father was drowned he took me +in, a little orphan that would probably have been sent to a home, and +no father could be kinder or more indulgent than he has been. Anything +I asked for I got, and at last I learned not to ask for too much. No +self-denial on his part was too great, if he could please me. When he +needed money most he said nothing to me, but insisted that I should be +educated. I didn't know until afterwards of the self-sacrifice my four +years at the Middleboro Academy meant to him." + +The minister had listened eagerly to this defense of the man whom he had +been led to consider his arch enemy. It was given with spirit and the +girl's head was uplifted and her eyes flashed as she spoke. Ellery's +next remark was uttered without premeditation. Really, he was thinking +aloud. + +"So you went away to school?" he mused. "That is why--" + +"That is why I don't say 'never done nothin'' and 'be you' and +'hain't neither.' Yes, thank you, that's why. I don't wonder you were +surprised." + +The young man blushed. + +"You misunderstand me," he protested. "I didn't mean--" + +"Oh! yes, you did. Not precisely that, perhaps, but pretty near it. I +suppose you expected me to speak like Josiah Badger or Kyan Pepper. I +try not to. And I try not to say 'immejitly,' too," she added, with a +mischievous twinkle. + +Ellery recognized the "immejitly" quotation and laughed. + +"I never heard but one person say that," he observed. "And he isn't a +Come-Outer." + +"No, he isn't. Well, this lesson in English can't be very interesting +to you, Mr. Ellery, and I must go. But I'm very glad Nat helped you the +other day and that you realize the sort of man he is. And I'm glad I +have had the opportunity to tell you more about Uncle Eben. I owe him +so much that I ought to be glad--yes, glad and proud and happy, too, to +gratify his least wish. I must! I know I must, no matter how I--What +am I talking about? Yes, Mr. Ellery, I'm glad if I have helped you to +understand my uncle better and why I love and respect him. If you knew +him as I do, you would respect him, too. Good-by." + +She was going, but the minister had something to say. He stepped forward +and walked beside her. + +"Just a minute, please," he urged. "Miss Van Horne, I do understand. I +do respect your uncle. We have a mutual friend, you and I, and through +her I have come to understand many things." + +Grace turned and looked at him. + +"A mutual friend?" she repeated. "Oh! I know. Mrs. Coffin?" + +"Yes; Mrs. Coffin. She's a good woman and a wise one." + +"She's a dear! Do you like her, too?" + +"Indeed, I do." + +"Has she told you about me--about uncle, I mean?" + +"Yes. Why, she told me--" + +He began to enumerate some of the things Keziah had told concerning the +Hammond family. They were all good things, and he couldn't help seeing +that the recital pleased her. So he went on to tell how his housekeeper +had helped him, of her advice, of her many acts of kindness, of what +he owed to her. The girl listened eagerly, asking questions, nodding +confirmation, and, in her delight at hearing Keziah praised, quite +forgetting her previous eagerness to end the interview. And, as he +talked, he looked at her, at the red light on her hair, the shine of +her eyes, like phosphorus in the curl of a wave at night, at her long +lashes, and-- + +--"Yes," said Miss Van Horne, "you were saying--" + +The minister awoke with a guilty start. He realized that his sentence +had broken off in the middle. + +"Why! why--er--yes," he stammered. "I was saying that--that I don't know +what I should have done without Mrs. Coffin. She's a treasure. Frankly, +she is the only real friend I have found in Trumet." + +"I know. I feel the same way about her. She means so much to me. I love +her more than anyone else in the world, except uncle, of course--and +Nat. I miss her very much since--since--" + +"Since I came, you mean. I'm sorry. I wish--I hate to think I am the +cause which separates you two. It isn't my fault, as you know." + +"Oh! I know that." + +"Yes, and I object to having others choose my friends for me, people +who, because of a fanatical prejudice, stand in the way of--If it wasn't +for that, you might call and see Mrs. Coffin, just as you used to do." + +Grace shook her head. They had moved on to the bend of the bluff, beyond +the fringe of pines, and were now standing at the very edge of the high +bank. + +"If it wasn't for that, you would come," asserted the minister. + +"Yes, I suppose so. I should like to come. I miss my talks with Aunt +Keziah more than you can imagine--now especially. But, somehow, what we +want to do most seems to be what we mustn't, and what we don't like is +our duty." + +She said this without looking at him, and the expression on her face was +the same sad, grave one he had noticed when he first saw her standing +alone by the pine. + +"Why don't you come?" he persisted. + +"I can't, of course. You know I can't." + +"Why not? If my company is objectionable I can go away when you come. If +you dislike me I--" + +"You know I don't dislike you personally." + +"I'm awfully glad of that." + +"But it's impossible. Uncle respects and is fond of Aunt Keziah, but he +wouldn't hear of my visiting the parsonage." + +"But don't you think your uncle might be persuaded? I'm sure he +misunderstands me, just as I should him if it weren't for Mrs. +Coffin--and what you've said. Don't you think if I called on him and he +knew me better it might help matters? I'll do it gladly. I will!" + +"No, no. He wouldn't listen. And think of your own congregation." + +"Confound my congregation!" + +"Why, Mr. Ellery!" + +She looked at him in amazement; then her lips began to curl. + +"Why, Mr. Ellery!" she repeated. + +The minister turned very red and drew his hand across his forehead. + +"I--I don't mean that exactly," he stammered. "But I'm not a child. I +have the right to exercise a man's discretion. My parish committee must +understand that. They shall! If I choose to see you--Look out!" + +She was close to the overhanging edge of the bluff and the sod upon +which she stood was bending beneath her feet. He sprang forward, caught +her about the waist, and pulled her back. The sod broke and rattled down +the sandy slope. She would have had a slight tumble, nothing worse, had +she gone with it. There was no danger; and yet the minister was very +white as he released her. + +She, too, was pale for a moment, and then crimson. + +"Thank you," she gasped. "I--I must go. It is late. I didn't realize how +late it was. I--I must go." + +He did not answer, though he tried to. + +"I must go," she said hurriedly, speaking at random. "Good afternoon. +Good-by. I hope you will enjoy your walk." + +"I have enjoyed it." His answer was unstudied but emphatic. She +recognized the emphasis. + +"Will you come to see Mrs. Coffin?" he asked. + +"No, no. You know I can't. Good-by. The sunset is beautiful, isn't it?" + +"Beautiful, indeed." + +"Yes. I--I think the sunsets from this point are the finest I have ever +seen. I come here every Sunday afternoon to see them." + +This remark was given merely to cover embarrassment, but it had an +unexpected effect. + +"You DO?" cried the minister. The next moment he was alone. Grace Van +Horne had vanished in the gloom of the pine thickets. + +It was a strange John Ellery who walked slowly back along the path, one +that Keziah herself would not have recognized, to say nothing of +Captain Elkanah and the parish committee. The dignified parson, with +the dignified walk and calm, untroubled brow, was gone, and here was +an absent-minded young fellow who stumbled blindly along, tripping over +roots and dead limbs, and caring nothing, apparently, for the damage to +his Sunday boots and trousers which might result from the stumbles. He +saw nothing real, and heard nothing, not even the excited person who, +hidden behind the bayberry bush, hailed him as he passed. It was not +until this person rushed forth and seized him by the arm that he came +back to the unimportant affairs of this material earth. + +"Why! Why, Mr. Pepper!" he gasped. "Are you here? What do you want?" + +"Am I here?" panted Kyan. "Ain't I been here for the last twenty minutes +waitin' to get a chance at you? Ain't I been chasin' you from Dan +to Beersheby all this dummed--excuse me--afternoon? Oh, my godfreys +mighty!" + +"Why, what's the matter?" + +"Matter? Matter enough! It's all your fault. You got me into the mess, +now you git me out of it." + +Usually, when Abishai addressed his clergyman, it was in a tone of +humble respect far different from his present frantic assault. The +Reverend John was astounded. + +"What IS the trouble, Mr. Pepper?" he demanded. "Behave yourself, man. +What IS it?" + +"You--you made me do it," gurgled Kyan. "Yes, sir, 'twas you put me up +to it. When you was at our house t'other day, after Laviny locked me up, +you told me the way to get square was to lock her up, too. And I done +it! Yes, sir, I done it when she got back from meetin' this noon. I +run off and left her locked in. And--and"--he wailed, wringing his +hands--"I--I ain't dast to go home sence. WHAT'll I do?" + + +CHAPTER IX + +IN WHICH MISS DANIELS DETERMINES TO FIND OUT + + +The hysterical Mr. Pepper doubtless expected his clergyman to be almost +as much upset as he was by the news of his action. But John Ellery was +provokingly calm. As a matter of fact he scarcely grasped the purport of +the little man's disjointed story. He had been wandering in dreamland, +his head among the clouds, and the explosion of Keziah's bomb disturbed, +but did not clear the air. + +"What will you do?" he repeated. "Why--er--I don't know, I'm sure." + +Kyan was staggered. + +"You don't know?" he shouted. "YOU don't? Then who does, for the land +sakes? Didn't you tell me to lock her up? Didn't I do it 'CAUSE you told +me? Didn't--didn't--" + +He seemed to be on the verge of apoplexy. Also he had raised his +voice to a yell. The minister seized him by the arm and shook him into +silence. + +"Hush! hush!" he commanded. "Wait a minute. Let me understand this +thing. Some one is locked up, you say. Who is it? Where--" + +"WHO is it? Ain't I tellin' you. It's Laviny. She went into that spare +room where I was t'other day and I slammed the spring lock to on her. +Then I grabbed the key and run. That was afore three this afternoon; now +it's 'most night and I ain't dast to go home. What'll she say when I +let her out? I got to let her out, ain't I? She can't starve to death in +there, can she? And YOU told me to do it! YOU did! Oh--" + +The apoplectic attack was once more imminent. + +"Stop it, Mr. Pepper," ordered Ellery. "I don't remember telling you +to lock your sister up, though--Why, yes, I may have said something or +other, as a joke, but I didn't expect you would seriously consider doing +such a thing. Ha, ha! This is the most idiotic piece of business that I +ever--" + +"Be you laughin'?" demanded the shocked Abishai. "LAUGHIN'? Why, my +godfreys mighty! Idiotic? Well, who's the idiot? 'Tain't me! I'D never +have thought of such a fool trick. But you said--" + +"Hush! Let me think. Have you told anybody?" + +"TOLD anybody! I guess NOT. And nobody'll never know if they wait for me +to tell 'em." + +"Well, then, I don't see why you can't go home and--hum--I don't like +to advise your telling a lie, but you might let her infer that it was an +accident. OR, if you really mean to be your own master, you can tell her +you did it purposely and will do it again if she ever tries the trick on +you." + +"I tell her that! I tell her! O Mr. Ellery, DON'T talk so. You don't +know Laviny; she ain't like most women. If I should tell her that +she'd--I don't know's she wouldn't take and horsewhip me. Or commit +suicide. She's said she would afore now if--if--" + +"Nonsense! She won't do that, you needn't worry." He burst into another +laugh, but checked himself, as he saw the look of absolute distress on +poor Kyan's face. + +"Never mind, Mr. Pepper," he said. "We'll think of some plan to smooth +matters over. I'll go home with you now and we'll let her out together." + +"Will you, Mr. Ellery? Will you, honest? Say, by godfreys mighty, I'd +get down on my knees and thank you this minute if--if I wa'n't in such a +hurry. Come right on; come quick!" + +It was a silent procession of two that wended its way out of the pines +and across the fields, by the brook and the pond, where the evening +mists were rising and the frogs chanting their good-night song, +through the gathering twilight shades, across the main road and up the +lighthouse lane. Kyan, his mind filled with fearful forebodings, was +busily trying to think of a reasonable excuse for the "accidental" +imprisonment of his sister. John Ellery was thinking, also, but his +thoughts were not of the Peppers. + +The little house was dark and still as they approached it. No welcoming +light in the dining-room windows, no open door, no shrill voice +demanding to know where the wandering brother had been "all this +everlastin' time." Even the hens had gone to roost. Abishai groaned. + +"Oh, dear!" he wailed. "I'm scart to death. Where is she? You don't +cal'late she's done it, do ye?" + +"Done it? Done what?" + +"Done the suicidin'. She said she would if--O Laviny!" + +"Hush! Be quiet. She's all right. She's in the room where you left her, +of course. She couldn't get out, could she? You've got the key. Come +in." + +They entered the house. The dining room was dark and quiet. So was the +sitting room. The clock ticked, solemn and slow. Kyan clutched at his +companion's arm. + +"I don't hear her," he whispered. "You don't s'pose she HAS done it? +Godfreys mighty!" + +The gloom and mystery were having their effect, even on Mr. Ellery's +nerves. His answer also was given in a tense whisper, but with some +irritation. + +"Hush!" he murmured. "Let go of my wrist. You've pinched it black and +blue. Which room did you leave her in? Show me at once." + +Kyan's trembling knees managed to carry him to the little hall leading +from the sitting room toward the ell at the side of the house. This hall +was almost pitch black. The minister felt his guide's chin whisker brush +his ear as the following sentence was literally breathed into it: + +"Here--here 'tis," panted Kyan. "Here's the door. I don't hear nothin', +do you? Listen!" + +They listened. Not a sound, save the dismal tick of the clock in the +room they had left. Ellery knocked on the door. + +"Miss Pepper," he said; "Miss Pepper, are you there?" + +Kyan caught his breath. No answer. + +"Miss Pepper," repeated the minister. "Miss Pepper!" + +Silence, absolute. Abishai could stand it no longer. He groaned and +collapsed on his knees. + +"She has!" he moaned. "She's done it and there ain't nothin' in there +but her remains. Oh, my soul!" + +Ellery, now rather frightened himself, shook him violently. + +"Be quiet, you idiot!" he commanded. "We must go in. Give me the key." + +After repeated orders and accompanying shakings, Kyan produced a key. +The minister snatched it from his trembling fingers, felt for the +keyhole and threw the door open. The little room was almost as dark as +the hall and quite as still. There was a distinct smell of old clothes +and camphor. + +"A match," demanded Ellery. "Quick!" + +"I ain't got none," quavered Mr. Pepper. "They're all in the box in the +settin' room. Oh, my godfreys mighty! What'll I do? What undertaker'll I +have? Solon Tripp's the reg'lar one, but Laviny and he had a row and +she said she'd come back and ha'nt me if I ever let him touch her +rema--Where you goin'? DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!" + +The minister was going after a match, and said so. In a moment he +returned with several. One of these he lit. The brimstone sputtered, +burned blue and fragrant, then burst into a yellow flame. + +The little room was empty. + +John Ellery drew a breath of relief. Then he laughed. + +"Humph!" he exclaimed. "She's gone." + +"GONE? Why, she ain't nuther! Where could she go?" + +"I don't know, but she has gone--somewhere. At any rate, she's not +here." + +Kyan rose to his feet. His alarm had changed to paralyzed astonishment. + +"How could she go?" he repeated. "That window won't open more'n six +inches. Laviny ain't what you'd call fleshy, but she never could squeeze +through that in this world. And I locked the door, 'cause I heard the +click. I--I--I--do you b'lieve in spirits, Mr. Ellery?" + +"Nonsense! Come into the sitting room, light a lamp, and let's talk it +over." + +The lamp was found and lighted at last. Its radiance brightened the +dingy sitting room. + +"Do you b'lieve in spirits?" repeated Kyan. "I've heard yarns about +folks bein' spirited away, but I never took much stock in 'em. And," +he added with conviction, "'twould take a pretty husky spirit to handle +Laviny if she had her mad up. She--Hush! hear that!" + +The sound of wheels was heard in the lane by the front gate. A vehicle +stopped. Then some one called a hurried good night. Mr. Pepper's fear +returned. + +"It's her!" he cried. "She's been ahuntin' for me. NOW I'll get it! +You stand by me, Mr. Ellery. You got to. You said you would. But how on +earth did she get--" + +The minister motioned him to silence. + +"I'll stand by you," he whispered. "Don't speak. Leave it to me." + +A step sounded on the back step. The dining-room door was hurriedly +thrown open. + +"'Bishy," called Miss Pepper eagerly. "'Bish, where are you?" + +"Here--here I be, Laviny," faltered Kyan. + +His sister appeared on the threshold. She was dressed in her Sunday +best, flowered poke bonnet, mitts, imitation India shawl, rustling black +bombazine gown. She looked at Mr. Pepper then at the minister. + +"O Mr. Ellery!" she exclaimed, "be you here?" + +The Reverend John admitted his presence. Miss Pepper's demeanor +surprised him. She did not seem angry; indeed, she acted embarrassed and +confused, as if she, and not her brother, were the guilty party. + +"I'm afraid I'm awful late, 'Bishy," she said. "Have you had your +supper?" + +Kyan was too perturbed to venture a reply. The sword above his head was +quivering on its single hair and he was preparing to dodge the fall. But +it did not fall. + +"You haven't had any supper, have you?" purred Miss Pepper pityingly. +"It's too bad. You poor thing! you must be awful hungry." + +She moved across the room and kissed him. Abishai, who had prepared +himself for a different sort of greeting, clutched his chair with both +hands. He looked as if he might faint. The minister gazed open-mouthed. + +"I'm awful sorry, Mr. Ellery," gushed Lavinia, removing the bonnet. "You +see, I was invited out to ride this afternoon and--and--I went." + +She glanced at her brother, reddened--yes, almost blushed--and +continued. + +"You know, 'Bishy," she said "Thankful Payne's cousin's home avisitin' +her. He come about that cousin's will--the other cousin that's just +died. He's a reel nice man--her live cousin is--keeps a shoe store up +to Sandwich, and I used to know him years ago. When I was over to +Thankful's t'other day, him and me had quite a talk. We got speakin' of +what nice drives there was around Trumet and--and--er--well, he asked me +if I wouldn't like to go to ride next Sunday afternoon--that's to-day. +And a ride bein' a good deal of a treat to me, I said I would. Thankful +was goin', too, but--er--er--she couldn't very well. So Caleb--that's +his name, you remember, 'Bishy--he come round with his horse and team +about ha'f past three and we started. But I'd no IDEE 'twas so late. +I--I--meant to tell you I was goin', 'Bish, but I forgot." + +Kyan had listened to this recital, or explanation, or apology, with a +curious succession of expressions passing over his face. He swallowed +two or three times, but did not interrupt. + +"I'm so sorry I kept you waitin' supper," gushed Lavinia. "I'll get you +a good one now. Oh, well, deary me! I must be gettin' absent-minded. I +ain't asked you where you've been all the afternoon." + +Abishai's eyes turned beseechingly toward his promised backer. Ellery +could not resist that mute appeal. + +"Your brother has been with me for some time, Miss Pepper," he +volunteered. + +"Oh, has he? Ain't that nice! He couldn't have been in better comp'ny, +I'm sure. But oh, say, 'Bishy! I ain't told you how nigh I come to not +gettin' out at all. Just afore Mr. Payne come, I was in that spare room +and--you remember I put a spring lock on that door?" + +It was here at last. The long-dreaded explosion was imminent. Kyan's +chin shook. He braced himself for the blow. The minister prepared to +come to the rescue. + +"Yes," went on Lavinia. "I--I put a lock on that door so's I--I could +shut the room up when I wanted to. Well, when I was in there this +afternoon the wind blew the door shut and--Hey?" + +"I--I never said nothin'," panted Kyan. + +"Yes, it blew to, the lock clicked, and there I was. If I hadn't had the +other key in my pocket I don't know's I wouldn't have been in there yet. +That would have been a pretty mess, wouldn't it! He! he! he!" + +She laughed shrilly. The minister looked at her, then at her brother, +and he, too, burst into a shout of laughter. Kyan did not laugh; yet his +grip upon the chair relaxed, and over his countenance was spreading a +look of relief, of hope and peace, like a clear sunrise after a stormy +night. + +"Well, I must go and get supper," declared Lavinia. "You'll forgive me +for leavin' you so, won't you, 'Bishy?" + +Mr. Pepper sighed. + +"Yes," he said slowly. "I'll forgive you, Laviny." + +"I knew you would. I hope you ain't been too lonesome. Did you miss me? +Was you worried?" + +"Hey? Yes, I--I missed you consider'ble. I WAS gettin' sort of worried. +I didn't s'pose you'd go off to ride with--with a feller and leave me +all alone. But I forgive you." He stopped, drew his hand across his +forehead, and then added, "I s'pose I hadn't ought to complain. Maybe +I'd better get used to it; I guess likely this is only the beginnin'." + +Lavinia blushed furiously. + +"Why, 'Bish!" she exclaimed. "How you do talk! Ain't he awful, Mr. +Ellery?" + +The Reverend John did not answer. He could not trust himself to speak +just then. When he did it was to announce that he must be getting toward +home. No, he couldn't stay for supper. + +Miss Pepper went into the kitchen, and Abishai saw the visitor to the +door. Ellery extended his hand and Kyan shook it with enthusiasm. + +"Wa'n't it fine?" he whispered. "Talk about your miracles! Godfreys +mighty! Say, Mr. Ellery, don't you ever tell a soul how it really was, +will you?" + +"No, of course not." + +"No, I know you won't. You won't tell on me and I won't tell on you. +That's a trade, hey?" + +The minister stopped in the middle of his step. + +"What?" he said, turning. + +Mr. Pepper merely smiled, winked, and shut the door. John Ellery +reflected much during his homeward walk. + + +The summer in Trumet drowsed on, as Trumet summers did in those days, +when there were no boarders from the city, no automobiles or telephones +or "antique" collectors. In June the Sunday school had its annual +picnic. On the morning of the Fourth of July some desperate spirits +among the younger set climbed in at the church window and rang the bell, +in spite of the warning threats of the selectmen, who had gone on record +as prepared to prosecute all disturbers of the peace to the "full extent +of the law." One of the leading citizens, his name was Daniels, awoke to +find the sleigh, which had been stored in his carriage house, hoisted to +the roof of his barn, and a section of his front fence tastefully draped +about it like a garland. The widow Rogers noticed groups of people +looking up at her house and laughing. Coming out to see what they were +laughing at, she was provoked beyond measure to find a sign over the +front door, announcing "Man Wanted Imediate. Inquire Within." The door +of the Come-Outer chapel was nailed fast and Captain Zeb Mayo's old +white horse wandered loose along the main road ringed with painted black +stripes like a zebra. Captain Zeb was an angry man, for he venerated +that horse. + +The storm caused by these outbreaks subsided and Trumet settled into +its jog trot. The stages rattled through daily, the packet came and went +every little while, occasionally a captain returned home from a long +voyage, and another left for one equally long. Old Mrs. Prince, up at +the west end of the town, was very anxious concerning her son, whose +ship was overdue at Calcutta and had not been heard from. The minister +went often to see her and tried to console, but what consolation is +there when one's only child and sole support is nobody knows where, +drowned and dead perhaps, perhaps a castaway on a desert island, or +adrift with a desperate crew in an open boat? And Mrs. Prince would say, +over and over again: + +"Yes, yes, Mr. Ellery. Thank you. I'm sure you mean to encourage me, but +oh, you don't know the things that happen to seafarin' men. I do. I went +to sea with my husband for fourteen year. He died on a voyage and they +buried him over the vessel's side. I can't even go to his grave. The sea +got him, and now if it's taken my Eddie--" + +The young clergyman came away from these calls feeling very young, +indeed, and woefully inadequate. What DID he know of the great sorrows +of life? + +The Sunday dinners with the Daniels family were almost regular weekly +functions now. He dodged them when he could, but he could not do so +often without telling an absolute lie, and this he would not do. And, +regularly, when the solemn meal was eaten, Captain Elkanah went upstairs +for his nap and the Reverend John was left alone with Annabel. Miss +Daniels did her best to be entertaining, was, in fact, embarrassingly +confidential and cordial. It was hard work to get away, and yet, somehow +or other, at the stroke of four, the minister always said good-by and +took his departure. + +"What is your hurry, Mr. Ellery?" begged Annabel on one occasion when +the reading of Moore's poems had been interrupted in the middle by the +guest's sudden rising and reaching for his hat. "I don't see why you +always go so early. It's so every time you're here. Do you call at any +other house on Sunday afternoons?" + +"No," was the prompt reply. "Oh, no." + +"Then why can't you stay? You know I--that is, pa and I--would LOVE to +have you." + +"Thank you. Thank you. You're very kind. But I really must go. Good +afternoon, Miss Daniels." + +"Mrs. Rogers said she saw you going across the fields after you left +here last Sunday. Did you go for a walk?" + +"Er--er--yes, I did." + +"I wish you had mentioned it. I love to walk, and there are SO few +people that I find congenial company. Are you going for a walk now?" + +"Why, no--er--not exactly." + +"I'm sorry. GOOD-by. Will you come again next Sunday? Of COURSE you +will. You know how dreadfully disappointed I--we--shall be if you +don't." + +"Thank you, Miss Daniels. I enjoyed the dinner very much. Good +afternoon." + +He hurried down the path. Annabel watched him go. Then she did an odd +thing. She passed through the sitting room, entered the front hall, went +up the stairs, tiptoed by the door of her father's room, and then up +another flight to the attic. From here a steep set of steps led to the +cupola on the roof. In that cupola was a spyglass. + +Annabel opened a window a few inches, took the spyglass from its rack, +adjusted it, laid it on the sill of the open window and knelt, the glass +at her eye. The floor of the cupola was very dusty and she was wearing +her newest and best gown, but she did not seem to mind. + +Through the glass she saw the long slope of Cannon Hill, with the beacon +at the top and Captain Mayo's house near it. The main road was deserted +save for one figure, that of her late caller. He was mounting the hill +in long strides. + +She watched him gain the crest and pass over it out of sight. Then she +shifted the glass so that it pointed toward the spot beyond the curve +of the hill, where the top of a thick group of silver-leafs hid the +parsonage. Above the tree tops glistened the white steeple of the +Regular church. If the minister went straight home she could not see +him. But under those silver-leafs was the beginning of the short cut +across the fields where Didama had seen Mr. Ellery walking on the +previous Sunday. + +So Annabel watched and waited. Five minutes, then ten. He must have +reached the clump of trees before this, yet she could not see him. +Evidently, he had gone straight home. She drew a breath of relief. + +Then, being in a happier frame of mind, and the afternoon clear and +beautiful, she moved the glass along the horizon, watching the distant +white specks across the bay on the Wellmouth bluffs--houses and +buildings they were--the water, the shore, the fish weirs, the pine +groves. She became interested in a sloop, beating into Wellmouth harbor, +and watched that. After a time she heard, in the house below, her father +shouting her name. + +She gave the glass one more comprehensive sweep preparatory to closing +it and going downstairs. As she did this a moving speck came into view +and vanished. + +Slowly she moved the big end of the spyglass back along the arc it had +traveled. She found the speck and watched it. It was a man, striding +across the meadow land, a half mile beyond the parsonage, and hurrying +in the direction of the beach. She saw him climb a high dune, jump a +fence, cross another field and finally vanish in the grove of pines on +the edge of the bluff by the shore. + +The man was John Ellery, the minister. Evidently, he had not gone home, +nor had he taken the short cut. Instead he had walked downtown a long +way and THEN turned in to cross the fields and work his way back. + +Annabel put down the glass and, heedless of her father's calls, sat +thinking. The minister had deliberately deceived her. More than that, he +had gone to considerable trouble to avoid observation. Why had he done +it? Had he done the same thing on other Sunday afternoons? Was there +any real reason why he insisted on leaving the house regularly at four +o'clock? + +Annabel did not know. Her eyes snapped and her sharp features looked +sharper yet as she descended the steps to the attic. She did not know; +but she intended to find out. + + +CHAPTER X + +IN WHICH KEZIAH'S TROUBLES MULTIPLY + + +Keziah was getting worried about her parson. Not concerning his +popularity with his congregation. She had long since ceased to worry +about that. The young minister's place in his people's regard was now +assured, the attendance was increasing, and the Regular church was +now on a firmer footing, financially and socially, than it had been +in years. Even Mrs. Rogers and Lavinia Pepper had ceased to criticise, +except as pertained to unimportant incidentals, and were now among the +loudest of the praise chanters. And as Captain Zeb Mayo said: "When +Didama and Laviny stops fault-findin', the millennium's so nigh port a +feller ought to be overhaulin' his saint uniform." + +But what worried Mrs. Coffin was John Ellery's personal appearance and +behavior. He had grown perceptibly thinner during the past month, his +manner was distrait, and, worst of all in the housekeeper's eyes, his +appetite had fallen off. She tried all sorts of tempting dishes, but the +result was discouraging. + +"What!" she exclaimed. "Don't want but one piece of huckleberry pie? +Why, a week ago you ate three and looked kind of disappointed 'cause the +dish was empty. What is the matter? Are you sick?" + +"No, Mrs. Coffin," replied the Reverend John. "No, I'm not sick. I just +don't feel hungry, that's all." + +"Hum! Well, I've usually noticed that when a healthy man don't feel +hungry at dinner time, 'specially in the huckleberry season, his +healthiness is pretty shaky. What does ail you, Mr. Ellery? Got +somethin' on your mind? If you have, I'd heave it overboard. Or you +might unload it onto me and let me prescribe. I've had consider'ble +experience in that kind of doctorin'." + +But the answer was unsatisfactory. Mr. Ellery laughed, changed the +subject, and wandered out into the garden, where Keziah saw him, shortly +afterwards, intently regarding nothing in particular with a rapt stare. +She watched him for a few moments and then, with a puzzled shake of +the head, returned to her work. She believed that he was troubled about +something and was herself troubled in consequence. + +His absent-mindedness was most acute on Sunday evenings, before prayer +meeting, and after he had returned from the afternoon at Captain +Elkanah's. + +"Say, Mr. Ellery," she said, on one of these Sunday evenings, "do you +know, it seems to me that Elkanah's meals must go to your head. Don't +have any of his granddad's New England rum, do you? They tell me he's +got some of that down cellar that he doles out occasional to his +very particular friends. That's the common yarn around town, though I +couldn't swear 'twas gospel." + +The minister smiled and denied acquaintanceship with the New England +beverage. + +"Humph! Then it must be the other thing. You ain't in love, are you?" + +The young man started, colored, and was plainly embarrassed. + +"In love?" he repeated. "In love, Mrs. Coffin?" + +"Yes, in love. Annabel hasn't landed a male at last, has she? She's a +line over the side for a long time." + +The hearty laugh with which this was received settled the question of +Annabel's success. Keziah was relieved. + +"Well, I'm glad of that," she said. "I ain't got any grudge against +Annabel, but neither have I got one against you. Another man in that +family would have an easy time in one way, he wouldn't have to do any +thinkin' for himself--Elkanah and his daughter would do all that was +necessary. So you're not in love. Then I don't know what does ail you. +I'll say this, though, for a body that ain't in love you certainly stay +with the Danielses a long time. You went there right after meetin' this +noon and now it's seven o'clock and you've just got home. And 'twas the +same last Sunday and the one before. Been there all the time, have you?" + +She knew he had not, because she had seen him pass the parsonage, on +the opposite side of the road, two hours before. But she was curious to +learn what his reply would be. It was noncommittal. + +"No," he said slowly. "Not all the time. I--er--went for a short walk." + +Before she could inquire concerning that walk he had entered the study +and closed the door after him. + +During the week which followed this particular conversation he was more +absent-minded than ever. There were evenings when he spoke scarcely a +word, but sat silent in his chair, while Keziah, looking up from her +mending, watched him and guessed and wondered. After he had gone to his +room for the night, she would hear him pacing the floor, back and forth, +back and forth. She asked no more questions, however; minding her own +business was a specialty of Keziah's, and it was a rare quality in +Trumet. + +Sunday was a cloudy, warm day, "muggy," so Captain Zeb described it. +After the morning service Mr. Ellery, as usual, went home with Captain +Daniels and Annabel. Keziah returned to the parsonage, ate a lonely +dinner, washed the dishes, and sat down to read a library book. She +read for an hour and then, finding it difficult to keep her mind on the +story, gave it up, closed the book and, rising, walked to the window. +But the misty, hot loneliness of the afternoon, was neither interesting +nor cheerful, so she turned away and went upstairs to her own room. Her +trunk was in one corner of this room and she unlocked it, taking from +a compartment of the tray a rosewood writing case, inlaid with +mother-of-pearl, a present from her father, who had brought it home from +sea when she was a girl. + +From the case she took a packet of letters and a daguerreotype. The +latter was the portrait of a young man, in high-collared coat, stock, +and fancy waistcoat. His hair, worn long over the ears, was smooth with +a shine that suggested oil, and in his shirt front was a large pin, +which might possibly have been mistaken by a credulous observer for a +diamond. Mrs. Coffin looked at the daguerreotype, sighed, shuddered, and +laid it aside. Then she opened the packet of letters. Selecting one from +the top of the pile, she read it slowly. And, as she read, she sighed +again. + +She did not hear the back door of the parsonage open and close softly. +Nor did she hear the cautious footsteps in the rooms below. What aroused +her from her reading was her own name, spoken at the foot of the stairs. + +"Keziah! Keziah, are you there?" + +She started, sprang up, and ran out into the hall, the letter still in +her hand. + +"Who is it?" she asked sharply. "Mr. Ellery, is that you?" + +"No," was the answer. "It's me--Nat. Are you busy, Keziah? I want to see +you for a minute." + +The housekeeper hurriedly thrust the letter into her waist. + +"I'll be right down, Nat," she answered. "I'm comin'." + +He was in the sitting room when she entered. He was wearing his Sunday +suit of blue and his soft felt hat was on the center table. She held out +her hand and he shook it heartily. + +"Well!" she observed, smiling, "I declare if I don't believe you've got +the tiptoe habit. This is the second time you've sneaked into the house +and scared me 'most to death. I asked you before if you wa'n't ashamed +of yourself and now I ask it again." + +Before he could reply she caught a glimpse of his face. + +"What is it?" she asked. "What is the matter? Is anybody sick? Is your +father--" + +"No, he's all right. That is, he's as well as he has been lately, though +that isn't sayin' much." + +"Is Grace--" + +"No, she's all right, too, I guess. Been sort of quiet and sorrowful +for the last few weeks--or I've seemed to notice that she has--but +I cal'late it's nothin' serious. I wouldn't wonder if the same thing +that's troublin' her is what ails me." + +"But what is it? Why don't you tell me?" + +"I'm goin' to tell you, Keziah. That's what I come here for. I--" + +"Sit down, can't you? Don't stand up there like a lighthouse, shuttin' +out the whole broadside of the room. You are the BIGGEST thing!" + +Captain Hammond selected the most substantial chair in the apartment and +sat down upon it. He looked at his friend and shook his head. + +"No use, Keziah," he said. "If I was as deep down in the blues as the +bottom of the Whale Deep, a look at that face of yours would pull me to +the top again. You're a good woman!" + +"Thanks! When I have spare time on my hands I'll practice tryin' to +believe that. But what is the trouble, Nat? Out with it." + +"Well, Keziah, it's trouble enough. Dad and I have had a fallin' out." + +Mrs. Coffin's mouth and eyes opened. + +"What?" she cried, in utter astonishment. + +"Yes. It's true. We had what was next door to a real quarrel after +dinner to-day. It would have been a real one if I hadn't walked off and +left him. He's as set as the rock of Gibraltar, and--" + +"And your foundations ain't given to slippin' much. Nat Hammond, I'm +surprised at you! What was it all about? Religion?" + +"No, not a sliver of religion in it. If 'twas that, I could dodge, or +haul down my colors, if I had to. But it's somethin' worse, enough sight +worse. Somethin' I can't do--even for dad--and won't either. Keziah, +he's dead set on my marryin' Grace. Says if I don't he'll know that +I don't really care a tin nickel for him, or for his wishes, or what +becomes of the girl after he's gone." + +"Nat!" + +"It's a fact. You see, dad realizes, better'n I thought he did, that his +health is pretty shaky and that he is likely to founder 'most any time. +He says that don't worry him; if he knew Grace and I were provided for +he'd slip his cable with a clean manifest. But the dream of his life, he +says, has been that we should marry. And he wants to see it done." + +Keziah was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly: + +"And Grace herself? How does she feel about it? Has he spoken to her?" + +"I don't know. I guess likely he has. Perhaps that's why she's been so +sort of mournful lately. But never mind whether he has or not; I won't +do it and I told him so. He got red hot in a jiffy. I was ungrateful and +stubborn and all sorts of things. And I, bein' a Hammond, with some of +the Hammond balkiness in me, I set my foot down as hard as his. And we +had it until--until--well, until I saw him stagger and tremble so that I +actually got scared and feared he was goin' to keel over where he stood. + +"'Why can't you?' he kept sayin'. 'But WHY can't you? Ain't she a girl +anyone would be proud to have for a wife?' 'Course there was no answer +to that but yes. Then back he comes again with 'Then why can't you?' At +last, bein' frightened, as I said, that he might have another shock or +somethin', I said I'd think it over and come away and left him. And I +come straight to you. Keziah, what shall I do? What can you say to help +me?" + +Keziah was silent. She was looking, not at her companion, but at the +carpet center of one of the braided rugs on the floor. Her face was very +grave and the lines about her mouth seemed to deepen. Her hands, clasped +in her lap, tightened one upon the other. But her voice was calm when, +at last, she spoke. + +"Nat," she said, "there's only one thing I can say. And that's what your +father said: Why can't you?" + +The captain sprang from his chair. + +"What?" he cried incredulously. "What are you sayin'?" + +"Just what your father said, Nat. Why can't you marry Grace? She's a +dear, good girl and--" + +"That be--keelhauled! Keziah Coffin, you sit there and ask me why I +can't marry her! YOU do?" + +"Yes, Nat." + +"Keziah, you're crazy! Don't talk to me like that. We're not jokin' now. +You know why I can't marry her, nor anyone else in this round world but +you." + +"Nat, I can't marry you." + +"I know, I know. You're always sayin' that. But you don't mean it. You +can't mean it. Why, you and me have been picked out for each other by +the Almighty, Keziah. I swear I believe just that. We went together when +we were boy and girl, to parties and such. We was promised when I first +went to sea. If it hadn't been for that fool row we had--and 'twas all +my fault and I know it--you never would have let that da--that miserable +Anse Coffin come near you. And when 'twas too late and you'd married +him, the mean, drunken, cruel--" + +"Hush, Nat! hush! Stop it!" + +"He was, and you know he was. Yes, and worse besides. Runnin' off and +leavin' a wife like you to--Oh, my God! when I think I might have been +your husband to look out for you and take care of you! That you +might have been with me on board my ships. That, when I come down the +companion on stormy nights I might have found you there to comfort me +and--O Keziah! we aren't young any more. What's the use of foolin'? I +want you. I'm goin' to have you. Coffin is dead these ten years. When I +heard he was drowned off there in Singapore, all I could say was: 'Serve +him right!' And I say it now. I come home then more determined to get +you. Say yes, and let's be happy. Do!" + +"I can't, Nat." + +"Why not? For Heaven sakes! why not? Don't you care for me? You've let +me think--well, at any rate, I have thought you did. You used to. Don't +you?" + +"Nat, I--I care for you more than anybody else on earth. But I can't +marry you. Oh, don't keep askin' it! Please don't. I can't marry you, +Nat. No!" + +"Well, not now, maybe. Not this month, or even this year, perhaps, but +some day--" + +"No, Nat. You must listen. There's no use of this goin' on any longer. I +mean it. I can't marry you." + +"You won't, you mean." + +"Well, if you wish to think so. Then I won't." + +"But by and by--" + +"No, not by and by. Never, Nat. Never." + +He drew his hand across his forehead. + +"Never!" he repeated, more to himself than to her. + +"Never. Yes, Nat." + +"Then, by the everlastin'! I'll do somethin'--" + +"No, no, you won't. Nat Hammond, I know you. You're a great big, +brave-hearted, sensible man. You won't be foolish. You'll do--yes, I +think you'd better do just what your father asks you to do. Marry Grace, +if she wants you and will have you. She'll make you a good wife; you'll +learn to care for her, and I know she'll have the best husband that a +girl could hope for. And you and I will be friends, just as we've always +been, and--" + +"Keziah, stop that! Stop it, do you hear! I don't want to listen to such +stuff. I tell you I'm past soft soap, and I didn't think you'd give it +to me." + +"Nat!" + +"Oh, yes, 'Nat'! A lot you care for 'Nat'! Not a reason on God's +footstool why you won't have me--except one, and that one that you don't +want me." + +"Please, Nat! I can hardly believe this is you. This trouble with your +father has upset you. You don't mean what you say. You're not talkin' +like yourself and--" + +"Stop it, I tell you. I don't feel like myself. I banked on you, Keziah. +I've lived for you. And now--O Keziah, take it back! Give me a little +hope, just enough to keep my head above water." + +"I'd like to, Nat. I only wish I could. But 'twouldn't be any use. I +can't do it." + +He snatched his hat from the table and strode to the door. Turning, he +looked at her. + +"All right," he said chokingly. "All right. Good-by." + +His steps sounded on the oilcloth of the kitchen. Then the back door +slammed. He was gone. + +Keziah started, as if the slam of the door had been an electric shock. +During the interview she had been pale and grave but outwardly calm. Now +she sank wearily down in the chair from which she had risen and her +head dropped forward upon her arms on the table. The letter she had been +reading before Captain Nat's arrival fell from her waist to the floor +and lay there, its badly spelled and blotted lines showing black +and fateful against the white paper. And she cried, tears of utter +loneliness and despair. + +The clouds thickened as the afternoon passed. The setting sun was +hidden behind them; over the horizon of ocean and bay the fog banks were +rolling in tumbled, crumpled masses. The shadows in the lonely sitting +room deepened. There came a knock at the dining-room door. + +Keziah sprang from her chair, smoothed her hair, hastily wiped her eyes, +picked up the dropped letter and went to admit the visitor, whoever he +or she might be. She was glad of the shadows, they prevented her face +from being seen too plainly. + +"Good afternoon," she said, opening the door. "Oh! it's you, is it?" + +"Yes," admitted Abishai Pepper, standing on the stone step, and shifting +uneasily from one foot to the other. "Yes, Keziah, it's--it's me, thank +you." + +"Don't mention it. Well, is Laviny with you?" + +"No--o, she ain't. She--she didn't come." + +"Hum! Did she know you was comin'?" + +"No--o, I don't cal'late she did." + +"I see. Well, what do you want?" + +Mrs. Coffin's welcome was not too cordial. She had laughed many times +over Abishai's proposal of marriage, but she had never quite forgiven +him for making her ridiculous on that occasion. Incidentally, she did +not feel like laughing. + +"What do you want?" she repeated. + +Kyan was plainly nervous. + +"I only wanted to see Mr. Ellery," he announced. "It's all right, +Keziah. You needn't be afraid." + +"Afraid! What on earth should I be afraid of?" + +"Why--why, I didn't know but you might be afraid I was goin' to--to talk +about what we talked about when I--I talked to you that day up at--" + +"There! that'll do. It ain't me that would have reason to be afraid if +THAT was what you come for. What do you want? Don't stand there dancin' +a jig." + +"I only wanted to see Mr. Ellery." + +"He's out. Good day." + +"But I won't keep him but a minute." + +"He's out, I tell you. Do you want to leave a message?" + +"No--o. No, I guess not." + +"Was it important?" + +"Oh! I don't know. Kind of, maybe. I wanted to ask his advice about +somethin'. It's a secret. Only him and me know about it. Good-by." + +"Shall I tell him you'll call again? Or ask him to come up to your +house?" + +Mr. Pepper, who had started to go, now hurried back to the steps. + +"No, no," he protested, in alarm. "Don't you tell him that. I wouldn't +have him come there for no money. Why, Laviny, she--" + +"Oh, Laviny isn't in the secret, then?" Keziah smiled in spite of +herself. + +"Not exactly. That is, not much. Don't you tell her I come here, will +you? I'll find Mr. Ellery. I know where he is." + +"I wouldn't go to the Danielses', if I was you. Elkanah might not like +to have you chasin' after his visitors." + +"Oh, the minister ain't at the Danielses', not as late's this, he ain't. +I know where he is." + +"You do?" The housekeeper looked at him keenly. + +"Yes, sir, I do. I know where he goes Sunday afternoons--and why he +goes, too. Mr. Ellery and me's good friends. We understand each other." + +"Look here, Kyan Pepper! What are you talkin' about?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. Good day." + +"Stop! Stand still! Come in the house here. I want you to." + +"No, no, Keziah. Really, I'd love to, but I can't stop." + +"Come in, I tell you." + +Reluctantly, but lacking the strength of mind to refuse, Mr. Pepper +entered the dining room. Then Mrs. Coffin turned upon him. + +"What do you mean," she demanded, "by throwin' out hints that the +minister and you are in some sort of secret? How dare you go round +tellin' people such yarns as that?" + +"They ain't yarns. And I never told nobody afore, anyhow. I got to move +along. I'll--" + +"Stay where you are. I guess I'll run right up and ask your sister about +this. Perhaps she might--" + +"Ss-sh! ss-sh! don't talk that way, Keziah. Don't! Laviny don't know +what I mean. Don't go askin' HER things." + +"But you said--" + +"I just said I knew where Mr. Ellery goes every Sunday afternoon. He +don't know anybody knows, but I do. That's all there is to it. I shan't +tell. So--" + +"Tell? Do you mean there's somethin' Mr. Ellery wouldn't want told? +Don't you dare--I WILL see Laviny!" + +"No, no, no, no! 'Tain't nothin' much. I just know where he goes after +he leaves Elkanah's and who he goes to meet. I--Lordy! I hadn't ought to +said that! I--Keziah Coffin, don't you ever tell I told you. I've said +more'n I meant to. If it comes out there'd be the biggest row in the +church that ever was. And I'd be responsible! I would! I'd have to go +on the witness stand and then Laviny'd find out how I--Oh, oh, oh! what +SHALL I do?" + +The poor frightened creature's "jig" had, by this time, become a +distracted fandango. But the housekeeper had no mercy on him. She was +beginning to fear for her parson and, for the time, everything else, her +own trouble and the recent interview with Nat, was pushed aside. + +"What is it?" she persisted. "WHAT would bring on the row in the church? +WHO does Mr. Ellery meet? Out with it! What do you mean?" + +"I mean that the minister meets that Van Horne girl every Sunday +afternoon after he leaves Elkanah's. There, now! It's out, and I don't +give a darn if they hang me for it." + +Keziah turned white. She seized Mr. Pepper by the lapel of his Sunday +coat and shook him. + +"Grace Van Horne!" she cried. "Mr. Ellery meets Grace Van Horne on +Sunday afternoons? Where?" + +"Down in them pines back of Peters's pastur', on the aidge of the +bank over the beach. He's met her there every Sunday for the last six +weeks--longer, for what I know. I've watched 'em." + +"You HAVE? YOU have! You've dared to spy on--I think you're lyin' to me. +I don't believe it." + +"I ain't lyin'! It's so. I'll bet you anything they're there now, +walkin' up and down and talkin'. What would I want to lie for? You come +with me this minute and I'll show 'em to you." + +In the desire to prove his veracity he was on his way to the door. But +Keziah stepped in front of him. + +"'Bish Pepper," she said slowly and fiercely, shaking a forefinger in +his face, "you go straight home and stay there. Don't you breathe a word +to a livin' soul of what you say you've seen. Don't you even think it, +or--or dream it. If you do I'll--I'll march straight to Laviny and tell +her that you asked me to marry you. I will, as sure as you're shakin' in +front of me this minute. Now you swear to me to keep still. Swear!" + +"How--HOW'll I swear?" begged Kyan. "What do you say when you swear? +I'll say it, Keziah! I'll say anything! I'll--" + +"All right. Then mind you remember. Now clear out quick. I want to +think. I MUST think. GO! Get out of my sight!" + +Kyan went, glad to escape, but frightened to the soul of him. Keziah +watched him until he turned from the main road into the lighthouse lane. +Then, certain that he really was going straight home, she re-entered +the parsonage and sat down in the nearest chair. For ten minutes she sat +there, striving to grasp the situation. Then she rose and, putting on +her bonnet and shawl, locked the dining-room door, and went out through +the kitchen. On the step she looked cautiously back to see if any of the +neighbors were at their windows. But this was Sunday, the one day when +Trumet people sat in their front parlors. The coast was clear. She +hurried through the back yard, and down the path leading across the +fields. She was going to the pine grove by the shore, going to find out +for herself if Kyan's astonishing story was true. + +For if it was true, if the Rev. John Ellery was meeting clandestinely +the adopted daughter of Eben Hammond, it meant--what might it not mean, +in Trumet? If he had fallen in love with a Come-Outer, with Grace Van +Horne of all people, if he should dare think of marrying her, it would +mean the utter wreck of his career as a Regular clergyman. His own +society would turn him out instantly. All sorts of things would be said, +lies and scandal would be invented and believed. His character would be +riddled by the Trumet gossips and the papers would publish the result +broadcast. + +And Grace! If she loved a Regular minister, what would happen to her? +Captain Eben would turn her from his door, that was certain. Although +he idolized the girl, Keziah knew that he would never countenance such +a marriage. And if Nat stood by Grace, as he would be almost sure to do, +the breach between father and son would widen beyond healing. If it were +merely a matter of personal selection, Mrs. Coffin would rather have +seen her parson marry Grace than anyone else on earth. As it was, such +a match must not be. It meant ruin for both. She must prevent the affair +going further. She must break off the intimacy. She must save those two +young people from making a mistake which would--She wrung her hands as +she thought of it. Of her own sorrow and trouble she characteristically +thought nothing now. Sacrifice of self was a part of Keziah's nature. + +The pines were a deep-green blotch against the cloudy sky and the gloomy +waters of the bay. She skirted the outlying clumps of bayberry and beach +plum bushes and entered the grove. The pine needles made a soft carpet +which deadened her footfalls, and the shadows beneath the boughs were +thick and black. She tiptoed on until she reached the clearing by the +brink of the bluff. No one was in sight. She drew a breath of relief. +Kyan might be mistaken, after all. + +Then she heard low voices. As she crouched at the edge of the grove, two +figures passed slowly across the clearing, along the bush-bordered path +and into the shrubbery beyond. John Ellery was walking with Grace +Van Horne. He was holding her hand in his and they were talking very +earnestly. + +Keziah did not follow. What would have been the use? This was not the +time to speak. She KNEW now and she knew, also, that the responsibility +was hers. She must go home at once, go home to be alone and to think. +She tiptoed back through the grove and across the fields. + +Yet, if she had waited, she might have seen something else which would +have been, at least, interesting. She had scarcely reached the outer +edge of the grove when another figure passed stealthily along that +narrow path by the bluff edge. A female figure treading very carefully, +rising to peer over the bushes at the minister and Grace. The figure of +Miss Annabel Daniels, the "belle" of Trumet. And Annabel's face was not +pleasant to look upon. + + +CHAPTER XI + +IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN RECEIVES A CALLER + + +At the edge of the bluff, just where the pines and the bayberry bushes +were thickest, where the narrow, crooked little footpath dipped over the +rise and down to the pasture land and the salt meadow, John Ellery +and Grace had halted in their walk. It was full tide and the miniature +breakers plashed amid the seaweed on the beach. The mist was drifting in +over the bay and the gulls were calling sleepily from their perch along +the breakwater. A night hawk swooped and circled above the tall "feather +grass" by the margin of the creek. The minister's face was pale, but set +and determined, and he was speaking rapidly. + +"I can't help it," he said. "I can't help it. I have made up my mind and +nothing can change it, nothing but you. It rests with you. If you say +yes, then nothing else matters. Will you say it?" + +He was holding both her hands now, and though she tried to withdraw +them, he would not let her. + +"Will you?" he pleaded. + +"I can't," she answered brokenly. "I can't. Think of your church and of +your people. What would they say if--" + +"I don't care what they say." + +"Oh! yes, you do. Not now, perhaps, but later you will. You don't know +Trumet as I know it. No, it's impossible." + +"I tell you there is only one impossible thing. That is that I give you +up. I won't do it. I CAN'T do it! Grace, this is life and death for me. +My church--" + +He paused in spite of himself. His church, his first church! He had +accepted the call with pride and a determination to do his best, the +very best that was in him, for the society and for the people whom he +was to lead. Some of those people he had learned to love; many of them, +he felt sure, loved him. His success, his popularity, the growth of the +organization and the praise which had come to him because of it, all +these had meant, and still meant, very much to him. No wonder he paused, +but the pause was momentary. + +"My church," he went on, "is my work and I like it. I believe I've done +some good here and I hope to do more. But no church shall say whom I +shall marry. If you care for me, Grace, as I think and hope you do, +we'll face the church and the town together, and they will respect us +for it." + +She shook her head. + +"Some of them might respect you," she said. "They would say you had been +led into this by me and were not so much to blame. But I--" + +"They shall respect my wife," he interrupted, snapping his teeth +together, "or I'll know the reason why." + +She smiled mournfully. + +"I think they'll tell you the reason," she answered. "No, John, no! +we mustn't think of it. You can see we mustn't. This has all been a +mistake, a dreadful mistake, and I am to blame for it." + +"The only mistake has been our meeting in this way. We should have met +openly; I realize it, and have felt it for sometime. It was my fault, +not yours. I was afraid, I guess. But I'll not be a coward any longer. +Come, dear, let's not be afraid another day. Only say you'll marry me +and I'll proclaim it openly, to-night--Yes, from the pulpit, if you say +so." + +She hesitated and he took courage from her hesitation. + +"Say it," he pleaded. "You WILL say it?" + +"I can't! I can't! My uncle--" + +"Your uncle shall hear it from me. We'll go to him together. I'll tell +him myself. He worships you." + +"Yes, I know. He does worship me. That's why I am sure he had rather see +me dead than married to you, a Regular, and a Regular minister." + +"I don't believe it. He can't be so unreasonable. If he is, then you +shouldn't humor such bigotry." + +"He has been my father for years, and a dear, kind father." + +"I know. That's why I'm so certain we can make him understand. Come, +dear! come! Why should you consider everyone else? Consider your own +happiness. Consider mine." + +She looked at him. + +"I am considering yours," she said. "That is what I consider most of +all. And, as for uncle, I know--I KNOW he would never consent. His heart +is set on something else. Nat--" + +"Nat? Are you considering him, too? Is HE to stand between us? What +right has he to say--" + +"Hush! hush! He hasn't said anything. But--but he and uncle have +quarreled, just a little. I didn't tell you, but they have. And I think +I know the reason. Nat is Uncle Eben's idol. If the quarrel should grow +more serious, I believe it would break his heart. I couldn't bear to be +the cause of that; I should never forgive myself." + +"You the cause? How could you be the cause of a quarrel between those +two? Grace, think of me." + +Here was the selfishness of man and the unselfishness of woman answered. + +"John," she said, "it is of you I am thinking. Everything else +could--might be overcome, perhaps. But I must think of your future and +your life. I MUST. That is why--" + +He did not wait to hear more. He seized her in his arms and kissed her. + +"Then you DO care!" he cried joyfully. "You will marry me?" + +For an instant she lay quiet in his embrace, receiving, if not +responding to his caresses. Then she gently but firmly freed herself. He +saw that there were tears in her eyes. + +"Grace," he urged, "don't--don't hesitate any longer. You were meant to +be my wife. We were brought together for just that. I know it. Come." + +She was crying softly. + +"Won't you?" he begged. + +"I don't know," she sobbed. "Oh, I don't know! I must think--I MUST! +Wait, please wait, John. Perhaps by to-morrow I can answer. I'll +try--I'll try. Don't ask me again, now. Let me think. Oh, do!" + +Doubtless he would have asked her again. He looked as if he meant to. +But just then, drifting through the twilight and the mist, came the +sound of a bell, the bell of the Regular church, ringing for the Sunday +evening meeting. They both heard it. + +"Oh!" exclaimed Grace, "that is your bell. You will be late. You must +go, and so must I. Good night." + +She started down the path. He hesitated, then ran after her. + +"To-morrow?" he questioned eagerly. "Tomorrow, then, you'll say that you +will?" + +"Oh, perhaps, perhaps! I mustn't promise. Good night." + +It was after seven when Grace reached the old tavern. The housekeeper, +Mrs. Poundberry, was anxiously awaiting her. She wore her bonnet and +Sunday gown and was evidently ready to go out. + +"Land sakes alive!" she sputtered. "Where in the name of goodness have +you been to? I was gettin' scairt. Didn't know but you'd run off and got +married, or sunthin' dreadful." + +Grace was thankful that the cloudy twilight made it impossible to see +her face distinctly. The housekeeper rattled on without waiting for an +answer. + +"Supper's on the table and the kittle's abilin'. You better eat in a +hurry, 'cause it's meetin' time now. Your uncle, he started ten minutes +ago. I'm agoin' right along, too, but I ain't goin' to meetin'; I'm +agoin' up to Betsy E.'s to stay all night. She's got a spine in her +back, as the feller said, and ain't feelin' good, so I told her I'd come +and stay a little spell. S'pose you can get along to-morrow without me?" + +"Betsy E." was Mrs. Poundberry's second cousin, an elderly spinster +living alone in a little house near the salt works. Grace assured her +questioner that she could attend to the house and the meals during the +following day, longer if the troublesome "spine" needed company. Mrs. +Poundberry sighed, groaned, and shook her head. + +"I shan't stay no longer," she affirmed; "not if Betsy's all over +spines, like one of them Mexican cactus plants. No, marm, my place is +right here and I know it. Your Uncle Eben's mighty feeble and peaked +lately. He ain't long for this world, I'm afraid. You'd ought to be +awful good to him, Gracie." + +"I know it," was the hurried reply. "Where's Nat?" + +"I don't know. Can't keep track of HIM. Might's well try to put your +finger on a flea. He's here to-day and gone yesterday, as the Scriptur' +says. He ate a little mite of supper, but not much, and then off he +puts. Says he's goin' to walk the fog out'n his head. I told him, s' I, +'You'll walk a plaguey sight more in than you do out, THIS night,' +but he went just the same. He was dreadful kind of dumpy and blue this +evenin'. Seemed to be sort of soggy in his mind. And why he never went +to meetin' with his dad and why his dad never asked him TO go is more'n +I can tell. Land of livin', how I do gabble! My grandmarm used to say +my tongue was loose at both ends and hung in the middle, and I guess she +wa'n't fur off the course. Good-by. Take care of yourself. You can put +what's left of that mock mince pie on the top shelf in the butt'ry and +you'd better heave a dish towel or sunthin' over it to keep the ants +out. There's more ants in this house than there is dollars, a good +sight. Betsy B., she's got a plan for keepin' of 'em out by puttin' +sassers of brimstone round the shelves, but I told her, s' I, 'THEM ants +don't care for no brimstone. They're used to it. Sometimes I b'lieve +they're sent by the everlastin' father of brimstone,' and she--" + +She had reached the gate by this time, and Grace shut off the flow of +conversation by closing the door. Then she took a candle from the row +on the dining-room mantel, lighted it, and went up to her own room. +Standing before the old-fashioned bureau with its little oval mirror, +she hastily arranged her hair. She did not wish to go to the prayer +meeting at the chapel, but she felt that she must. The Come-Outer +gatherings, with their noisy singing and shouting, had grown more and +more repugnant to her. + +And to-night, of all nights! How could she meet those people who had +known her since she was a child, who boasted of her as one of their +staunchest adherents, who believed in her and trusted her? How could she +meet them and talk with them, knowing what she knew and realizing that +they, too, would know it on the morrow? But her uncle would miss her and +be worried about her if she did not come. She could not bear to trouble +him now; she never loved him so dearly, was never so anxious to humor +his every wish as on this, perhaps the last evening they would spend +together. For, though she would not yet admit it, even to herself, her +decision was made, had really been made the first time John Ellery asked +her weeks before. Only the thought of what might happen to him if she +consented had caused her to hesitate so long. + +She blew out the candle and came out into the hall at the head of the +stairs. She was about to descend when she heard voices. The door of the +dining room opened and closed. She felt certain that Nat had returned +and wondered who was with him. Then she heard her uncle's voice, +speaking sharply and with unwonted sternness. + +"I don't know what 'tis you want to see me about," said Captain Eben. +"You say it's important; well, it's got to be to keep me from my +meetin'. I ought to be on the Lord's business this minute and nothin' +worldly's goin' to keep me from servin' Him. So speak quick. What is +it?" + +The voice that answered was one that Grace recognized, though she +had never before heard in it the note of agitation and undignified +excitement. There were no ponderous pauses and "Hum--ha's" now. + +"Don't be a fool, Hammond!" it said. "And don't stand there preaching. +Lock that door! Get a lamp! Are you sure there's nobody but us in the +house?" + +Captain Elkanah Daniels! Captain Elkanah visiting a Come-Outer! and +the leader of the Come-Outers!! Grace caught her breath. What in the +world--She started to descend and then a thought flashed to her mind. +She stopped short. + +"I ain't the fool, Elkanah," she heard her uncle retort sternly. "The +fools are them who are deef to the call from on high. My foot was on the +threshold of His house when you led me astray. It's never halted there +afore. I warn you--" + +"Hush! Shut up! Can't you forget that--that Come-Outer circus of yours +for a minute?" + +"Elkanah Daniels, I'll have no blasphemy here. Another word like that +and--" + +"WILL you be still and hear me? The Lord's business! I guess you'll +think it's the Lord's business when you understand what I'm going to +tell you! The Lord's business! The devil's business, you better say! +Will you lock that door?" + +"My church is waitin' for me and--" + +"Let it wait. What's a parcel of yelling Come-Outers compared to the +decency of this town? Stop! Shut up! Eben Hammond, I tell you that your +precious church--yes and mine, the Regular church of Trumet--will go to +rack and ruin if you and me don't pull together this night." + +"And I tell you, Elkanah Daniels, I'll have no blasphemy here. That +little sanctuary up the road is founded on a rock and neither you +nor any of your Phariseein' priest-worshipin' crew can shake it. The +Almighty'll protect His own. As for the Reg'lar church, that's no +concern of mine." + +"But I tell you 'tis your concern. Or if the church isn't, your own +family is." + +"My--my family?" + +"Yes, your own family. Huh! that makes you listen, don't it?" + +There was an instant of silence. Grace, crouching on the stairs, noticed +the change in her uncle's voice as he answered. + +"My own family?" he repeated slowly. "My own--And the Reg'lar +church--What do you mean? Has Nat--" + +"No, he ain't. But that cussed girl of yours--" + +"Stop!" Eben's shout rang through the house. The listener heard it, +rose, and then sank slowly to her knees. + +"Stop!" shouted Captain Hammond. "Elkanah Daniels, for your own sake +now, be careful. If you dast to say a word, another word like that, +I'll--" + +"If I dast! The hussy! But there's no use talkin' to you. You're as +crazy as a Bedlamite. Either that, or you're in the game with her. If +you are, I warn you--" + +"Stop! What game? What do you mean? Gracie! My Grace! What is it? For +mercy sakes, Elkanah--" + +"Humph! I wondered if I couldn't get some sense into you, finally. Lock +that door!" + +"I will! I will! But Elkanah--" + +"Lock it! Give me the key!" + +The click of the lock sounded sharply. + +"Where's the lamp?" demanded Daniels. "And the matches? Don't stand +there shaking." + +A smell of sulphur floated out into the hall. Then the sickly glow of +the "fluid" lamp shone through the doorway. + +"What ails you?" asked Elkanah. "Are you struck dumb? Now go and see if +there's anybody else in the house." + +"But--but there ain't. I know there ain't. Hannah's gone and Gracie's at +meetin' by this time." + +"She? Humph! Well, maybe she's at meeting and maybe she isn't. Maybe +she's over in Peters's pines, hugging and kissing that man she's met +there every Sunday for I don't know how long--Here! let go, you old +fool! Let go, I tell you!" + +A chair fell to the floor with a bang. There was the sound of hard +breathing and rapid footsteps. + +"Let go!" panted Daniels. "Are you crazy? Take your hands off me!" + +"You liar!" snarled Captain Eben. "You low-lived liar! By the Almighty, +Elkanah Daniels! I'll--You take that back or I'll choke the everlastin' +soul out of you. I will--" + +"Let go, you lunatic! You'll kill yourself. Listen! I'm not lying. It's +the truth. She's met a man, I tell you. Been meeting him for months, I +guess. There! now will you listen?" + +The footsteps had ceased, but the heavy breathing continued. + +"A man!" gasped Eben. "A man! Gracie! It's a--Who is he? What's his +name?" + +"His name's John Ellery, and he's minister of the Regular church in this +town; that's who he is! Here! hold up! Good Lord! are you dying? Hold +up!" + +The girl on the stairs sprang to her feet. Her head was reeling and she +could scarcely stand, but she blindly began the descent. She must go to +her uncle. She must. But Captain Daniels's voice caused her to halt once +more. + +"There! there!" it said in a tone of relief. "That's better. Set still +now. Be quiet, that's it. Shall I get some water?" + +"No, no! let me be. Just let me be. I ain't what I used to be and +this--I'm all right, I tell you. Grace! And--and--What was it you just +said? I--I don't b'lieve I heard it right." + +"I said that daughter of yours, or niece, or whatever she is, this Grace +Van Horne, has been meeting young Ellery, our minister, in Peters's +grove. Been meeting him and walking with him, and kissing him, and--" + +"It's a lie! It ain't so, Elkanah! Prove it or--It--it CAN'T be so, can +it? Please--" + +"It is so. She's met him in those pines every Sunday afternoon for a +long time. She was seen there with him this afternoon." + +"Who--who saw her?" + +"Never mind. The one that did'll never tell--unless it's necessary. +They're fixing to be married, and--" + +"MARRIED! She marry a Reg'lar minister! Oh--" + +"Hush! Listen! They ain't married yet. We can stop 'em, you and I, if we +get right to work. It isn't too late. Will you help?" + +"Will I--I--Go on! tell me more." + +"We can stop 'em. I know it would be a good catch for her, the sneaking, +designing--Well, never mind. But it can't be. It shan't be. You've got +to tell her so, Hammond. We folks of the Regular church have pride in +our society; we won't have it disgraced. And we have been proud of our +minister, the young, rattle-headed fool! We'll save him if we can. If +we can't"--the speaker's teeth grated--"then we'll send him to eternal +smash or die trying." + +"But I can't believe it's true. It's a mistake; some other girl and not +Gracie. Why, she don't even know him. She wouldn't--But she HAS been out +every Sunday afternoon for weeks. If it SHOULD be!" + +"It is. I tell you it is. Don't waste time rolling your eyes and talking +stuff. We've got to work and you've got to work first. I don't know +whether you're only making believe or not. I realize that 'twould be +a good thing for your girl to marry a promising young chap like him, +but--Hush! let me go on. I tell you, Hammond, it can't be. We won't let +her. I won't let her. I'm a man of influence in this town, and outside +of it, too. I'm head of the parish committee and a member of the +National Regular Society. I can't reach your precious ward, maybe, but I +can reach the fellow she's after, and if he marries her, I'll drive 'em +both to the poorhouse. + +"Here's where you come in, Hammond. It may be she does really care for +him. Or maybe she's after position and money. Well, you talk to her. You +tell her that if she keeps on going with him, if she doesn't break off +this damnable business now, tomorrow, I'll ruin John Ellery as sure as +I'm a living man. He'll be ruined in Trumet, anyhow. He'll be thrown out +by the parish committee. I'm not sure that his church people won't +tar and feather him. Marrying a low-down Come-Outer hussy! As if there +wa'n't decent girls of good families he might have had! But losing this +church won't be the only thing that'll happen to him. The committee'll +see that he doesn't get another one. I'll use my influence and have him +thrown out of the Regular ministry. Think I can't? What sort of yarns +do you suppose will be told about him and her, meeting the way they did? +Won't the county papers print some fine tales? Won't the Boston ones +enjoy such a scandal? I tell you, Eben Hammond, that young chap's name +will be dragged so deep in the mud it'll never get clean again." + +He stopped for breath. His companion was silent. After a moment, he +continued: + +"You tell her that, Hammond," he went on. "If she really cares for him, +it'll be enough. She won't let him ruin his life. And I'll keep quiet +till I hear from you. If she's sensible and really decent, then she can +give him his clearance papers without his knowing why she did it and +everything will be a secret and kept so. Nobody else'll ever know. If +she won't do that, then you tell me and I'll have a session with HIM. +If THAT'S no good, then out he goes and she with him; and it's ruination +for both of 'em, reputations and all. Why am I doing this? I'll tell +you. I like him. He isn't orthodox enough to suit me, but I have liked +him mighty well. And Annab--Humph! that's neither here nor there. What +I'm fighting for is the Trumet Regular church. That's MY church and +I'll have no dirty scandal with Come-Outers dragging it down. Now you +understand. Will you tell her what I've said?" + +The chair creaked. Evidently, Captain Eben was rising slowly to his +feet. + +"Well?" repeated Elkanah. + +"Elkanah Daniels," said Eben slowly, his voice shaking from nervous +exhaustion and weakness, but with a fine ring of determination in every +word, "Elkanah Daniels, you listen to me. I've heard you through. If +your yarn is true, then my heart is broke, and I wish I might have died +afore I heard it. But I didn't die and I have heard it. Now listen to +me. I love that girl of mine better'n the whole wide world and yet +I'd ruther see her dead afore me than married to a Reg'lar minister. +Disgrace to HIM! Disgrace to your miser'ble church! What about the +disgrace to MINE? And the disgrace to HER? Ruin to your minister! Ruin +to my girl here and hereafter is what I'm thinkin' of; that and my +people who worship God with me. I'll talk to Grace. I'll talk to +her. But not of what'll happen to him or you--or any of your cantin', +lip-servin' crew. I'll tell her to choose between him and me. And if she +chooses him, I'll send her out of that door. I'll do my duty and read +her out of my congregation. And I'll know she's gone to everlastin' +hell, and that's worse'n the poorhouse. That's all to-night, Elkanah. +Now you better go." + +"Humph! Well, I declare! you ARE a bigoted--" + +"Stop it! I've kept my hands off you so fur, because I'm the Lord's +servant. But I'm fightin' hard to keep down my old salt-water temper. +You go! There's the door." + +"All right, all right! I don't care what you say, so long as it's said +so as to stop her from getting him--and said soon." + +"It'll be said to-night. Now go! My people are waitin' at the chapel." + +"You're not going to that prayer meeting after THIS?" + +"Where else should I go? 'Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy +laden.' And--and"--his voice broke--"He knows that I AM heavy laden. +Lord! Lord! do help me, for this is more'n I can bear alone." + +The lock turned; the door opened and closed. Grace, clinging to the +balusters, heard Captain Hammond cross the room, slowly and feebly. +She heard him enter the sitting room. Then she heard nothing more, +not another sound, though the minutes dragged on and on, endlessly, +eternally, and each with a message, a sentence repeated over and over +again in her brain. "If she really cares for him, she won't let him ruin +his life." + +By and by, pale, but more composed, and with her mind made up, she came +down into the hall. Drawing a long breath, she turned into the sitting +room to face her uncle. By the light shining through the dining-room +door she saw him on his knees by the haircloth sofa. She spoke his name. +He did not answer nor look up. Alarmed, she touched him on the shoulder. +At her touch his arm slid from the couch and he fell gently over upon +his side on the carpet. + + +CHAPTER XII + +IN WHICH CAPTAIN EBEN MAKES PORT + + +Half past eight. In the vestry of the Regular church John Ellery was +conducting his prayer meeting. The attendance was as large as usual. +Three seats, however, were vacant, and along the settees people were +wondering where Captain Elkanah Daniels and his daughter might be. They +had not missed a service for many a day. And where was Keziah Coffin? + +At the Come-Outer chapel the testifying and singing were in full blast. +But Ezekiel Bassett was leading, for Captain Eben Hammond had not +made his appearance. Neither had Grace Van Horne, for that matter, but +Captain Eben's absence was the most astonishing. + +"Somethin's the matter," whispered Josiah Badger to his right-hand +neighbor. "Somethin's wrong d-d-d-down to the tavern, sartin' sure. +I'm goin' down there just soon's meetin's over and f-f-f-find out. +Eben wouldn't no more miss leadin' his meetin' from choice than I'd go +without a meal's v-v-vi-vittles. Somethin's happened and I'm goin' to +know what 'tis. You'll go along with me, won't ye, Lot?" + +The answer was an affirmative. In fact, almost every worshiper in that +chapel had determined to visit the Hammond tavern as soon as the service +was at an end. + + +In the Regular parsonage Keziah sat alone by the sitting-room table. +Prayer meeting and supper she had forgotten entirely. The minister +had not come home for his evening meal, and food was furthest from the +housekeeper's thoughts. What should she do? What ought she to do? How +could she avert the disaster so certain to overwhelm those two young +people the moment their secret became known? + +It was in vain that she tried to encourage herself with the hope that +Kyan had exaggerated--that the meetings in the grove had not been as +frequent as he said they were, or that they had been merely casual. +She knew better. She had seen the pair together and the look in John +Ellery's eyes. No, the mischief was done, they loved each other; or, at +least, he loved her. There was the great trouble. + +Keziah, in spite of her worldly common sense, was an idealist at heart. +Love matches she believed in thoroughly. If the man had not been a +Regular minister, or if he had been a minister in any other town than +narrow, gossiping, squabbling Trumet, where families were divided on +"religious" grounds, neighbors did not speak because their creeds were +different, and even after death were buried in cemeteries three miles +apart; if the girl had been other than the ward of bigoted old Eben +Hammond--then, though they were poor as poverty itself, Keziah would +have joined their hands and rejoiced. Even as it was, she was strongly +tempted to do it. Her sense of right and her every inclination urged her +toward that course. "Face the world together and fight it out," that +was the advice she would like to give them. But no, the battle was too +uneven. The odds were too great. They must not think of marriage, for +the present, and they must cease to meet. Perhaps some day--she tried to +comfort herself with the thought--perhaps some day, years afterwards and +under different circumstances, they might. + +--With Ellery she felt certain she could accomplish nothing by argument +or persuasion. She knew him well enough by this time to realize that, if +his mind was made up, all Trumet and all creation could not change it. +He would keep on his course, and, if wrecked, would go down with colors +set and helm lashed. But Grace, perhaps she did not fully realize the +situation. She might be made to see, to listen to reason. And, perhaps, +it was possible--perhaps, on her part, matters were not as serious. The +minister had not acted like a triumphant lover, assured of success; +he had seemed, now that she thought of it, more like a pleader, a +supplicant. Perhaps, if she could see Grace and talk plainly with the +girl, it might not be too late. She determined to try that very night. + +She rose and again donned her bonnet and shawl. She was about to blow +out the lamp when she heard rapid footsteps, the sound of some one +running along the sidewalk in front of the house. As she listened, the +footsteps sounded on the path. Whoever the runner was he was coming to +the parsonage. She stepped to the door and opened it. + +The runner was a boy, Maria Higgins's boy Isaac, whose widowed mother +lived down by the shore. He did the chores at the Hammond tavern. His +freckled face was dripping with perspiration and he puffed and blew like +a stranded whale. + +"What's the matter, Ike?" demanded Keziah. "What is it?" + +"Have ye--have ye," panted Ike, "have ye seen the doctor anywheres, Mis +Coffin?" + +"Who? Dr. Parker? Have I seen--what in the world are you comin' HERE +after the doctor for?" + +"'Cause--'cause I didn't know where else to come. I been to his house +and he ain't to home. Nobody ain't to home. His wife, Mis Parker, she's +gone up to Boston yes'day on the coach, and--and it's all dark and the +house door's open and the shay's gone, so--" + +"Who's sick? Who wants him?" + +"And--and--all the rest of the houses round here was shut up 'cause +everybody's to meetin'. I peeked in at the meetin' house and he ain't +there, and I see your light and--" + +"Who's sick? Tell me that, won't you?" + +"Cap'n Eben. He's awful sick. I cal'late he's goin' to die, and Gracie, +she--" + +"Cap'n Eben? Eben Hammond! Dyin'? What are you talkin' about?" + +"Huh! huh!" puffed the messenger impatiently. "Didn't I tell ye? Cap'n +Eben's adyin'. I seen him. All white and still and--and awful. And +Gracie, she's all alone and--" + +"Alone? Where's Nat?" + +"She don't know. He ain't to home. But I got to find Dr. Parker." + +"Hold on! Stop! I'll tell you where the doctor is most likely. Up to +Mrs. Prince's. She's been poorly and he's prob'ly been called there. +Run! run fast as ever you can and get him and I'll go to Grace this +minute. The poor thing! Have you told anybody else?" + +"No, no! ain't seen nobody but you to tell. They was prayin' over to +meetin', and the fellers that waits outside to keep comp'ny with the +girls ain't got there yet. And I never met nobody. And 'twas so blasted +dark I fell down four times and tore my best pants and--" + +"S-sh-sh! Listen to me! Don't tell anybody. Not a soul but the doctor. +Half this town'll be runnin' to find out if you do, and that poor girl +must be distracted already. I'll go to her. You get Dr. Parker and tell +him to hurry." + +"I'll tell him; don't you fret." + +He was gone, running harder than ever. A moment later Keziah followed +him, running also. + +It was a misty, black night, and Trumet sidewalks were uneven and hard +to navigate. But she stumbled on, up the main road to the Corners, down +the "Turn-off," past the chapel of the Come-Outers, from the open window +of which sounded the drone of a high, nasal voice. Josiah Badger was +"testifying," and Keziah caught a fragment of the testimony as she +hurried by. + +"I says to 'em, says I, I says to 'em, 'I don't care about your smart +mum-mum-minister and what fine sermons he preaches. Let him BE smart,' I +says. Says I, 'Smartness won't g-g-g-git ye into heaven.' ("Amen!") 'No, +sirree! it takes more'n that. I've seen smart folks afore and they got +c-c-cuk-catched up with sooner or later. Pride goes ahead of a tumble, +I've heard tell, and--" + +This was all that Keziah heard of Mr. Badger's testimony, for, as she +ran on, a rattle of wheels and the thud of hoofs came from behind her. +Then a rocking chaise, drawn by a galloping horse, shot by. Dr. Parker's +carriage, she was sure. The Higgins boy must have met the doctor and +delivered his message. + +The horse and chaise were standing by the front gate of the tavern as +she pantingly drew near it. The side door of the house was ajar and she +opened it softly and entered. The dining room was empty. There was a +light on the sitting-room table and low voices came from the little +bedroom adjoining. Then, from the bedroom, emerged Dr. Parker and Grace +Van Horne. The girl was white and there were dark circles under her +eyes. The doctor was very grave. + +Keziah stepped forward and held out both hands. Grace looked, recognized +her, and with a cry ran toward her. Keziah took her in her arms and +soothed her as if she were a child. + +"There! there! deary," she said, stroking her hair. "There! there! +deary, don't take it so hard. Poor thing! you're worn out. If I'd only +known sooner." + +"O Aunt Keziah!" sobbed the girl. "I'm so glad you've come. It was so +good of you." + +"Good! Land of mercy! If I hadn't come, I'd have been worse than the +beasts that perish. Don't cry, don't. How is he now? Some better?" + +She looked at the doctor as she asked it. He shook his head +emphatically. + +"Well, well, dear," went on Mrs. Coffin hurriedly. "He will be pretty +soon, we'll hope. You mustn't give up the ship, you know. Now you go and +lay down somewheres and I'll get my things off and see what there is to +do. Some good strong tea might be good for all hands, I guess likely. +Where's Hannah Poundberry?" + +"She's gone to her cousin's to stay all night. I suppose I ought to send +for her, but I--" + +"No, no, you hadn't. Might's well send for a poll parrot, the critter +would be just as much good and talk less. I'll look out for things, me +and the doctor. Where's--where's Nat?" + +"He came in just after I sent the boy for the doctor. He's in there +with--with him," indicating the bedroom. "Poor Nat!" + +Keziah looked longingly toward the door. + +"Yes," she said slowly. "Poor fellow, it's an awful shock to him. He and +his father are--But there! you lay down on that lounge." + +"I can't lie down. I can't do anything but think. Oh, what a dreadful +day this has been! And I thought it was going to be such a happy one!" + +"Yes, yes, deary, I know." + +Grace raised her head. + +"You know?" she repeated, looking up into the housekeeper's face. + +"I mean I know it's been a dreadful day," explained Keziah quickly. +"Yes, indeed it has," with a sigh. "But there! our moanin' over it don't +cheer it up any. Will you lay down? No? Well, then, SET down, there's a +good girl." + +Grace, protesting that she couldn't sit down, she couldn't leave uncle, +and there were so many things to do, was at last persuaded by Keziah and +the doctor to rest for a few moments in the big rocker. Then Mrs. Coffin +went into the kitchen to prepare the tea. As she went, she beckoned to +Dr. Parker, who joined her a moment later. + +"Well, doctor?" she asked anxiously. + +The stout, gray-haired old physician--he had practiced in Trumet for +nearly thirty years--shook his head. + +"Not a single chance," he whispered. "He may possibly live till morning, +but I doubt if he lasts an hour. It's his heart. I've expected it at +any time. Ever since he had that shock, I've been at him to take things +easy; but you might as well talk to a graven image. That Come-Outer +foolishness is what really killed him, though just what brought on this +attack I can't make out. Grace says she found him lying on the floor by +the sofa. He was unconscious then. I'm rather worried about her. She was +very near to fainting when I got here." + +"No wonder. All alone in this ark of a house and nobody to help or to +send. Lucky she found that Ike Higgins. Say, I wonder if the young +one's around here now? If he is, he must stand at the gate and scare off +Come-Outers. The whole chapel, mates, crew, and cabin boy, 'll be down +here soon's meetin's over to see what kept Eben. And they mustn't get +in." + +"I should say not. I'll hunt up Ike. If a Come-Outer gets into this +house to-night I'll eat him, that's all." + +"Some of 'em would give you dyspepsy, I guess. Yes, Grace, I'll be there +in a jiffy." + +The doctor left the house to find young Higgins and post him at the +gate. The boy, who had been listening under the window, was proud of his +new responsibility. + +"I'll fix 'em, doctor," he declared. "I only hope old Zeke Bassett +comes. He lammed me with a horsewhip t'other day, 'cause I was ridin' +behind his ox cart. If he tried to git by me, I'll bounce a rock off'n +his Sunday hat." + +"Doctor," whispered Keziah from the kitchen window. "Doctor, come quick. +Nat wants you." + +Captain Nat was standing at the door of the bedroom. His face was drawn +and he had seemingly grown years older since noon. + +"He's come to himself, doc," he whispered. "He don't remember how it +happened or anything. And he wants us all. Why! why, Keziah! are you +here?" + +"Yes, Nat. I've been here a little while." + +He looked at her steadily and his eyes brightened just a trifle. + +"Did you come to see me?" he asked. "Was it about what I said this--" + +"No, no, Nat; no. I heard the news and that Grace was alone; so I come +right down." + +He nodded wearily. + +"You can come in, too," he said. "I know dad likes you and I guess--Wait +a minute; I'll ask him." He stepped back into the bedroom. "Yes," he +nodded, returning, "you come, too. He wants you." + +The little room, Captain Eben's own, was more like a skipper's cabin +than a chamber on land. A narrow, single bed, a plain washstand, a +battered, painted bureau and a single chair--these made up the list of +furniture. Two pictures, both of schooners under full sail, hung on the +walls. Beside them hung a ship's barometer, a sextant, and a clock that +struck the "bells," instead of the hours as the landsman understands +them. In the corner stood the captain's big boots and his oilskins hung +above them. His Sunday cane was there also. And on the bureau was a +worn, heavy Bible. + +Dr. Parker brushed by the others and bent over the bed. + +"Well, cap'n," he said cheerily, "how's she headed? How are you feeling +now?" + +The old face on the pillow smiled feebly. + +"She's headed for home, I guess, doc," said Captain Eben. "Bound for +home, and the harbor light broad abeam, I cal'late." + +"Oh, no! you'll make a good many voyages yet." + +"Not in this hulk, I won't, doctor. I hope I'll have a new command +pretty soon. I'm trustin' in my owners and I guess they'll do the fair +thing by me. Halloo, Gracie, girl! Well, your old uncle's on his beam +ends, ain't he?" + +Grace glanced fearfully at his face. When he spoke her name she shrank +back, as if she feared what he might say. But he only smiled as, with +the tears streaming down her face, she bent over and kissed him. + +"There! there!" he protested. "You mustn't cry. What are you cryin' +about me for? We know, you and me, who's been lookin' out for us and +keepin' us on the course all these years. We ain't got anything to cry +for. You just keep on bein' a 'good girl, Gracie, and goin' to the right +church and--I s'pose Ezekiel'll lead in meetin' now," he added. "I do +wish he was a stronger man." + +The doctor, whose fingers had been upon the old man's wrist, looked up +at Nat significantly. + +"There, dad," said the latter, "don't you worry about Zeke Bassett, nor +anything else. You just lay in dry dock and let Parker here overhaul +your runnin' riggin' and get you fit for sea. That's what you've got to +do." + +"I'm fit and ready for the sea I'm goin' to sail," was the answer. His +eyes wandered from his son to Mrs. Coffin. For an instant he seemed +puzzled. Then he said: + +"'Evenin', Keziah. I don't know why you're here, but--" + +"I heard that Grace was alone and that you was sick, Eben. So I come +right down, to help if I could." + +"Thank ye. You're a good-hearted woman, Keziah, even though you +ain't seen the true light yet. And you're housekeeper for that hired +priest--a--a--" He paused, and a troubled look came over his face. + +"What is it, dad?" asked Nat. + +"I--I--Where's Gracie? She's here, ain't she?" + +"Yes, uncle, I'm here. Here I am," said the girl. His fingers groped for +her hand and seized it. + +"Yes, yes, you're here," murmured Captain Eben. "I--I--for a minute or +so, I--I had an awful dream about you, Gracie. I dreamed--Never mind. +Doc, answer me this now, true and honest, man to man: Can you keep me +here for just a little spell longer? Can you? Try! Ten minutes, say. Can +you?" + +"Of course I can. Cap'n Hammond, what are you--" + +"I know. That's all right. But I ain't a young one to be petted and lied +to. I'm a man. I've sailed ships. I've been on blue water. I'm goin' to +make port pretty soon, and I know it, but I want to get my decks clear +fust, if I can. Gracie, stand still. Nat, run alongside where I can see +you plainer. Keziah, you and the doctor stay where you be. I want you to +witness this." + +"Cap'n," protested Dr. Parker, "if I were you I wouldn't--" + +"Belay! Silence there, for'ard! Nat, you're my boy, ain't you? You set +some store by the old man, hey?" + +"I--I guess I do, dad." + +"Yes, I guess you do, too. You've been a pretty good boy; stubborn +and pig-headed sometimes, but, take you by and large, pretty good. And +Gracie, you've been a mighty good girl. Never done nothin' I wouldn't +like, nothin' mean nor underhand nor--" + +"Hush, uncle! Hush! Please hush!" + +"Well, you ain't; so why should I hush? In this--this dream I had, seems +'sif you--seems as if a man come to me and said that you was--It WAS a +dream, wa'n't it?" + +He tried to rise. Nat and the doctor started forward. Grace shrank back. + +"Of course it was, cap'n," said the doctor briskly. "Now you mustn't +fret yourself in this way. Just lie still and--" + +"Belay, I tell you. Yes, I guess 'twas a dream. It had to be, but 'twas +so sort of real that I--How long have I been this way?" + +"Oh, a little while! Now just--" + +"Hush! Don't pull your hand away, Gracie. Nat, give me yours. That's it. +Now I put them two hands together. See, doctor? See, Keziah?" + +"He's wandering. We must stop this," muttered Parker. Mrs. Coffin, who +began to comprehend what was coming, looked fearfully at Nat and the +girl. + +"No, I ain't wanderin', neither," declared the old Come-Outer fretfully. +"I'm sane as ever I was and if you try to stop me I'll--Gracie, your +Uncle Eben's v'yage is 'most over. He's almost to his moorin's and +they're waitin' for him on the pier. I--I won't be long now. Just a +little while, Lord! Give me just a little while to get my house in +order. Gracie, I don't want to go till I know you'll be looked out for. +I've spoke to Nat about this, but I ain't said much to you. Seems if I +hadn't, anyhow; I ain't real sartin; my head's all full of bells ringin' +and--and things." + +"Don't, uncle, don't!" pleaded Grace. "Don't worry about me. Think of +yourself, please." + +"S-sh-sh! Don't put me off. Just listen. I want you to marry my boy, +after I'm gone. I want you to say you will--say it now, so's I can hear +it. Will you, Gracie?" + +Grace would have withdrawn her hand, but he would not let her. He clung +to it and to that of his son with all his failing strength. + +"Will you, Gracie?" he begged. "It's the last thing I'm goin' to ask of +you. I've tried to be sort of good to you, in my way, and--" + +"Don't, don't!" she sobbed. "Let me think a minute, uncle, dear. Oh, do +let me think!" + +"I ain't got time, Gracie. You'll have to say it now, or else--All +right, then, think; but think quick." + +Grace was thinking. "If she really cares for him, she won't let him ruin +his life." That was what Captain Elkanah had said. And here was a way to +save him from ruin. + +"Won't you say it for me, Gracie?" pleaded Captain Eben. She hesitated +no longer. + +"Yes, uncle," she answered through tears, "if Nat wants me he can have +me." + +Keziah clasped her hands. Captain Eben's face lit up with a great joy. + +"Thank the Almighty!" he exclaimed. "Lord, I do thank you. Nat, boy, +you're consider'ble older than she is and you'll have to plan for her. +You be a good husband to her all her days, won't ye? Why, what are you +waitin' for? Why don't you answer me?" + +Nat groaned aloud. + +"A minute, dad," he stammered. "Just give me a minute, for Heaven sakes! +Keziah--" + +"Keziah!" repeated Eben. "Keziah? What are you talkin' to HER for? She +knows there couldn't be no better match in the world. You do know it, +don't ye, Keziah?" + +"Yes," said Keziah slowly. "I guess--I guess you're right, Eben." + +"Keziah Coffin," cried Nat Hammond, "do you tell me to marry Grace?" + +"Yes, Nat, I--I think your father's right." + +"Then--then--what difference does--All right, dad. Just as Grace says." + +"Thank God!" cried Captain Eben. "Doctor, you and Mrs. Coffin are +witnesses to this. There! now my decks are clear and I'd better get +ready to land. Gracie, girl, the Good Book's over there on the bureau. +Read me a chapter, won't you?" + +An hour later Keziah sat alone in the dining room. She had stolen away +when the reading began. Dr. Parker, walking very softly, came to her and +laid his hand on her shoulder. + +"He's gone," he said simply. + + +CHAPTER XIII + +IN WHICH KEZIAH BREAKS THE NEWS + + +It was nearly five o'clock, gray dawn of what was to be a clear, +beautiful summer morning, when Keziah softly lifted the latch and +entered the parsonage. All night she had been busy at the Hammond +tavern. Busy with the doctor and the undertaker, who had been called +from his bed by young Higgins; busy with Grace, soothing her, comforting +her as best she could, and petting her as a mother might pet a +stricken child. The poor girl was on the verge of prostration, and from +hysterical spasms of sobs and weeping passed to stretches of silent, +dry-eyed agony which were harder to witness and much more to be feared. + +"It is all my fault," she repeated over and over again. "All my fault! I +killed him! I killed him, Aunt Keziah! What shall I do? Oh, why couldn't +I have died instead? It would have been so much better, better for +everybody." + +"Ss-sh! ss-sh! deary," murmured the older woman. "Don't talk so; you +mustn't talk so. Your uncle was ready to go. He's been ready for ever so +long, and those of us who knew how feeble he was expected it any time. +'Twa'n't your fault at all and he'd say so if he was here now." + +"No, he wouldn't. He'd say just as I do, that I was to blame. You don't +know, Aunt Keziah. Nobody knows but me." + +"Maybe I do, Gracie, dear; maybe I do. Maybe I understand better'n you +think I do. And it's all been for the best. You'll think so, too, one +of these days. It seems hard now; it is awful hard, you poor thing, but +it's all for the best, I'm sure. Best for everyone. It's a mercy he went +sudden and rational, same as he did. The doctor says that, if he hadn't, +he'd have been helpless and bedridden and, maybe, out of his head for +another year. He couldn't have lived longer'n that, at the most." + +"But you DON'T know, Aunt Keziah! You don't know what I--I AM to blame. +I'll never forgive myself. And I'll never be happy again." + +"Yes, you will. You'll come, some day, to think it was best and right, +for you and--and for others. I know you think you'll never get over it, +but you will. Somehow or other you will, same as the rest of us have +had to do. The Lord tries us mighty hard sometimes, but He gives us the +strength to bear it. There! there! don't, deary, don't." + +Dr. Parker was very anxious. + +"She must rest," he told Mrs. Coffin. "She must, or her brain will give +way. I'm going to give her something to make her sleep and you must get +her to take it." + +So Keziah tried and, at last, Grace did take the drug. In a little while +she was sleeping, uneasily and with moans and sobbings, but sleeping, +nevertheless. + +"Now it's your turn, Keziah," said the doctor. "You go home now and +rest, yourself. We don't need you any more just now." + +"Where's--where's Cap'n Nat?" asked Keziah. + +"He's in there with his father. He bears it well, although he is mighty +cut up. Poor chap, he seems to feel that he is to blame, somehow. Says +Cap'n Eben and he had disagreed about something or other and he fears +that hastened the old man's death. Nonsense, of course. It was bound to +come and I told him so. 'Twas those blasted Come-Outers who really did +it, although I shan't say so to anyone but you. I'm glad Nat and the +girl have agreed to cruise together. It's a mighty good arrangement. She +couldn't have a better man to look out for her and he couldn't have a +better wife. I suppose I'm at liberty to tell people of the engagement, +hey?" + +"Yes. Yes, I don't see any reason why not. Yes--I guess likely you'd +better tell 'em." + +"All right. Now you go home. You've had a hard night, like the rest of +us." + +How hard he had no idea. And Keziah, as she wearily entered the +parsonage, realized that the morning would be perhaps the hardest +of all. For upon her rested the responsibility of seeing that the +minister's secret was kept. And she, and no other, must break the news +to him. + +The dining room was dark and gloomy. She lighted the lamp. Then she +heard a door open and Ellery's voice, as he called down the stairs. + +"Who is it?" he demanded. "Mrs. Coffin?" + +She was startled. "Yes," she said softly, after a moment. "Yes, Mr. +Ellery, it's me. What are you doin' awake at such an hour's this?" + +"Yes, I'm awake. I couldn't sleep well to-night, somehow. Too much +to think of, I imagine. But where have you been? Why weren't you at +meeting? And where--Why, it's almost morning!" + +She did not answer at once. The temptation was to say nothing now, to +put off the trying scene as long as possible. + +"It's morning," repeated the minister. "Are you sick? Has anything +happened?" + +"Yes," she answered slowly, "somethin' has happened. Are you dressed? +Could you come down?" + +He replied that he would be down in a moment. When he came he found +her standing by the table waiting for him. The look of her face in the +lamplight shocked him. + +"Why, Mrs. Coffin!" he exclaimed. "What IS it? You look as if you had +been through some dreadful experience." + +"Maybe I have," she replied. "Maybe I have. Experiences like that come +to us all in this life, to old folks and young, and we have to bear 'em +like men and women. That's the test we're put to, Mr. Ellery, and the +way we come through the fire proves the stuff we're made of. Sorrows and +disappointments and heartbreaks and sicknesses and death--" + +She paused on the word. He interrupted her. + +"Death?" he repeated. "Death? Is some one dead, some one I know? Mrs. +Coffin, what is it you are trying to tell me?" + +Her heart went out to him. She held out both her hands. + +"You poor boy," she cried, "I'm trying to tell you one of the hardest +things a body can tell. Yes, some one is dead, but that ain't all. Eben +Hammond, poor soul, is out of his troubles and gone." + +"Eben Hammond! Captain Eben? Dead! Why, why--" + +"Yes, Eben's gone. He was took down sudden and died about ten o'clock +last night. I was there and--" + +"Captain Eben dead! Why, he was as well as--as--She said--Oh, I must go! +I must go at once!" + +He was on his way to the door, but she held it shut. + +"No," she said gravely, "you mustn't go. You mustn't go, Mr. Ellery. +That's the one thing you mustn't do." + +"You don't understand. By and by I can tell you why I must be there, but +now--" + +"I do understand. I understand it all. Lord help us! if I'd only +understood sooner, how much of this might have been spared. Why DIDN'T +you tell me?" + +"Mrs. Coffin--" + +"John--you won't mind my callin' you John. I'm old enough, pretty nigh, +to be your mother, and I've come to feel almost as if I was. John, +you've got to stay here with me. You can't go to that house. You can't +go to her." + +"Mrs. Coffin, what are you saying? Do you know--Have you--" + +"Yes, I know all about it. I know about the meetin's in the pines and +all. Oh, why didn't you trust me and tell me? If you had, all would have +been SO much better!" + +He looked at her in utter amazement. The blood rushed to his face. + +"You know THAT?" he whispered. + +"Yes, I know." + +"Did she tell--" + +"No, nobody told. That is, only a little. I got a hint and I suspicioned +somethin' afore. The rest I saw with my own eyes." + +He was now white, but his jaw shot forward and his teeth closed. + +"If you do know," he said, "you must realize that my place is with her. +Now, when she is in trouble--" + +"Would you want to make that trouble greater? More than she could bear?" + +"I think I might help her to bear it. Mrs. Coffin, you have been my +truest friend, but one, in Trumet. You HAVE been like a mother to me. +But I have thought this out to the end and I shall go through with it. +It is my affair--and hers. If my own mother were alive and spoke as you +do, I should still go through with it. It is right, it is my life. I'm +not ashamed of anything I've done. I'm proud. I'm proud of her. And +humble only when I think how unworthy I am to be her husband. I suppose +you are fearful of what my congregation will say. Well, I've thought of +that, too, and thought it through. Whatever they say and whatever they +do will make no difference. Do you suppose I will let THEM keep me from +her? Please open that door." + +He was very tragic and handsome--and young, as he stood there. The tears +overflowed the housekeeper's eyes as she looked at him. If her own love +story had not been broken off at its beginning, if she had not thrown +her life away, she might have had a son like that. She would have given +all that the years had in store for her, given it gladly, to have been +able to open the door and bid him go. But she was firm. + +"It ain't the congregation, John," she said. "Nor Trumet, nor your +ministry. That means more'n you think it does, now; but it ain't that. +You mustn't go to her because--well, because she don't want you to." + +"Doesn't want me? I know better." He laughed in supreme scorn. + +"She doesn't want you, John. She wouldn't see you if you went. She would +send you away again, sure, sartin sure. She would. And if you didn't +go when she sent you, you wouldn't be the man I hope you are. John, you +mustn't see Grace again. She ain't yours. She belongs to some one else." + +"Some one else!" He repeated the words in a whisper. "Some one ELSE? +Why, Mrs. Coffin, you must be crazy! If you expect me to--" + +"Hush! hush! I ain't crazy, though there's times when I wonder I ain't. +John, you and Grace have known each other for a few months, that's +all. You've been attracted to her because she was pretty and educated +and--and sweet; and she's liked you because you were about the only +young person who could understand her and--and all that. And so you've +been meetin' and have come to believe--you have, anyway--that 'twas +somethin' more than likin'. But you neither of you have stopped to think +that a marriage between you two was as impossible as anything could be. +And, besides, there's another man. A man she's known all her life and +loved and respected--" + +"Stop, Mrs. Coffin! stop this wicked nonsense. I won't hear it." + +"John, Grace Van Horne is goin' to marry Cap'n Nat Hammond. There! +that's the livin' truth." + +In his absolute confidence and faith he had again started for the door. +Now he wheeled and stared at her. She nodded solemnly. + +"It's the truth," she repeated. "She and Nat are promised to each other. +Cap'n Eben, on his deathbed, asked Dr. Parker and me to be witnesses to +the engagement. Now you see why you mustn't go nigh her again." + +He did not answer. Instead, he stood silently staring. She stepped +forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. + +"Set down, John," she said. "Set down and let me tell you about it. Yes, +yes, you must. If I tell you, you'll understand better. There! there! +don't you interrupt me yet and don't you look that way. Do set down." + +She led him over to the rocking-chair and gently forced him into it. +He obeyed, although with no apparent realization of what he was doing. +Still with her hand on his shoulder she went on speaking. She told him +of her visit to the Hammond tavern, saying nothing of Mr. Pepper's +call nor of her own experience in the grove. She told of Captain Eben's +seizure, of what the doctor said, and of the old Come-Outer's return to +consciousness. Then she described the scene in the sick room and how Nat +and Grace had plighted troth. He listened, at first stunned and stolid, +then with growing impatience. + +"So you see," she said. "It's settled; they're engaged, and Dr. Parker +will tell everybody of the engagement this very mornin'. It wa'n't any +great surprise to me. Those two have been brought up together; 'twas the +natural thing that was almost bound to happen. Eben's heart was set on +it for years. And she'll have a good husband, John, that I know. And +she'll do her best to make him happy. He's a good man and--" + +The minister sprang to his feet. + +"A good man!" he cried furiously. "A good man! One who will make use of +a dying father to drive a girl into--Stand aside, Mrs. Coffin!" + +"John, you mustn't speak that way of Nat Hammond. He ain't the kind to +drive a girl against her will. And Grace is not one to be driven." + +"Are you blind? Can't you see? Why, only yesterday, she--Do you think I +shall permit such a wicked crime as that to--" + +"Ss-sh! No, it ain't wicked, it's right. Right and best for everybody, +for her especial. Yesterday she might have forgot for a minute. But +think, just think what would have happened if she cared for you." + +"But she does! I know she does. Mrs. Coffin, stand away from that door." + +"No, John; if you go out of that door now, to go to her, you'll have to +go by main strength. You shan't wreck yourself and that girl if I can +help it. Be a man." + +The pair looked at each other. Keziah was determined, but so, evidently, +was he. She realized, with a sinking heart, that her words had made +absolutely no impression. He did not attempt to pass, but he slowly +shook his head. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "perhaps you believe you're doing right. I +hope--yes, I'll give you credit for that belief. But I KNOW I am right +and I shall go to her. Such a--a BARGAIN as that you have just told me +of is no more to be regarded than--" + +"John, I beg you--" + +"NO." + +"Then go. Go this minute and break her heart and ruin her life and spoil +her good name in this village where she's lived since she was eight +years old. Go! be selfish. I suppose that's part of a man's make-up. Go! +Never mind her. Go!" + +"I do 'mind' her, as you call it. I AM thinking of her." + +"No, you're not. It's yourself." + +"If it was myself--and God knows it is the only happiness on earth for +me--if it was only myself, and I really thought she wished me to stay +away, I'd stay, I'd stay, though I'd pray to die before this hour was +over." + +"I know, I know. I've prayed to die myself afore now, but I'm here yet; +and so will you be. We can't die so easy." + +"But I know--" + +"Do you suppose SHE would come to YOU if she knew it would be your +ruin?" + +He hesitated. The last time they met, ages before--no, only the previous +afternoon--she had told him it was his happiness and his future only +that she thought of. He choked and drew his hand across his eyes. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "you tell me it will be her ruin. YOU tell me +so. You SAY she doesn't want me. I tell you that the only thing that +will keep me from her is hearing that from her own lips. When she tells +me to leave her I will, and not before." + +"She'll tell you, John; she'll tell you. I know you must despise me, +pretty nigh. I cal'late you think I'm a worldly old woman, carin' +nothin' for your feelin's. Maybe I've talked pretty hard in the last few +minutes, but I haven't meant to be hard. To be honest, I didn't think +you'd listen to me. I expected you'd insist on seein' her yourself. +Well, then, go and see her, if you must, though what will come of it +can only be more trouble, for you run the risk of folks knowin' it and +beginnin' to wonder. And I know Grace. She's made up her mind and won't +change it. But I do ask you this: I ask you not to go now. Wait a little +while, do. I left her asleep, worn out by what she's been through and +under the effects of the doctor's sleepin' medicine. He said she must +rest or he was afraid her brain would give out. For her sake, then, +wait a little. Then, if you don't hear from her, maybe I can arrange a +meetin' place where you can see her without anyone's knowin' it. I'll +try. But do wait a little while, for her sake, won't you?" + +At last he was listening and hesitating. + +"Won't you?" begged Keziah. + +"Yes," he answered slowly. "I'll wait. I'll wait until noon, somehow, +if I can. I'll try. But not a minute later. Not one. You don't know what +you're asking, Mrs. Coffin." + +"Yes, I do. I know well. And I thank you for her sake." + +But he did not have to wait until noon. At six o'clock, through the +dew-soaked grass of the yard, came the Higgins boy. For the first time +in his short life he had been awake all night and he moved slowly. + +The housekeeper opened the door. Ike held up an envelope, clutched in a +grimy hand. + +"It's for you, Mrs. Keziah," he said. "Gracie, she sent it. There ain't +no answer." + +Keziah took the letter. "How is she? And how's Nat?" she asked. + +"They're doin' pretty well, so ma says. Ma's there now and they've sent +for Hannah Poundberry. Gee!" he added, yawning, "I ain't slept a wink. +Been on the jump, now I tell ye. Didn't none of them Come-Outers git in, +not one. I sent 'em on the home tack abilin'. You ought to hear me give +old Zeke Bassett Hail Columby! Gosh! I was just ahopin' HE'D come." + +Mrs. Coffin closed the door and tore open the envelope. Within +was another addressed, in Grace's handwriting, to Mr. Ellery. The +housekeeper entered the study, handed it to him and turned away. + +The minister, who had been pacing the floor, seized the note eagerly. +It was written in pencil and by a hand that had trembled much. Yet there +was no indecision in the written words. + + +"Dear John," wrote Grace. "I presume Aunt Keziah has told you of uncle's +death and of my promise to Nat. It is true. I am going to marry him. I +am sure this is right and for the best. Our friendship was a mistake and +you must not see me again. Please don't try. + +"GRACE VAN HORNE." + + +Beneath was another paragraph. + + +"Don't worry about me. I shall be happy, I am sure. And I shall hope +that you may be. I shall pray for that." + + +The note fell to the floor with a rustle that sounded loud in the +stillness. Then Keziah heard the minister's step. She turned. He was +moving slowly across the room. + +"John," she cried anxiously, "you poor boy!" + +He answered without looking back. + +"I'm--going--up--to--my--room," he said, a pause between each word. "I +want to be alone awhile, Mrs. Coffin." + +Wearily Keziah set about preparing breakfast. Not that she expected the +meal would be eaten, but it gave her something to do and occupied her +mind. The sun had risen and the light streamed in at the parsonage +windows. The breeze blew fresh and cool from the ocean. It was a +magnificent morning. + +She called to him that breakfast was ready, but he did not answer. She +could eat nothing herself, and, when the table was cleared, prepared +to do the week's washing, for Monday is always washday in Trumet. Noon +came, dinner time, but still he did not come down. At last Keziah could +stand it no longer. She determined to go to him. She climbed the steep +stairs and rapped on the door of his room. + +"Yes?" she heard him say. + +"It's me," was the reply. "Mr. Ellery, can I come in? I know you want +to be alone, but I don't think you'd ought to be, too much. I'd like to +talk with you a few minutes; may I?" + +A moment passed before he told her to enter. He was sitting in a chair +by the window, dressed just as he had been when she returned from the +tavern. She looked sharply at his face as it was turned toward her. His +eyes were dry and in them was an expression so hopeless and dreary that +the tears started to her own. + +"John," she said, "I couldn't bear to think of your facin' it alone up +here. I just had to come." + +He smiled, and the smile was as hopeless as the look in his eyes. + +"Face it?" he repeated. "Well, Mrs. Coffin, I must face it, I suppose. +I've been facing it ever since--since I knew. And I find it no easier." + +"John, what are you goin' to do?" + +He shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "Go away somewhere, first +of all, I guess. Go somewhere and--and try to live it down. I can't, of +course, but I must try." + +"Go away? Leave Trumet and your church and your congregation?" + +"Did you suppose I could stay here?" + +"I hoped you would." + +"And see the same people and the same places? And do the same things? +See--see HER! Did you"--he moved impatiently--"did you expect me to +attend the wedding?" + +She put out her hand. "I know it'll be hard," she said, "stayin' here, I +mean. But your duty to others--" + +"Don't you think we've heard enough about duty to others? How about my +duty to myself?" + +"I guess that's the last thing we ought to think about in the world, if +we do try to be fair and square. Your church thinks a heap of you, John. +They build on you. You've done more in the little while you've been here +than Mr. Langley did in his last fifteen years. We've grown and we're +doin' good--doin' it, not talkin' it in prayer meetin'. The parish +committee likes you and the poor folks in the society love you. Old Mrs. +Prince was tellin' me, only a little spell ago, that she didn't know how +she'd have pulled through this dreadful time if 'twa'n't for you. And +there's lots of others. Are you goin' to leave them? And what reason +will you give for leavin'?" + +He shook his head. "I don't know," he answered. "I may not give any. But +I shall go." + +"I don't believe you will. I don't believe you're that kind. I've +watched you pretty sharp since you and I have been livin' together and I +have more faith in you than that comes to. You haven't acted to me like +a coward and I don't think you'll run away." + +"Mrs. Coffin, it is so easy for you to talk. Perhaps if I were in your +place I should be giving good advice about duty and not running away and +so on. But suppose you were in mine." + +"Well, suppose I was." + +"Suppose--Oh, but there! it's past supposing." + +"I don't know's 'tis. My life hasn't been all sunshine and fair winds, +by no means." + +"That's true. I beg your pardon. You have had troubles and, from what +I hear, you've borne them bravely. But you haven't had to face anything +like this." + +"Haven't I? Well, what is it you're asked to face? Disappointment? I've +faced that. Sorrow and heartbreak? I've faced them." + +"You've never been asked to sit quietly by and see the one you love more +than all the world marry some one else." + +"How do you know I ain't? How do you know I ain't doin' just that now?" + +"Mrs. Coffin!" + +"John Ellery, you listen to me. You think I'm a homely old woman, +probably, set in my ways as an eight-day clock. I guess I look like it +and act like it. But I ain't so awful old--on the edge of forty, that's +all. And when I was your age I wa'n't so awful homely, either. I had +fellers aplenty hangin' round and I could have married any one of a +dozen. This ain't boastin'; land knows I'm fur from that. I was brought +up in this town and even when I was a girl at school there was only one +boy I cared two straws about. He and I went to picnics together and +to parties and everywhere. Folks used to laugh and say we was keepin' +comp'ny, even then. + +"Well, when I was eighteen, after father died, I went up to New Bedford +to work in a store there. Wanted to earn my own way. And this young +feller I'm tellin' you about went away to sea, but every time he come +home from a voyage he come to see me and things went on that way till we +was promised to each other. The engagement wa'n't announced, but 'twas +so, just the same. We'd have been married in another year. And then we +quarreled. + +"'Twas a fool quarrel, same as that kind gen'rally are. As much my fault +as his and as much his as mine, I cal'late. Anyhow, we was both proud, +or thought we was, and neither would give in. And he says to me, 'You'll +be sorry after I'm gone. You'll wish me back then.' And says I, BEIN' a +fool, 'I guess not. There's other fish in the sea.' He sailed and I did +wish him back, but I wouldn't write fust and neither would he. And then +come another man." + +She paused, hesitated, and then continued. + +"Never mind about the other man. He was handsome then, in a way, and he +had money to spend, and he liked me. He wanted me to marry him. If--if +the other, the one that went away, had written I never would have +thought of such a thing, but he didn't write. And, my pride bein' hurt, +and all, I finally said yes to the second chap. My folks did all they +could to stop it; they told me he was dissipated, they said he had a bad +name, they told me twa'n't a fit match. And his people, havin' money, +was just as set against his takin' a poor girl. Both sides said ruin +would come of it. But I married him. + +"Well, for the first year 'twa'n't so bad. Not happiness exactly, but +not misery either. That come later. His people was well off and he'd +never worked much of any. He did for a little while after we was +married, but not for long. Then he begun to drink and carry on and lost +his place. Pretty soon he begun to neglect me and at last went off to +sea afore the mast. We was poor as poverty, but I could have stood that; +I did stand it. I took in sewin' and kept up an appearance, somehow. +Never told a soul. His folks come patronizin' around and offered me +money, so's I needn't disgrace them. I sent 'em rightabout in a hurry. +Once in a while he'd come home, get tipsy and abuse me. Still I said +nothin'. Thank God, there was no children; that's the one thing I've +been thankful for. + +"You can't keep such things quiet always. People are bound to find out. +They come to me and said, 'Why don't you leave him?' but I wouldn't. +I could have divorced him easy enough, there was reasons plenty, but I +wouldn't do that. Then word came that he was dead, drowned off in the +East Indies somewheres. I come back here to keep house for Sol, my +brother, and I kept house for him till he died and they offered me this +place here at the parsonage. There! that's my story, part of it, more'n +I ever told a livin' soul afore, except Sol." + +She ceased speaking. The minister, who had sat silent by the window, +apathetically listening or trying to listen, turned his head. + +"I apologize, Mrs. Coffin," he said dully, "you have had trials, hard +ones. But--" + +"But they ain't as hard as yours, you think? Well, I haven't quite +finished yet. After word come of my husband's death, the other man come +and wanted me to marry him. And I wanted to--oh, how I wanted to! I +cared as much for him as I ever did; more, I guess. But I wouldn't--I +wouldn't, though it wrung my heart out to say no. I give him up--why? +'cause I thought I had a duty laid on me." + +Ellery sighed. "I can see but one duty," he said. "That is the duty +given us by God, to marry the one we love." + +Keziah's agitation, which had grown as she told her story, suddenly +flashed into flame. + +"Is that as fur as you can see?" she asked fiercely. "It's an easy duty, +then--or looks easy now. I've got a harder one; it's to stand by the +promise I gave and the man I married." + +He looked at her as if he thought she had lost her wits. + +"The man you married?" he replied. "Why, the man you married is dead." + +"No, he ain't. You remember the letter you saw me readin' that night +when you come back from Come-Outers' meetin'? Well, that letter was from +him. He's alive." + +For the first time during the interview the minister rose to his feet, +shocked out of his despair and apathy by this astounding revelation. + +"Alive?" he repeated. "Your husband ALIVE? Why, Mrs. Coffin, this is--" + +She waved him to silence. "Don't stop me now," she said. "I've told so +much; let me tell the rest. Yes, he's alive. Alive and knockin' round +the world somewheres. Every little while he writes me for money and, if +I have any, I send it to him. Why? Why 'cause I'm a coward, after all, +I guess, and I'm scared he'll do what he says he will and come back. +Perhaps you think I'm a fool to put up with it; that's what most folks +would say if they knew it. They'd tell me I ought to divorce him. Well, +I can't, I CAN'T. I walked into the mess blindfold; I married him in +spite of warnin's and everything. I took him for better or for worse, +and now that he's turned out worse, I must take my medicine. I can't +live with him--that I can't do--but while HE lives I'll stay his wife +and give him what money I can spare. That's the duty I told you was laid +on me, and it's a hard one, but I don't run away from it." + +John Ellery was silent. What could he say? Keziah went on. + +"I don't run away from it," she exclaimed, "and you mustn't run away +from yours. Your church depends on you, they trust you. Are you goin' +to show 'em their trust was misplaced? The girl you wanted is to marry +another man, that's true, and it's mighty hard. But she'll marry a good +man, and, by and by, she'll be happy." + +"Happy!" he said scornfully. + +"Yes, happy. I know she'll be happy because I know she's doin' what'll +be best for her and because I know him that's to be her husband. I've +known him all my life; he's that other one that--that--and I give him up +to her; yes, I give him up to her, and try to do it cheerful, because I +know it's best for him. Hard for YOU? Great Lord A'mighty! do you think +it ain't hard for ME? I--I--" + +She stopped short; then covering her face with her apron, she ran from +the room. John Ellery heard her descending the stairs, sobbing as she +went. + +All that afternoon he remained in his chair by the window. It was six +o'clock, supper time, when he entered the kitchen. Keziah, looking up +from the ironing board, saw him. He was white and worn and grim, but he +held out his hand to her. + +"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "I'm not going away. You've shown me what +devotion to duty really means. I shall stay here and go on with my +work." + +Her face lit up. "Will you?" she said. "I thought you would. I was sure +you was that kind." + + +CHAPTER XIV + +IN WHICH THE SEA MIST SAILS + + +They buried Captain Eben in the little Come-Outer cemetery at the rear +of the chapel. A bleak, wind-swept spot was that cemetery, bare of trees +and with only a few graves and fewer headstones, for the Come-Outers +were a comparatively new sect and their graveyard was new in +consequence. The grave was dug in the yellow sand beside that of Mrs. +Hammond, Nat's mother, and around it gathered the fifty or sixty friends +who had come to pay their last tribute to the old sailor and tavern +keeper. + +The Come-Outers were there, all of them, and some members of the Regular +society, Captain Zeb Mayo, Dr. Parker, Keziah Coffin, Mrs. Higgins, and +Ike. Mrs. Didama Rogers was there also, not as a mourner, but because, +in her capacity as gatherer of gossip, she made it a point never to +miss a funeral. The Rev. Absalom Gott, Come-Outer exhorter at Wellmouth, +preached the short sermon, and Ezekiel Bassett added a few remarks. Then +a hymn was sung and it was over. The little company filed out of the +cemetery, and Captain Eben Hammond was but a memory in Trumet. + +Keziah lingered to speak a word with Grace. The girl, looking very white +and worn, leaned on the arm of Captain Nat, whose big body acted as +a buffer between her and over-sympathetic Come-Outers. Mrs. Coffin +silently held out both hands and Grace took them eagerly. + +"Thank you for coming, Aunt Keziah," she said. "I was sure you would." + +"Least I could do, deary," was the older woman's answer. "Your uncle +and I was good friends once; we haven't seen each other so often of +late years, but that ain't changed my feelin's. Now you must go home and +rest. Don't let any of these"--with a rather scornful glance at Josiah +Badger and Ezekiel and the Reverend Absalom--"these Job's comforters +bother you. Nat, you see that they let her alone, won't you?" + +Captain Nat nodded. He, too, looked very grave and worn. "I'll tend to +them," he said shortly. "Come, Grace," he added; "let's go." + +But the girl hung back. "Just a minute, Nat," she said. "I--I--would you +mind if I spoke to Aunt Keziah--alone? I only want to say a word." + +Nat strode off to the cemetery gate, where Josiah Badger stood, +brandishing a red cotton handkerchief as a not too-clean emblem of +mourning. Mr. Badger eagerly sprang forward, but ran into an impossible +barrier in the form of the captain's outstretched arm. Josiah protested +and the captain replied. Grace leaned forward. + +"Auntie," she whispered, "tell me: Did a letter--Did he--" + +"Yes, it came. I gave it to him." + +"Did--did he tell you? Do you know?" + +"Yes, I know, deary." + +"Did he--is he--" + +"He's well, deary. He'll be all right. I'll look out for him." + +"You will, won't you? You won't let him do anything--" + +"Not a thing. Don't worry. We've had a long talk and he's going to +stay right here and go on with his work. And nobody else'll ever know, +Gracie." + +"How--O Aunt Keziah! how he must despise me." + +"Despise you! For doin' what was your duty? Nonsense! He'll respect you +for it and come to understand 'twas best for both of you, by and by. +Don't worry about him, Gracie. I tell you I'll look out for him." + +"I guess it will be better if he does despise me. And hate me, too. He +can't despise and hate me more than I do myself. But it IS right--what +I'm doing; and the other was wrong and wicked. Auntie, you'll come and +see me, won't you? I shall be so lonesome." + +"Yes, yes; I'll come. Perhaps not right away. There's reasons why I'd +better not come right away. But, by and by, after it's all settled and +you and Nat"--she hesitated for an instant in spite of herself--"after +you and Nat are married I'll come." + +"Don't talk about that NOW. Please don't." + +"All right, I won't. You be a good, brave girl and look out for Nat; +that's your duty and I'm sure you'll do it. And I'll do my best for +John." + +"Do you call him John?" + +"Yup. We had a sort of--of adoptin' ceremony the other mornin' and +I--Well, you see, I've got to have somebody to call by their front name +and he's about all I've got left." + +"O Aunt Keziah! if I could be one half as patient and brave and sweet as +you are--" + +"Sssh! here comes Nat. Be kind to him. He's sufferin', too; maybe more'n +you imagine. Here she is, Nat. Take her back home and be good to her." + +The broad-shouldered skipper led his charge out of the gate and down +the "Turn-off." Josiah Badger looked after them disgustedly. As Keziah +approached, he turned to her. + +"I swan to man!" he exclaimed, in offended indignation, "if I ain't +losin' my respect for that Nat Hammond. He's the f-f-fuf-for'ardest +critter ever I see. I was just agoin' to hail Gracie and ask her what +she thought about my leadin' some of the meetin's now her uncle has been +called aloft. I wanted to ask her about it fust, afore Zeke Bassett +got ahead of me, but that Nat wouldn't let me. Told me she mustn't be +b-b-b-bothered about little things now. LITTLE things! Now, what do you +think of that, Mrs. Coffin? And I spoke to Lot Taylor, one of our own +s-s-sas-sassiety, and asked what he thought of it, and he said for me to +go home set d-d-down and let my h-h-h-hah-hair grow. Of all--" + +"I tell you what you do, Josiah," broke in the voice of Captain Zeb +Mayo, "you go home or somewhere else and set down and have it cut. +That'll take pretty nigh as long, and'll keep it from wearin' out your +coat collar. Keziah, I've been waitin' for you. Get in my shay and I'll +drive you back to the parsonage." + +Mrs. Coffin accepted the invitation and a seat in the chaise beside +Captain Zeb. The captain spoke of the dead Come-Outer and of his respect +for him in spite of the difference in creed. He also spoke of the Rev. +John Ellery and of the affection he had come to feel for the young man. + +"I like that young feller, Keziah," he said. "Like him for a lot of +reasons, same as the boy liked the hash. For one thing, his religion +ain't all starch and no sugar. He's good-hearted and kind and--and +human. He seems to get just as much satisfaction out of the promise of +heaven as he does out of the sartainty of t'other port. He ain't all the +time bangin' the bulkhead and sniffin' brimstone, like parsons I have +seen. Sulphur's all right for a spring medicine, maybe, but when June +comes I like to remember that God made roses. Elkanah, he comes to me a +while ago and he says, 'Zebedee,' he says, 'don't you think Mr. Ellery's +sermons might be more orthodox?' 'Yes,' says I, 'they might be, but what +a mercy 'tis they ain't.' He, he, he! I kind of like to poke Elkanah in +the shirt front once in a while, just to hear it crackle. Say, Keziah, +you don't think the minister and Annabel are--" + +"No," was the emphatic interruption; "I know they ain't; he ain't, +anyway." + +"Good! Them Danielses cal'late they own the most of this town already; +if they owned the minister they'd swell up so the rest of us would have +to go aloft or overboard; we'd be crowded off the decks, sure." + +"No one owns him. Haven't you found that out?" + +"Yup, I cal'late I have and I glory in his spunk." + +"I'm glad to hear you say so. Of course Cap'n Elkanah is boss of the +parish committee and--" + +"What? No, he ain't nuther. He's head of it, but his vote counts just +one and no more. What makes you say that?" + +"Oh, nuthin'. Only I thought maybe, long as Elkanah was feelin' that Mr. +Ellery wa'n't orthodox enough, he might be goin' to make a change." + +"He might? HE might! Say, Keziah Coffin, there was Mayos in this town +and in this church afore the fust Daniels ever washed ashore; and +they'll be here when the last one blows up with his own importance. I'm +on that parish committee--you understand?--and I've sailed ships and +handled crews. I ain't so old nor feeble but what I can swing a belayin' +pin. Boss! I'll have you to know that no livin' man bosses me." + +"All right! I didn't mean to stir you up, Zebedee. But from things Cap'n +Daniels has said I gathered that he was runnin' the committee. And, as +I'm a friend of Mr. Ellery, it--" + +"Friend! Well, so'm I, ain't I? If you ever hear of Daniels tryin' any +tricks against the minister, you send for me, that's all. I'LL show him. +Boss! Humph!" + +The wily Keziah alighted at the parsonage gate with the feeling that she +had sown seed in fertile ground. She was quite aware of Captain Zeb's +jealousy of the great Daniels. And the time might come when her parson +needed an influential friend on the committee and in the Regular +society. + +The news of the engagement between Captain Nat Hammond and Grace Van +Horne, told by Dr. Parker to one or two of his patients, spread through +Trumet like measles through a family of small children. Didama Rogers +learned it, so did Lavinia Pepper, and after that it might as well +have been printed on the walls for all to read. It was talked over and +gossiped about in every household from the lighthouse keeper's family to +that of George Washington Cash, who lived in the one-room hovel in the +woods near the Wellmouth line, and was a person of distinction, in his +way, being the sole negro in the county. And whenever it was discussed +it was considered a fine thing for both parties concerned. Almost +everyone said it was precisely what they expected. + +Annabel Daniels and her father had not expected it. They were, however, +greatly pleased. In their discussion, which lasted far into the night, +Captain Elkanah expressed the opinion that the unexpected denouement was +the result of his interview with Eben. He had told the old Come-Outer +what would happen to his ward if she persisted in her impudent and +audacious plot to entrap a Regular clergyman. She, being discovered, had +yielded, perforce, and had accepted Nat as the next best catch. + +Annabel was not satisfied with this explanation. Of course, she said, +she did not pretend to believe Grace's statement that she had found her +uncle unconscious. No doubt the pair had had an interview and all that. +But she believed the minister himself had come to his senses and had +dismissed the brazen creature. She did not blame Mr. Ellery so much. He +was a young man, with a kind heart, and no doubt the "Van Horne +person" had worked upon his sympathies and had taken advantage of his +inexperience of feminine wiles. + +"I think, pa," she said, "that it's our duty, yours and mine, to treat +him just as we always have. He doesn't know that we know, and we will +keep the secret. And, as Christians, we should forget and forgive. We'll +invite him here as we always have, keep him under our good influence, +and be very kind to him, poor innocent. As for Captain Hammond, I'm +sorry for him, knowing the kind of wife he is going to have, but no +doubt Come-Outers are not particular." + +Kyan Pepper was another whom the news of the engagement surprised +greatly. When Lavinia told him of it, at the dinner table, he dropped +the knife he was holding and the greasy section of fish-ball balanced +upon it. + +"'Bishy," said Miss Pepper, "what do you s'pose has happened down to the +Hammond tavern?" + +"Oh, I know that," was the reply. "I heard that long ago; Cap'n Eben's +dead." + +"'Course he's dead; and I knew you knew it. Land sakes! don't be such a +ninny. Why, I told you myself." + +"Well, I didn't know but you'd forgot. Anybody's li'ble to forget who +they've told things to. Why, I've forgot more things--" + +"Yes, there ain't no doubt about that. I've told you a million times, +if I have once, to tuck your napkin round your neck when you've got +your Sunday clothes on. And there you be this minute without a sign of a +napkin." + +"Why, Laviny! I MUST have it round my neck. I know I--" + +"Don't be so foolish! Think I'm blind? Can't I see you ain't got it? Now +where is it?" + +Kyan began a futile hunt for the missing napkin, in his lap, on the +table, and finally under it. + +"I don't understand," he stammered, "where that napkin can be. I'm just +as sure I had it and now I'm just as sure I ain't got it. What do you +s'pose I done with it?" + +"Goodness knows! 'Twouldn't surprise me if you'd et it, you're that +absent-minded. Here! what's that stickin' out of your breast pocket?" + +Her brother put his hand to the pocket indicated and produced the +missing napkin, much crumpled. + +"There!" he exclaimed, in a tone of relief. "Now I remember. It must +have dropped on the floor and I thought 'twas my handkerchief and picked +it up and--" + +"What did you think you'd be carryin' a white handkerchief for, on a +week day?" + +"Well, I had on my Sunday suit and--" + +"Yes, and for the dear mercy sakes WHY have you got it on?" + +Kyan saw an opportunity for self-justification. + +"You TOLD me to put it on," he declared triumphantly. "You said yourself +I'd better rig out in my Sunday clothes 'cause we might go to Eben's +funeral. You know you did." + +"Hear the man! And then, after you've dressed up to go to his funeral, +you pretend to believe I'm goin' to tell you he's dead. I never--" + +"Well, what IS it, then? He ain't come to life, has he?" + +"Grace Van Horne's engaged to be married, that's what it is. Look out! +Oh, you--" + +Just here occurred the accident already described. Knife and fish ball +descended upon the waistcoat belonging to the "Sunday suit." Lavinia +flew for warm water, ammonia, and a cloth, and the soiled waistcoat +was industriously scrubbed. The cleansing process was accompanied by a +lively tongue lashing, to which Kyan paid little attention. + +"Engaged?" he kept repeating. "Gracie Van Horne engaged? Engaged? En--" + +"Be still, you poll parrot! Dear! dear! dear! look at them spots. Yes, +yes; don't say it again; she's engaged." + +"Who--who--who--" + +"Now you've turned to an owl, I do believe. 'Hoo! hoo!' She's engaged to +Nat Hammond, that's who. Nothin' very surprisin' about that, is there?" + +Kyan made no answer. He rubbed his forehead, while his sister rubbed the +grease spots. In jerky sentences she told of the engagement and how the +news had reached her. + +"I can't believe it," faltered Abishai. "She goin' to marry Nat! Why, I +can't understand. I thought--" + +"What did you think? See here! you ain't keepin' anything from me, be +you?" + +The answer was enthusiastically emphatic. + +"No, no, no, no!" declared Kyan. "Only I didn't know they was--was--" + +"Neither did anybody else, but what of it? Folks don't usually advertise +when they're keepin' comp'ny, do they?" + +"No--o. But it's gen'rally found out. I know if I was keepin' +comp'ny--or you was, La-viny--" + +His sister started. + +"What makes you say that?" she demanded, looking quickly up from her +rubbing. + +"Why, nothin'. Only if I was--or you was, somebody'd see somethin' +suspicious and kind of drop a hint, and--" + +"Better for them if they 'tended to their own affairs," was the sharp +answer. "I ain't got any patience with folks that's always talkin' about +their neighbor's doin's. There! now you go out and stand alongside the +cook stove till that wet place dries. Don't you move till 'TIS dry, +neither." + +So to the kitchen went Kyan, to stand, a sort of living clotheshorse, +beside the hot range. But during the drying process he rubbed his +forehead many times. Remembering what he had seen in the grove he could +not understand; but he also remembered, even more vividly, what Keziah +Coffin had promised to do if he ever breathed a word. And he vowed again +that that word should not be breathed. + +The death and funeral of Captain Eben furnished Trumet with a subject of +conversation for a week or more. Then, at the sewing circle and at the +store and after prayer meeting, both at the Regular meeting house and +the Come-Outer chapel, speculation centered on the marriage of Nat and +Grace. When was it to take place? Would the couple live at the old house +and "keep packet tavern" or would the captain go to sea again, taking +his bride with him? Various opinions, pro and con, were expressed by the +speculators, but no one could answer authoritatively, because none knew +except those most interested, and the latter would not tell. + +John Ellery heard the discussions at the sewing circle when, in company +with some of the men of his congregation, he dropped in at these +gatherings for tea after the sewing was over. He heard them at church, +before and after the morning service, and when he made pastoral calls. +People even asked his opinion, and when he changed the subject inferred, +some of them, that he did not care about the doings of Come-Outers. Then +they switched to inquiries concerning his health. + +"You look awful peaked lately, Mr. Ellery," said Didama Rogers. "Ain't +you feelin' well?" + +The minister answered that he was as well as usual, or thought he was. + +"No, no, you ain't nuther," declared Didama. "You look's if you was +comin' down with a spell of somethin'. I ain't the only one that's +noticed it. Why, Thankful Payne says to me only yesterday, 'Didama,' +says she, 'the minister's got somethin' on his mind and it's wearin' of +him out.' You ain't got nothin' on your mind, have you, Mr. Ellery?" + +"I guess not, Mrs. Rogers. It's a beautiful afternoon, isn't it? + +"There! I knew you wa'n't well. A beautiful afternoon, and it hotter'n +furyation and gettin' ready to rain at that! Don't tell me! 'Tain't your +mind, Mr. Ellery, it's your blood that's gettin' thin. My husband had a +spell just like it a year or two afore he died, and the doctor said +he needed rest and a change. Said he'd ought to go away somewheres by +himself. I put my foot down on THAT in a hurry. 'The idea!' I +says. 'You, a sick man, goin' off all alone by yourself to die of +lonesomeness. If you go, I go with you.' So him and me went up to Boston +and it rained the whole week we was there, and we set in a little box of +a hotel room with a window that looked out at a brick wall, and set and +set and set, and that's all. I kept talkin' to him to cheer him up, but +he never cheered. I'd talk to him for an hour steady and when I'd +stop and ask a question he'd only groan and say yes, when he meant no. +Finally, I got disgusted, after I'd asked him somethin' four or five +times and he'd never answered, and I told him, I believed he was gettin' +deef. 'Lordy!' he says, 'I wish I was!' Well, that was enough for ME. +Says I, 'If your mind's goin' to give out we'd better be home.' So home +we come. And that's all the good change and rest done HIM. Hey? What did +you say, Mr. Ellery?" + +"Er--oh, nothing, nothing, Mrs. Rogers." + +"Yes. So home we come and I'd had enough of doctors to last. I figgered +out that his blood was thinnin' and I knew what was good for that. My +great Aunt Hepsy, that lived over to East Wellmouth, she was a great +hand for herbs and such and she'd give me a receipt for thickenin' the +blood that was somethin' wonderful. It had more kind of healin' herbs in +it than you could shake a stick at. I cooked a kittleful and got him to +take a dose four times a day. He made more fuss than a young one about +takin' it. Said it tasted like the Evil One, and such profane talk, and +that it stuck to his mouth so's he couldn't relish his vittles; but I +never let up a mite. He had to take it and it done him a world of good. +Now I've got that receipt yet, Mr. Ellery, and I'll make some of that +medicine for you. I'll fetch it down to-morrow. Yes, yes, I will. I'm +agoin' to, so you needn't say no. And perhaps I'll have heard somethin' +about Cap'n Nat and Grace by that time." + +She brought the medicine, and the minister promptly, on her departure, +handed it over to Keziah, who disposed of it just as promptly. + +"What did I do with it?" repeated the housekeeper. "Well, I'll tell you. +I was kind of curious to see what 'twas like, so I took a teaspoonful. +I did intend to pour the rest of it out in the henyard, but after that +taste I had too much regard for the hens. So I carried it way down +to the pond and threw it in, jug and all. B-r-r-r! Of all the messes +that--I used to wonder what made Josh Rogers go moonin' round makin' his +lips go as if he was crazy. I thought he was talkin' to himself, but now +I know better, he was TASTIN'. B-r-r-r!" + +Keziah was the life of the gloomy parsonage. Without her the minister +would have broken down. Time and time again he was tempted to give up, +in spite of his promise, and leave Trumet, but her pluck and courage +made him ashamed of himself and he stayed to fight it out. She watched +him and tended him and "babied" him as if he was a spoiled child, +pretending to laugh at herself for doing it and at him for permitting +it. She cooked the dishes he liked best, she mended his clothes, she +acted as a buffer between him and callers who came at inopportune +times. She was cheerful always when he was about, and no one would have +surmised that she had a sorrow in the world. But Ellery knew and +she knew he knew, so the affection and mutual esteem between the two +deepened. He called her "Aunt Keziah" at her request and she continued +to call him "John." This was in private, of course; in public he was +"Mr. Ellery" and she "Mrs. Coffin." + +In his walks about town he saw nothing of Grace. She and Mrs. Poundberry +and Captain Nat were still at the old home and no one save themselves +knew what their plans might be. Yet, oddly enough, Ellery was the first +outsider to learn these plans and that from Nat himself. + +He met the captain at the corner of the "Turnoff" one day late in +August. He tried to make his bow seem cordial, but was painfully aware +that it was not. Nat, however, seemed not to notice, but crossed the +road and held out his hand. + +"How are you, Mr. Ellery?" he said. "I haven't run across you for +sometime. What's the matter? Seems to me you look rather under the +weather." + +Ellery answered that he was all right and, remembering that he had +not met the captain since old Hammond's death, briefly expressed his +sympathy. His words were perfunctory and his manner cold. His reason +told him that this man was not to blame--was rather to be pitied, if +Keziah's tale was true. Yet it is hard to pity the one who is to marry +the girl you love. Reason has little to do with such matters. + +"Well, Mr. Ellery," said Captain Nat, "I won't keep you. I see you're in +a hurry. Just thought I'd run alongside a minute and say good-by. Don't +know's I'll see you again afore I sail." + +"Before you sail? You--you are going away?" + +"Yup. My owners have been after me for a good while, but I wouldn't +leave home on account of dad's health. Now he's gone, I've got to +be gettin' back on salt water again. My ship's been drydocked and +overhauled and she's in New York now loadin' for Manila. It's a long +vy'age, even if I come back direct, which ain't likely. So I may not see +the old town again for a couple of years. Take care of yourself, won't +you? Good men, especially ministers, are scurse, and from what I hear +about you I cal'late Trumet needs you." + +"When are you going?" + +"Last of next week, most likely." + +"Will you--shall you go alone? Are you to be--to be--" + +"Married? No. Grace and I have talked it over and we've agreed it's best +to wait till I come back. You see, dad's been dead such a little while, +and all, that--well, we're goin' to wait, anyhow. She'll stay in the old +house with Hannah, and I've fixed things so she'll be provided for while +I'm gone. I left it pretty much to her. If she'd thought it best for +us to marry now, I cal'late I should have--have--well, done what she +wanted. But she didn't. Ah, hum!" he added with a sigh; "she's a good +girl, a mighty good girl. Well, so long and good luck." + +"Good-by, captain." + +"Good-by. Er--I say, Mr. Ellery, how things at the parsonage? All well +there, are you?" + +"Yes." + +"Er--Keziah--Mrs. Coffin, your housekeeper, is she smart?" + +"Yes. She's well." + +"That's good. Say, you might tell her good-by for me, if you want to. +Tell her I wished her all the luck there was. And--and--just say that +there ain't any--well, that her friend--say just that, will you?--her +FRIEND said 'twas all right. She'll understand; it's a--a sort of joke +between us." + +"Very good, captain; I'll tell her." + +"Much obliged. And just ask her to keep an eye on Grace while I'm gone. +Tell her I leave Gracie under her wing. Keziah and me are old chums, in +a way, you see." + +"Yes. I'll tell her that, too." + +"And don't forget the 'friend' part. Well, so long." + +They shook hands and parted. + +Didama and her fellow news-venders distributed the tale of Captain Nat's +sailing broadcast during the next few days. There was much wonderment +at the delayed marriage, but the general verdict was that Captain Eben's +recent death and the proper respect due to it furnished sufficient +excuse. Hannah Poundberry, delighted at being so close to the center of +interest, talked and talked, and thus Grace was spared the interviews +which would have been a trouble to her. Nat left town, via the packet, +on the following Wednesday. Within another week came the news that his +ship, the Sea Mist, had sailed from New York, bound for Manila. Her +topsails sank beneath the horizon, and she vanished upon the wild waste +of tumbling waves and out of Trumet's knowledge, as many another vessel, +manned and officered by Cape Cod men, had done. The village talked of +her and her commander for a few days and then forgot them both. Only at +the old home by the landing and at the parsonage were they remembered. + + +CHAPTER XV + +IN WHICH TRUMET TALKS OF CAPTAIN NAT + + +Summer was over, autumn came, passed, and it was winter--John Ellery's +first winter in Trumet. Fish weirs were taken up, the bay filled with +ice, the packet ceased to run, and the village settled down to hibernate +until spring. The stage came through on its regular trips, except when +snow or slush rendered the roads impassable, but passengers were very +few. Occasionally there were northeast gales, with shrieking winds, +driving gusts of sleet and hail and a surf along the ocean side that +bellowed and roared and tore the sandy beach into new shapes, washing +away shoals and building others, blocking the mouth of the little inlet +where the fish boats anchored and opening a new channel a hundred yards +farther down. Twice there were wrecks, one of a fishing schooner, the +crew of which were fortunate enough to escape by taking to the dories, +and another, a British bark, which struck on the farthest bar and +was beaten to pieces by the great waves, while the townspeople stood +helplessly watching from the shore, for launching a boat in that surf +was impossible. + +The minister was one of those who watched. News of the disaster had been +brought to the village by the lightkeeper's assistant, and Ellery and +most of the able-bodied men in town had tramped the three miles to the +beach, facing the screaming wind and the cutting blasts of flying sand. +As they came over the dunes there were times when they had to dig their +heels into the ground and bend forward to stand against the freezing +gale. And, as they drew nearer, the thunder of the mighty surf grew ever +louder, until they saw the white clouds of spray leap high above the +crazily tossing, flapping bunches of beach grass that topped the last +knoll. + +Three masts and a broken bowsprit sticking slantwise up from a whirl of +creamy white, that was all they could see of the bark, at first glance. +But occasionally, as the breakers drew back for another cruel blow, they +caught glimpses of the tilted deck, smashed bare of houses and rail. + +"Those black things on the masts?" asked Ellery, bending to scream the +question into the ear of Gaius Winslow, his companion. "Are they--it +can't be possible that they're--" + +"Yup," shrieked Gaius in reply, "they're men. Crew lashed in the +riggin'. Poor fellers! it'll soon be over for 'em. And they're most +likely frozen stiff a'ready and won't sense drownin', that's a comfort." + +"Men!" repeated the minister in horror. "Men! Great God! and are we +to stand by here and see them die without lifting a hand? Why, it's +barbarous! It's--" + +Winslow seized his arm and pointed. + +"Look!" he shouted. "Look at them! How much good would our liftin' hands +do against them?" + +Ellery looked. The undertow, that second, was sucking the beach dry, +sucking with such force that gravel and small stones pattered down the +slope in showers. And behind it a wave, its ragged top raveled by the +wind into white streamers, was piling up, up, up, sheer and green and +mighty, curling over now and descending with a hammer blow that shook +the land beneath their feet. And back of it reared another, and +another, and another, an eighth of a mile of whirling, surging, terrific +breakers, with a yelling hurricane whipping them on. + +It was soon over, as Gaius had said it would be. A mighty leap of spray, +a section of hull broken off and tossed into view for an instant, then +two of the masts went down. The other followed almost at once. Then +the watchers, most of them, went back to the village, saying little or +nothing and dispersing silently to their homes. + +During the next fortnight John Ellery conducted six funeral services, +brief prayers beside the graves of unknown men from that wreck. The +bodies, as they were washed ashore, were put into plain coffins paid +for by the board of selectmen, and buried in the corner of the Regular +cemetery beside other waifs thrown up by the sea in other years. It was +a sad experience for him, but it was an experience and tended to make +him forget his own sorrow just a little. Or, if not to forget, at least +to think of and sympathize more keenly with the sorrows of others. +Somewhere, in England or Ireland or scattered over the wide world, there +were women and children waiting for these men, waiting anxiously for +news of their safe arrival in port, praying for them. When he mentioned +this thought to the townspeople they nodded philosophically and said +yes, they "presumed likely." As Captain Zeb put it, "Most sailors are +fools enough to get married, prob'ly this lot wa'n't any exception." It +was no new thought to him or to any other dweller in that region. It was +almost a fixed certainty that, if you went to sea long enough, you +were bound to be wrecked sometime or other. The chances were that, with +ordinary luck and good management, you would escape with your life. +Luck, good or bad, was the risk of the trade; good management was +expected, as a matter of course. + +Mr. Pepper made no more calls at the parsonage, and when the minister +met him, at church or elsewhere, seemed anxious to avoid an interview. + +"Well, Abishai," asked Ellery, on one of these occasions, "how are you +getting on at home? Has your sister locked you up again?" + +"No, sir, she ain't," replied Kyan. "Laviny, she's sort of diff'rent +lately. She ain't nigh so--so down on a feller as she used to be. I can +get out once in a while by myself nowadays, when she wants to write a +letter or somethin'." + +"Oh, she's writing letters, is she?" + +"Um--hm. Writes one about every once in a week. I don't know who they're +to, nuther, but I have my suspicions. You see, we've got a cousin out +West--out Pennsylvany way--and he ain't very well and has got a turrible +lot of money. I'm sort of surmisin' that Laviny's writin' to him. We're +about his only relations that's left alive and--and so--" + +"I see." The minister smiled. + +"Yup. Laviny's a pretty good navigator, fur's keepin' an eye to wind'ard +is concerned. She was awful down on Phineas--that's his name--'cause he +married a Philadelphy woman, but he's a widower man now, so I s'pose she +feels better toward him. She's talkin' of goin' up to Sandwich pretty +soon." + +"She IS? Alone?" + +"So she says." + +"To leave you here? Why! well, I'm surprised." + +"Godfreys mighty! so be I. But she says she b'lieves she needs a change +and there's church conference up there, you know, and she figgers that +she ain't been to conference she don't know when. I s'pose you'll go, +won't you, Mr. Ellery?" + +"Probably." + +"Um--hm. I kind of wisht I was goin' myself. 'Twill be kind of lonesome +round home without her." + +Considering that that variety of lonesomeness had been Abishai's dream +of paradise for years, Ellery thought his change of heart a good joke +and told Keziah of it when he returned to the parsonage. The housekeeper +was greatly surprised. + +"Well! well! well!" she exclaimed. "Miracles'll never cease. I don't +wonder so much at Laviny wantin' to go to conference, but her darin' to +go and leave Kyan at home is past belief. Why, every time she's had +a cold her one fear was that she'd die and leave 'Bish behind to be +kidnaped by some woman. Kyan himself was sick once, and the story was +that his sister set side of the bed night and day and read him over and +over again that chapter in the Bible that says there's no marryin' or +givin' in marriage in heaven. Dr. Parker told me that he didn't believe +'Bish got ha'f the comfort out of that passage that she did. And now +she's goin' to Sandwich and leave him. I can't think it's true." + +But it was true, and Lavinia got herself elected a delegate and went, in +company with Captain Elkanah, Mrs. Mayo, and others, to the conference. +She was a faithful attendant at the meetings and seemed to be having +a very good time. She introduced the minister to one Caleb Pratt, a +resident of Sandwich, whom she said she had known ever since she was a +girl. + +"Mr. Pratt's a cousin to Thankful Payne over to home," volunteered +Lavinia. "You know Thankful, Mr. Ellery." + +Ellery did know Mrs. Payne and said so. Mr. Pratt, who was dressed in a +new suit of black which appeared to hurt him, imparted the information +that he'd heard tell consider'ble of Mr. Ellery. + +"I enjoyed your sermon to-night fust--rate," he added solemnly. +"Fust--rate, sir--yes." + +"Did you, indeed? I'm glad." + +"Yes, sir. You used words in that sermon that I never heard afore in my +life. 'Twas grand." + +Lavinia confided to her pastor that Mr. Pratt made the best shoes in +Ostable County. He could fit ANY kind of feet, she declared, and the +minister ought to try him sometime. She added that he had money in the +bank. + +The Reverend John rode home in the stage beside Miss Annabel, not from +choice, but because the young lady's father insisted upon it. Miss +Daniels gushed and enthused as she always did. As they drove by the +Corners the minister, who had been replying absently to Annabel's +questions, suddenly stopped short in the middle of a sentence. His +companion, leaning forward to look out of the window, saw Grace Van +Horne entering the store. For an instant Annabel's face wore a very +unpleasant expression. Then she smiled and said, in her sweetest manner: + +"Why, there's the tavern girl! I haven't seen her for sometime. How old +she looks! I suppose her uncle's death has aged her. Well, she'll +be married soon, just as soon as Cap'n Nat gets back. They perfectly +worship each other, those two. They say she writes him the longest +letters. Hannah Poundberry told me. Hannah's a queer creature and +common, but devoted to the Hammonds, Mr. Ellery. However, you're not +interested in Come-Outers, are you? Ha, ha!" + +Ellery made some sort of an answer, but he could not have told what it +was. The sight of Grace had brought back all that he was trying so +hard to forget. Why couldn't one forget, when it was so painful--and so +useless--to remember? + +Spring once more; then summer. And now people were again speaking of +Captain Nat Hammond. His ship was overdue, long overdue. Even in those +days, when there were no cables and the telegraph was still something of +a novelty, word of his arrival should have reached Trumet months before +this. But it had not come, and did not. Before the summer was over, the +wise heads of the retired skippers were shaking dubiously. Something had +happened to the Sea Mist, something serious. + +As the weeks and months went by without news of the missing vessel, +this belief became almost a certainty. At the Come-Outer chapel, where +Ezekiel Bassett now presided, prayers were offered for the son of their +former leader. These prayers were not as fervent as they might have +been, for Grace's nonattendance at meetings was causing much comment +and a good deal of resentment. She came occasionally, but not often. "I +always said she was stuck-up and thought she was too good for the rest +of us," remarked "Sukey B." spitefully. "'And, between you and me, pa +says he thinks Nat Hammond would be one to uphold her in it. He wa'n't a +bit spirituous and never experienced religion. If anything HAS happened +to him, it's a punishment sent, that's what pa thinks." + +Those were gloomy days at the parsonage. Keziah said little concerning +the topic of which all the village was talking, and John Ellery +forebore to mention it. The housekeeper was as faithful as ever in the +performance of her household duties, but her smile had gone and she +was worn and anxious. The minister longed to express his sympathy, but +Keziah had not mentioned Nat's name for months, not since he, Ellery, +gave her the message intrusted to him by the captain before sailing. He +would have liked to ask about Grace, for he knew Mrs. Coffin visited the +Hammond home occasionally, but this, too, he hesitated to do. He heard +from others that the girl was bearing the suspense bravely, that she +refused to give up hope, and was winning the respect of all the thinking +class in Trumet by her courage and patience. Even the most bigoted of +the Regulars, Captain Daniels and his daughter excepted of course, had +come to speak highly of her. "She's a spunky girl," declared Captain +Zeb, with emphasis. "There's nothing of the milk-sop and cry-baby about +her. She's fit to be a sailor's wife, and I only hope Nat's alive to +come back and marry her. He was a durn good feller, too--savin' your +presence, Mr. Ellery--and if he was forty times a Come-Outer I'd say the +same thing. I'm 'fraid he's gone, though, poor chap. As good a seaman +as he was would have fetched port afore this if he was atop of water. +As for Gracie, she's a brick, and a lady, every inch of her. My old +girl went down t'other day to call on her and that's the fust Come-Outer +she's been to see sence there was any. Why don't you go see her, too, +Mr. Ellery? 'Twould be a welcome change from Zeke Bassett and his tribe. +Go ahead! it would be the Almighty's own work and the society'd stand +back of you, all them that's wuth considerin', anyhow." + +This was surprising advice from a member of the Regular and was +indicative of the changed feeling in the community, but the minister, of +course, could not take it. He had plunged headlong into his church work, +hoping that it and time would dull the pain of his terrible shock and +disappointment. It had been dulled somewhat, but it was still there, and +every mention of her name revived it. + +One afternoon Keziah came into his study, where he was laboring with his +next Sunday sermon, and sat down in the rocking-chair. She had been out +and still wore her bonnet and shawl. + +"John," she said, "I ask your pardon for disturbin' you. I know you're +busy." + +Ellery laid down his pen. "Never too busy to talk with you, Aunt +Keziah," he observed. "What is it?" + +"I wanted to ask if you knew Mrs. Prince was sick?" + +"No. Is she? I'm awfully sorry. Nothing serious, I hope?" + +"No, I guess not. Only she's got a cold and is kind of under the +weather. I thought p'r'aps you'd like to run up and see her. She thinks +the world and all of you, 'cause you was so good when she was distressed +about her son. Poor old thing! she's had a hard time of it." + +"I will go. I ought to go, of course. I'm glad you reminded me of it." + +"Yes. I told her you hadn't meant to neglect her, but you'd been busy +fussin' with the fair and the like of that." + +"That was all. I'll go right away. Have you been there to-day?" + +"No. I just heard that she was ailin' from Didama Rogers. Didama said +she was all but dyin', so I knew she prob'ly had a little cold, or +somethin'. If she was really very bad, Di would have had her buried by +this time, so's to be sure her news was ahead of anybody else's. I ain't +been up there, but I met her t'other mornin'." + +"Didama?" + +"No; Mrs. Prince. She'd come down to see Grace." + +"Oh." + +"Yes. The old lady's been awful kind and sympathizin' since--since +this new trouble. It reminds her of the loss of her own boy, I presume +likely, and so she feels for Grace. John, what do they say around town +about--about HIM?" + +"Captain Hammond?" + +"Yes." + +The minister hesitated. Keziah did not wait for him to answer. + +"I see," she said slowly. "Do they all feel that way?" + +"Why, if you mean that they've all given up hope, I should hardly say +that. Captain Mayo and Captain Daniels were speaking of it in my hearing +the other day and they agreed that there was still a chance." + +"A pretty slim one, though, they cal'lated, didn't they?" + +"Well, they were--were doubtful, of course. There was the possibility +that he had been wrecked somewhere and hadn't been picked up. They cited +several such cases. The South Pacific is full of islands where vessels +seldom touch, and he and his crew may be on one of these." + +"Yes. They might, but I'm afraid not. Ah, hum!" + +She rose and was turning away. Ellery rose also and laid his hand on her +arm. + +"Aunt Keziah," he said, "I'm very sorry. I respected Captain Hammond, in +spite of--of--in spite of everything. I've tried to realize that he was +not to blame. He was a good man and I haven't forgotten that he saved my +life that morning on the flats. And I'm so sorry for YOU." + +She did not look at him. + +"John," she answered, with a sigh, "sometimes I think you'd better get +another housekeeper." + +"What? Are you going to leave me? YOU?" + +"Oh, 'twouldn't be because I wanted to. But it seems almost as if there +was a kind of fate hangin' over me and that," she smiled faintly, "as if +'twas sort of catchin', as you might say. Everybody I ever cared for has +had somethin' happen to 'em. My brother died; my--the man I married went +to the dogs; then you and Grace had to be miserable and I had to help +make you so; I sent Nat away and he blamed me and--" + +"No, no. He didn't blame you. He sent you word that he didn't." + +"Yes, but he did, all the same. He must have. I should if I'd been in +his place. And now he's dead, and won't ever understand--on this earth, +anyhow. I guess I'd better clear out and leave you afore I spoil your +life." + +"Aunt Keziah, you're my anchor to windward, as they say down here. If +I lost you, goodness knows where I should drift. Don't you ever talk of +leaving me again." + +"Thank you, John. I'm glad you want me to stay. I won't leave yet +awhile; never--unless I have to." + +"Why should you ever have to?" + +"Well, I don't know. Yes, I do know, too. John, I had another letter +t'other day." + +"You did? From--from that man?" + +"Yup, from--" For a moment it seemed as if she were about to pronounce +her husband's name, something she had never done in his presence; but if +she thought of it, she changed her mind. + +"From him," she said. "He wanted money, of course; he always does. But +that wa'n't the worst. The letter was from England, and in it he wrote +that he was gettin' sick of knockin' around and guessed he'd be for +comin' to the States pretty soon and huntin' me up. Said what was the +use of havin' an able-bodied wife if she couldn't give her husband a +home." + +"The scoundrel!" + +"Yes, I know what he is, maybe full as well as you do. That's why I +spoke of leavin' you. If that man comes to Trumet, I'll go, sure as +death." + +"No, no. Aunt Keziah, you must free yourself from him. No power on earth +can compel you to longer support such a--" + +"None on earth, no. But it's my punishment and I've got to put up with +it. I married him with my eyes wide open, done it to spite the--the +other, as much as anything, and I must bear the burden. But I tell you +this, John: if he comes here, to this town, where I've been respected +and considered a decent woman, if he comes here, I go--somewhere, +anywhere that'll be out of the sight of them that know me. And wherever +I go he shan't be with me. THAT I won't stand! I'd rather die, and I +hope I do. Don't talk to me any more now--don't! I can't stand it." + +She hurried out of the room. Later, as the minister passed through the +dining room on his way to the door, she spoke to him again. + +"John," she said, "I didn't say what I meant to when I broke in on you +just now. I meant to tell you about Grace. I knew you'd like to know and +wouldn't ask. She's bearin' up well, poor girl. She thought the world of +Nat, even though she might not have loved him in the way that--" + +"What's that? What are you saying, Aunt Keziah?" + +"I mean--well, I mean that he'd always been like an own brother to her +and she cared a lot for him." + +"But you said she didn't love him." + +"Did I? That was a slip of the tongue, maybe. But she bears it well and +I don't think she gives up hope. I try not to, for her sake, and I try +not to show her how I feel." + +She sewed vigorously for a few moments. Then she said: + +"She's goin' away, Gracie is." + +"Going away?" + +"Yup. She's goin' to stay with a relation of the Hammonds over in +Connecticut for a spell. I coaxed her into it. Stayin' here at home +with all this suspense and with Hannah Poundberry's tongue droppin' +lamentations like kernels out of a corn sheller, is enough to kill a +healthy batch of kittens with nine lives apiece. She didn't want to go; +felt that she must stay here and wait for news; but I told her we'd get +news to her as soon as it come, and she's goin'." + +Ellery took his hat from the peg and opened the door. His foot was on +the step when Keziah spoke again. + +"She--it don't mean nothin', John, except that she ain't so hard-hearted +as maybe you might think--she's asked me about you 'most every time I've +been there. She told me to take good care of you." + +The door closed. Keziah put down her sewing and listened as the +minister's step sounded on the walk. She rose, went to the window +and looked after him. She was wondering if she had made a mistake in +mentioning Grace's name. She had meant to cheer him with the thought +that he was not entirely forgotten, that he was, at least, pitied; but +perhaps it would have been better to have remained silent. Her gaze +shifted and she looked out over the bay, blue and white in the sun and +wind. When she was a girl the sea had been kind to her, it had brought +her father home safe, and those homecomings were her pleasantest +memories. But she now hated it. It was cruel and cold and wicked. It had +taken the man she loved and would have loved till she died, even though +he could never have been hers, and she had given him to another; it had +taken him, killed him cruelly, perhaps. And now it might be bringing to +her the one who was responsible for all her sorrow, the one she could +not think of without a shudder. She clung to the window sash and prayed +aloud. + +"Lord! Lord!" she pleaded, "don't put any more on me now. I couldn't +stand it! I couldn't!" + +Ellery, too, was thinking deeply as he walked up the main road on his +way to Mrs. Prince's. Keziah's words were repeating themselves over and +over in his brain. She had asked about him. She had not forgotten him +altogether. And what did the housekeeper mean by saying that she had +not loved Captain Hammond in the way that--Not that it could make any +difference. Nothing could give him back his happiness. But what did it +mean? + +Mrs. Prince was very glad to see him. He found her in the big armchair +with the quilted back and the projecting "wings" at each side of her +head. She was wrapped in a "Rising Sun" quilt which was a patchwork +glory of red and crimson. A young girl, a neighbor, who was apparently +acting in the dual capacity of nurse and housekeeper, admitted him to +the old lady's presence. + +"Well, well!" she exclaimed delightedly. "Then you ain't forgot me +altogether. I'm awful glad to see you. You'll excuse me for not gettin' +up; my back's got more pains in it than there is bones, a good sight. +Dr. Parker says it's nothin' serious, and all I had to do was set still +and take his medicine. I told him that either the aches or the medicine +made settin' still serious enough, and when your only amusement is +listenin' to Emeline Berry--she's the girl that's takin' care of +me--when your only fun is listenin' to Emeline drop your best dishes in +the kitchen sink, it's pretty nigh tragic. There! there! don't mind an +old woman, Mr. Ellery. Set down and let's talk. It's a comfort to be +able to say somethin' besides 'Don't, Emeline!' and 'Be sure you pick up +all the pieces!'" + +Mrs. Prince's good spirits were of short duration. Her conversation soon +shifted to the loss of her son and she wept, using the corner of the +quilt to wipe away her tears. "Eddie" had been her idol and, as she +said, it was hard to believe what folks kept tellin' her, that it was +God's will, and therefore all for the best. + +"That's so easy to say," she sobbed. "Maybe it is best for the Lord, +but how about me? I needed him more than they did up there, or I think I +did. O Mr. Ellery, I don't mean to be irreverent, but WHY was it all for +the best?" + +Questions like this are hard to answer. The young minister tried, but +the answers were unsatisfactory, even to him. + +"And there's Nat Hammond," continued Mrs. Prince. "A fine man--no better +anywhere, even though his father was a Come-Outer--just goin' to +be married and all, now they say he's drowned--why? Why was that +necessary?" + +Ellery could not reply. The old lady did not wait for him to do so. The +mention of Captain Nat's name reminded her of other things. + +"Poor Gracie!" she said. "It's turrible hard on her. I went down to see +her two or three times afore I was took with this backache. She's an +awful nice girl. And pretty as a pink, too. Don't you think so? Hey? +don't you?" + +"Yes." + +"Yes. I've been kind of expectin' she might get up to see me. Hannah +Poundberry told the Berrys that she said she was comin'. I don't care +about her bein' a Come-Outer. I ain't proud, Mr. Ellery. And there's +Come-Outers and COME-Outers. Proud! Lord 'a' mercy! what has an old +woman, next door to the poorhouse, got to be proud over? Yes, she told +Hannah she was comin', and the Berry folks thought it might be to-day. +So I've been watchin' for her. What! you ain't agoin', Mr. Ellery?" + +"I think I must, Mrs. Prince." + +"Oh, don't! Do stay a spell longer. Gracie might come and I'd like +for you to meet her. She needs sympathy and comfort an awful lot, and +there's no tellin', you might convert her to bein' a Reg'lar. Oh, yes, +you might. You've got the most persuadin' way, everybody says so. And +you don't know her very well, do you? Land sakes alive! talk about +angels! I snum if she ain't comin' up the road this blessed minute." + +John Ellery had risen. Now he seized his hat and moved hastily toward +the door. Mrs. Prince called to him to remain, but he would not. +However, her good-bys delayed him for a minute, and before he reached +the yard gate Grace was opening it. They were face to face for the first +time since they had parted in the grove, so many months before. + +She was thinner and paler, he saw that. And dressed very quietly in +black. She looked at him, as he stood before her in the path, and her +cheeks flushed and her eyes fell. He stepped aside and raised his hat. + +She bowed gravely and murmured a "Good afternoon." Then she passed on up +the path toward the door. He watched her for an instant and then stepped +quickly after her. The black gown and the tired look in her eyes touched +him to the heart. He could not let her go without a word. + +She turned at the sound of his step behind her. + +"Er--Miss Van Horne," he stammered, "I merely wanted to tell you how +deeply I--we all feel for you in your trouble. I--I--I am so sorry." + +"Thank you," she said simply, and after a moment's hesitation. + +"I mean it sincerely. I--I did not know Captain Hammond very well, but +I respected and liked him the first time we met. I shall hope +that--that--it is not so serious as they fear." + +"Thank you," she said again. "We are all hoping." + +"Yes. I--I--" It was dreadfully hard to get words together. "I have +heard so much of the captain from--" + +"From Aunt Keziah? Yes, she was Nat's warmest friend." + +"I know. Er--Mrs. Coffin tells me you are going away. I hope you may +hear good news and soon. I shall think of you--of him--I want you to +understand that I shall." + +The door opened and Emeline Berry appeared on the threshold. + +"Come right in, Grace," she called. "Mrs. Prince wants you to. She's +ahollerin' for you to hurry up." + +"Good-by," said the minister. + +"Good-by. Thank you again. It was very kind of you to say this." + +"No, no. I mean it." + +"I know; that was why it was so kind. Good-by." + +She held out her hand and he took it. He knew that his was trembling, +but so, too, was hers. The hands fell apart. Grace entered the house and +John Ellery went out at the gate. + +That night Keziah, in the sitting room, trying to read, but finding +it hard to keep her mind on the book, heard her parson pacing back and +forth over the straw-matted floor of his chamber. She looked at +the clock; it was nearly twelve. She shut the book and sighed. Her +well-meant words of consolation had been a mistake, after all. She +should not have spoken Grace Van Horne's name. + + +CHAPTER XVI + +IN WHICH THE MINISTER BOARDS THE SAN JOSE + + +"Hey, Mr. Ellery!" + +It was Captain Zeb Mayo who was calling. The captain sat in his antique +chaise, drawn by the antique white horse, and was hailing the parsonage +through a speaking trumpet formed by holding both his big hands before +his mouth. The reins he had tucked between the edge of the dashboard and +the whip socket. If he had thrown them on the ground he would still have +been perfectly safe, with that horse. + +"Mr. Ellery, ahoy!" roared Captain Zeb through his hands. + +The window of Zoeth Peters's house, next door to the Regular church, +was thrown up and Mrs. Peters's head, bound with a blue-and-white +handkerchief in lieu of a sweeping cap, was thrust forth into the crisp +March air. + +"What is it, Cap'n Mayo?" screamed Mrs. Peters. "Hey?" + +"Hey?" repeated Captain Zeb, peering round the chaise curtain. "Who's +that?" + +"It's me. Is somebody dead?" + +"Who's me? Oh! No, Hettie, nobody's dead, though I'm likely to bust a +blood vessel if I keep on yellin' much longer. Is the parson to home?" + +"Hey?" + +"Oh, heavens alive! I say is--Ha, there you be, Mr. Ellery. Mornin', +Keziah." + +The minister and Mrs. Coffin, the former with a napkin in his hand, had +emerged from the side door of the parsonage and now came hurrying down +to the gate. + +"Land of Goshen!" exclaimed the captain, "you don't mean to tell me +you ain't done breakfast yet, and it after seven o'clock. Why, we're +thinkin' about dinner up to our house." + +Keziah answered. "Yes," she said, "I shouldn't wonder. Your wife tells +me, Zeb, that the only time you ain't thinkin' about dinner is when you +think of breakfast or supper. We ain't so hungry here that we get up +to eat in the middle of the night. What's the matter? Hettie Peters is +hollerin' at you; did you know it?" + +"Did I know it? Tut! tut! tut! I'd known it if I was a mile away, 'less +I was paralyzed in my ears. Let her holler; 'twill do her good and keep +her in practice for Come-Outer meetin'. Why, Mr. Ellery, I tell you: +Em'lous Sparrow, the fish peddler, stepped up to our house a few minutes +ago. He's just come down from the shanties over on the shore by the +light--where the wreck was, you know--and he says there's a 'morphrodite +brig anchored three or four mile off and she's flyin' colors ha'f mast +and union down. They're gettin' a boat's crew together to go off to +her and see what's the row. I'm goin' to drive over and I thought maybe +you'd like to go along. I told the old lady--my wife, I mean--that I +thought of pickin' you up and she said 'twas a good idee. Said my likin' +to cruise with a parson in my old age was either a sign that I was +hopeful or fearful, she didn't know which; and either way it ought to be +encouraged. He, he, he! What do you say, Mr. Ellery? Want to go?" + +The minister hesitated. "I'd like to," he said. "I'd like to very much. +But I ought to work on my sermon this morning." + +Keziah cut in here. "Cat's foot!" she sniffed. "Let your sermon go for +this once, do. If it ain't long enough as it is, you can begin again +when you've got to the end and preach it over again. Didama Rogers said, +last circle day, that she could set still and hear you preach right over +n' over. I'd give her a chance, 'specially if it did keep her still. +Keepin' Didama still is good Christian work, ain't it, Zeb?" + +Captain Mayo slapped his knee. "He, he, he!" he chuckled. "Cal'late +you're right, Keziah." + +"Indeed, I am. I believe it would be Christianity and I KNOW 'twould be +work. There! there! run in and get your coat and hat, Mr. Ellery. I'll +step across and ease Hettie's mind and--and lungs." + +She went across the road to impart the news of the vessel in distress to +the curious Mrs. Peters. A moment later the minister, having donned +his hat and coat, ran down the walk and climbed into the chaise beside +Captain Zeb. The white horse, stimulated into a creaky jog trot by +repeated slappings of the reins and roars to "Get under way!" and "Cast +off!" moved along the sandy lane. + +During the drive the captain and his passenger discussed various topics +of local interest, among them Captain Nat Hammond and the manner in +which he might have lost his ship and his life. It was now taken for +granted, in Trumet and elsewhere, that Nat was dead and would never be +heard from again. The owners had given up, so Captain Zeb said, and +went on to enumerate the various accidents which might have +happened--typhoons, waterspouts, fires, and even attacks by Malay +pirates--though, added the captain, "Gen'rally speakin', I'd ruther not +bet on any pirate gettin' away with Nat Hammond's ship, if the skipper +was alive and healthy. Then there's mutiny and fevers and collisions, +and land knows what all. And, speakin' of trouble, what do you cal'late +ails that craft we're goin' to look at now?" + +They found a group on the beach discussing that very question. A few +fishermen, one or two lobstermen and wreckers, and the lightkeeper were +gathered on the knoll by the lighthouse. They had a spyglass, and a +good-sized dory was ready for launching. + +"Where is she, Noah?" asked Captain Zeb of the lightkeeper. "That her +off back of the spar buoy? Let me have a squint through that glass; +my eyes ain't what they used to be, when I could see a whale spout two +miles t'other side of the sky line and tell how many barrels of ile he'd +try out, fust look. Takes practice to keep your eyesight so's you can +see round a curve like that," he added, winking at Ellery. + +"She's a brigantine, Zeb," observed the keeper, handing up the spyglass. +"And flyin' the British colors. Look's if she might be one of them salt +boats from Turk's Islands. But what she's doin' out there, anchored, +with canvas lowered and showin' distress signals in fair weather like +this, is more'n any of us can make out. She wa'n't there last evenin', +though, and she is there now." + +"She ain't the only funny thing along shore this mornin', nuther," +announced Theophilus Black, one of the fishermen. "Charlie Burgess just +come down along and he says there's a ship's longboat hauled up on the +beach, 'bout a mile 'n a half t'other side the mouth of the herrin' +crick yonder. Oars in her and all. And she ain't no boat that b'longs +round here, is she, Charlie?" + +"No, Thoph, she ain't," was the reply. "Make anything out of her, +cap'n?" + +Captain Zeb, who had been inspecting the anchored vessel through +the spyglass, lowered the latter and seemed puzzled. "Not much," he +answered. "Blessed if she don't look abandoned to me. Can't see a sign +of life aboard her." + +"We couldn't neither," said Thoph. "We was just cal'latin' to go off to +her when Charlie come and told us about the longboat. I guess likely we +can go now; it's pretty nigh smooth as a pond. You'll take an oar, won't +you, Noah?" + +"I can't leave the light very well. My wife went over to the village +last night. You and Charlie and Bill go. Want to go, too, Zeb?" + +"No, I'll stay here, I guess. The old lady made me promise to keep my +feet dry afore I left the house." + +"You want to go, Mr. Ellery? Lots of room." + +The minister was tempted. The sea always had a fascination for him and +the mystery of the strange ship was appealing. + +"Sure I won't be in the way?" + +"No, no! 'course you won't," said Burgess. "Come right along. You set in +the bow, if you don't mind gettin' sprinkled once in a while. I'll steer +and Thoph and Bill'll row. That'll be enough for one dory. If we need +more, we'll signal. Heave ahead." + +The surf, though low for that season of the year, looked dangerous to +Ellery, but his companions launched the dory with the ease which comes +of experience. Burgess took the steering oar and Thoph and "Bill," the +latter a lobsterman from Wellmouth Neck, bent their broad backs for the +long pull. The statement concerning the pondlike smoothness of the sea +was something of an exaggeration. The dory climbed wave after wave, long +and green and oily, at the top of each she poised, tipped and slid down +the slope. The minister, curled up in the bow on a rather uncomfortable +cushion of anchor and roding, caught glimpses of the receding shore over +the crests behind. One minute he looked down into the face of Burgess, +holding the steering oar in place, the next the stern was high above him +and he felt that he was reclining on the back of his neck. But always +the shoulders of the rowers moved steadily in the short, deep strokes +of the rough water oarsman, and the beach, with the white light and +red-roofed house of the keeper, the group beside it, and Captain Zeb's +horse and chaise, grew smaller and less distinct. + +"Humph!" grunted Charlie. + +"What's the matter?" asked Thoph. + +The steersman, who was staring hard in the direction they were going, +scowled. + +"Humph!" he grunted again. "I swan to man, fellers, I believe she IS +abandoned!" + +"Rubbish!" panted Bill, twisting his neck to look over his shoulder. +"'Course she ain't! Who'd abandon a craft such weather's this, and +Province-town harbor only three hours' run or so?" + +"When it comes to that," commented Burgess, "why should they anchor off +here, 'stead of takin' her in by the inlet? If there's anybody aboard +they ain't showed themselves yet. She might have been leakin', but she +don't look it. Sets up out of water pretty well. Well, we'll know in a +few minutes. Hit her up, boys!" + +The rowers "hit her up" and the dory moved faster. Then Burgess, putting +his hand to his mouth, hailed. + +"Ship ahoy!" he roared. "Ahoy!" + +No reply. + +"Ahoy the brig!" bellowed Burgess. "What's the matter aboard there? All +hands asleep?" + +Still no answer. Thoph and Bill pulled more slowly now. Burgess nodded +to them. + +"Stand by!" he ordered. "Easy! Way enough! Let her run." + +The dory slackened speed, turned in obedience to the steering oar, and +slid under the forequarter of the anchored vessel. Ellery, looking up, +saw her name in battered gilt letters above his head--the San Jose. + +"Stand by, Thoph!" shouted Charlie. "S'pose you can jump and grab her +forechains? Hold her steady, Bill. Now, Thoph! That's the time!" + +Thoph had jumped, seized the chains, and was scrambling aboard. A moment +later he appeared at the rail amidships, a rope in his hand. The dory +was brought alongside and made fast; then one after the other the men in +the boat climbed to the brig's deck. + +"Ahoy!" yelled Burgess. "All hands on deck! tumble up, you lubbers! +Humph! She is abandoned, sure and sartin." + +"Yup," assented Bill. "Her boats are gone. See? Guess that explains the +longboat on the beach, Charlie." + +"Cal'late it does; but it don't explain why they left her. She ain't +leakin' none to speak of, that's sure. Rides's light's a feather. +Christmas! look at them decks; dirty hogs, whoever they was." + +The decks were dirty, and the sails, sloppily furled, were dirty +likewise. The brig, as she rolled and jerked at her anchor rope, was +dirty--and unkempt from stem to stern. To Ellery's mind she made a +lonesome picture, even under the clear, winter sky and bright sunshine. + +Thoph led the way aft. The cabin companion door was open and they peered +down. + +"Phew!" sniffed Burgess. "She ain't no cologne bottle, is she? Well, +come on below and let's see what'll we see." + +The cabin was a "mess," as Bill expressed it. The floor was covered +with scattered heaps of riff-raff, oilskins, coats, empty bottles, and +papers. On the table a box stood, its hinged lid thrown back. + +"Medicine chest," said Burgess, examining it. "And rum bottles aplenty. +Somebody's been sick, I shouldn't wonder." + +The minister opened the door of one of the little staterooms. The light +which shone through the dirty and tightly closed "bull's-eye" window +showed a tumbled bunk, the blankets soiled and streaked. The smell was +stifling. + +"Say, fellers," whispered Thoph, "I don't like this much myself. I'm for +gettin' on deck where the air's better. Somethin's happened aboard this +craft, somethin' serious." + +Charlie and Bill nodded an emphatic affirmative. + +"Hadn't we better look about a little more?" asked Ellery. "There's +another stateroom there." + +He opened the door of it as he spoke. It was, if possible, in a worse +condition than the first. And the odor was even more overpowering. + +"Skipper's room," observed Burgess, peeping in. "And that bunk ain't +been slept in for weeks. See the mildew on them clothes. Phew! I'm fair +sick to my stomach. Come out of this." + +On deck, in the sunlight, they held another consultation. + +"Queerest business ever I see," observed Charlie. "I never--" + +"I see somethin' like it once," interrupted Bill. "Down in the Gulf +'twas. I was on the old Fishhawk. Eben Salters's dad from over to +Bayport skippered her. We picked up a West Injy schooner, derelict, +abandoned same as this one, but not anchored, of course. Yeller jack was +the trouble aboard her and--Where you bound, Thoph?" + +"Goin' to take a squint at the fo'castle," replied Theophilus, moving +forward. The minister followed him. + +The fo'castle hatchway was black and grim. Ellery knelt and peered down. +Here there was practically no light at all and the air was fouler than +that in the cabin. + +"See anything, Mr. Ellery?" asked Thoph, looking over his shoulder. + +"No, I don't see anything. But I thought--" + +He seemed to be listening. + +"What did you think?" + +"Nothing. I--" + +"Hold on! you ain't goin' down there, be you? I wouldn't. No tellin' +what you might find. Well, all right. I ain't curious. I'll stay up here +and you can report." + +He stepped over and leaned against the rail. Bill came across the deck +and joined him. + +"Where's Charlie?" asked Thoph. + +"Gone back to the cabin," was the answer. "Thought likely he might find +some of her papers or somethin' to put us on the track. I told him to +heave ahead; I didn't want no part of it. Too much like that yeller-jack +schooner to suit me. What's become of the parson?" + +Thoph pointed to the open hatch. + +"Down yonder, explorin' the fo'castle," he replied. "He can have the +job, for all me. Phew! Say, Bill, what IS this we've struck, anyhow?" + +Ellery descended the almost perpendicular ladder gingerly, holding on +with both hands. At its foot he stopped and tried to accustom his eyes +to the darkness. + +A room perhaps ten feet long, so much he could make out. The floor +strewn, like that of the cabin, with heaps of clothing and odds and +ends. More shapes of clothes hanging up and swaying with the roll of the +brig. A little window high up at the end, black with dirt. And cavities, +bunks in rows, along the walls. A horrible hole. + +He took a step toward the center of the room, bending his head to +avoid hitting the fo'castle lantern. Then in one of the bunks something +stirred, something alive. He started violently, controlled himself with +an effort, and stumbled toward the sound. + +"What is it?" he whispered. "Who is it? Is anyone there?" + +A groan answered him. Then a voice, weak and quavering, said: + +"Gimme a drink! Gimme a drink! Can't none of you God-forsaken devils +give me a drink?" + +He stooped over the bunk. A man was lying in it, crumpled into a +dreadful heap. He stooped lower, looked, and saw the man's face. + +There was a shout from the deck, or, rather, a yell. Then more yells and +the sound of running feet. + +"Mr. Ellery!" screamed Burgess, at the hatchway. "Mr. Ellery, for the +Almighty's sake, come up here! Come out of that this minute. Quick!" + +The minister knew what was coming, was sure of it as he stepped to the +foot of the ladder, had known it the instant he saw that face. + +"Mr. Ellery!" shrieked Burgess. "Mr. Ellery, are you there?" + +"Yes, I'm here," answered the minister, slowly. He was fighting with all +his might to keep his nerves under control. His impulse was to leap +up those steps, rush across that deck, spring into the dory and row, +anywhere to get away from the horror of that forecastle. + +"Come up!" called Burgess. "Hurry! It's the smallpox! The darned +hooker's rotten with it. For God sakes, come quick!" + +He ran to the rail, yelling order to Bill and Thoph, who were +frantically busy with the dory. Ellery began to climb the ladder. His +head emerged into the clean, sweet air blowing across the deck. He drew +a breath to the very bottom of his lungs. + +Then from behind and below him came the voice again. + +"Gimme a drink!" it wailed. "Gimme a drink of water. Ain't one of you +cussed swabs got decency enough to fetch me a drink? I'm dyin' for a +drink, I tell you. I'm dyin'!" + +The minister stood still, his feet on the ladder. The three men by the +rail were working like mad, their faces livid under the sunburn and +their hands trembling. They pushed each other about and swore. They were +not cowards, either. Ellery knew them well enough to know that. Burgess +had, that very winter, pulled a skiff through broken ice in the face +of a wicked no'theaster to rescue an old neighbor whose dory had been +capsized in the bay while he was hauling lobster pots. But now Burgess +was as scared as the rest. + +Thoph and Bill sprang over the rail into the boat. Burgess turned and +beckoned to Ellery. + +"Come on!" he called. "What are you waitin' for?" + +The minister remained where he was. + +"Are you sure--" he faltered. + +"Sure! Blast it all! I found the log. It ain't been kept for a fortni't, +but there's enough. It's smallpox, I tell you. Two men died of it three +weeks ago. The skipper died right afterwards. The mate--No wonder them +that was left run away as soon as they sighted land. Come on! Do you +want to die, too?" + +From the poison pit at the foot of the ladder the man in the bunk called +once more. + +"Water!" he screeched. "Water! Are you goin' to leave me, you d--n +cowards?" + +"For Heaven sakes!" cried Burgess, clutching the rail, "what's that?" + +Ellery answered him. "It's one of them," he said, and his voice sounded +odd in his own ears. "It's one of the crew." + +"One of the--Down THERE? Has he--" + +"Yes, he has." + +"Help! help!" screamed the voice shrilly. "Are you goin' to leave me to +die all alone? He-elp!" + +The minister turned. "Hush!" he called, in answer to the voice, "hush! +I'll bring you water in a minute. Burgess," he added, "you and the rest +go ashore. I shall stay." + +"You'll stay? You'll STAY? With THAT? You're crazy as a loon. Don't be +a fool, man! Come on! We'll send the doctor and somebody else--some one +that's had it, maybe, or ain't afraid. I am and I'm goin'. Don't be a +fool." + +Thoph, from the dory, shouted to know what was the matter. Ellery +climbed the ladder to the deck and walked over to the rail. As he +approached, Burgess fell back a few feet. + +"Thoph," said the minister, addressing the pair in the dory, "there is +a sick man down in the forecastle. He has been alone there for hours, +I suppose, certainly since his shipmates ran away. If he is left longer +without help, he will surely die. Some one must stay with him. You and +the rest row ashore and get the doctor and whoever else you can. I'll +stay here till they come." + +Thoph and his companions set up a storm of protest. It was foolish, it +was crazy, the man would die anyhow, and so on. They begged the minister +to come with them. But he was firm. + +"Don't stop to argue," he urged. "Hurry and get the doctor." + +"Come on, Charlie," ordered Bill. "No use talkin' to him, he's set. Come +on! I won't stay alongside this craft another minute for nobody. If you +be comin', come." + +Burgess, still protesting, clambered over the rail. The dory swung clear +of the brig. The rowers settled themselves for the stroke. + +"Better change your mind, Mr. Ellery," pleaded Charlie. "I hate to leave +you this way. It seems mean, but I'm a married man with children, like +the rest of us here, and I can't take no risks. Better come, too. No? +Well, we'll send help quick as the Lord'll let us. By the Almighty!" he +added, in a sudden burst, "you've got more spunk than I have--yes, or +anybody I ever come across. I'll say that for you, if you are a parson. +Give way, fellers." + +The oars dipped, bent, and the dory moved off. The sound of the creaking +thole pins shot a chill through Ellery's veins. His knees shook, and +involuntarily a cry for them to come back rose to his lips. But he +choked it down and waved his hand in farewell. Then, not trusting +himself to look longer at the receding boat, he turned on his heel and +walked toward the forecastle. + +The water butts stood amidships, not far from the open door of the +galley. Entering the latter he found an empty saucepan. This he filled +from the cask, and then, with it in his hand, turned toward the black +hatchway. Here was the greatest test of his courage. To descend that +ladder, approach that bunk, and touch the terrible creature in it, these +were the tasks he had set himself to do, but could he? + +Vaccination in those days was by no means the universal custom that it +now is. And smallpox, even now, is a disease the name of which strikes +panic to a community. The minister had been vaccinated when he was a +child, but that was--so it seemed to him--a very long time ago. And +that forecastle was so saturated with the plague that to enter it meant +almost certain infection. He had stayed aboard the brig because the +pitiful call for help had made leaving a cowardly impossibility. Now, +face to face, and in cold blood, with the alternative, it seemed neither +so cowardly or impossible. The man would die anyhow, so Thoph had said; +was there any good reason why he should risk dying, too, and dying in +that way? + +He thought of a great many things and of many people as he stood by the +hatchway, waiting; among others, he thought of his housekeeper, +Keziah Coffin. And, somehow, the thought of her, of her pluck, and her +self-sacrifice, were the very inspirations he needed. "It's the duty +that's been laid on me," Keziah had said, "and it's a hard one, but I +don't run away from it." He began to descend the ladder. + +The sick man was raving in delirium when he reached him, but the sound +of the water lapping the sides of the saucepan brought him to himself. +He seized Ellery by the arm and drank and drank. When at last he +desisted, the pan was half empty. + +The minister laid him gently back in the bunk and stepped to the foot of +the ladder for breath. This made him think of the necessity for air in +the place and he remembered the little window. It was tightly closed +and rusted fast. He went up to the deck, found a marlin spike, and, +returning, broke the glass. A sharp, cold draught swept through the +forecastle, stirring the garments hanging on the nails. + +An hour later, two dories bumped against the side of the San Jose. Men, +talking in low tones, climbed over the rail. Burgess was one of them; +ashamed of his panic, he had returned to assist the others in bringing +the brigantine into a safer anchorage by the inlet. + +Dr. Parker, very grave but businesslike, reached the deck among the +first. + +"Mr. Ellery," he shouted, "where are you?" + +The minister's head and shoulders appeared at the forecastle companion. +"Here I am, doctor," he said. "Will you come down?" + +The doctor made no answer in words, but he hurried briskly across the +deck. One man, Ebenezer Capen, an old fisherman and ex-whaler from +East Trumet, started to follow him, but he was the only one. The others +waited, with scared faces, by the rail. + +"Get her under way and inshore as soon as you can," ordered Dr. Parker. +"Ebenezer, you can help. If I need you below, I'll call." + +The minister backed down the ladder and the doctor followed him. Parker +bent over the bunk for a few moments in silence. + +"He's pretty bad," he muttered. "Mighty little chance. Heavens, what a +den! Who broke that window?" + +"I did," replied Ellery. "The air down here was dreadful." + +The doctor nodded approvingly. "I guess so," he said. "It's bad enough +now. We've got to get this poor fellow out of here as soon as we can or +he'll die before to-morrow. Mr. Ellery," he added sharply, "what made +you do this? Don't you realize the risk you've run?" + +"Some one had to do it. You are running the same risk." + +"Not just the same, and, besides, it's my business. Why didn't you let +some one else, some one we could spare--Humph! Confound it, man! didn't +you know any better? Weren't you afraid?" + +His tone rasped Ellery's shaken nerves. + +"Of course I was," he snapped irritably. "I'm not an idiot." + +"Humph! Well, all right; I beg your pardon. But you oughtn't to have +done it. Now you'll have to be quarantined. And who in thunder I can get +to stay with me in this case is more than I know. Just say smallpox to +this town and it goes to pieces like a smashed egg. Old Eb Capen will +help, for he's had it, but it needs more than one." + +"Where are you going to take--him?" pointing to the moaning occupant of +the bunk. + +"To one of the empty fish shanties on the beach. There are beds there, +such as they are, and the place is secluded. We can burn it down when +the fuss is over." + +"Then why can't I stay? I shall have to be quarantined, I know that. Let +me be the other nurse. Why should anyone else run the risk? I HAVE run +it. I'll stay." + +Dr. Parker looked at him. "Well!" he exclaimed. "Well! I must say, young +man, that you've got--Humph! All right, Mr. Ellery; I'm much obliged." + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED + + +Before sunset that afternoon the San Jose was anchored behind the point +by the inlet. The fishing boats changed moorings and moved farther +up, for not a single one of their owners would trust himself within a +hundred yards of the stricken brigantine. As soon as the anchors were +dropped, the volunteer crew was over side and away, each of its members +to receive a scolding from his family for taking such a risk and to have +his garments sulphur-smoked or buried. Charlie Burgess, whose wife was +something of a Tartar, observed ruefully that he "didn't take no comfort +'round home nowadays; between the smell of brimstone and the jawin's +'twas the hereafter ahead of time." + +The largest of the beach shanties, one which stood by itself a quarter +of a mile from the light, was hurriedly prepared for use as a pesthouse +and the sick sailor was carried there on an improvised stretcher. +Dr. Parker and Ellery lifted him from his berth and, assisted by old +Ebenezer Capen, got him up to the deck and lowered him into the dory. +Ebenezer rowed the trio to the beach and the rest of the journey was +comparatively easy. + +The shanty had three rooms, one of which was given up to the patient, +one used as a living room, and, in the third, Capen and the minister +were to sleep. Mattresses were procured, kind-hearted and sympathizing +townspeople donated cast-off tables and chairs, and the building was +made as comfortable as it could be, under the circumstances. Sign +boards, warning strangers to keep away, were erected, and in addition +to them, the Trumet selectmen ordered ropes stretched across the lane on +both sides of the shanty. But ropes and signs were superfluous. Trumet +in general was in a blue funk and had no desire to approach within a +mile of the locality. Even the driver of the grocery cart, when he left +the day's supply of provisions, pushed the packages under the ropes, +yelled a hurried "Here you be!" and, whipping up his horse, departed at +a rattling gallop. + +The village sat up nights to discuss the affair and every day brought +a new sensation. The survivors of the San Jose's crew, a wretched, +panic-stricken quartette of mulattos and Portuguese, were apprehended +on the outskirts of Denboro, the town below Trumet on the bay side, +and were promptly sequestered and fumigated, pending shipment to the +hospital at Boston. Their story was short but grewsome. The brigantine +was not a Turks Islands boat, but a coaster from Jamaica. She had sailed +with a small cargo for Savannah. Two days out and the smallpox made its +appearance on board. The sufferer, a negro foremast hand, died. Then +another sailor was seized and also died. The skipper, who was the owner, +was the next victim, and the vessel was in a state of demoralization +which the mate, an Englishman named Bradford, could not overcome. Then +followed days and nights of calm and terrible heat, of pestilence +and all but mutiny. The mate himself died. There was no one left who +understood navigation. At last came a southeast gale and the San Jose +drove before it. Fair weather found her abreast the Cape. The survivors +ran her in after dark, anchored, and reached shore in the longboat. The +sick man whom they had left in the forecastle was a new hand who had +shipped at Kingston. His name was Murphy, they believed. They had left +him because he was sure to die, like the others, and, besides, they knew +some one would see the distress signals and investigate. That was all, +yes. Santa Maria! was it not enough? + +This tale was a delicious tidbit for Didama and the "daily advertisers," +but, after all, it was a mere side dish compared to Mr. Ellery's +astonishing behavior. That he, the minister of the Regular church, +should risk his life, risk dying of the smallpox, to help a stranger +and a common sailor, was incomprehensible. Didama, at least, could not +understand it, and said so. "My soul and body!" she exclaimed, with +uplifted hands. "I wouldn't go nigh my own grandfather if he had the +smallpox, let alone settin' up with a strange critter that I didn't +know from Adam's cat. And a minister doin' it! He ought to consider the +congregation, if he done nothin' else. Ain't we more important than a +common water rat that, even when he's dyin', swears, so I hear tell, +like a ship's poll parrot? I never heard of such foolishness. It beats +ME!" + +It "beat" a good many who, like the Widow Rogers, could not understand +self-sacrifice. But there were more, and they the majority of Trumet's +intelligent people, who understood and appreciated. Dr. Parker, a man +with a reputation for dangerously liberal views concerning religious +matters and an infrequent attendant at church, was enthusiastic and +prodigal of praise. + +"By George!" vowed the doctor. "That's MY kind of Christianity. That's +the kind of parson I can tie to. I'm for John Ellery after this, first, +last, and all the time. And if he don't get the smallpox and die, and +if he does live to preach in the Regular church, you'll see me in one of +the front pews every Sunday. That's what I think of him. Everybody else +ran away and I don't blame 'em much. But he stayed. Yes, sir, by George! +he stayed. 'Somebody had to do it,' says he. I take off my hat to that +young fellow." + +Captain Zeb Mayo went about cheering for his parson. Mrs. Mayo cooked +delicacies to be pushed under the ropes for the minister's consumption. +The parish committee, at a special session, voted an increase of salary +and ordered a weekly service of prayer for the safe delivery of their +young leader from danger. Even Captain Elkanah did not try to oppose +the general opinion; "although I cannot but feel," he said, "that Mr. +Ellery's course was rash and that he should have considered us and our +interest in his welfare before--" + +"Dum it all!" roared Captain Zeb, jumping to his feet and interrupting, +"he didn't consider himself, did he? and ain't he as important TO +himself as you, Elkanah Daniels, or anybody else in this meetin' house? +Bah! don't let's have no more talk like that or I'll say somethin' that +won't be fit to put in the minutes." + +Even at Come-Outers' meeting, when Ezekiel Bassett hinted at a "just +punishment fallin' on the head of the leader of the Pharisees," Thoph +Black rose and defended Ellery. + +Keziah Coffin was, perhaps, the one person most disturbed by her +parson's heroism. She would have gone to the shanty immediately had not +Dr. Parker prevented. Even as it was, she did go as far as the ropes, +but there she was warded off by Ebenezer until Ellery came running out +and bade her come no nearer. + +"But you shan't stay here, Mr. Ellery," vowed Keziah. "Or, if you do, +I'll stay, too. I ain't afraid of smallpox." + +"I am," confessed the minister, "and I'm not going to let anyone I care +for expose themselves to it unnecessarily. If you try to come in here I +shall"--he smiled--"well, Capen and I will put you off the premises by +force. There!" + +Keziah smiled, too, in spite of herself. "Maybe you'd have your hands +full," she said. "O John, what in the world made you do this thing? It's +dreadful. I shan't sleep a wink, thinkin' of you. I just must come here +and help." + +"No, you mustn't. You can come as far as the--the dead line once in +a while, if Captain Mayo will drive you over, but that's all. I'm all +right. Don't worry about me. I'm feeling tiptop and I'm not going to be +sick. Now go home and make me some of that--some of those puddings of +yours. We can use them to advantage, can't we, Capen?" + +"Bet yer!" replied Ebenezer with enthusiasm. Keziah, after more +expostulation, went back to the parsonage, where the puddings were made +and seasoned with tears and fervent prayers. She wrote to Grace and told +her the news of the San Jose, but she said nothing of the minister's +part in it. "Poor thing!" sighed Keziah, "she's bearin' enough already. +Her back ain't as strong as mine, maybe, and mine's most crackin'. Well, +let it crack for good and all; I don't know but that's the easiest way +out." + +The sick sailor grew no better. Days and nights passed and he raved +and moaned or lay in a stupor. Ebenezer acted as day nurse while Ellery +slept, and, at night, the minister, being younger, went on watch. The +doctor came frequently, but said there was no hope. A question of time +only, and a short time, he said. + +Capen occupied his mind with speculations concerning the patient. + +"Do you know, parson," he said, "seem's if I'd seen the feller +somewheres afore. 'Course I never have, but when I used to go whalin' +v'yages I cruised from one end of creation to t'other, pretty nigh, +and I MIGHT have met him. However, his own folks wouldn't know him now, +would they? so I cal'late I'm just gettin' foolish in my old age. Said +his name's Murphy, them ha'f-breeds did, didn't they? I know better'n +that." + +"How do you know?" asked Ellery, idly listening. + +"'Cause when he's floppin' round on the bed, out of his head, he sings +out all kinds of stuff. A good deal of it's plain cussin', but there's +times when he talks respectable and once I heard him say 'darn' and +another time 'I cal'late.' Now no Irishman says THAT. That's Yankee, +that is." + +"Well, he ought to know his own name." + +"Prob'ly he does--or used to--but 'most likely he don't want nobody else +to know it. That's why he said 'twas Murphy and, bein' as he DID say it, +I know 'tain't it. See my argument, don't you, Mr. Ellery?" + +"Yes, I guess so." + +"Um--hm! Why, land sakes, names don't mean nothin' with seafarin' men. +I've seen the time when I had more names--Humph! Looks kind of squally +off to the east'ard, don't it?" + +That night the sick man was much worse. His ravings were incessant. The +minister, sitting in his chair in the living room, by the cook stove, +could hear the steady stream of shouts, oaths, and muttered fragments of +dialogue with imaginary persons. Sympathy for the sufferer he felt, +of course, and yet he, as well as Dr. Parker and old Capen, had heard +enough to realize that the world would be none the worse for losing this +particular specimen of humanity. The fellow had undoubtedly lived a hard +life, among the roughest of companions afloat and ashore. Even Ebenezer, +who by his own confession, was far from being a saint, exclaimed +disgustedly at the close of a day's watching by the sick bed: "Phew! I +feel's if I'd been visiting state's prison. Let me set out doors a spell +and listen to the surf. It's clean, anyhow, and that critter's talk +makes me want to give my brains a bath." + +The wooden clock, loaned by Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife, ticked +steadily, although a half hour slow. Ellery, glancing at it to see if +the time had come for giving medicine, suddenly noticed how loud its +ticking sounded. Wondering at this, he was aware there was no other +sound in the house. He rose and looked in at the door of the adjoining +room. The patient had ceased to rave and was lying quiet on the bed. + +The minister tiptoed over to look at him. And, as he did so, the man +opened his eyes. + +"Halloo!" he said faintly. "Who are you?" + +Ellery, startled, made no answer. + +"Who are you?" demanded the man again. Then, with an oath, he repeated +the question, adding: "What place is this? This ain't the fo'castle. +Where am I?" + +"You're ashore. You've been sick. Don't try to move." + +"Sick? Humph! Sick? 'Course I been sick. Don't I know it? The d--n +cowards run off and left me; blast their eyes! I'll fix 'em for it one +of these days, you hear--" + +"Sshh!" + +"Hush up yourself. Where am I?" + +"You're ashore. On Cape Cod. At Trumet." + +"Trumet! TRUMET!" + +He was struggling to raise himself on his elbow. Ellery was obliged to +use force to hold him down. + +"Hush! hush!" pleaded the minister, "you mustn't try to--" + +"Trumet! I ain't. You're lyin'. Trumet! Good God! Who brought me here? +Did she--Is she--" + +He struggled again. Then his strength and his reason left him +simultaneously and the delirium returned. He began to shout a name, a +name that caused Ellery to stand upright and step back from the bed, +scarcely believing his ears. + +All the rest of that night the man on the bed raved and muttered, but of +people and places and happenings which he had not mentioned before. And +the minister, listening intently to every word, caught himself wondering +if he also was not losing his mind. + +When the morning came, Ebenezer Capen was awakened by a shake to find +John Ellery standing over him. + +"Capen," whispered the minister, "Capen, get up. I must talk with you." + +Ebenezer was indignant. + +"Judas priest!" he exclaimed; "why don't you scare a feller to death, +comin' and yankin' him out of bed by the back hair?" Then, being more +wide awake, he added: "What's the row? Worse, is he? He ain't--" + +"No. But I've got to talk with you. You used to be a whaler, I know. +Were you acquainted in New Bedford?" + +"Sartin. Was a time when I could have located every stick in it, pretty +nigh, by the smell, if you'd set me down side of 'em blindfold." + +"Did you ever know anyone named--" He finished the sentence. + +"Sure and sartin, I did. Why?" + +"Did you know him well?" + +"Well's I wanted to. Pretty decent feller one time, but a fast goer, and +went downhill like a young one's sled, when he got started. His folks +had money, that was the trouble with him. Why, 'course I knew him! He +married--" + +"I know. Now, listen." + +Ellery went on talking rapidly and with great earnestness. Ebenezer +listened, at first silently, then breaking in with ejaculations and +grunts of astonishment. He sat up on the edge of the bed. + +"Rubbish!" he cried at last, "why, 'tain't possible! The feller's dead +as Methusalem's grandmarm. I remember how it happened and--" + +"It wasn't true. That much I know. I KNOW, I tell you." + +He went on to explain why he knew. Capen's astonishment grew. + +"Judas priest!" he exclaimed again. "That would explain why I thought +I'd seen--There! heave ahead. I've got to see. But it's a mistake. I +don't believe it." + +The pair entered the sick room. The sailor lay in a stupor. His +breathing was rapid, but faint. Capen bent over him and gently moved the +bandage on his face. For a full minute he gazed steadily. Then he stood +erect, drew a big red hand across his forehead, and moved slowly back to +the living room. + +"Well?" asked Ellery eagerly. + +Ebenezer sat down in the rocker. "Judas priest!" he said for the third +time. "Don't talk to ME! When it comes my time they'll have to prove I'm +dead. I won't believe it till they do. Ju-das PRIEST!" + +"Then you recognize him?" + +The old man nodded solemnly. + +"Yup," he said, "it's him. Mr. Ellery, what are you goin' to do about +it?" + +"I don't know. I don't know. I must go somewhere by myself and think. I +don't know WHAT to do." + +The minister declined to wait for breakfast. He said he was not hungry. +Leaving Ebenezer to put on the coffeepot and take up his duties as day +nurse, Ellery walked off along the beach. The "dead line" prevented his +going very far, but he sat down in the lee of a high dune and thought +until his head ached. What should he do? What was best for him to do? + +He heard the rattle of the doctor's chaise and the voices of Ebenezer +and Parker in conversation. He did not move, but remained where he was, +thinking, thinking. By and by he heard Capen calling his name. + +"Mr. Ellery!" shouted Ebenezer. "Mr. Ellery, where be you?" + +"Here!" replied the minister. + +The old man came scrambling over the sand. He was panting and much +excited. + +"Mr. Ellery!" he cried, "Mr. Ellery! it's settled for us--one part of +it, anyhow. He's slipped his cable." + +"What?" The minister sprang up. + +"Yup. He must have died just a little while after you left and after I +gave him his medicine. I thought he looked kind of queer then. And when +the doctor came we went in together and he was dead. Yes, sir, dead." + +"Dead!" + +"Um--hm. No doubt of it; it's for good this time. Mr. Ellery, what shall +we do? Shall I tell Dr. Parker?" + +Ellery considered for a moment. "No," he said slowly. "No, Capen, don't +tell anyone. I can't see why they need ever know that he hasn't been +dead for years, as they supposed. Promise me to keep it a secret. I'll +tell--her--myself, later on. Now promise me; I trust you." + +"Land sakes, yes! I'll promise, if you want me to. I'm a widower man, so +there'll be nobody to coax it out of me. I guess you're right, cal'late +you be. What folks don't know they can't lie about, can they? and that's +good for your business--meanin' nothin' disreverent. I'll promise, Mr. +Ellery; I'll swear to it. Now come on back to the shanty. The doctor +wants you." + +The next day the body of "Murphy," foremast hand on the San Jose, was +buried in the corner of the Regular graveyard, near those who were +drowned in the wreck of that winter. There was no funeral, of course. +The minister said a prayer at the shanty, and that was all. Ebenezer +drove the wagon which was used as hearse for the occasion, and filled in +the grave himself. So great was the fear of the terrible smallpox that +the sexton would not perform even that service for its victim. + +Capen remained at the shanty another week. Then, as the minister showed +no symptoms of having contracted the disease and insisted that he needed +no companion, Ebenezer departed to take up his fishing once more. The +old man was provided with a new suit of clothes, those he had worn being +burned, and having been, to his huge disgust, fumigated until, as he +said, he couldn't smell himself without thinking of a match box, went +away. The room which the dead sailor had occupied was emptied and sealed +tight. The San Jose was to stay at her anchorage a while longer. Then, +when all danger was past, she was to be towed to Boston and sold at +auction for the benefit of the heirs of her dead skipper and owner. + +Ellery himself was most urgent in the decision that he should not go +back to the parsonage and his church just yet. Better to wait until he +was sure, he said, and Dr. Parker agreed. "I'd be willing to bet that +you are all right," declared the latter, "but I know Trumet, and if I +SHOULD let you go and you did develop even the tail end of a case of +varioloid--well, 'twould be the everlasting climax for you and me in +this county." + +Staying alone was not unpleasant, in a way. The "dead line" still +remained, of course, and callers did not attempt to pass it, but they +came more frequently and held lengthy conversations at a respectful +distance. Ellery did his own cooking, what little there was to do, but +so many good things were pushed under the ropes that he was in a fair +way to develop weight and indigestion. Captain Zeb Mayo drove down at +least twice a week and usually brought Mrs. Coffin with him. From them +and from the doctor the prisoner learned the village news. Once Captain +Elkanah and Annabel came, and the young lady's gushing praise of the +minister's "heroism" made its recipient almost sorry he had ever heard +of the San Jose. + +Dr. Parker told him of Grace Van Horne's return to the village. She had +come back, so the doctor said, the day before, and was to live at the +tavern for a while, at least. Yes, he guessed even she had given up hope +of Captain Nat now. + +"And say," went on Parker, "how are you feeling?" + +"Pretty well, thank you," replied the minister. "I seem to be rather +tired and good for nothing. More so than I was during the worst of it." + +"No wonder. A chap can't go through what you did and not feel some +reaction. I expected that. Don't get cold, that's all. But what I want +to know is whether you think I could leave you for a couple of days? +The Ostable County Medical Society meets at Hyannis to-morrow and I had +promised myself to take it in this year. But I don't want to leave you, +if you need me." + +Ellery insisted that he did not need anyone, was getting along finely, +and would not hear of his friend's missing the medical society's +meeting. So the physician went. + +"Good-by," he called as he drove off. "I guess your term is pretty +nearly over. I shall let you out of jail inside of four or five days, if +you behave yourself." + +This should have been cheering news, but, somehow, John Ellery did not +feel cheerful that afternoon. The tired feeling he had spoken of so +lightly was worse than he had described it, and he was despondent, for +no particular reason. That night he slept miserably and awoke with a +chill to find a cold, pouring rain beating against the windows of the +shanty. + +He could not eat and he could not keep warm, even with the cook-stove +top red hot and a blanket over his shoulders. By noon the chill had +gone and he was blazing with fever. Still the rain and the wind, and no +visitors at the ropes, not even the light-keeper. + +He lay down on his bed and tried to sleep, but though he dozed a bit, +woke always with a start and either a chill or fever fit. His head began +to ache violently. And then, in the lonesomeness and misery, fear began +to take hold of him. + +He remembered the symptoms the doctor had warned him against, headache, +fever, and all the rest. He felt his wrists and arms and began to +imagine that beneath the skin were the little bunches, like small shot, +that were the certain indications. Then he remembered how that other man +had looked, how he had died. Was he to look that way and die like that? +And he was all alone, they had left him alone. + +Night came. The rain had ceased and stars were shining clear. Inside the +shanty the minister tossed on the bed, or staggered back and forth about +the two rooms. He wondered what the time might be; then he did not care. +He was alone. The smallpox had him in its grip. He was alone and he +was going to die. Why didn't some one come? Where was Mrs. Coffin? And +Grace? She was somewhere near him--Parker had said so--and he must see +her before he died. He called her name over and over again. + +The wind felt cold on his forehead. He stumbled amidst the beach grass. +What was this thing across his path? A rope, apparently, but why should +there be ropes in that house? There had never been any before. He +climbed over it and it was a climb of hundreds of feet and the height +made him giddy. That was a house, another house, not the one he had been +living in. And there were lights all about. Perhaps one of them was the +light at the parsonage. And a big bell was booming. That was his church +bell and he would be late for the meeting. + +Some one was speaking to him. He knew the voice. He had known it always +and would know it forever. It was the voice he wanted to hear. "Grace!" +he called. "Grace! I want you. Don't go! Don't go! Grace! oh, my dear! +don't go!" + +Then the voice had gone. No, it had not gone. It was still there and he +heard it speaking to him, begging him to listen, pleading with him to +go somewhere, go back, back to something or other. And there was an arm +about his waist and some one was leading him, helping him. He broke down +and cried childishly and some one cried with him. + + +Early the next morning, just as day was breaking, a buggy, the horse +which drew it galloping, rocked and bumped down the lighthouse lane. +Dr. Parker, his brows drawn together and his lips set with anxiety, was +driving. He had been roused from sleep in the hotel at Hyannis by a boy +with a telegram. "Come quick," it read. "Mr. Ellery sick." The sender +was Noah Ellis, the lightkeeper. The doctor had hired a fast horse, +ridden at top speed to Bayport, gotten a fresh horse there and hurried +on. He stopped at his own house but a moment, merely to rouse his wife +and ask her if there was any fresh news. But she had not even heard of +the minister's seizure. + +"My soul, Will!" she cried, "you don't think it's the smallpox, do you?" + +"Lord knows! I'm afraid so," groaned her husband. "WHAT made me leave +him? I ought to have known better. If that boy dies, I'll never draw +another easy breath." + +He rushed out, sprang into the buggy, and drove on. At the ropes, early +as it was, he found a small group waiting and gazing at the shanty. +The lightkeeper was there and two or three other men. They were talking +earnestly. + +"How is he, Noah?" demanded the doctor, jumping to the ground. + +"I don't know, doc," replied Ellis. "I ain't heard sence last night when +I telegraphed you." + +"Haven't heard? What do you mean by that? Haven't you been with him?" + +"No-o," was the rather sheepish reply. "You see, I--I wanted to, but my +wife's awful scart I'll catch it and--" + +"The devil!" Dr. Parker swore impatiently. "Who is with him then? You +haven't left him alone, have you?" + +"No-o," Noah hesitated once more. "No-o, he ain't alone. She's there." + +"She? Who? Keziah Coffin?" + +"I don't cal'late Keziah's heard it yet. We was waitin' for you 'fore we +said much to anybody. But she's there--the--the one that found him. You +see, he was out of his head and wanderin' up the lane 'most to the main +road and she'd been callin' on Keziah and when she come away from the +parsonage she heard him hollerin' and goin' on and--" + +"Who did?" + +"Why"--the lightkeeper glanced at his companions--"why, doc, 'twas Grace +Van Horne. And she fetched him back to the shanty and then come and got +me to telegraph you." + +"Grace Van Horne! Grace Van--Do you mean to say she is there with him +NOW?" + +"Yes. She wouldn't leave him. She seemed 'most as crazy's he was. My +wife and me, we--" + +But Parker did not wait to hear the rest. He ran at full speed to the +door of the shanty. Grace herself opened it. + +"How is he?" demanded the doctor. + +"I think he seems a little easier; at any rate, he's not delirious. He's +in there. Oh, I'm so thankful you've come." + +"Is that the doctor?" called Ellery weakly from the next room. "Is it?" + +"Yes," replied Parker, throwing off his coat and hat. "Coming, Mr. +Ellery." + +"For God's sake, doctor, send her away. Don't let her stay. Make her go. +Make her GO! I've got the smallpox and if she stays she will die. Don't +you understand? she MUST go." + +"Hush, John," said Grace soothingly. "Hush, dear." + +Dr. Parker stopped short and looked at her. She returned the look, but +without the slightest semblance of self-consciousness or embarrassment. +She did not realize that she had said anything unusual, which must +sound inexplicably strange to him. Her thoughts were centered in that +adjoining room and she wondered why he delayed. + +"Well?" she asked impatiently. "What is it? Why do you wait?" + +The doctor did not answer. However, he waited no longer, but hurried in +to his new patient. + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT + + +The news was flying from house to house along the main road. Breakfasts +were interrupted as some neighbor rushed in to tell the story which +another neighbor had brought to him or her. Mr. Ellery was very sick +and it was feared he had the smallpox, that was what Mrs. Parker, the +doctor's wife, told those who lived near her. By the time the Corners +heard of it the tale had grown until the minister was said to be dying. +And when it reached Gaius Winslow's home at the upper end of the town he +was reported dead. This was denied, upon investigation, but soon another +rumor grew and spread; Grace Van Horne was with him, had taken him back +to the shanty, and insisted upon staying there until the doctor came. +Facing that dreadful disease and--It was wonderful--and queer. + +At the Danielses' house the servant girl rushed into the dining room to +serve the toast and the story at one swoop. Captain Elkanah's dignity +deserted him for an instant and his egg spoon jingled to the floor. +Annabel's face turned a dull red. Her eyes flashed sparks. + +"Pa!" she cried, "I--I--if you don't do something now I'll never--" + +Her father shook his head warningly. "Debby," he said to the maid, "you +needn't wait." + +Debby departed reluctantly. After the kitchen door had closed, Captain +Elkanah said: "My dear, we mustn't be too hasty in this matter. +Remember, Mr. Ellery is very sick. As for--for the Van Horne girl, we +haven't heard the whole truth yet. She may not be there at all, or it +may be just an accident--" + +"Accident! Pa, you make me boil. Accident! Accidents like that don't +happen. If you let her stay there, or if--Oh, to think of it! And we +were calling him a hero and--and everything! Hero! he stayed there just +so she might--" + +"Hush! hush, child!" + +"I shan't hush. Pa, are you going to let him disgrace himself with HER?" + +"No, no. Probably there ain't any idea of his marrying her. If there +is--" + +"If there is you put him out of the church and out of this town. And +as for HER--O-oh! And we've been having him here at dinner and--and I +have--Oh, I shall die! I wish I WAS dead!" + +Then followed hysterics and agony, greedily listened to by Debby, whose +ear was at the crack of the door. Captain Elkanah soothed and pleaded +and tried to pacify. It ended by his promising to investigate and, if +necessary, take steps 'immejitly.' + +Lavinia Pepper sprung the mine on her brother. Kyan was horrified. He +had grown to be one of Ellery's most devoted worshipers. + +"Smallpox!" he groaned. "The minister got the smallpox. Oh! that's +turrible." + +"Ain't it?" observed his sister, also horrified, but rather relishing +the horror. "And if it hadn't been for Gracie Van Horne--" + +"WHAT?" + +"What's the matter with you? I say, if Gracie Van Horne hadn't happened +to meet him, wanderin' around, crazy as a coot, and toted him back--" + +"Gracie--Van--Horne! Godfreys mighty! She--she met him? Where? Down to +Peters's grove, was it?" + +"Peters's grove! No. What on earth made you think 'twas there? She'd +been visitin' Keziah Coffin at the parsonage, and when she come out +on the main road she heard him aravin' down the lane. Must have passed +right by this house and we never heard him. I never see such a dead man +as you be when you're asleep. You don't SOUND dead, I'll say that for +you, but nothin' wakes you up." + +"Why, Laviny! you never woke up yourself." + +"That's right, lay it onto me. I expected you would; it's just like +you. But why in time did you think Grace met the minister way down to +Peters's grove? That's the most loony notion ever I heard, even from +you. What made you think of it?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. I guess I WAS loony, maybe. Dear! dear! dear! have +you heard how's he's gettin' on? Is he took bad?" + +"I ain't heard nothin' yet, nobody has. But see here, 'Bish Pepper, you +act funny to me. I want to know more about that Peters's grove notion. +WHY did you say it?" + +Kyan wriggled upon the rack and dodged and squirmed for the next twenty +minutes. He tried his best to keep the fateful secret, but he admitted +too much, or not enough, and his sister kept up the cross-examination. +At the end of the session she was still unsatisfied, but she was on +the scent and her brother knew it. He fled to the woodshed and there +punctuated his morning task of kindling chopping with groans and awful +forebodings. + +One of the very first to hear of the minister's illness was Keziah +Coffin. Mrs. Parker told her and Keziah started for the beach before the +tale of Grace's part in the night's happenings reached the village. She +did not wait for a conveyance, hardly waited to throw a shawl over her +shoulders, but began to cover the three miles on foot. She had walked +nearly two thirds of the distance when Captain Zeb Mayo overtook her and +gave her a seat in his chaise. + +They said little during the drive, the shock and anxiety forbidding +conversation. At the ropes was the same group, larger now, and Dr. +Parker's horse was hitched to one of the posts. + +"You can't go in, Mrs. Coffin," said Thoph Black. "The doctor give us +his orders not to let nobody get by. I guess nobody wants to, but all +the same--" + +Keziah paid not the slightest attention to Mr. Black. She stooped +beneath his arm, under the rope and was on her way to the shanty before +they realized her intention. Captain Zeb roared a command for her to +return, but she kept on. No one followed, not even the captain. Mrs. +Mayo had strictly forbidden his passing the dead line. + +Keziah opened the door and entered the little building. The living room +was empty, but at the sound of her step some one came from the room +adjoining. That some one was Grace. + +"Aunt Keziah!" she cried. "What did you come here for? Why did you?" + +"Gracie!" exclaimed the housekeeper. "You?--YOU?" + +Dr. Parker appeared, holding up a hand for silence. + +"Hush!" he cried. "He's quiet now and I think he will sleep. Don't talk +here. Go outside, if you must talk--and I suppose you must." + +Grace led the way. Fortunately, the door was on the side not visible +from the spot where Captain Zeb and the rest were standing. Keziah, +bewildered and amazed at the girl's presence, followed dumbly. + +"Now, auntie," whispered Grace, turning to her, "you want to know how +he is, of course. Well, I think he is better. The doctor thinks so, too. +But why did you come here?" + +"Why did I come? I? Why, because my place was here. I belonged here. +For the love of mercy's sakes what are YOU doin' here? With HIM? And the +smallpox!" + +"Hush. I can't help it. I don't care. I don't care for anything any +more. I'm glad I came. I'm glad I was the one to find him and help him. +No matter what happens--to me--I'm glad. I never was so glad before. I +love him, Aunt Keziah. I can say it to you, for you know it--you must +know it. I LOVE him and he needed me and I came. He was calling my name +when I found him. He might have died there, alone in the wet and cold, +and I saved him. Think what that means to me." + +The girl was in a sort of frenzy of excitement and hysterical +exaltation. All the night she had been calm and quiet, repressing her +feelings, and tending the man she loved. Now, with some one to whom she +could confide, she was calm no longer. Keziah answered her soothingly, +questioning her from time to time, until, at last, she learned the whole +story. + +The door opened softly and Dr. Parker came out. + +"He's asleep," he said. "And he's better, much better. And I'll tell you +something else, if you won't make too much noise about it--he hasn't got +the smallpox." + +The two women looked at him. + +"Fact," he said, with an emphatic nod. "Not a symptom of it. I'd have +bet my best hat that he wasn't going to have it and I won't have to go +bareheaded yet awhile. He is pretty close to brain fever, though, but I +guess he'll dodge that this time, with care. On the whole, Keziah, I'm +glad you came. This young lady," with a movement of the head toward +Grace, "has done her part. She really saved his life, if I'm not +mistaken. Now, I think she can go away and leave him to you and me. I'll +pretty nearly guarantee to have him up and out of this--this pesthole in +a fortnight." + +Here was joyful tidings, the better for being so unexpected. Keziah +leaned against the boards and drew a long breath. Grace said nothing, +but, after a moment, she went into the house. + +"That's a good thing, too," commented Parker, watching her as she went. +"I wanted to talk with you, Keziah Coffin, and right away. Now, then, +there's something up, something that I don't know about, and I rather +guess you do. Young women--even when they're her kind and that's as good +a kind as there is--don't risk smallpox for any young man they pick up +casually. They don't carry--I guess it was pretty nearly carrying--him +home and put him to bed and care for him and cry over him and call him +'dear.' And he doesn't beg them to run away and let him die rather than +to stay there and risk dying, too. No, not to any great extent. Now, +Keziah, you and I are fairly good friends and we ought to know each +other by this time. I see a light--a little one. Now, then, if you turn +up the lamp, so that I can see the whole blaze, maybe I can help those +two in yonder." + +Keziah considered. "All right, doctor," she said, when she reached a +decision, "all right; I'll tell you the whole thing, and you can see one +of the reasons why my hair is gettin' grayer. This thing has reached the +point now where there's no keepin' it quiet. Folk'll know--I s'pose they +know already--that she's been here with him. They'll suspect a lot more +and the truth is better than suspicion--that is, it can't be worse than +the suspicions that come natural to a good many minds in this town. I +am glad I can tell you, for I guess the time's come to step out in +broad daylight and h'ist our colors. Now, you listen. Here 'tis, from +beginnin' to end." + +She went on to tell all she knew of her parson's love story. + +Dr. Parker listened. + +"Hum!" he said thoughtfully, "I see. What made her change her mind so +suddenly? You say, or you gather from what Mr. Ellery told you, that she +had all but agreed to marry him. She cares for him, that's sure. Then, +all at once, she throws him over and accepts Nat. Of course her uncle's +sudden seizure was a shock and he wanted Nat to have her, but she isn't +the kind of girl to be easily swayed. Why did she do it?" + +"Well, doctor, that's kind of a puzzle to me. All I can think is that +she come to realize what it might mean to him, the minister, if he +married a Come-Outer. I think she done it for his sake, to save him, +though what made her realize it all at once I don't know. There's the +part we ain't heard." + +"I guess you're right. Something happened between the time she left +Ellery and when you and I reached the tavern. But never mind that, that +doesn't count now. Let's look at things as they are this minute. She's +here and folks know it. As they do know it they'll begin to talk, and +the more they talk the farther from the truth they'll get--most of 'em. +Nat, poor chap, is dead, so her promise to him is canceled. Ellery will +get well if he isn't troubled, and her being with him will help more +than anything else. I can understand now why he broke down." + +"Yes, he ain't been himself since it happened." + +"Of course, and the last few weeks of worry and night work have helped +to wreck his nerves. Well, as I see it, there's only one thing to do. If +she leaves him he'll go to pieces again, so she mustn't leave. And she +can't stay without an explanation. I say let's give the explanation; +let's come right out with the announcement that they're engaged." + +"Whew! that'll stir things up." + +"You bet! But let it stir. I like that parson of yours; he's a trump. +And I always liked her, although, generally speaking, I don't love +Come-Outers. And I like her more than ever now, when she risked what she +thought was smallpox to care for him. As I said, she saved his life, and +she ought to have him. She SHALL have him." + +"But she's a Come-Outer and--there's the church." + +"Well, I know it. But he never was so popular as he is now. And she +isn't by any means a steady-going Come-Outer. Why, Zeke Bassett and +the rest have been finding fault with her and calling her a backslider. +That'll help. Then you trust me to whoop up her heroism and the fact +that without her he would have died. We can do it, Keziah. Come on! I've +tackled a good many jobs, but matchmaking isn't one of 'em. Here goes to +tackle that." + +Keziah was delighted; here was work after her own heart. But she still +hesitated. + +"Doctor," she said, "you've forgot one thing, that's Gracie herself. +Would she marry him now, knowing it may mean the loss of his ministry +and all, any more than she would at first? I don't believe it." + +"That's your part, Keziah. You've got to show her she MUST marry him or +he'll die; see? Call on me to back you up in any fairy yarn you spin. +You prove to her it's her duty to marry him. You'll have to stay, here +and help nurse, of course, and that's easy because his disease isn't +contagious. You convince her and I'll take care of the congregation. +He'll live to be minister here for the rest of his life, if he wants to, +and she'll be a minister's wife and sit in the front pew. I'll guarantee +the church if you'll guarantee the girl. Why, it's your duty! Come, now, +what do you say?" + +Keziah's hesitation was at an end. Her face lit up. + +"I say good!" she cried. "And I'll be thankful to you all the rest of +my life. But for the dear mercy sakes, don't say 'duty' to me again. Oh, +doctor, if you only knew what it means to me to be fightin' at last for +somethin' that ain't just duty, but what I really want! I do honestly +believe we can win. Glory, hallelujah! And now I want to give you a +piece of advice, your course for the first leg, as you might say: you +see Cap'n Zebedee Mayo." + +"Humph! Cap'n Zeb is the first man I mean to see." + +Captain Zeb listened with his mouth and eyes and ears open. Mrs. Mayo +was with him when the doctor called, and she, too, listened. + +"Well!" exclaimed the captain, when the plea for support was ended. +"Well, by the flukes of Jonah's whale! Talk about surprises! Old lady, +what do you say?" + +"I say go ahead, Zebedee. Go ahead! If Mr. Ellery wanted to marry +Jezebel's sister, and I knew he really wanted to, I'd--I do believe I'd +help him get her. And Grace Van Horne is a good girl. Go ahead." + +"Of course," put in Parker, profiting by a hint of Mrs. Coffin's, +"of course Daniels will fight tooth and nail against us. He'll be for +discharging Ellery at once. And he really runs the parish committee." + +"He does, hey? Well, I cal'late he don't. Not if I'm on deck, he don't. +All right, doctor, I'm with you. He, he, he!" he chuckled. "Say, doc, do +you know I sort of love a good lively row. That's been the only trouble +with our society sence Mr. Ellery took command of it--there ain't been +any rows. He, he, he! Well, there'll be one now." + +There was, and it was lively enough to suit even Captain Zeb. Dr. +Parker, on his calls that day, was assailed with a multitude of +questions concerning Grace's presence at the shanty. He answered them +cheerfully, dilating upon the girl's bravery, her good sense, and the +fact that she had saved Mr. Ellery's life. Then he confided, as a strict +secret, the fact that the two were engaged. Before his hearers had +recovered from the shock of this explosion, he was justifying the +engagement. Why shouldn't they marry if they wanted to? It was a free +country. The girl wasn't a Come-Outer any longer, and, besides--and this +carried weight in a good many households--what a black eye the marriage +would be for that no-account crowd at the chapel. + +Captain Zebedee, having shipped with the insurgents, worked for them +from sunrise to sunset and after. Zeb was something of a politician and +knew whom to "get at." He sought his fellows on the parish committee and +labored with them. Mrs. Mayo and the doctor's wife championed the cause +at sewing circle. They were lively, those sewing meetings, and the fur +flew. Didama Rogers and Lavinia Pepper were everywhere and ready to +agree with whichever side seemed likely to win. Lavinia was so deeply +interested that she forgot to catechise Abishai further about his +untimely reference to Peters's grove. And Kyan, puzzled but thankful, +kept silence. + +It was by no means a one-sided struggle. Captain Elkanah, spurred on by +the furious Annabel, marshaled his forces and proclaimed that Ellery, +having disgraced the Regular Society, should no longer occupy its +pulpit. + +"If he does," thundered Elkanah, "I shall never cross the threshold of +that church. And I've worshiped there for fifty years. Hum--ha! I should +like to know whose money has gone more liberal for that meeting house +than mine! But not another cent--no, sir! not one--if that licentious +young scamp continues to blaspheme there." + +He hinted concerning a good-sized contribution toward a parish house, +something the society needed. If Ellery was discharged, the contribution +would probably be made, not otherwise. And this was a point worth +considering. + +Daniels also wrote to his influential friends of the National Regular +Society. But Captain Zebedee had forestalled him there and both letters +were laid on the table to await further developments. As for the +Come-Outers, they were wild with rage and Grace was formally read out of +their communion. + +"I wonder," shrieked Ezekiel Bassett, in prayer meeting, "what the +sperrit of the good and great man who used to lead us from this 'ere +platform would say if he was here now? Hey? what would he say?" + +Josiah Badger upreared his lanky person. "I dreamed about Cap'n +Eben t'other n-nin-nun-night," he stammered. "I see him just +as--p-pup-pup-plain as you hear me n-n-now. And he says to me, he says, +Josiah,' he says, 'I-I-I-I--'" + +"Ki yi!" broke in Thoph Baker, from the shadow of the rear seat. Josiah +turned to berate Thoph, who, being in disgrace because of his defense of +Ellery, was reckless, and the communication from the dead leader of the +Come-Outers was lost in the squabble which followed. + +Meantime Keziah, installed as head nurse at the shanty, was having her +troubles. The minister was getting better, slowly but surely getting +better. The danger of brain fever was at an end, but he was very weak +and must not be excited, so the doctor said. He knew nothing of the +struggle for and against him which was splitting Trumet in twain, and +care was taken that he should not know it. He was not allowed to talk, +and, for the most part, was quite contented to be silent, watching Grace +as she moved about the room. If he wondered why she was still with him, +he said nothing, and the thought of what his congregation might say did +not vex him in the least. She was there, he saw her every day, that was +enough. + +He had expressed a wish to talk with his housekeeper. "I've got +something to tell you, Aunt Keziah," he said weakly. "Some news for you +and--and--" + +"Cat's foot!" snapped Keziah briskly, "don't start in tellin' me news +now. I've got my hands full as 'tis. News'll keep and you won't, if you +talk another minute." + +"But this is important." + +"So are you, though you may not think so. If you don't believe it ask +Grace." + +"Well," the minister sighed. "Well, perhaps I won't tell it now. I'd +rather wait until I feel stronger. You won t care, will you? It will be +hard to tell and I--" + +"No, no! Care? No. If it's bad news I don't want to hear it, and if it's +good I can wait, I cal'late. You turn over and take a nap." + +She could manage him; it was with Grace that she had her struggle. John +was safe now; he would be himself again before very long, and the girl +had begun to think of his future and his reputation. She knew that +gossip must be busy in the village, and, much as she wished to remain by +his side, she decided that she should not do so. And then Keziah began +to fulfill her agreement with Dr. Parker. + +First, and bluntly, she told the girl that her leaving now was useless. +The secret was out; it had been made public. Everyone knew she was +in love with John and he with her. Their engagement was considered an +established certainty. Grace was greatly agitated and very indignant. + +"Who dared say so?" she demanded. "Who dared say we were engaged? It's +not true. It's a wicked lie and--Who is responsible, Aunt Keziah?" + +"Well, I suppose likely I am, much as anybody, deary." + +"You? You, Aunt Keziah?" + +"Yup; me. You are in love with him; at any rate, you said so. And you're +here with him, ain't you? If you two ain't engaged you ought to be." + +"Aunt Keziah, how can you speak so? Don't you realize--" + +"Look here. Don't you want to marry him?" + +"WANT to? Oh, please--How can you? I--" + +"S-s-sh! There! there! I am a bull-headed old thing, for sure. But I'm +like the dog that chased the rat across the shelf where they kept the +best china, my intentions are good. Don't cry, deary. Let's get to the +bottom of this thing, as the man said when he tumbled into the well. +When I first knew that you and John were in love with each other, I felt +dreadful. I knew your uncle and I knew Trumet. If you had married then, +or let people know that you thought of it, 'twould have been the end, +and ruin for John and you. But things are diff'rent now, a good deal +diff'rent. John is worshiped pretty nigh, since his pluck with that +smallpox man. He could go into church and dance a jig in the pulpit and +nobody--or precious few, at least--would find fault. And you've stood +by him. If it wa'n't for you he wouldn't be here to-day, and people know +that. Dr. Parker and Captain Zebedee and Gaius Winslow and dozens more +are fighting for him and for you. And the doctor says they are going to +win. Do you want to spoil it all?" + +"Aunt Keziah, that night before uncle died I was upstairs in my room and +I heard uncle and Captain Elkanah Daniels talking." + +"Elkanah? Was he there at your house?" + +"Yes. Somehow or other--I don't know how--he had learned about--about +John and me. And he was furious. Aunt Keziah, I heard him say that +unless I broke off with John he would drive him from the ministry and +from Trumet and disgrace him forever. He said that if I really cared for +him I would not ruin his life. That brought me to myself. I realized how +wicked I had been and what I was doing. That was why I--I--" + +"There! there! Tut! tut! tut! hum! Now I see. But, Gracie, you ain't +goin' to ruin his life. No, nor Elkanah ain't goin' to do it, either. +He can't, no matter how hard he tries. I've lived to see the day when +there's a bigger man in the Reg'lar church than Elkanah Daniels, and I +thank the good Lord for it." + +"I never should have come here. I know it. But he needed me. Aunt +Keziah, he was sick and dying almost, and I couldn't leave him. I came, +and now he will be ruined and disgraced." + +"He won't, I tell you; he won't. Listen to me. I ain't talkin' for my +health. Listen!" + +She argued and pleaded and coaxed, and, at last, when she began to think +she had prevailed, Grace brought forward another objection. She had +given her word to her uncle. How could she break that promise made to a +dying man? She would feel like a traitor. + +"Traitor to who?" demanded the housekeeper, losing patience. "Not +to poor Nat, for he's gone. And don't you suppose that he and Eben +understand things better now, where they are? Do you suppose that Nat +wouldn't want you to be happy? I know he would, for I knew him." + +It was still unsettled when the long talk was over, but Grace agreed not +to leave the minister at present. She would stay where she was until he +was himself again, at least. Keziah was satisfied with the preliminary +skirmish. She felt confident of winning the victory, and in the prospect +of happiness for others, she was almost happy herself. Yet each time the +mail was brought to the shanty she dreaded to look at it, and the sight +of a stranger made her shake with fear. Ansel Coffin had threatened to +come to Trumet. If he came, she had made up her mind what to do. + +The parish committee was to meet. Captain Elkanah had announced his +intention of moving that John Ellery be expelled from the Regular +church. There was to be no compromise, no asking for a resignation; he +must be discharged, thrown out in disgrace. The county papers were full +of the squabble, but they merely reported the news and did not take +sides. The fight was too even for that. + +Captain Zeb chuckled. "It's all right, Keziah," he said. "We know what's +what and who's who. The Rev. Mr. Ellery can preach here for the next +hundred year, if he lives that long and wants to, and he can marry +whoever he darn pleases, besides. Elkanah's licked and he knows it. He +ain't got enough backers to man a lobster dory. Let him holler; noise +don't scare grown folks." + +One afternoon a few days before the date set for the meeting Elkanah +and two or three of his henchmen were on the piazza of the Daniels home, +discussing the situation. They were blue and downcast. Annabel was in +the sitting room, shedding tears of humiliation and jealous rage on the +haircloth sofa. + +"Well," observed her father, "there's one thing we can do. If the +vote in committee goes against us, I shall insist on the calling of a +congregational meeting. Hum--ha! Yes, I shall insist on that." + +"Won't be no good, cap'n," sniffed Beriah Salters dolefully. "The +biggest part of the congregation's for Ellery, and you know it. They're +as sot on him as if he was the angel Gabriel. If you'd only told what +you knew afore this smallpox business, we'd have been able to give him +and his Come-Outer woman what b'longs to 'em. But not now." + +Captain Daniels shifted uneasily in his chair. + +"Hum--ha!" he barked, to cover confusion. "Hum--ha! It seemed to me +more--er--charitable to give the misguided young man another chance, and +I did it. But--What's that?" + +Some one was talking excitedly on the sidewalk beyond the lilac bushes +at the border of the Daniels property. Voices answered. Didama Rogers +darted out of her yard and past the house in the direction of the +sounds. Salters rose and walked down to the gate. + +"Hey!" he shouted. "Halloo! Ahoy there! You, Em'lous, what is it?" + +Emulous Sparrow, the fish peddler, was seated in his cart, which was +surrounded by men and women, neighbors of the Danielses. There was a +perfect storm of questionings and ejaculations. Salters opened the gate +and joined the group. A moment later he came running back, up the walk +toward the piazza. + +"Cap'n," he shouted. "Cap'n Elkanah, here's news! What do you think? A +telegram's just come from Nat Hammond. He's safe and sound in New York, +and he'll be here day after to-morrow." + +They could not believe it and rushed out to hear more. Emulous, glowing +with importance, affirmed that it was so. He had seen the telegram at +the store. It was for Grace Van Horne and they were just going to send a +boy over to the shanty with it. + +"No details nor nothin'," he declared. "Just said 'Am all right. +Arrived to-day. Will be in Trumet Thursday.' And 'twas signed 'Nathaniel +Hammond.' There!" + +"Well, by thunder!" exclaimed Salters. "If that don't beat all. I +wonder what's happened to him? Two year gone and give up for dead, and +now--What do you cal'late it means?" + +Captain Elkanah seized him by the arm and led him out of the group. +The old man's face was alight with savage joy and his voice shook with +exultation. + +"I'll tell you one thing it means," he whispered. "It means the end of +Ellery, so far as his marrying her is concerned. She gave her word to +Hammond and she'll keep it. She's no liar, whatever else she is. He may +be minister of the Regular church, though I'LL never set under him, but +he'll never marry her, now." + + +CHAPTER XIX + +IN WHICH A RECEPTION IS CALLED OFF + + +Far out on the Pacific coast there are two small islands, perhaps +a hundred miles distant from one another. The first of these is +uninhabited. On the other is a little colony of English-speaking people, +half-breed descendants of native women and the survivors of a crew from +a British vessel cast away there in the latter part of the eighteenth +century. + +On the first of these islands, the smaller one, the Sea Mist had been +wrecked. Driven out of her course by a typhoon, she staggered through +day after day and night after night of terrific wind and storm until, +at last, there was promise of fair weather. Captain Nat, nearly worn out +from anxiety, care, and the loss of sleep, had gone to his stateroom +and the first mate was in charge. It was three o'clock, the wind still +blowing and the darkness pitchy, when the forward lookout shrieked a +warning, "Breakers under the lee!" Almost the next instant the ship was +on a coral reef, full of water, and the seas breaking over her from stem +to stern. + +Morning came and showed a little patch of land, with palm trees and +tropical vegetation waving in the gusts and green in the sunshine. +Captain Nat ordered the boats to be lowered. Much as he hated the +thought, he saw that the Sea Mist had made her last voyage and must +be abandoned. He went to the cabin, collected papers and charts and +prepared to leave. The ship's money, over ten thousand dollars in gold +belonging to the owner and to be used in trade and speculation among the +East Indies, he took with him. Then the difficult and dangerous passage +through the opening in the reef was begun. + +Only the captain's boat reached the shore. The mate's was caught by a +huge breaker, dashed against the reef and sunk. Captain Nat, his second +mate and five of his men were all that was left of the Sea Mist's +company. And on that island they remained for nearly two weeks. +Provisions they had brought ashore with them. Water they found by +digging. Nat hid the gold at night, burying it on the beach below +high-water mark. + +Then, having made sure of his location by consulting the chart, he +determined to attempt a voyage to the second island, where he knew +the English colony to be. Provisions were getting short, and to remain +longer where they were was to risk starvation and all its horrors. So, +in the longboat, which was provided with a sail, they started. Charts +and papers and the gold the skipper took with them. None of the crew +knew of the existence of the money; it was a secret which the captain +kept to himself. + +A hundred miles they sailed in the longboat and, at last, the second +island was sighted. They landed and found, to their consternation and +surprise, that it, too, was uninhabited. The former residents had grown +tired of their isolation and, a trading vessel having touched there, had +seized the opportunity to depart for Tahiti. Their houses were empty, +their cattle, sheep, goats, and fowl roamed wild in the woods, and the +fruit was rotting on the trees. In its way the little island was +an Eyeless Eden, flowing with milk and honey; but to Captain Nat, a +conscientious skipper with responsibilities to his owners, it was a +prison from which he determined to escape. Then, as if to make escape +impossible, a sudden gale came up and the longboat was smashed by the +surf. + +"I guess that settles it," ruefully observed the second mate, "another +Cape Codder, from Hyannis. Cal'late we'll stay here for a spell now, +hey, Cap'n." + +"For a spell, yes," replied Nat. "We'll stay here until we get another +craft to set sail in, and no longer." + +"Another craft? ANOTHER one? Where in time you goin' to get her?" + +"Build her," said Captain Nat cheerfully. Then, pointing to the row of +empty houses and the little deserted church, he added, "There's timber +and nails--yes, and cloth, such as 'tis. If I can't build a boat out of +them I'll agree to eat the whole settlement." + +He did not have to eat it, for the boat was built. It took them six +months to build her, and she was a curious-looking vessel when done, +but, as the skipper said, "She may not be a clipper, but she'll sail +anywhere, if you give her time enough." He had been the guiding +spirit of the whole enterprise, planning it, laying the keel, burning +buildings, to obtain nails and iron, hewing trees for the largest beams, +showing them how to spin ropes from cocoa-nut fiber, improvising sails +from the longboat's canvas pieced out with blankets and odd bits of +cloth from the abandoned houses. Even a strip of carpet from the church +floor went into the making of those sails. + +At last she was done, but Nat was not satisfied. + +"I never commanded a ship where I couldn't h'ist Yankee colors," he +said, "and, by the everlastin'! I won't now. We've got to have a flag." + +So, from an old pair of blue overalls, a white cotton shirt, and the +red hangings of the church pulpit, he made a flag and hoisted it to the +truck of his queer command. They provisioned her, gave her a liberal +supply of fresh water, and, one morning, she passed through the opening +of the lagoon out to the deep blue of the Pacific. And, hidden in her +captain's stateroom under the head of his bunk, was the ten thousand +dollars in gold. For Nat had sworn to himself, by "the everlasting" +and other oaths, to deliver that money to his New York owners safe and, +necessary expenses deducted of course, untouched. + +For seven weeks the crazy nondescript slopped across the ocean. Fair +winds helped her and, at last, she entered the harbor of Nukahiva, over +twelve hundred miles away. And there--"Hammond's luck," the sailors +called it--was a United States man-of-war lying at anchor, the first +American vessel to touch at that little French settlement for five +years. The boat they built was abandoned and the survivors of the Sea +Mist were taken on board the man-of-war and carried to Tahiti. + +From Tahiti Captain Nat took passage on a French bark for Honolulu. +Here, after a month's wait, he found opportunity to leave for New York +on an American ship, the Stars and Stripes. And finally, after being +away from home for two years, he walked into the office of his New York +owners, deposited their gold on a table, and cheerfully observed, "Well, +here I am." + +That was the yarn which Trumet was to hear later on. It filled columns +of the city papers at the time, and those interested may read it, in all +its details, in a book written by an eminent author. The tale of a Cape +Cod sea captain, plucky and resourceful and adequate, as Yankee sea +captains were expected to be, and were, in those days. + +But Trumet did not hear the yarn immediately. All that it heard and all +that it knew was contained in Captain Nat's brief telegram. "Arrived +to-day. Will be home Thursday." That was all, but it was enough, for +in that dispatch was explosive sufficient to blow to atoms the doctor's +plans and Keziah's, the great scheme which was to bring happiness to +John Ellery and Grace Van Horne. + +Dr. Parker heard it, while on his way to Mrs. Prince's, and, neglecting +that old lady for the once, he turned his horse and drove as fast as +possible to the shanty on the beach. Fast as he drove, Captain Zebedee +Mayo got there ahead of him. Captain Zeb was hitching his white and +ancient steed to the post as the doctor hove in sight. + +"By mighty!" the captain exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, "I'm glad +enough you've come, doctor. I hated to go in there alone. You've heard, +of course." + +"Yes, I've heard." + +"Say, ain't it wonderful! I'm tickled all up one side and sorry all down +t'other. Nat's a true-blue feller, and I'm glad enough that he ain't +shark bait; but what about the minister and her? She's promised to Nat, +you know, and--" + +"I know. Don't I know! I've been going over the affair and trying to see +a way out ever since I heard of the telegram. Tut! tut! I'm like you, +mighty glad Hammond is safe, but it would have spared complications if +he had stayed wherever he's been for a few months longer. We would have +married those two in there by that time." + +"Sartin we would. But he didn't stay. Are you goin' to tell Mr. Ellery?" + +"Certainly not. And I hope he hasn't been told. He's getting well fast +now, but he mustn't be worried, or back he'll go again. We must see Mrs. +Coffin. Keziah is our main hold. That woman has got more sense than all +the rest of us put together." + +But it was Grace, not Keziah, who opened the shanty door in answer to +their knock. She was pale and greeted them calmly, but it was evident +that her calmness was the result of sheer will power. + +"Won't you come in, doctor?" she asked. "Good afternoon, Captain Mayo." + +Dr. Parker entered the building, but Captain Zeb remained outside, +stammering that he cal'lated he'd better stay where he could keep an eye +on his horse. This was such a transparent excuse that it would have been +funny at any other time. No one smiled now, however. + +"Is--is Mrs. Coffin--er--Keziah aboard?" the captain asked. + +"No, she isn't. She went to the parsonage a few hours ago. Mr. Ellis +brought the mail and there was a letter in it for her. She said it was +important and that she must go home to see about some things. She'll be +back pretty soon, I suppose." + +The doctor whispered her name then and she went inside, closing the door +after her. Captain Zebedee sat down on the step to ponder over the new +and apparently insurmountable difficulty which had arisen. As he said +afterwards, "The more I tried to get an observation, the thicker it got. +Blamed if I could see anything but fog, but I could hear--I could hear +Elkanah and his gang gigglin', ahead, astern and off both bows." + +Parker found his patient sleeping soundly and had not disturbed him. +Returning to the living room he spoke to Grace. + +"Humph!" he grunted, watching her from under his brows, "everything +seems to be all right in there. He hasn't been excited or anything like +that?" + +"No." + +"That's good. He mustn't be. You understand that? He mustn't be told +anything that will upset him. He's getting well fast and I want it to +continue." + +"Yes, I understand." + +"Hum! Er--have you heard--Has anyone been here?" + +"Yes. I have heard. The telegram came and I answered it." + +"You did? Well, it's a miracle and we're all thankful, of course. Did +you--er--er--" + +"Doctor, I must go home. I mustn't stay here any longer." + +"Why not?" + +"You know why not. I must be at home when he comes. You must get some +one to take my place. Aunt Keziah will stay, of course, and perhaps Mrs. +Higgins would come, or Hannah Poundberry. She--" + +"Not if I know it. I'd as soon have a hay-cutter running in here as +Hannah's tongue. I could stop a hay-cutter when it got too noisy. Well, +if you must go, you must, I suppose. But stay through tomorrow, at +any rate. Nat won't get here until Thursday, and I may be able to find +another nurse by that time. And what I shall say to him," motioning +toward the other room, "I don't know." + +"Must you say anything? Just say that I have been called away for a few +days on--on some business. Don't tell him. Don't tell him the truth, +doctor, now. He is too weak and I am afraid--" + +She stopped and turned away. The doctor watched her pityingly. + +"Cheer up," he said. "At any rate, this is only for a little while. When +the captain knows, if he's the man I take him for, he'll--" + +She whirled like a flash. "You're not going to tell him?" she cried. +"No, no! You mustn't. You must promise me you won't. Promise." + +"Somebody'll tell him. Telling things is Trumet's specialty." + +"Then you must stop it. No one must tell him--no one except me. I shall +tell him, of course. He must hear it from me and not from anyone else. +He would think I was disloyal and ungrateful--and I am! I have been! But +I was--I COULDN'T help it. You know, doctor, you know--" + +"Yes, yes, I know. Well, I'll promise, but it will all come out right, +you see. You mustn't think I--we--have been interfering in your affairs, +Grace. But we've all come to think a whole lot of that parson of ours +and what he wanted we wanted him to have, that's all." + +"I know. Thank you very much for all your kindness, and for your +promise." + +He would have liked to say much more, but he could not, under the +circumstances. He stammered a good-by and, with a question concerning +Mrs. Coffin's whereabouts, went out to join Captain Zeb. + +"Well?" queried the latter anxiously. "How is it? What's up? What's the +next tack?" + +"We'll go to the parsonage," was the gloomy answer. "If anybody can see +a glimmer in this cussed muddle Keziah Coffin can." + +Keziah was on her knees in her room, beside a trunk, the same trunk she +had been packing the day of the minister's arrival in Trumet. She was +working frantically, sorting garments from a pile, rejecting some and +keeping others. She heard voices on the walk below and went down to +admit the callers. + +"What's the matter, Keziah?" asked Dr. Parker sharply, after a look at +her face. "You look as if you'd been through the war. Humph! I suppose +you've heard the news?" + +Keziah brushed back the hair from her forehead. "Yes," she answered +slowly. "I've heard it." + +"Well, it's great news, and if it wasn't for--if things weren't as they +are, I'd be crowing hallelujahs this minute. Trumet has got a good man +safe and sound again, and the Lord knows it needs all of that kind it +can get." + +"Yes." + +"Yes. But there's the other matter. I've been to see Grace. She didn't +say so, but it was easy enough to see; the man she promised to marry and +thought was dead, is alive. She's a girl of her word--she promised him +and she promised her dying uncle--and she'll marry him. And then what +will become of John Ellery? He'll go downhill so fast that a ship's +anchor wouldn't hold him. If he doesn't die I'll have to send him away +somewhere, and the Regular church will lose the minister we've fought so +hard for." + +"Yes," concurred Zebedee, "and them blasted Danielses'll run the shebang +and the rest of us'll have to sing small, I tell you." + +"So we've come to you, Keziah," went on the doctor. "Do you see any +salvation?" + +"Yes, I do." + +"You do? Where?" + +"In Nat Hammond. If he knows Grace doesn't want to marry him, do you +suppose he'll hold her to her promise?" + +"I don't know. I'm not so sure. Men don't give up girls like that so +easy. I wouldn't--by George, I wouldn't! And she won't tell him the +whole truth, I'm afraid. She'll pretend to be glad--hang it! she IS +glad--to have him home again and--" + +"Of course she's glad. Ain't we all glad and happy and thankful? We +ought to be. But"--she hesitated--"doctor, you leave this to me. So +far as John and Grace are concerned you needn't worry. I'll take it on +myself to see that they have each other, as the Almighty meant 'em to. +Leave it to me. Just leave it to me. I KNOW I can do it." + +She would not say more, nor tell on what grounds she based her optimism. +She would go back to the shanty that evening, she said, and stay until +the following afternoon. Grace would undoubtedly go to the old tavern to +prepare for the homecoming. Let Mrs. Higgins take her place as nurse. + +"I shall have to leave, myself," she added, "for a little while; so +perhaps you'd better try to get somebody else to help the Higgins woman. +Don't ask me any questions, please don't, and be sure not to say a word +to anybody--most of all to Grace. Just do as I tell you and leave it to +me. And don't come and see me again until after--after he comes home. +Good-by, doctor. Good-by, Cap'n Zeb." + +She shook hands with each of them, a rather unusual proceeding as they +thought of it afterwards. Then they went away and left her. + +"Humph!" mused Parker, as they came out at the gate. "Humph! She seems +sure, doesn't she. And yet she doesn't act like herself. Did you notice +that?" + +"Yup. I noticed it. But I expect Nat's droppin' out of the clouds shook +her up, same as it done the rest of us. Well, never mind. She's a bully +good, capable woman and what she says she'll do she gen'rally does. I'm +bettin' on her. By time! I feel better." + +Captain Elkanah Daniels and his friends were feeling better also, and +they were busy. Trumet had a new hero now. On Wednesday the Boston +papers printed excerpts from Captain Hammond's story, and these brief +preliminary accounts aroused the admiration of every citizen. It was +proposed to give him a reception. Elkanah was the moving spirit in the +preparations. Captain Nat, so they learned by telegraphing, would arrive +on the noon train Thursday. His was not to be a prosaic progress by +stage all the way from Sandwich. A special carriage, drawn by the +Daniels span and escorted by other vehicles, was to meet the coach at +Bayport and bring him to Trumet in triumphant procession. All this was +to be a surprise, of course. + +Wednesday afternoon the Daniels following was cheered by the tidings +that Grace Van Horne had left the beach and was at her old home, the +Hammond tavern. And Mrs. Poundberry reported her busy as a bee "gettin' +things ready." This was encouraging and indicated that the minister +had been thrown over, as he deserved to be, and that Nat would find his +fiancee waiting and ready to fulfill her contract. "Reg'lar whirligig, +that girl," sniffed Didama Rogers. "If she can't have one man she'll +take the next, and then switch back soon's the wind changes. However, +most likely she never was engaged to Mr. Ellery, anyhow. He's been out +of his head and might have said some fool things that let Dr. Parker and +the rest b'lieve he was in love with her. As for pickin' of him up and +totin' him back to the shanty that night, that wa'n't nothin' but common +humanity. She couldn't let him die in the middle of the lighthouse lane, +could she?" + +Thursday was a perfect day, and the reception committee was on hand and +waiting in front of the Bayport post office. The special carriage, the +span brushed and curried until their coats glistened in the sunshine, +was drawn up beside the platform. The horses had little flags fastened +to their bridles, and there were other and larger flags on each side +of the dashboard. Captain Daniels, imposing in his Sunday raiment, +high-collared coat, stock, silk hat and gold-headed cane, sat stiffly +erect on the seat in the rear. The other carriages were alongside, among +them Captain Zebedee Mayo's ancient chaise, the white horse sound asleep +between the shafts. Captain Zeb had not been invited to join the escort, +but had joined it without an invitation. + +"I guess likely I'd better be on hand," the captain confided to Dr. +Parker. "Maybe I can stop Elkanah from talkin' too much about--well, +about what we don't want him to talk about, and besides, I'm just as +anxious to give Nat a welcome home as the next feller. He's a brick and +we're all proud of him. By mighty! I'd like to have seen that craft he +built out of cocoanuts and churches--I would so." + +Kyan Pepper was there also, not yet fully recovered from the surprise +which Lavinia's gracious permission had given him. Abishai had been +leaning disconsolately over his front gate early that morning when Noah +Ellis, the lightkeeper, jogged down the lane. + +"'Mornin', 'Bish," hailed Noah, pulling up his horse. "What's the +matter? You look bluer'n a spiled mack'rel. What's the row? Breakfast +disagree with you?" + +"Naw," replied Kyan shortly. "Where you bound, all rigged up in your +shore duds?" + +"Bound to Bayport, to see Nat Hammond land," was the cheerful answer. +"I ain't had a day off I don't know when, and I thought I'd take one. Be +great doin's over there, they tell me. Elkanah's goin' to make a speech +and there's eighteen teams of folks goin'." + +"I know it. I wisht I was goin', too, but I never have no fun. Have +to stay to home and work and slave over them consarned tax papers. +Sometimes I wish there wa'n't no taxes." + +"Humph! I've wished that, myself, more'n once. Why don't you go, if you +want to? Climb right aboard here with me. Plenty of room." + +"Hey? You mean that? By godfreys mighty! I'd like to." + +"Sartin, I mean it. Come ahead." + +Mr. Pepper sadly shook his head. "I guess likely I'd better not," he +sighed. "Laviny might not like to have me leave her." + +"Oh, fiddlesticks! she won't mind. I'll take care of you. It's perfectly +safe. There ain't goin' to be no women around. Haw! haw! haw!" + +He was still laughing at his own joke when through the slats of the +closed blinds shading the Pepper house parlor a shrill voice was heard +speaking. + +"Go ahead, 'Bishy dear," called Lavinia. "Go ahead and go. A change of +air'll do you good." + +Kyan whirled and clutched at the gate. + +"HEY?" he shouted in amazement. + +"Are you deef? Or is Mr. Ellis laughin' so hard that you can't hear? +What is it that's so funny, Mr. Ellis?" + +The light-keeper shut off his laughter by a sudden and rather frightened +gulp. + +"Oh, nothin', nothin', Miss Pepper. Nice day, ain't it?" + +"I guess so. I ain't had time to look at it yet. I have to work. I can't +let my wife do it for me, like some folks, and take 'days off.' What was +it you was laughin' at, Mr. Ellis?" + +"Nothin', nothin' at all." + +"Hum! They used to tell me there was only one kind of person who laughed +at nothin'. Well, 'Bish Pepper, what are you standin' there for? If +you're goin', come right into the house and change your clothes this +minute." + +Kyan obeyed. Shortly he reappeared, clothed like a lily of the field, +one that had long since gone to seed. He clambered up beside Noah and +they drove off. + +"Jerushy!" exclaimed the lightkeeper. "This is kind of unexpected, ain't +it? What's got into her to make her so accommodatin'?" + +"Godfreys mighty!" was the dazed reply, "I don't know. This as fast as +you can drive? Hurry up, afore she changes her mind." + +So it happened that Mr. Pepper was in Bayport with the rest, awaiting +the stage which was bringing Trumet's latest celebrity from Sandwich. + +"Here she comes!" shouted Ezra Simmons, the postmaster. "Right on time, +too." + +Sure enough! A cloud of dust in the distance, rising on the spring +wind, and the rattle of rapidly turning wheels. The reception committee +prepared for action. Captain Elkanah descended from the carriage and +moved in stately dignity to the front of the post-office platform. + +"Hum--ha!" he barked, turning to his followers. "Be ready now. Give him +a good cheer, when I say the word. Let it be hearty--hearty, yes." + +The stage, its four horses at a trot, swung up to the platform. + +"Whoa!" roared the driver. + +"Now!" ordered Elkanah. "One--two--Hurrah!" + +"Hurrah!" shouted the committee, its uninvited guests and the +accompanying crowd of Bayport men and boys which had gathered to assist +in the welcome. "Hurrah!" + +"Hooray!" yelled Kyan, a little behind, as usual. + +A passenger or two peered from the coach window. The stage driver +ironically touched his cap. + +"Thank ye," he said. "Thank ye very much. I've been hopin' for this +for a long time, though I'd about given up expectin' it. I'm very much +obliged. Won't somebody please ask me to make a speech?" + +Captain Elkanah frowned his disapproval. + +"We are cheering Cap'n Nathaniel Hammond of Trumet," he explained +haughtily. "We are here to meet him and escort him home." + +The driver sighed. "You don't say," he said. "And I thought my merits +had been recognized at last. And 'twas all for Cap'n Hammond? Dear! +dear!" + +He winked at Simmons, who wanted to laugh, but did not dare. + +"Come! come!" said Captain Elkanah. "Where is he? Where's Cap'n +Hammond?" + +"Well, now, I'll tell ye; I don't know where he is." + +"You DON'T? Isn't he with you?" + +"No, he ain't. And he didn't come on the train, nuther. He WAS on it. +The conductor told me he see him and set along with him between stations +as fur as Cohasset Narrows. But after that he never see hide nor hair of +him. Oh, that's so! Here's the mail bag, Ezry." + +Captain Elkanah looked at the reception committee and it looked at him. +Here was a most disconcerting setback for all the plans. The committee, +after asking more, and fruitless questions, went into executive session. + +Captain Zeb stepped beside the stage and put one foot on the wheel. + +"Say, Thad," he whispered, "is that all you know? Where did he go to?" + +"Can't tell you, cap'n. The conductor says he see him afore they got to +Cohasset Narrows and not after. Naturally, we s'pose he got off there. +Pretty good joke on old Daniels, I call it. Serve him right, figgerin' +to take a passenger away from me. He, he!" + +"But you do know more, now don't you? Tell a feller--come! I don't like +Elkanah any better'n you do." + +"Well," the driver's voice dropped still lower. "Well," he whispered, +"I did hear this much, though don't you tell none of them: A chap I know +was on the train and he said he see Cap'n Nat get off the cars at the +Cohasset Narrows depot and there was a woman with him." + +"A woman? A WOMAN? What woman?" + +"Blessed if I know! And he didn't nuther. So long! Git dap!" + +The reception committee and its escort drove slowly back to Trumet. The +Daniels following was disgusted and disappointed. Captain Elkanah had +figured upon keeping Hammond under his own wing until he was safely +deposited at the old tavern. Grace was there and Elkanah meant that +these two should meet before any inkling of Ellery's story reached Nat's +ears. Incidentally, he could drop a few damaging hints concerning the +minister's character. To hurt Ellery all he could and prejudice Hammond +against him--that was the plan, and now it was frustrated. The captain +had not put in an appearance and no one knew where he was or when he +would come home. Obviously, there was nothing to do except give up the +reception and await further news from the missing man. + +Some of those present wished to remain in Bayport until night. Another +train was due in Sandwich and, possibly, Nat might come on that. They +could telegraph and find out whether or not he did come, and if he did, +could send a carriage for him. But this suggestion was overruled. The +reception was off. + +The homeward journey had some unpleasant incidents. Several Come-Outers +had driven over. Nat belonged to them, so they felt--he was the son of +their dead founder and leader--and they determined the Regulars should +not have him all to themselves. They had come to bid him welcome on +behalf of the worshipers at the chapel. Now they took advantage of the +general disappointment to make sarcastic and would-be-humorous remarks +loud enough for the majestic occupant of the decorated carriage to hear. + +"Seems to me," said Thoph Black, "that them flags ought to be ha'f mast. +That craft's in distress." + +"S-sh-h!" counciled his companion, another Come-Outer. "Don't be +irreverent. Look who's cruisin' under 'em. That's the King of Trumet. +Let's you and me go ahead and fire salutes, Thoph." + +Captain Elkanah wrathfully ordered the flags to be removed from the +horses' heads and from the dashboard. + +As Noah Ellis and his passenger turned into the lighthouse lane another +vehicle turned out of it. + +"Who was that?" queried Kyan. "Looked like one of the livery stable +horses to me." + +"'Twa'n't. 'Twas Thankful Payne's and that was her carriage, too. It's +gettin' so dark I couldn't see who was drivin' it, but 'twas a man, +anyhow." + +Kyan seemed to be pondering. "I wonder," he said slowly, "I wonder if +that cousin of hers from Sandwich is here visitin'. That Caleb Pratt, +seems to me his name is." + +"Don't know. Why?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. I just wondered, that was all. That might explain why +she let me--" + +"Hey?" + +"Nothin'. Good night, Noah. I'm much obliged to you for takin' me over, +even if there wa'n't no reception." + +Trumet spent that evening wondering what had become of Nat Hammond. +Captain Zeb Mayo wondered most of all. Yet his wonderment was +accompanied by vague suspicions of the truth. And, at eleven o'clock, +when the village was in bed, a horse and buggy moved down the Turn-off +and stopped before the Hammond gate. A man alighted from the buggy and +walked briskly up to the side door. There he knocked and then whistled +shrilly. + +A window overhead was opened. + +"Who is it?" asked a feminine voice. + +"Don't be frightened, Gracie," replied the man at the door. "It's +me--Nat. I've come home again." + + +CHAPTER XX + +IN WHICH THE MINISTER RECEIVES A LETTER + + +John Ellery was uneasy. Physically he was very much better, so much +better that he was permitted to sit up a while each day. But mentally he +was disturbed and excited, exactly the condition which the doctor said +he must not be in. Keziah and Grace had gone away and left him, and he +could not understand why. + +Mrs. Higgins, Ike's mother, was at the shanty and she did her best to +soothe and quiet him. She was a kind soul and capable, in her way, but +she could not answer his questions satisfactorily. + +"Where are they?" he demanded. "Why did they go? Has anything happened? +When are they coming back?" + +"I can't tell you just when, Mr. Ellery," replied Mrs. Higgins. "Grace +had to go home for a--a day or so and Keziah had things to attend to at +the parsonage. Don't you fret yourself about them." + +"I'm not fretting, but it does seem strange. I could understand why one +should go, perhaps, but not both. Didn't Gra--Miss Van Horne tell you +why she went?" + +"Well, now, Mr. Ellery, don't let's worry about Gracie. She's a good +girl with lots of common sense and--" + +"I know that. But that doesn't answer me. Why did she go?" + +"Keziah hadn't been to the parsonage sence that day when you was fust +took sick, and I expect likely she felt that she'd ought to--" + +"Please, Mrs. Higgins, tell me the truth. I'm not asking about Mrs. +Coffin. Didn't Miss Van Horne tell you her reason for leaving?" + +"No, she didn't." + +"But you know the reason? You're keeping something from me. Did she say +when she would come back?" + +"No, not exactly, but, of course--" + +"I know you're keeping something from me. What has happened?" + +"Happened? Land sakes! does anything ever happen in Trumet?" + +"I think a good many things have happened lately. And the longer you +keep the truth from me the more I shall suspect." + +"Mr. Ellery, you set still in that chair, or, when the doctor comes, +he'll put you to bed. I've got some cookin' to do and I can't set here +gossipin' no longer. You behave yourself and stop frettin'. I'm skipper +here now--er--for a while, anyhow--and you've got to take orders from +me. There! now I cal'late you're scared, ain't you?" + +He did not seem greatly frightened, nor in awe of his new skipper. +Instead, he was evidently preparing to ask more questions. Mrs. Higgins +hurriedly fled to the living room and closed the door behind her. + +The minister heard her rattling pans and dishes at a great rate. The +noise made him nervous and he wished she might be more quiet. He moved +to the chair nearest the window and looked out over the dunes and the +wide stretch of tumbling blue sea. The surf was rolling up the shore, +the mackerel gulls were swooping and dipping along the strand, the beach +grass was waving in the wind. A solitary fish boat was beating out past +the spar buoy. She was almost over the spot when the San Jose had first +anchored. + +The view was a familiar one. He had seen it in all weathers, during a +storm, at morning when the sun was rising, at evening when the moon +came up to tip the watery ridges with frosted silver. He had liked +it, tolerated it, hated it, and then, after she came, loved it. He had +thought it the most beautiful scene in all the world and one never to be +forgotten. The dingy old building, with its bare wooden walls, had been +first a horror, then a prison, and at last a palace of contentment. With +the two women, one a second mother to him, and the other dearest of +all on earth, he could have lived there forever. But now the old prison +feeling was coming back. He was tired of the view and of the mean little +room. He felt lonely and deserted and despairing. + +His nerves were still weak and it was easy, in his childish condition, +to become despondent. He went over the whole situation and felt more and +more sure that his hopes had been false ones and that he had builded a +fool's paradise. After all, he remembered, she had given him no promise; +she had found him ill and delirious and had brought him there. She had +been kind and thoughtful and gracious, but that she would be to anyone, +it was her nature. And he had been content, weak as he was, to have her +near him, where he would see her and hear her speak. Her mere presence +was so wonderful that he had been satisfied with that and had not asked +for more. And now she had gone. Mrs. Higgins had said "for a day or +two," but that was indefinite, and she had not said she would return +when those two days had passed. He was better now, almost well. Would +she come back to him? After all, conditions in the village had not +changed. He was still pastor of the Regular church and she was a +Come-Outer. The man she had promised to marry was dead--yes. But the +other conditions were the same. And Mrs. Higgins had refused to tell +him the whole truth; he was certain of that. She had run away when he +questioned her. + +He rose from the chair and started toward the living room. He would not +be put off again. He would be answered. His hand was on the latch of the +door when that door was opened. Dr. Parker came in. + +The doctor was smiling broadly. His ruddy face was actually beaming. He +held out his hand, seized the minister's, and shook it. + +"Good morning, Mr. Ellery," he said. "It's a glorious day. Yes, sir, a +bully day. Hey? isn't it?" + +Ellery's answer was a question. + +"Doctor," he said, "why have Mrs. Coffin and--and Miss Van Horne gone? +Has anything happened? I know something has, and you must tell me what. +Don't try to put me off or give me evasive answers. I want to know why +they have gone." + +Parker looked at him keenly. "Humph!" he grunted. "I'll have to get +into Mrs. Higgins's wig. I told her not to let you worry, and you have +worried. You're all of a shake." + +"Never mind that. I asked you a question." + +"I know you did. Now, Mr. Ellery, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you +were a sensible man who would take care of his health, now that he'd got +the most of it back again. I've got news for you--good news--but I'm not +sure that I shall tell it to you." + +"Good news! Dr. Parker, if you've got news for me that is good, for +Heaven's sake tell it. I've been imagining everything bad that could +possibly happen. Tell me, quick. My health can stand that." + +"Ye-es, yes, I guess it can. They say joy doesn't kill, and that's one +of the few medical proverbs made by unmedical men that are true. You +come with me and sit down in that chair. Yes, you will. Sit down." + +He led his patient back to the chair by the window and forced him into +it. + +"There!" he said. "Now, Mr. Ellery, if you think you are a man, a +sensible man, who won't go to pieces like a ten-year-old youngster, +I'll--I'll let you sit here for a while." + +"Doctor?" + +"You sit still. No, I'm not going to tell you anything. You sit where +you are and maybe the news'll come to you. If you move it won't. Going +to obey orders? Good! I'll see you by and by, Mr. Ellery." + +He walked out of the room. It seemed to Ellery that he sat in that chair +for ten thousand years before the door again opened. And then-- + +--"Grace!" he cried. "O Grace! you--you've come back." + +She was blushing red, her face was radiant with quiet happiness, but her +eyes were moist. She crossed the room, bent over and kissed him on the +forehead. + +"Yes, John," she said; "I've come back. Yes, dear, I've come back to--to +you." + + +Outside the shanty, on the side farthest from the light and its group +of buildings, the doctor and Captain Nat Hammond were talking with Mrs. +Higgins. The latter was wildly excited and bubbling with joy. + +"It's splendid!" she exclaimed. "It's almost too fine to believe. Now +we'll keep our minister, won't we?" + +"I don't see why not," observed the doctor, with quiet satisfaction. +"Zeb and I had the Daniels crowd licked to a shoestring and now they'll +stay licked. The parish committee is three to one for Mr. Ellery and the +congregation more than that. Keep him? You bet we'll keep him! And +I'll dance at his wedding--that is, unless he's got religious scruples +against it." + +Mrs. Higgins turned to Captain Nat. + +"It's kind of hard for you, Nat," she said. "But it's awful noble and +self-sacrificin' and everybody'll say so. Of course there wouldn't be +much satisfaction in havin' a wife you knew cared more for another man. +But still it's awful noble of you to give her up." + +The captain looked at the doctor and laughed quietly. + +"Don't let my nobility weigh on your mind, Mrs. Higgins," he said. "I'd +made up my mind to do this very thing afore ever I got back to Trumet. +That is, if Gracie was willin'. And when I found she was not only +willin' but joyful, I--well, I decided to offer up the sacrifice right +off." + +"You did? You DID? Why, how you talk! I never heard of such a thing in +my born days." + +"Nor I neither, not exactly. But there!" with a wink at Parker, "you see +I've been off amongst all them Kanaka women and how do you know but I've +fell in love?" + +"Nat HAMMOND!" + +"Oh, well, I--What is it, Grace?" + +She was standing in the doorway and beckoning to him. Her cheeks were +crimson, the breeze was tossing her hair about her forehead, and she +made a picture that even the practical, unromantic doctor appreciated. + +"By George, Nat!" he muttered, "you've got more courage than I have. If +'twas my job to give her up to somebody else I'd think twice, I'll bet." + +The captain went to meet her. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"Nat," she whispered, "will you come in? He wants to see you." + +John Ellery was still seated in the chair by the window, but he no +longer looked like an invalid. There was no worry or care in his +countenance now, merely a wondrous joy and serene happiness. + +He held out his hands and the captain shook them heartily. + +"Mr. Ellery," he said, "as they used to say at the circus, 'Here we are +again.' And you and I have been doing all kinds of circus acrobatics +since we shook last, hey? I'm glad you're pretty nigh out of the sick +bay--and the doctor says you are." + +"Captain," began Ellery. Hammond interrupted him. + +"Hold on!" he said. "Belay right there. If you and I are to cruise in +the same family--and that's what I hear is likely to happen--I +cal'late we'll heave overboard the cap'ns and Misters. My name's +'Nathaniel'--'Nat' for short." + +"All right. And mine is 'John.' Captain--Nat, I mean--how can I ever +thank you?" + +"Thank me? What do you want to thank me for? I only handed over +somethin' that wasn't mine in the first place and belonged to you all +along. I didn't know it, that was the only trouble." + +"But your promise to your father. I feel--" + +"You needn't. I told dad that it was just as Grace said. She says she's +got a better man, or words to that effect. And--I don't know how you +feel about such things, John--but I b'lieve there's a broader outlook up +aloft than there is down here and that dad would want me to do just what +I have done. Don't worry about me. I'm doin' the right thing and I +know it. And don't pity me, neither. I made up my mind not to marry +Grace--unless, of course, she was set on it--months ago. I'm tickled to +death to know she's goin' to have as good a man as you are. She'll tell +you so. Grace! Hello! she's gone." + +"Yes. I told her I wanted to talk with you alone, for a few minutes. +Nat, Grace tells me that Aunt Keziah was the one who--" + +"She was. She met me at the Cohasset Narrows depot. I was settin' in the +car, lookin' out of the window at the sand and sniffin' the Cape air. By +the everlastin'! there ain't any air or sand like 'em anywheres else. +I feel as if I never wanted to see a palm tree again as long as I live. +I'd swap the whole of the South Pacific for one Trumet sandhill with a +huckleberry bush on it. Well, as I started to say, I was settin' there +lookin' out of the window when somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I +looked up and 'twas her. + +"You could have blown me over with a fan. By the jumpin' Moses, you +could! You see, I'd been thinkin' about her--that is, I was--" + +He hesitated, turned red, coughed, and went on. + +"I was surprised enough to see her, I tell you. Way up there at the +Narrows! I couldn't have said a word, anyway, and she never gave me a +chance. 'Nat,' she says, 'don't talk now. Come with me, quick, afore the +train starts.' + +"Still I didn't say anything, nothin' sane anyhow. 'Keziah!' I managed +to stutter. 'KEZIAH!' + +"'Come!' says she. 'Hurry! I want you to get off here. I've come here on +purpose to meet you. I must talk with you; it's important. You can go +to Trumet on the next train, to-night. But now I must talk with you. I +MUST. Won't you please come, Nat?' + +"Well, I went. The engine bell was beginnin' to ring and we had to move +lively, I tell you. I swung her off the step just as the car begun to +move. After the smoke had faded away around the next bend I realized +that my hat had faded away along with it. Yes, sir! I'd left it on the +seat. Ha! ha! ha!" + +He laughed uproariously. Ellery laughed in sympathy. + +"However, I wa'n't worryin' about hats, just then. All I wanted to do +was stand still, like a frozen image, and stare at her. You see, John, +I hadn't laid eyes on a friend, one of the real homemade kind, for more +days than I wanted to count; and here was one of 'em, one of the best, +passed out to me unexpected and ahead of time, like a surprise party +present. So I just pumped her hand up and down and stared. I didn't have +any exclusive mortgage on the starin' by no means, for the depot master +and a dozen or so loafers was lookin' at us with their mouths wide open. + +"I guess she noticed it, for she says, 'Don't stay here, Nat. Come in +the waitin' room or somewheres where we can talk.' + +"So into the waitin' room we went and come to anchor on the settee. Six +or eight of the loafers settled themselves handy to the door, so's they +could peek in occasionally. I remember I told one of them not to stretch +his neck that way 'cause he might never get it back into shape again and +in the gunnin' season that would be dangerous. 'Some nearsighted feller +might take you for a goose,' I says. Ho! ho! + +"And then, John, we had our talk. Seems she left Trumet Wednesday +afternoon. Got the livery stable man to drive her as fur as Bayport, +hired another team there and come on to Sandwich. Stayed overnight there +and took the mornin' train which got to Cohasset Narrows just ahead of +the one I was comin' on. She'd been so afraid of bein' late, she said. +She must see me afore I got to Trumet. + +"Well, she saw me and told me the whole yarn about you and Grace. She +tried to break it to me gently, so I wouldn't feel too bad. She knew it +would be a shock to me, she said. It was a shock, in a way, but as for +feelin' bad, I didn't. I think the world of Grace. I'd do anything she +wanted me to do; but most the way down on the train--yes, and long afore +that--I'd been dreadin' my comin' home on one account. I dreaded tellin' +her that, unless she was real set on it, she'd better not marry me. + +"You see, John, I've thought a lot sence I've been away. Had +consider'ble time to do it in. And the more I thought the less that +promise to dad seemed right. I'd have bet my sou-wester Gracie never +cared for me in the way a girl ought to care for a chap she's goin' to +ship as pilot for the rest of her days. And, as for me--well, I--I had +my reasons for not wantin' to marry her." + +He paused again, sighed, started to speak, and then sat silent, looking +out of the window. Ellery laid a hand on his knee. + +"Nat," said the minister, "you saved my life once, do you remember that? +I do, if you don't." + +"Saved your life? What are you talkin' about? Oh! that time on the +flats? That wasn't savin' your life, 'twas savin' your clothes from +gettin' a wettin'." + +"No, it was more than that. And now I guess you've saved it again, you +and Grace between you. Yes, and Aunt Keziah. Bless her! to think of her +going way up there to meet you and help us!" + +"Yes. 'Twas like her, wasn't it? She said she knew I'd hear the yarn +when I got to Trumet, but she wanted me to hear it just as it was, and +nobody but she and Grace and you knew the whole truth about it. So she +come. I'm glad she did; not that I shouldn't have done the same, whoever +told me, but--" + +"Nat, I want to tell you something. Something that only one other person +knows. Grace doesn't know it yet. Neither does Aunt Keziah--the whole of +it. And if she knew I told you even a part I'm afraid she would, as she +would say, 'skin me alive.' But I owe her--and you--more than I could +repay if I lived a thousand years. So I'm going to tell and take the +consequences." + +The captain looked at him. "Well!" he exclaimed. "What's comin' now? +More secrets? Blessed if this ain't gettin' more excitin' than the South +Seas. I used to think excitement in Trumet was scurcer than cream in +poorhouse coffee, but I'll have to change my mind." + +"Nat, when--that morning after your father died and after you and Grace +had agreed to--to--" + +"To do somethin' neither of us wanted to do? Yes, I know. Go ahead." + +"That morning Aunt Keziah came home to the parsonage and broke the +news to me. She did it as only she could do such a thing, kindly and +pityingly and--" + +"Of course. That's Keziah." + +"Yes. Well, as you can imagine, I was almost crazy. I made a fool of +myself, I expect; refused to believe her, behaved disgracefully, and at +last, when I had to believe it, threatened to run away and leave my work +and Trumet forever, like a coward. She made me stay." + +"Did, hey?" + +"Yes. She showed me it was my duty to face the music. When I whimpered +about my troubles she told me her own story. Then I learned what trouble +was and what pluck was, too. She told me about her marriage and--excuse +me for speaking of what isn't my business; yet it is mine, in a way--she +told me about you." + +Captain Hammond did not answer. His good natured face clouded and he +shifted in his chair. + +"She told me of you, Nat, all about you--and herself. And she told me +something else, which explains why she felt she must send you away, why +she thought your marriage to Grace would be a good thing." + +"I know. She told you that that darn scamp Anse Coffin was alive." + +The minister started violently. He gasped in surprise. + +"You knew it? You KNEW it?" he stammered. + +"I know it now. Have known it for over a year. My findin' it out was one +of the special Providences that's been helpin' along this last voyage of +mine. My second mate was a Hyannis man, name of Cahoon. One day, on +that pesky island, when we was eatin' dinner together, he says to me, +'Cap'n,' he says, 'you're from Trumet, ain't you?' I owned up. 'Know +anybody named Coffin there?' says he. I owned up to that, too. 'Well,' +he says, 'I met her husband last trip I was in the Glory of the Wave.' +I stared at him. 'Met his ghost, you mean,' I says. 'He's been dead +for years, and a good thing, too. Fell overboard and, not bein' used to +water, it killed him.' + +"But he wouldn't have it so. 'I used to know Anse Coffin in New +Bedford,' he says. 'Knew him well's I know you. And when we was in port +at Havre I dropped in at a gin mill down by the water front and he come +up and touched me on the arm. I thought same as you, that he was dead, +but he wa'n't. He was three sheets in the wind and a reg'lar dock rat to +look at, but 'twas him sure enough. We had a long talk. He said he was +comin' back to Trumet some day. Had a wife there, he said. I told him, +sarcastic, that she'd be glad to see him. He laughed and said maybe not, +but that she knew he was alive and sent him money when he was hard up. +Wanted me to promise not to tell any Cape folks that I'd seen him, and I +ain't till now.' + +"Well, you can imagine how I felt when Cahoon spun me that yarn. First +I wouldn't b'lieve it and then I did. It explained things, just as you +say, John. I could see now why Keziah gave me my walkin' papers. I could +see how she'd been sacrificin' her life for that scum." + +"Yes. She wouldn't divorce him. She said she had taken him for better or +worse, and must stand by him. I tried to show her she was wrong, but it +was no use. She did say she would never live with him again." + +"I should say not. LIVE with him! By the everlastin'! if he ever comes +within reach of my hands then--there's times when good honest murder is +justifiable and righteous, and it'll be done. It'll be done, you hear +me!" + +He looked as if he meant it. Ellery asked another question. + +"Did you tell her--Aunt Keziah--when you met her at the Narrows?" he +asked. + +"No. But I shall tell her when I see her again. She shan't spoil her +life--a woman like that! by the Lord! WHAT a woman!--for any such crazy +notion. I swore it when I heard the story and I've sworn it every day +since. That's what settled my mind about Grace. Keziah Coffin belongs +to me. She always has belonged to me, even though my own pig-headedness +lost her in the old days." + +"She cares for you, Nat. I know that. She as much as told me so." + +"Thank you, John. Thank you. Well, I can wait now. I can wait, for +I've got something sure to wait for. I tell you, Ellery, I ain't a +church-goin' man--not as dad was, anyway--but I truly believe that this +thing is goin' to come out right. God won't let that cussed rascal live +much longer. He won't! I know it. But if he does, if he lives a thousand +years, I'll take her from him." + +He was pacing the floor now, his face set like granite. Ellery rose, his +own face beaming. Here was his chance. At last he could pay to this man +and Keziah a part of the debt he owed. + +Nat stopped in his stride. "Well!" he exclaimed. "I almost forgot, after +all. Keziah sent a note to you. I've got it in my pocket. She gave it to +me when she left me at Cohasset." + +"Left you? Why! didn't she come back with you on the night train?" + +"No. That's funny, too, and I don't understand it yet. We was together +all the afternoon. 'I was feelin' so good at seein' her that I took her +under my wing and we cruised all over that town together. Got dinner at +the tavern and she went with me to buy myself a new hat, and all that. +At first she didn't seem to want to, but then, after I'd coaxed a while, +she did. She was lookin' pretty sad and worn out, when I first met her, +I thought; but she seemed to get over it and we had a fine time. It +reminded me of the days when I used to get home from a voyage and we +were together. Then, when 'twas time for the night train we went down to +the depot. She gave me this note and told me to hand it to you to-day. + +"'Good-by, Nat,' she says. 'We've had a nice day, haven't we?' + +"'We have, for a fact,' I says. 'But what are you sayin' good-by for?' + +"'Because I'm not goin' to Trumet with you,' says she. 'I'm goin' to the +city. I've got some business to see to there. Good-by.' + +"I was set back, with all my canvas flappin'. I told her I'd go to +Boston with her and we'd come home to Trumet together to-morrow, +that's to-day. But she said no. I must come here and ease your mind and +Grace's. I must do it. So at last I agreed to, sayin' I'd see her in a +little while. She went on the up train and I took the down one. Hired +a team in Sandwich and another in Bayport and got to the tavern about +eleven. That's the yarn. And here's your note. Maybe it tells where +she's gone and why." + +The minister took the note and tore open the envelope. Within was a +single sheet of paper. He read a few lines, stopped, and uttered an +exclamation. + +"What's the matter?" asked the captain. + +Ellery did not answer. He read the note through and then, without a +word, handed it to his friend. + +The note was as follows: + + +"DEAR JOHN: + +"I am going away, as I told you I would if he came. He is coming. +Tuesday I got a letter from him. It was written at Kingston, Jamaica, +almost three months ago. I can't think why I haven't got it sooner, but +suppose it was given to some one to mail and forgotten. In it he said +he was tired of going to sea and was coming home to me. I had money, +he said, and we could get along. He had shipped aboard a brig bound +for Savannah, and from there he was going to try for a berth on a +Boston-bound vessel. So I am going away and not coming back. I could not +stand the disgrace and I could not see him. You and Grace won't need me +any more now. Don't worry about me. I can always earn a living while I +have my strength. Please don't worry. If he comes tell him I have gone +you do not know where. That will be true, for you don't. I hope you will +be very happy. I do hope so. Oh, John, you don't know how I hate to do +this, but I must. Don't tell Nat. He would do something terrible to him +if he came, and Nat knew. Just say I have been called away and may be +back some time. Perhaps I may. Love to you all. Good-by. + +"Yours truly, + +"KEZIAH COFFIN." + + +The captain stared at the note. Then he threw it to the floor and +started for the door. The minister sprang from his chair and called to +him. + +"Nat," he cried. "Nat! Stop! where are you going?" + +Hammond turned. + +"Goin'?" he growled. "Goin'? I'm goin' to find her, first of all. Then +I'm comin' back to wait for him." + +"But you won't have to wait. He'll never come. He's dead." + +"Dead? DEAD? By the everlastin'! this has been too much for you, I ought +to have known it. I'll send the doctor here right off. I can't stay +myself. I've got to go. But--" + +"Listen! listen to me! Ansel Coffin is dead, I tell you. I know it. I +know all about it. That was what I wanted to see you about. Did Keziah +tell you of the San Jose and the sailor who died of smallpox in this +very building? In that room there?" + +"Yes. John, you--" + +"I'm not raving. It's the truth. That sailor was Ansel Coffin. I watched +with him and one night, the night before he died, he spoke Keziah's +name. He spoke of New Bedford and of Trumet and of her, over and over +again. I was sure who he was then, but I called in Ebenezer Capen, who +used to know Coffin in New Bedford. And he recognized him. Nat, as sure +as you and I are here this minute, Ansel Coffin, Aunt Keziah's husband, +is buried in the Trumet cemetery." + + +CHAPTER XXI + +IN WHICH MR. STONE WASHES HIS HANDS + + +Mr. Abner Stone, of Stone & Barker, marine outfitters and ship +chandlers, with a place of business on Commercial Street in Boston, and +a bank account which commanded respect throughout the city, was feeling +rather irritable and out of sorts. Poor relations are always a nuisance. +They are forever expecting something, either money--in Mr. Stone's case +this particular expectation was usually fruitless--or employment or +influence or something. Mr. Stone was rich, he had become so by his own +ability and unaided effort. He was sure of that--often mentioned it, +with more or less modesty, in the speeches which he delivered to his +Sunday-school class and at the dinners of various societies to which he +belonged. He was a self-made man and was conscious that he had done a +good job. + +Therefore, being self-made, he saw no particular reason why he should +aid in the making of others. If people were poor they ought to get over +it. Poverty was a disease and he was no doctor. He had been poor once +himself, and no one had helped him. "I helped myself," he was wont to +say, with pride. Some of his rivals in business, repeating this remark, +smiled and added that he had been "helping himself" ever since. + +Mr. Stone had "washed his hands" of his cousin, Keziah Coffin, or +thought he had. After her brother Solomon died she had written to him, +asking him to find her a position of some kind in Boston. "I don't want +money, I don't want charity," wrote Keziah. "What I want is work. Can +you get it for me, Abner? I write to you because father used to tell of +what you said to him about gratitude and how you would never rest until +you had done something in return for what he did for you." + +Captain Ben Hall's kindness was the one thing Mr. Stone forgot when he +said no one had ever helped him. He disliked to be reminded of it. It +was a long while ago and the captain was dead. However, being reminded, +he had called upon a friend in the tailoring line and had obtained for +Keziah the place of sewing woman. She decided to become housekeeper at +the Trumet parsonage and so notified him. Then he washed his hands of +her. + +But now he was compelled to soil them again. Keziah had appeared at +his office, without warning, and demanded that he find her a position. +"Demanded" was the proper word. Certainly she had not begged. She seemed +to feel that her demand was right and proper, and his acceding to it the +least he could do. + +"What a fine place you've got here, Abner!" she said, inspecting the +office and the store. "I declare it's finer than the one you had when +you first went into business, afore you failed. I wish father could have +lived to see it. He'd have realized that his judgment was good, even +though his investment wasn't." + +Captain Hall had invested largely in that first business, the one which +failed. Mr. Stone changed the subject. Later in the day he again sought +his friend, the tailor, and Keziah was installed in the loft of the +latter's Washington Street shop, beside the other women and girls who +sewed and sewed from seven in the morning until six at night. Mr. Stone +had left her there and come away, feeling that an unpleasant matter +was disposed of. He had made some inquiries as to where she intended +staying, even added a half-hearted invitation to dinner that evening at +his home. But she declined. + +"No, thank you, Abner," she said, "I'm goin' to find a boardin' place +and I'd just as soon nobody knew where I was stayin', for the present. +And there's one thing I want to ask you: don't tell a soul I am here. +Not a soul. If anyone should come askin' for me, don't give 'em any +satisfaction. I'll tell you why some day, perhaps. I can't now." + +This was what troubled Mr. Stone as he sat in his office. Why should +this woman wish to have her whereabouts kept a secret? There was a +reason for this, of course. Was it a respectable reason, or the other +kind? If the latter, his own name might be associated with the scandal. +He wished, for the fiftieth time, that there were no poor relations. + +A boy came into the office. "There is some one here to see you, Mr. +Stone," he said. + +"Who is it?" + +"I don't know, sir. Looks like a seafaring man, a sea captain, I should +say--but he won't give his name. Says it's important and nobody but +you'll do." + +"Humph! All right. Tell him to wait. I'll be out in a minute." + +Sea captains and ship owners were Stone & Barker's best customers. The +senior partner emerged from the office with a smile on his face. + +"Ah!" he said, extending his hand. "Glad to see you, Captain--er--" + +"Hammond," replied the visitor. "Same to you, Mr. Stone." + +"Fine weather for this time of year." + +"Fine enough, Mr. Stone." + +"Well, Captain Hammond, what can we do for you? Going to sail soon?" + +"Not right away. Just made port, less'n a week ago. Home looks good to +me, for a spell, anyhow." + +"So? Yes, I have no doubt. Let me see--where is your home, captain? I +should remember, of course, but--" + +"Don't know why you should. This is my first trip in your latitude, I +guess. My home's at Trumet." + +"Trumet?" Mr. Stone's tone changed. + +"Yes. Trumet, down on the Cape. Ever been there? We think it's about as +good a place as there is." + +"Hu-u-m! Trumet? Well, Captain Hammond, you wished to see me, I +understand." + +"Yes. Fact is, Mr. Stone, I want to ask you where I can find Mrs. Keziah +Coffin. She's a relation of yours, I b'lieve, and she's come to Boston +lately. Only yesterday or the day afore. Can you tell me where she is?" + +"Why do you wish to see her?" + +"Oh, for reasons, personal ones. She's a friend of mine." + +"I see. No, captain, I can't tell you where she is. Good morning." + +Captain Nat was greatly disappointed. + +"Hold on there, just a minute," he begged. "This is important, you +understand, Mr. Stone. I'm mighty anxious to find Kezi--Mrs. Coffin. We +thought, some of her friends and I, that most likely you'd know where +she was. Can't you give us any help at all? Hasn't she been here?" + +"Good morning, Captain Hammond. You must excuse me, I'm busy." + +He went into the office and closed the door. Captain Nat rubbed his +forehead desperately. He had been almost sure that Abner Stone would put +him on Keziah's track. Grace had thought so, too. She remembered what +the housekeeper had told concerning her Boston cousin and how the latter +had found employment for her when she contemplated leaving Trumet, after +her brother's death. Grace believed that Keziah would go to him at once. + +Nat walked to the door and stood there, trying to think what to do next. +A smart young person, wearing a conspicuous suit of clothes, aided and +abetted by a vivid waistcoat and a pair of youthful but promising side +whiskers, came briskly along the sidewalk and stopped in front of him. + +"Well, sir?" observed this person, with cheerful condescension. +"Anything I can do for you?" + +Captain Nat turned his gaze upon the side whiskers and the waistcoat. + +"Hey?" he queried. + +"I say, is there anything I can do for you?" + +The captain shook his head. "No-o," he drawled dryly, "I'm afraid not, +son. I admit that don't seem scarcely possible, but I am afraid it's +so." + +"Looking for something in our line, was you?" + +"Well, I don't know. What might be on your line--clothes?" + +The bewhiskered one drew himself up. "I am connected with Stone & +Barker," he said sharply. "And, seeing you standing in our doorway, I +thought possibly--" + +"Yes, yes. Beg your pardon, I'm sure. No, I don't want to buy anything. +I come to see Mr. Stone on a personal matter." + +"He's busy, I suppose." + +"So he says." + +The young man smiled with serene satisfaction. "I'm not surprised," he +observed complacently. "We ARE a busy house, Mr--er--" + +"Hammond's my name. Are you Mr. Barker?" + +"No-o, my name is Prince." + +"So? Silent partner in the firm, hey?" + +"No-o, not exactly." Mr. Prince was slightly embarrassed. "No, I am a--a +salesman--at present. Was the matter you wished to see Mr. Stone about a +very private one?" + +"Middlin'.'" + +"Well, I asked because Mr. Stone is a busy man and we like to save him +all the--the--" + +"Trouble you can, hey? That's nice of you, you must save him a lot, +Mr--er--King, was it?" + +"No, Prince." + +"Sure and sartin', Prince, of course. I knew 'twas connected with the +royal family. Well, Mr. Prince, I'm afraid even you can't help me nor +him out this time. I'm lookin' up a friend of mine, a widow lady from +down the Cape. She's a relation of Mr. Stone's, and she's come to Boston +durin' the last day or so. I thought likely he might know where she was, +that's all. That would be a little out of your latitude, hey?" + +"I don't know. Her name wasn't Coffin, was it?" + +Captain Nat started. "It certainly was," he answered eagerly. "How'd you +know that?" + +Mr. Prince's complacence was superb. "Oh," he answered with +condescension, "Mr. Stone trusts me with a good many of his personal +affairs." + +"I should think likely he would. But about Mrs. Coffin? You was goin' to +say?" + +"She is with James Hallett & Co., the tailors, on Washington Street. Mr. +Stone found a place for her there, I believe. I--er--er--superintended +the carrying of her valise and--What?" + +"Nothin', nothin'. Hum! Hallett & Co., tailors? What number Washin'ton +Street did you say?" + +Mr. Prince gave the number. + +"Thank you a lot," said Captain Nat, with fervor. "Good-by, Mr. Prince. +Hope the next time I come you'll be in the firm. Good day, sir." + +"Good day. Nothing else I can do? And you won't wait for Mr. Stone? Very +good. Is there any message for him that you would like to leave?" + +"Hey?" Nat had started to go, but now he paused and turned. There was +a grim twinkle in his eye. "Message?" he repeated. "Why, ye-es, I don't +know but there is. You just give Mr. Stone Cap'n Hammond's compliments +and tell him I'm lookin' forward to interviewin' him some time. Just +tell him that, will you?" + +"I'll tell him. Glad to have met you, Captain Hammond." + +The captain nodded solemnly. "Say, Mr. King," he said, "you ain't half +so glad as I am." + +Mr. Prince strutted into the store. + +"Who was that chap you were talking with?" asked a fellow-clerk. + +"Oh, a hayseed who wanted to see the old man. Poor relation, I guess. +I headed him off. Stone is always telling us that time is money, so I +saved both of 'em for him. He ought to thank me. Wouldn't be surprised +if I got the raise I've been asking for." + +Mr. Prince did not get the raise, nor the thanks. But he was surprised. + + +In the workshop of Hallett & Co., Keziah sat sewing busily. The window +near her was closed, stuck fast, and through the dingy panes she could +see only roofs and chimneys. The other women and girls near her +chatted and laughed, but she was silent. She did not feel like talking, +certainly not like laughing. The garment she was at work on was a coat, +a wedding coat, so the foreman had told her, with a smile; therefore she +must be very particular. + +She wondered idly whose coat it might be and who its future wearer was +to marry. This reminded her of the minister and Grace. They would be +happy now, her talk with Nat had assured her of that, and they, too, +would be married one of these days. But she would not attend the +wedding. She wondered what John had said when he read her note. He and +Grace would be sorry for her, of course; but there was nothing they +could do to help. No one could help her, no one. Perhaps by this time +the man she had run away from had reached Trumet and her secret was +known. How Didama and the rest would spread the tale! How Captain +Elkanah and Annabel would sneer and exult! They hated her because she +was the minister's friend. And Nat, poor fellow, what would he do? Well, +at least he would understand now. + +The narrow stairway leading up to the workshop ended in a little +boxed-in room where the finished garments were hung to await the final +pressing. From behind the closed door of this room came the sound of +voices, apparently in heated argument. One of these voices was that of +Larry, the errand boy. Larry was speaking shrilly and with emphasis. The +other voice was lower in key and the words were inaudible. + +"No, sir, you can't," declared Larry. "You can't, I tell you. The boss +don't let nobody in there and--Hold on! Hold on!" + +The other voice made a short but evidently earnest answer. Larry again +expostulated. The workers looked up from their sewing. The door opened +and Larry appeared, flushed and excited. + +"Where's Mr. Upham?" he demanded. "Mr. Upham!" + +Upham was the foreman of the workroom. At the moment he was downstairs +in conversation with the head of the house. A half dozen gave this +information. + +"What's the matter? Who is it?" asked several. + +"I don't know who 'tis. It's a man and he's crazy, I think. I told him +he couldn't come in here, but he just keeps comin'. He wants to see +somebody named Coffin and there ain't no Coffins here." + +Keziah bent lower over the wedding coat. Her hand shook and she dropped +the needle. + +"I told him we didn't keep coffins," declared Larry. "This ain't no +undertaker's. Where's Mr. Upham?" + +Keziah's nearest neighbor leaned toward her. + +"I guess it's somebody to see you," she said. "Your name is Coffin, +ain't it?" + +"No, no. That is, it can't be anybody to see me. I don't want to see +anybody. Tell him so, whoever it is. I can't see anybody. I--NAT!" + +He stood in the doorway, beckoning to her. + +"Keziah," he said, "come here. I want you. I'll tell you why in a +minute. Come!" + +She hesitated. In a measure she was relieved, for she had feared the +man at the door might be her husband. But she was greatly agitated and +troubled. Everyone in the place was looking at her. + +"Nat," she said, trying to speak firmly, "I can't see you now. I'm very +busy. Please go away." + +"Come!" + +"I can't come. Go away. Please!" + +"Keziah, I'm waitin'. And I'm goin' to wait if I stay here all night. +Come!" + +She obeyed then. She could not have a scene there, before all those +strangers. She stepped past him into the little room. He followed and +closed the door. + +"Nat," she said, turning to him, "why did you come? How could you be so +cruel? I--" + +He interrupted her, but not with words. The next moment his arms were +about her and she was pressed tight against the breast of his blue +jacket. + +"Keziah," he whispered, "I've come to take you home. Home for good. No, +stay where you are and I'll tell you all about it. Praise be to God! +we're off the rocks at last. All that's left is to tow you into port, +and, by the everlastin', that's what I'm here for!" + + +When Upham came up the stairs after his long interview with "the boss," +he found the door at the top closed. When he rattled the latch that door +was opened by a stranger. + +"Are you Mr. Hallett?" asked Captain Nat briskly. + +"No, I'm not. Mr. Hallett is in his office on the first floor. But +what--" + +"On the main deck, hey? Well, all right; we won't trouble him. You'll +do just as well; I judge you're one of the mates of this craft. You tell +Mr. Hallett that this lady here has decided not to cruise with him any +longer. No fault to find, you understand, but she's got a better berth. +She's goin' to ship along with me. Ain't that so, Keziah?" + +Keziah, pale, trembling, scarcely realizing the situation even yet, +did not speak. But Captain Nat Hammond seemed to find his answer in her +silence. A few minutes later, her arm in his, they descended the gloomy, +dusty stairs, and emerged into the sunshine together. + +That afternoon Mr. Abner Stone again "washed his hands" of his poor +relation--this time, as he indignantly declared, "for good and all." + + +CHAPTER XXII + +IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON PREACHES ONCE MORE + + +Time has wrought many changes in Trumet. The packet long since ceased to +ply between the village and Boston, the stage has been superseded by +the locomotive, the old "square-riggers," commanded by Cape Cod men, no +longer sail the seas. Along the main road the houses have changed hands. +Didama Rogers peers no more from her parlor window; that parlor is now +profaned by the frivolous and irreverent summer boarder. But the old +residents love to talk of the days that are gone and if you happen to +catch Mr. Isaac Higgins, now postmaster and a dignified member of the +board of selectmen, in a reminiscent mood he will very likely tell you +of the meeting of the parish committee called by its chairman, Elkanah +Daniels, to oust the Rev. John Ellery from the pulpit of the Regular +church. + +"I'll never forget," says Mr. Higgins, "that parish committee meetin' if +I live a thousand year. I, and two or three other young shavers, was hid +in the little room off the vestry--the room where they kept the dishes +they used for church suppers--and we heard the whole business. Of course +nobody knew that Nat was goin' to marry Keziah then, but they did know +that he wa'n't goin' to marry Grace Van Horne, and had given her up +to the minister of his own accord. So Daniels's guns was spiked and he +didn't stand no chance at all. However, you'd never have guessed it +to look at him. He marched into that meetin' and up to the platform as +stiff and dignified as if he'd swallered a peck of starch. He called +the meetin' to order--'twas a full one, for all hands and the cook was +there--and then got up to speak. + +"He opened fire right off. He raked John Ellery fore and aft. The +parson, he said, had disgraced the society and his sacred profession +and should be hove overboard immediate. 'Twas an open secret, he said. +Everybody knew how he, minister of a Reg'lar church, had been carryin' +on with a Come-Outer girl, meetin' her unbeknownst to anyone, and so on. +As he got warmed up on this subject he got more bitter and, though he +didn't come out open and say slanderous things, his hints was as nigh +that as a pig's snout is to his squeal. Even through the crack of the +dish-closet door I could see the bristles risin' on the back of Cap'n +Zeb Mayo's neck. + +"At last Cap'n Zeb couldn't stand it no longer. + +"'Belay there!' he sings out, jumpin' to his feet. 'I want to ask you +one question, Elkanah Daniels: Are you tryin' to say somethin' against +Grace Van Horne's character?' + +"Well, that was a sort of sticker, in a way, and I cal'late Daniels +realized it. He 'hum-ha'd' and barked a little and then give in that he +couldn't swear the Van Horne person's character wa'n't all right, but--" + +"'Couldn't swear!' snorts Zeb. 'You better not try to, not when the +minister or Nat's around. Aw, belay! you want us to fire John Ellery +out of this society--the best minister it ever had or ever will +have--because he had the sense to get sweet on a good clean girl and the +spunk to ask her to marry him. And you're down on her because she's been +brought up in a Come-Outer family--at least, that's the reason you give +out, though some of us have suspicions 'tain't the real one. Why! she +risked what she thought was smallpox to keep him from dyin' that night +she picked him up, ravin' distracted, in the middle of the lighthouse +lane, and if he hadn't married her after that I, for one, would have +been willin' to vote to give him his walkin' papers, Come-Outer she may +have been, but, by time, she's got religion that's good enough for me +and I'll be proud to see her the wife of my minister. Don't let's have +no more chin music. We know what you want and what you called this +meetin' for; now let's vote on it.' + +"Three or four sung out 'Question' and 'Vote.' But Elkanah held up his +hand. + +"'Gentlemen,' says he, 'before I ask for the vote I want to say just one +word. I've worshiped in this meetin' house ever sence I was a child. I +was christened in it; my father worshiped here afore me; I've presided +over the meetin's of this body for years. But I tell you now that if you +vote to keep that rascally hypocrite in your pulpit I shall resign from +the committee and from the society. It'll be like cuttin' off my right +hand, but I shall do it. Are you ready for the vote? Those in favor of +retaining the present minister of this parish will rise. Those opposed +will remain seated.' + +"Every man on the floor stood up. Daniels himself was the only one that +stayed settin' down. + +"'It is a vote,' says he, white as a sheet, and his voice trembling. +'Gentlemen, I bid you good day.' + +"He took up his hat and cane, give one look around the vestry, as if +he was sayin' good-by to it, and marched down the aisle as straight and +starchy as he'd come into it. Only, when he reached the door, he put up +one hand as if he was steadyin' himself. There was precious few in that +vestry that liked Elkanah Daniels, but I'm bettin' high there wa'n't a +one who didn't feel sorry for him then. + +"'Twas quiet as could be for a minute or so after he'd gone. Then Cap'n +Zeb draws a big breath and flings up his hand. + +"'Shipmates,' says he, 'this is the Almighty's house and we've got to do +it quiet, but I propose three whisperin' cheers for the Rev. John Ellery +and the lady that's goin' to be his wife.' + +"So they give 'em--hearty, too, if they was whispered--and that's all +there is to that meetin' worth tellin' about." + +Captain Daniels and his daughter moved to Boston that summer. They never +came back to Trumet to live. Annabel remained single until after her +father's death; then she married a man very much younger and poorer +than she was. It was remarked by acquaintances of the couple that the +difference in age became less and less apparent as their married life +continued. + +"Humph!" observed Captain Zeb, summing up the situation, "he started +about ten year astern, but he'll beat her on the run into the cemetery, +now you mark my words. Annabel's temper's cal'lated to keep any average +chap drivin' on that course, bows under. There's a three-reef breeze +blowin' off her tongue, day and night." + +On a Sunday morning, a few weeks after the committee meeting, the +Regular church was crowded. John Ellery was to preach his first sermon +since the San Jose came ashore. Every member of the congregation was +present. Even Mrs. Prince, feeble but garrulous, was there. Gaius +Winslow, having delivered his brood of children at the church door, made +a special trip in his carryall to fetch the old lady. Captain Zebedee +and Mrs. Mayo beamed from their pew. Dr Parker and his wife smiled at +them across the aisle. Didama Rogers's new bonnet was a work of art and +her neck threatened to twist itself off as she turned to see each one +who came in. + +Lavinia Pepper sailed to the front. She was dressed in a new black +alpaca which rustled so very much like silk that nearsighted people +might have been deceived by it. With her was a man, apparently suffering +from strangulation because of the height and tightness of his collar. +"It's Caleb Pratt, from Sandwich," whispered Didama. "Thankful Payne's +relation, you know. Have you heard what folks are sayin'? I guess +it's true, because--Look at Kyan! you'd think he was goin' to his own +funeral." + +Abishai's expression was not cheerful, certainly. He followed Mr. Pratt +and his sister to the Pepper pew and subsided sadly in the corner next +the wall. Occasionally he was observed to wipe his forehead and once--it +was during the prayer--he groaned audibly. Lavinia's dig in the ribs +prevented his repeating the sound, but, judging by his looks, he +continued to groan in spirit. + +There was a stir at the door. All heads swung in that direction--all but +Mr. Pepper's, that is. The minister and Grace were coming up the aisle +and behind them came Captain Nat Hammond and Keziah Coffin. Nat was +smiling and self-possessed. Never before in his life had he entered the +Regular meeting house as a worshiper, but he seemed to be bearing the +ordeal bravely. It was Grace's first visit to the church, also, and she +was plainly embarrassed. To be stared at by eighty-odd pairs of eyes, +and to catch whispered comments from the starers' tongues, is likely to +embarrass one. + +Yet the comments were all friendly. + +"I declare!" whispered Mrs. Prince, "I never see her look so pretty +afore. I knew she was the best lookin' girl in this town, but I never +realized she was SUCH a beauty. Well, there's one thing sartin'--we've +got the handsomest parson and parson's wife in THIS county, by about ten +mile and four rows of apple trees. And there's the other bride that's +goin' to be. I never see Keziah look so well, neither." + +Keziah did look well. Her parson had emerged triumphant from his battle +with disease and adverse fate and was more than ever the idol of his +congregation. He was to marry the girl of his choice--and hers. The +housekeeper's ears were still ringing with the thanks of John and Grace. +Both seemed to feel that to her, Keziah Coffin, more than anyone else, +they owed their great joy. Some of the things they said she would never +forget. And her own life, too, was freed forever of its burden, the +secret which had hung over her for so many years. Only a very few knew +that secret, and they would not disclose it. Toward the memory of the +man buried in the stranger's lot at the cemetery she felt almost +kindly now. While he lived she had feared and dreaded him, now she was +beginning to forgive. For he had paid his debt with his life, and with +her, beside her, was the other, the one whom she had loved, had given +up, had mourned for, and who was now to be hers always. No wonder Keziah +looked well. She was happy, and happiness is a wondrous beautifier. + +The minister went up the stairs to the pulpit. He was still white and +thin, but his eyes were bright and his voice clear. He gave out the +opening hymn and the service began. + +They said it was the finest sermon ever preached in that church, and +perhaps it was. When it was over, before the benediction was pronounced, +Ellery stepped out from behind the pulpit to the edge of the platform. +He looked over the friendly faces upturned to his and, for an instant, +it seemed that he could not trust himself to speak. + +"My friends," he said, "I cannot let you go without a personal word. I +owe you so much, all of you, that nothing I can say will convey to you +my feeling of gratitude and love for this congregation and this church. +You have stood by me all through. You trusted me and believed in me. I +came to Trumet a stranger. I have found here the truest friends a man +could hope to find--yes, and more than friends. If I live, and while +I live, I shall hope to prove by the best effort that is in me my +realization of the great debt I owe you and my desire to repay it, even +though the payment must, of necessity, be so inadequate. God bless you +all--and thank you." + +"Wa'n't it lovely!" gushed Didama. "And when he said that about true +friends he was lookin' straight at Gracie all the time." + +"Didn't seem to me so," declared Gaius Winslow. "I thought he was +lookin' at Cap'n Hammond." + +"Well, now, that's queer," put in Mrs. Parker, the doctor's wife. "I +would have sworn he was looking at Keziah Coffin." + +Captain Zebedee grinned. "I cal'late you're all right," he observed. "I +wouldn't wonder if he was lookin' at all of 'em." + +There was much hand shaking and congratulation and the church emptied +slowly. Among the last to leave were the Peppers and Mr. Pratt. Lavinia +took the minister aside. + +"Mr. Ellery," she simpered, "I've--that is, Caleb and me--will prob'ly +want you to--That is, we want you to be the one--" + +"Yes, Miss Pepper?" + +"Oh, my sakes! you see--'Bishy dear, come here a minute, won't you?" + +Kyan approached, the picture of desolation. + +"What do you want?" he asked gruffly. + +"Heavens to Betsy! Don't look so sour. A body'd think you was goin' +to be hung, to look at you. 'Bishy, you tell Mr. Ellery all about it, +there's a dear. He'll tell you, Mr. Ellery; and remember we count on +you. Neither me nor Caleb wont have nobody else." + +She seized Mr. Pratt by the arm and led him hastily away. Kyan looked +after them. + +"Hung?" he muttered. "I wish, by godfreys mighty, I had the hangin' of +SOME folks! I'd put a tighter collar on 'em than they've got now, I bet +you!" + +The minister's lips twitched. He knew what was coming. Hints of a +surprising nature had been circulating about Trumet. + +"What's the matter, Mr. Pepper?" he asked. + +"Matter? Matter enough! You know what she's goin' to do? She's goin' to +marry THAT!" + +The last word was emphasized by a furious gesticulation toward the back +of the gentleman from Sandwich. + +"Who? Mr. Pratt? Is your sister to marry him? Indeed! I congratulate +them both--and you." + +"Me? What in tunket--I ask your pardon, Mr. Ellery, for talkin' so in +the meetin' house--but what are you congratulatin' me for?" + +"Why, because your sister is to have a good husband; at least people +speak highly of him." + +"Ugh!" + +"And because--well, Mr. Pepper, you have been quite confidential with +me; we have shared secrets, you know; and I thought possibly the new +arrangement might make it a bit more pleasant for you." + +"Pleasant? How?" + +"I suppose Mr. Pratt will take his bride home to Sandwich, and you, +being here alone, will be more free." + +"Free?" Kyan repeated the word wrathfully. "Free! I'll be about as free +as a settin' hen under a barrel, I will. Is a feller free when he's +got two pickin' at him instead of one? I thought I was goin' to have a +little peace and comfort; I thought that same as you, Mr. Ellery. I've +had my suspicions as to her and him for some time. That day when I +cal'lated I'd locked her up and come back to find she'd gone buggy +ridin', I thought 'twas queer. When she went to conference and left +me alone I smelt a rat. When she took to letter writin' the smell got +stronger; until the last few weeks I've been sartin of the game she was +up to. And I never complained, no sir! Some brothers would have ripped +up the eternal foundations afore they'd have let their sister break +up their home and desert 'em for a stiff-necked, bald-headed old shoe +peddler like--" + +"Hush! hush! Mr. Pepper. You forget--" + +"No, I don't forget, nuther. Mr. Ellery, you don't know it all. When +Laviny come to me and told me what she was goin' to do, was I obstinate? +Did I stand on my rights as head of the family and tell her she couldn't +do it? No, sir-ee, I didn't! I was resigned. I says to her, 'Laviny,' +I says, 'I won't say that I shan't be turrible lonesome without you. I +won't say that I ain't sort of shocked and grieved at our partin' after +all these years. But what's my personal feelin's when I compare 'em with +your happiness? Nothin', nothin' at all!' I says. 'Bless you, Laviny,' +says I. 'When you goin' to go away?' And what do you s'pose she says to +me? Why, that she wa'n't goin' away at all. That--that Pratt thing +has sold out his shoe store up to Sandwich and is comin' here to live. +Comin' to live at our HOUSE, mind you, with her and with ME! ''Twill be +so nice for you, 'Bishy dear,' she says, 'to have a man in the house +to keep you comp'ny and look out for you when I ain't round.' Godfreys +mighty!" + +This portion of Kyan's disclosure was surprising, if the announcement of +his sister's engagement was not. + +"Mr. Pratt is coming to Trumet?" the minister repeated. "What for? What +is he going to do here?" + +"Keep shoe store, I s'pose likely. Laviny says there's a good openin' +for one in this town. I told her the best openin' I could think of for +him was the well and I hoped to the nation he'd fall into it. Then she +went for me like a dogfish after a herrin' and I never had a taste of +vittles till I'd took it all back and said I was glad he was goin' to +live with us. Free! Don't talk to me about freedom! Godfreys mighty!" + +Ellery smothered his desire to laugh and expressed sympathy. Abishai +listened in sullen silence. + +"Well," he said, turning to go, "I ain't goin' to stand it, if I can +help it. I've been doin' some thinkin' on my own account and there's +two ways of gettin' even. That Caleb critter is marryin' into our family +'cause he knows I'm well off. I'll cheat him, by godfreys! I'll will +every cent of my fifteen hundred dollars to the poor or the heathen or +somethin'. I will, sure's taxes." + +The minister was obliged to laugh, then. + +"I wouldn't do that," he said. "From what I hear, Mr. Pratt is worth +several times fifteen hundred." + +"I know it; but he's so dum mean that 'twould break his heart to see +even ten cents gettin' away from him. However, that ain't my only plan. +He and Laviny ain't got any mortgage on the marryin' business. +Other folks can do it as well as them. What do you think of Hannah +Poundberry?" + +"What do I think of her? What do you mean?" + +"Never mind what I mean. Just you keep that in your head, Mr. Ellery. +You remember that I asked you, as man to man, 'What do you think of +Hannah Poundberry?'--Yes, yes, Laviny, I'm a-comin'. They want me to +ask you to marry 'em," he added. "I s'pose you'll have to. But say, Mr. +Ellery, when you do, just tell Pratt that your usual price for the +job is ten dollars. That'll spile his honeymoon for him, or I miss my +guess." + +He turned away and moved sulkily toward his beckoning sister and her +escort; but wheeled once more to add, in a mysterious whisper, "Don't +you forget now, Mr. Ellery. Remember that question I put to you: 'What +do you think of'--Yes, yes, La-viny, I hear you!--of you know who?'" + + +That evening, at the parsonage, Keziah was clearing the table and +Captain Nat was helping her. A happy party of four had enjoyed the meal, +John and Mrs. Coffin acting as hosts and Grace and the captain being the +invited guests. Now the younger couple had gone over to the church, the +bell of which was ringing for evening service. + +"Hurry up, Keziah," urged Nat. "If you and me don't get decks cleared +pretty soon we'll be late for meetin', and I'd hate to do that, +considerin' I'm such a brand-new disciple, as you might say. What do we +do next, shorten sail? Like this, hey?" + +He pulled the cloth from the table, sending the crumbs flying in all +directions, and proceeded to fold it, after a fashion. + +"There!" he exclaimed with satisfaction; "there she is, canvas furled +and under bare poles. Now we can clear out, can't we? What's the +matter?" + +Keziah took the cloth from his hands and refolded it. + +"Nat Hammond," she said, laughing, "you may be a good sailor, but you're +an awful poor housekeeper. Look at the mess you've made of that floor." + +Nat looked at the scattered crumbs and shook his head. + +"By the everlastin'!" he observed, "I did make dirty weather on that +tack, didn't I? Cal'late I ain't much of a housekeeper, same as you say. +Maybe that's why I was so dreadful anxious to get a good one to cruise +along with me. Well, I've got her. I'm satisfied." + +He walked to the back door of the kitchen, threw it open, and stood +looking out. + +"Keziah," he said, "come here a minute." + +She came from the dining room and stood at his side. He put an arm about +her. + +"Look off there," he said, pointing with his free hand. "See that?" + +The sun was just setting and all the west was gorgeous with crimson and +purple and yellow. The bay was spangled with fire, the high sand bluffs +along the shore looked like broken golden ingots. The fields and swamps +and salt meadows, rich in their spring glory of bud and new leaf, were +tinged with the ruddy glow. The Trumet roofs were bathed in it, the +old packet, asleep at her moorings by the breakwater, was silhouetted +against the radiance. The church bell had ceased to ring and there was +not a sound, except the low music of the distant surf. + +"Look at it, Keziah," urged Captain Nat. + +"I'm lookin', Nat," she answered. "It's beautiful." + +"Ain't it? I love it, you know that, and I never thought I should be +anxious for the time to come when I must leave it. But I am. I want to +go." + +They were to be married in another month. It would be a double wedding, +for Grace and the minister were to be married at the same time. Then Nat +and his wife were to go to New York, where a new ship, just out of +the builders' hands, was to be ready for him. She was a fine one, this +successor to the Sea Mist. She had been building for more than a year +and when Captain Hammond returned, safe and sound, and with their money +in his possession, the owners decided at once that he should command the +addition to their fleet. She was to sail for Liverpool and Keziah was to +be a passenger. + +"I can't hardly wait to get to sea," went on Nat. "Think of it! No more +lonesome meals in the cabin, thinkin' about you and about home. No, sir! +you and home'll be right aboard with me. Think of the fun we'll have in +the foreign ports. London, and you and me goin' sightseein' through it! +And Havre and Gibraltar and Marseilles and Genoa and--and--by and by, +Calcutta and Hong Kong and Singapore. I've seen 'em all, of course, but +you haven't. I tell you, Keziah, that time when I first saw a real hope +of gettin' you, that time after I'd learned from John that that big +trouble of yours was out of the way forever, on my way up to Boston in +the cars I made myself a promise--I swore that if you did say yes to me +I'd do my best to make the rest of your life as smooth and pleasant as +the past so far had been rough. I ain't rich enough to give you what you +deserve, nowhere near; but I'll work hard and do my best, my girl--you +see." + +Keziah was looking out over the bay, her eyes brighter than the sunset. +Now she turned to look up into his face. + +"Rich!" she repeated, with a little catch in her voice. "Rich! there +never was a woman in this world so rich as I am this minute. Or so +happy, either." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Keziah Coffin, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEZIAH COFFIN *** + +***** This file should be named 2068.txt or 2068.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/6/2068/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |