--"

"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