s 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