d, 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