p'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