n 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; d