ery much for all your kindness, and for your
promise."

He would have liked to say much more, but he could not, under the
circumstances. He stammered a good-by and, with a question concerning
Mrs. Coffin's whereabouts, went out to join Captain Zeb.

"Well?" queried the latter anxiously. "How is it? What's up? What's the
next tack?"

"We'll go to the parsonage," was the gloomy answer. "If anybody can see
a glimmer in this cussed muddle Keziah Coffin can."

Keziah was on her knees in her room, beside a trunk, the same trunk she
had been packing the day of the minister's arrival in Trumet. She was
working frantically, sorting garments from a pile, rejecting some and
keeping others. She heard voices on the walk below and went down to
admit the callers.

"What's the matter, Keziah?" asked Dr. Parker sharply, after a look at
her face. "You look as if you'd been through the war. Humph! I suppose
you've heard the news?"

Keziah brushed back the hair from her forehead. "Yes," she answered
slowly. "I've heard it."

"Well, it's great news, and if it wasn't for--if things weren't as they
are, I'd be crowing hallelujahs this minute. Trumet has got a good man
safe and sound again, and the Lord knows it needs all of that kind it
can get."

"Yes."

"Yes. But there's the other matter. I've been to see Grace. She didn't
say so, but it was easy enough to see; the man she promised to marry and
thought was dead, is alive. She's a girl of her word--she promised him
and she promised her dying uncle--and she'll marry him. And then what
will become of John Ellery? He'll go downhill so fast that a ship's
anchor wouldn't hold him. If he doesn't die I'll have to send him away
somewhere, and the Regular church will lose the minister we've fought so
hard for."

"Yes," concurred Zebedee, "and them blasted Danielses'll run the shebang
and the rest of us'll have to sing small, I tell you."

"So we've come to you, Keziah," went on the doctor. "Do you see any
salvation?"

"Yes, I do."

"You do? Where?"

"In Nat Hammond. If he knows Grace doesn't want to marry him, do you
suppose he'll hold her to her promise?"

"I don't know. I'm not so sure. Men don't give up girls like that so
easy. I wouldn't--by George, I wouldn't! And she won't tell him the
whole truth, I'm afraid. She'll pretend to be glad--hang it! she IS
glad--to have him home again and--"

"Of course she's glad. Ain't we all glad and happy and thankful? We
ought to be. Bu