Grace Van Horne, Captain Eben
Hammond's ward, who had called to see if there was anything she might do
to help, was removing towels, tablecloths, and the like from the drawers
in a tall "high-boy," folding them and placing them in an old and
battered trunk. The pair had been discussing the subject which all
Trumet had discussed for three weeks, namely, the "calling" to the
pastorate of the "Regular" church of the Rev. John Ellery, the young
divinity student, who was to take the place of old Parson Langley,
minister in the parish for over thirty years. Discussion in the village
had now reached a critical point, for the Reverend John was expected
by almost any coach. In those days, the days of the late fifties, the
railroad down the Cape extended only as far as Sandwich; passengers made
the rest of their journey by stage. Many came direct from the city by
the packet, the little schooner, but Mr. Ellery had written that he
should probably come on the coach.

"They say he's very nice-looking," remarked Miss Van Horne soberly,
but with a MISCHIEVOUS glance under her dark lashes at Keziah. The lady
addressed paused long enough to transfer several tacks from the floor to
the saucer, and then made answer.

"Humph!" she observed. "A good many years ago I saw a theater show up
to Boston. Don't be shocked; those circumstances we hear so much tell
of--the kind you can't control--have kept me from goin' to theaters
much, even if I wanted to. But I did see this entertainment, and a fool
one 'twas, too, all singin' instead of talkin'--op'ra, I believe they
called it. Well, as I started to say, one of the leadin' folks in it was
the Old Harry himself, and HE was pretty good-lookin'."

Grace laughed, even though she had been somewhat shocked.

"Why, Aunt Keziah!" she exclaimed--those who knew Keziah Coffin
best usually called her aunt, though real nephews and nieces she had
none--"why, Aunt Keziah! What do you mean by comparing the--the person
you just mentioned with a MINISTER!"

"Oh, I wasn't comparin' 'em; I'll leave that for you Come-Outers to do.
Drat this carpet! Seems's if I never saw such long tacks; I do believe
whoever put 'em down drove 'em clean through the center of the earth and
let the Chinymen clinch 'em on t'other side. I haul up a chunk of the
cellar floor with every one. Ah, hum!" with a sigh, "I cal'late
they ain't any more anxious to leave home than I am. But, far's the
minister's concerned, didn't I hear of yo