n to realize that,
as such a skipper, he was most inexperienced. And Captain Daniels
had spoken highly--condescendingly but highly--of his housekeeper's
qualifications and personality. So the agreement was ratified, with
relief on his part.

The first Sunday came and with it the first sermon. He read that sermon
to Keziah on Saturday evening and she approved of it as a whole, though
she criticised some of its details.

"Don't be afraid to put in plenty of salt," she said. "Where you've
got the Christian life and spirit written down as bein' like a quiet,
peaceful home, free from all distrust, and like that, why don't you
change it to a good safe anchorage, where the soul can ride forever
without fear of breakers or no'theasters or the dangers besettin' the
mariner on a lee shore. They'll understand that; it gets right home to
'em. There's scarcely a man or a woman in your congregation that ain't
been out of sight of land for weeks on a stretch."

The breakfast hour on Sunday would be at nine o'clock, instead of seven,
as on week days, she told him.

"Trumet lays to bed Sunday mornin's," she explained. "It's almost a part
of its religion, as you might say, and lived up to more conscientious
than some other parts, I'm afraid. Six days shalt thou labor and wear
comfort'ble clothes; and on the seventh you must be lazy and dress up.
Likewise you must have baked beans Saturday for supper, as we're havin'
'em, and more beans with fish balls next mornin'. That is, if you want
to be orthodox."

The service began at eleven o'clock. At half past ten the sexton,
old Mr. Jubal Knowles, rang the "first bell," a clanging five-minute
reminder. Twenty minutes later he began on the second and final call.
Mr. Ellery was ready--and nervous--before the first bell had finished
ringing. But Keziah, entering the sitting room dressed in black alpaca
and carrying the hymn book with her name in gilt letters on the cover,
forbade his leaving the parsonage thus early.

"I shall go pretty soon," she said, "but you mustn't. The minister ain't
expected until the last bell's 'most done. Parson Langley used to wait
until the Winslows went in. Gaius Winslow is a widower man who lives up
to the west end of the town and he's got nine children, all boys. You'll
know 'em because they always drive down to meetin' in one carryall with
a white horse. Gaius is as punctual as a boardin'-house dinner. The
old parson used to wait until the last Winslow had t