yo nickname the minister "Keziah's Parson."

The sermon was a success.

CHAPTER IV

IN WHICH KEZIAH'S PARSON DECIDES TO RUN IT BLINDFOLD

On Monday afternoon the minister made a few calls. Keziah made out a
short list for him to follow, a "sort of chart of the main channel," she
called it, "with the safe ports marked and the shoals and risky places
labeled dangerous."

"You see," she said, "Trumet ain't a course you can navigate with your
eyes shut. We divide ourselves into about four sets--aristocrats, poor
relations, town folks, and scum. The aristocrats are the big bugs like
Cap'n Elkanah and the other well-off sea captains, afloat or ashore.
They 'most all go to the Regular church and the parish committee is
steered by 'em. The poor relations are mainly widows and such, whose
husbands died or were lost at sea. Most of them are Regulars. The town
folks are those that stay ashore and keep store or run salt works or
somethin'. And the scum work around on odd jobs or go fishin'. So, if
you really want to be safe, you must call on the aristocrats first,
after that on the poor relations, and so on down. You won't be bothered
with scum much; they're mainly Come-Outers."

Ellery took the list from her hand and looked it over.

"Hum!" he said musingly. "Am I supposed to recognize these--er--class
distinctions?"

"Yes. That is, not in meetin' or sewin' circle or anything like that, or
not out and out and open anywhere. But you want to cultivate a sort of
different handshake and how-dy-do for each set, so's to speak. Gush all
you want to over an aristocrat. Be thankful for advice and always SO
glad to see 'em. With the poor relations you can ease up on the gush and
maybe condescend some. Town folks expect condescension and superiority;
give it to 'em. When it comes to scum, why--well, any short kind of a
bow and a 'Mornin' 'll do for them. 'Course the Lord, in His infinite
mercy, made 'em, same as He did potato bugs, but it's necessary to keep
both bugs and them down to their proper place."

She delivered this in the intervals between trips to the kitchen with
the dinner dishes. The minister listened with a troubled expression on
his face.

"Mrs. Coffin," he said, "I guess I'm dull. There was a Scotch professor
at college and the fellows used to say his bump of humor was a dent.
Maybe mine isn't much better. Are you joking?"

Keziah stacked the cups and saucers.

"I ain't jokin'," she declared. "I've been a