Didama would have given her eyeteeth--and, for that matter, the entire upper set--to have been present in that parsonage sitting room when the Rev. John Ellery made his appearance. But the fates were against Didama that day and it was months afterwards before she, or any of what Captain Zeb Mayo called the "Trumet Daily Advertisers," picked up a hint concerning it. Keziah and Grace, acquainted with the possibilities of these volunteer news gatherers, were silent, and the Reverend John, being in some respects a discreet young man with a brand-new ministerial dignity to sustain, refrained from boasting of the sensation he had caused. He thought of it very often, usually at most inconvenient times, and when, by all the requirements of his high calling, his thought should have been busy with different and much less worldly matters.

"I declare!" said Mrs. Thankful Payne, after the new minister's first call at her residence, a week after his arrival at Trumet, "if Mr.

Ellery ain't the most sympathetic man. I was readin' out loud to him the poem my cousin Huldy B.--her that married Hannibal Ellis over to Denboro--made up when my second husband was lost to sea, and I'd just got to the p'int in the ninth verse where it says:

'The cruel billows crash and roar, And the frail craft is tempest-tossed, But the bold mariner thinks not of life, but says, "It is the fust schooner ever I lost."'

And 'twas, too, and the last, poor thing! Well, I just got fur as this when I looked up and there was the minister lookin' out of the window and his face was just as red, and he kept scowlin' and bitin' his lips. I do believe he was all but sheddin' tears. Sympathy like that I appreciate."

As a matter of fact, Mr. Ellery had just seen Grace Van Horne pa.s.s that window. She had not seen him, but for the moment he was back in that disgusting study, making a frenzied toilet in the dusk and obliged to overhear remarks pointedly personal to himself.

Grace left the parsonage soon after the supposed tramp disclosed his ident.i.ty. Her farewells were hurried and she firmly refused Mrs.

Coffin's not too-insistent appeal to return to the house "up street"

and have supper. She said she was glad to meet Mr. Ellery. The young minister affirmed his delight in meeting her. Then she disappeared in the misty twilight and John Ellery surrept.i.tiously wiped his perspiring forehead with his cuff, having in his late desire for the primal necessities forgotten such a trifling incidental as a handkerchief.

"Well, Mr. Ellery," observed Keziah, turning to her guest, or employer, or inc.u.mbrance--at present she was more inclined to consider him the latter--"well, Mr. Ellery, this has been kind of unexpected for all hands, ain't it? If I'd known you was comin' to-day, I'd have done my best to have things ready, but Cap'n Elkanah said not before day after to-morrow and--but there, what's the use of talkin' that way? I didn't know I was goin' to keep house for you till this very forenoon. Mercy me, what a day this has been!"

The minister smiled rather one-sidedly.

"It's been something of a day for me," he admitted. "I am ahead of time and I've made a lot of trouble, I'm afraid. But yesterday afternoon I was ready and, to tell the truth, I was eager to come and see my new home and get at my work. So I started on the morning train. Then the stage broke down and I began to think I was stranded at Bayport.

But this kind-hearted chap from Wellmouth--I believe that's where he lived--happened to pull up to watch us wrestling with the smashed wheel, and when he found I was in a hurry to get to Trumet, offered to give me a lift. His name was--was Bird. No, that wasn't it, but it was something like Bird, or some kind of a bird."

"Bird?" repeated Keziah thoughtfully. "There's no Birds that I know of in Wellmouth. Hum! Hey? 'Twa'n't Sparrow, was it?"

"That was it--Sparrow."

"Good land! Emulous Sparrow. Run consider'ble to whiskers and tongue, didn't he?"

"Why, yes; he did wear a beard. As for tongue--well, he was conversational, if that's what you mean."

"That's what I mean. If you rode twelve mile with Emulous, you must have had an earache for the last six. Did he ask a question or two about your personal affairs, here and there between times?"

Mr. Ellery laughed.

"Yes, one or two, between times," he admitted.

"I shan't die of surprise. Did you tell him who you was?"

"No-o, to be honest, I didn't. He was so very anxious to find out, that--well, I dodged. I think he believed I was going to visit Captain Daniels."

"Good enough! If I was governor of this state I wouldn't send any Thanksgivin' proclamations down this way. I'd just write Em Peters and Didama Rogers and a couple more like them and save myself the trouble.

They'd have all I wanted to proclaim spread from one end of the county to the other in less'n a day, and a peck or two of extrys pitched in for good measure. I'm awful glad you didn't tell Emulous you was the minister. You see, Trumet's Trumet, and, considerin' everything, maybe it's just as well n.o.body knows about your bein' shut up in that study.

Not but what 'twas all right, you know, but--"

"I understand. I'm not proud of it. Still, some one may have seen me come here."

"No, no, they didn't. This fog is as thick as Injun-meal puddin'. n.o.body saw you."

"Well," with some hesitation, "the young lady who was here with you--"

"Oh, Grace Van Horne! She's all right. She won't tell. She ain't that kind."

"Van Horne? That doesn't sound like a New England name."

"'Tisn't. Her folks come from Jersey somewheres. But she was adopted by old Cap'n Hammond, who keeps the tavern down on the bay sh.o.r.e by the packet wharf, and she's lived in Trumet since she was six years old. Her father was Teunis Van Horne, and he was mate on Cap'n Eben's coastin'

schooner and was drowned off Hatteras. Eben was saved just by the skin of his teeth and got a broken hip and religion while it happened. His hip's better except that he's some lame; but his religion's been more and more feverish ever since. He's one of the head Come-Outers, and built their chapel with his own money. You mustn't think I'm speakin'

lightly of religion, nor of Cap'n Eben, either. He's a dear good soul as ever was, but he is the narrowest kind of Come-Outer. His creed is just about as wide as the chapel door, and that's as narrow as the way leadin' to salvation; it IS the way, too, so the Come-Outers think."

"What are Come-Outers? Some new sect?"

"Sakes alive! Haven't you heard of Come-Outers? Cat's foot! Well, you'll hear of 'em often enough from now on. They're folks who used to go to our church, the Regular, but left because the services was too worldly, with organs and choir singin', and the road to paradise too easy. No need for me to tell you any more. You'll learn."

Mr. Ellery was interested. He had been in Trumet but once before, on the occasion when he preached his trial sermon, and of that memorable visit remembered little except the sermon itself, the pews filled with captains and their families, and the awe-inspiring personality of Captain Elkanah Daniels, who had been his host. To a young man, the ink upon his diploma from the theological school still fresh, a trial sermon is a weighty matter, and the preaching of it weightier still. He had rehea.r.s.ed it over and over in private, had delivered it almost through clinched teeth, and had returned to his room in the Boston boarding house with the conviction that it was an utter failure. Captain Elkanah and the gracious Miss Annabel, his daughter, had been kind enough to express gratification, and their praise alone saved him from despair.

Then, to his amazement, the call had come. Of casual conversation at the church and about the Daniels's table he could recall nothing. So there was another religious organization in town and that made up of seceders from his own church. He was surprised.

"Er--this Miss Van Horne?" he asked. "Is she a--Come-Outer?"

Mrs. Coffin nodded.

"Yes," she said. "She's one. Couldn't be anything else and live with her Uncle Eben, as she calls him."

The minister experienced a curious feeling of disappointment and chagrin. This young person, already predisposed to regard a clergyman of his denomination with disapproval, had seen him for the first time under most humiliating circ.u.mstances. And he should never have the opportunity to regain her favor, or his own self-respect, by his efforts in the pulpit. No matter how well he might preach she would never hear him.

"Has this Captain Hammond no children of his own?" he asked.

Keziah's answer was short for her.

"Yes," she said. "One."

"Ah! another daughter?"

"No, a son. Name's Nathaniel, and he's a sea captain. He's on his way from Surinam to New York now. They expect him to make port most any time, I believe. Now, Mr. Ellery, I s'pose we've got to arrange for your supper and stayin' overnight; and with this house the way 'tis and all, I don't see--"

But the minister was still interested in the Hammond household.

"This Nathaniel Hammond?" he asked. "You don't seem enthusiastic over him. Is he a black sheep?"

This reply also was short, but emphatic.

"No," said Keziah. "He's a fine man."

Then she resumed her semisoliloquy concerning her companion's entertainment.

"I guess," she said, "that the best thing for you to do will be to go to Cap'n Elkanah's. They'll be real glad to see you, I know, and you'll be in time for supper, for Elkanah and Annabel have been to Denboro and they'll be late home. They can keep you overnight, too, for it's a big house with lots of rooms. Then, after breakfast to-morrow you come right here. I'll have things somewhere near shipshape by then, I guess, though the cleanin'll have to be mainly a lick and a promise until I can really get at it. Your trunk'll be here on the coach, I s'pose, and that'll be through early in the forenoon. Get on your hat and coat and I'll go with you to Elkanah's."

The young man demurred a little at thrusting himself upon the hospitality of the Daniels's home, but Keziah a.s.sured him that his unexpected coming would cause no trouble. So he entered the now dark study and came out wearing his coat and carrying his hat and valise in his hand.

"I'm sure I'm ever so much obliged to you," he said. "And, as we are going to be more or less together--or at least I guess as much from what you say--would you mind if I suggest a mutual introduction. I'm John Ellery; you know that already. And you--"