“I think, pa,” she said, “that it’s our duty, yours and mine, to treat him just as we always have.  He doesn’t know that we know, and we will keep the secret.  And, as Christians, we should forget and forgive.  We’ll invite him here as we always have, keep him under our good influence, and be very kind to him, poor innocent.  As for Captain Hammond, I’m sorry for him, knowing the kind of wife he is going to have, but no doubt Come-Outers are not particular.”

Kyan Pepper was another whom the news of the engagement surprised greatly.  When Lavinia told him of it, at the dinner table, he dropped the knife he was holding and the greasy section of fish-ball balanced upon it.

“’Bishy,” said Miss Pepper, “what do you s’pose has happened down to the Hammond tavern?”

“Oh, I know that,” was the reply.  “I heard that long ago; Cap’n Eben’s dead.”

“’Course he’s dead; and I knew you knew it.  Land sakes! don’t be such a ninny.  Why, I told you myself.”

“Well, I didn’t know but you’d forgot.  Anybody’s li’ble to forget who they’ve told things to.  Why, I’ve forgot more things—­”

“Yes, there ain’t no doubt about that.  I’ve told you a million times, if I have once, to tuck your napkin round your neck when you’ve got your Sunday clothes on.  And there you be this minute without a sign of a napkin.”

“Why, Laviny!  I must have it round my neck.  I know I—­”

“Don’t be so foolish!  Think I’m blind?  Can’t I see you ain’t got it?  Now where is it?”

Kyan began a futile hunt for the missing napkin, in his lap, on the table, and finally under it.

“I don’t understand,” he stammered, “where that napkin can be.  I’m just as sure I had it and now I’m just as sure I ain’t got it.  What do you s’pose I done with it?”

“Goodness knows!  ’Twouldn’t surprise me if you’d et it, you’re that absent-minded.  Here! what’s that stickin’ out of your breast pocket?”

Her brother put his hand to the pocket indicated and produced the missing napkin, much crumpled.

“There!” he exclaimed, in a tone of relief.  “Now I remember.  It must have dropped on the floor and I thought ’twas my handkerchief and picked it up and—­”

“What did you think you’d be carryin’ a white handkerchief for, on a week day?”

“Well, I had on my Sunday suit and—­”

“Yes, and for the dear mercy sakes why have you got it on?”

Kyan saw an opportunity for self-justification.

“You told me to put it on,” he declared triumphantly.  “You said yourself I’d better rig out in my Sunday clothes ’cause we might go to Eben’s funeral.  You know you did.”

“Hear the man!  And then, after you’ve dressed up to go to his funeral, you pretend to believe I’m goin’ to tell you he’s dead.  I never—­”

“Well, what is it, then?  He ain’t come to life, has he?”

“Grace Van Horne’s engaged to be married, that’s what it is.  Look out!  Oh, you—­”