Keziah opened the door.

“Halloa!” she exclaimed.  “Back, are you?  I begun to think you’d been scared away for good.”

Grace laughed as she entered.

“Well, auntie,” she said, “I don’t wonder you thought I was scared.  Truly, I didn’t think it was proper for me to stay.  First Kyan and then Cap’n Elkanah, and both of them expressing their wishes to see you alone so—­er—­pointedly.  I thought it was time for me to go.  Surely, you give me credit for a little delicacy.”

Keziah eyed her grimly.

“Humph!” she sniffed.  “If you’d been a little less delicate about fetchin’ that hammer, we might have been spared at least one smash-up.  I don’t s’pose Laviny’ll ever speak to me again.  Oh, dear!  I guess likely I’ll never get the memory of that—­that Kyan thing out of my mind.  I never was so set back in my born days.  Yes, you can laugh!”

She laughed herself as she said it.  As for Grace, it was sometime before that young lady became coherent.

“He did look so funny!” she gasped.  “Hopping up and down on that shaky chair and holding on to that pipe and—­and—­O Aunt Keziah, if you could have seen your face when I opened that door!”

“Yes; well, I will say you was sometime gettin’ it open.  And then, on top of the whole fool business, in parades Elkanah Daniels and—­”

She paused.  Her companion looked delightedly expectant.

“Yes,” she cried eagerly.  “Then Cap’n Elkanah came and the very first thing he said was—­I almost laughed in his face.”

“Almost!  Humph! that’s no exaggeration.  The way you put out of that door was a caution.”

“Yes, but what did the cap’n mean?  Is it a secret?  Ahem! shall I congratulate you, auntie?”

“Grace Van Horne! there’s born fools enough in this town without your tryin’ to be one.  You know ’twa’n’t that.  Though what ’twas was surprise enough, I will say,” she added.  “Grace, I ain’t goin’ away to-morrow.”

“You’re not?  Oh, splendid!  Has the cap’n decided to let you stay here?”

“I guess his decidin’ wouldn’t influence me, if twas stayin’ in his house he meant.  The only way I could live here would be on his charity, and that would be as poor fodder as sawdust hasty puddin’, even if I was fond of charity, which I ain’t.  He said to me—­Well, you take your things off and I’ll tell you about it.  You can stay a little while, can’t you?”

“Yes, I was going to stay all the afternoon and for supper, if you’d let me.  I knew you had so much to do and I wanted to help.  I told uncle and he said certainly I ought to come.  He said he should try to see you and say good-by before you left tomorrow.”

“You don’t say!  And me a Regular!  Well, I’m much obliged, though I guess your Uncle Eben won’t see me to-morrow—­nor speak to me again, when he knows what I am going to do.  Grace, I ain’t goin’ to leave Trumet, not for the present, anyhow.  I’ve got a way of earnin’ my livin’ right here.  I’m goin’ to keep house for the new minister.”