The girl turned, her hat in her hand.

“Oh!” she cried in utter astonishment.

Keziah nodded.  “Yes,” she affirmed.  “That was what Elkanah’s proposal amounted to.  Ha! ha!  Deary me!  When he said ‘proposal,’ I own up for a minute I didn’t know what was comin’.  After Kyan I was prepared for ’most anything.  But he told me that Lurany Phelps, who the parish committee had counted on to keep house for Mr. Ellery, had sent word her sister was sick and couldn’t be left, and that somebody must be hired right off ’cause the minister’s expected by day after to-morrow’s coach.  And they’d gone over every likely candidate in town till it simmered down to Mehitable Burgess.  And Cap’n Zeb Mayo spoke right up in the committee meetin’ and gave out that if Mehitable kept house for Mr. Ellery he, for one, wouldn’t come to church.  Said he didn’t want to hear sermons that was inspired by her cookin’.  Seems she cooked for the Mayos one week when Mrs. Mayo had gone to Boston, and Cap’n Zeb declares his dreams that week was somethin’ awful.  ’And I’m a man with no nerves and mighty little imagination,’ he says.  ’Land knows what effect a dose of Mehitable’s biscuits might have on a minister.’

“And so,” continued Keziah, “they decided Mehitable wouldn’t do, and finally somebody thought of me.  I have a notion ’twas Zeb, although Cap’n Elkanah did his best to make me think ’twas himself.  And the cap’n was made a delegate to come and see me about it.  Come he did, and we settled it.  I went down to the parsonage with him before dinner and looked the place over.  There’s an awful lot of sweepin’ and dustin’ to be done afore it’s fit for a body to live in.  I did think that when I’d finished with this house I could swear off on that kind of dissipation for a while, but I guess, judgin’ by the looks of that parsonage, what I’ve done so far is only practice.”  She paused, glanced keenly at her friend and asked:  “Why! what’s the matter?  You don’t act nigh so glad as I thought you’d be.”

Grace said of course she was glad; but she looked troubled, nevertheless.

“I can hardly make it seem possible,” she said.  “Is it really settled—­your salary and everything?  And what will you do about your position in Boston?”

“Oh, I’ll write Cousin Abner and tell him.  Lord love you, he won’t care.  He’ll feel that he did his duty in gettin’ me the Boston chance and if I don’t take it ’tain’t his fault.  His conscience’ll be clear.  Land sakes! if I could clean house as easy as some folks clear their consciences I wouldn’t have a backache this minute.  Yes, the wages are agreed on, too.  And totin’ them around won’t make my back ache any worse, either,” she added drily.

Grace extended her hand.

“Well, Aunt Keziah,” she said, “I’m ever and ever so glad for you.  I know you didn’t want to leave Trumet and I’m sure everyone will be delighted when they learn that you’re going to stay.”