“Cheerful’s a tomb, ain’t it?” was Mrs. Coffin’s comment.  “Well, we’ll get some light and air in here pretty soon.  Here’s the front hall and there’s the front stairs.  The parlor’s off to the left.  We won’t bother with that yet a while.  This little place in here is what Mr. Langley used to call his ‘study.’  Halloa! how this door sticks!”

The door did stick, and no amount of tugging could get it open, though Grace added her efforts to those of Keziah.

“’Tain’t locked,” commented Mrs. Coffin, “cause there ain’t any lock on it.  I guess it’s just swelled and stuck from the damp.  Though it’s odd, I don’t remember—­Oh, well! never mind.  Let’s sweeten up this settin’ room a little.  Open a window or two in here.  We’ll have to hurry if we want to do anything before it gets dark.  I’m goin’ into the kitchen to get a broom.”

She hurried out, returning in a moment or two with a broom and a most disgusted expression.

“How’s a body goin’ to sweep with that?” she demanded, exhibiting the frayed utensil, the business end of which was worn to a stub.  “More like a shovel, enough sight.  Well, there’s pretty nigh dust enough for a shovel, so maybe this’ll take off the top layers.  S’pose I’ll ever get this house fit for Mr. Ellery to live in before he comes?  I wonder if he’s a particular man?”

Grace, who was struggling with a refractory window, paused for breath.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” she replied.  “I’ve never seen him.”

“Nor I either.  Sol was so bad the Sunday he preached that I couldn’t go to meetin’.  They say his sermon was fine; all about those who go down to the sea in ships.  That’s what got the parish committee, I guess; they’re all old salts.  I wonder if he’s as fine-lookin’ as they say?”

Miss Van Horne tossed her head.  She was resting, prior to making another assault on the window.

“I don’t know,” she said.  “And I’m sure I don’t care.  I don’t like good-looking ministers.”

“Deary me!  You’re different from most females in this town, then.  And you spoke of his good looks yourself this very mornin’.  Why don’t you like the good-lookin’ ones?”

“Oh, because they’re always conceited and patronizing and superior—­and spoiled.  I can just imagine this Mr. Ellery of yours strutting about in sewing circle or sociables, with Annabel and Georgianna Lothrop and the rest simpering and gushing and getting in his way:  ’O Mr. Ellery, I did so enjoy that sermon of yours Sunday!’ and ’O Mr. Ellery, it was so good of you to come this afternoon!’ Pooh!  I’m glad I’m a Come-Outer.  Not that I would simper over him if I wasn’t.  He couldn’t patronize me—­not more than once, at any rate.”

Keziah was greatly amused.

“Sakes alive!” she chuckled.  “You’re awfully high and mighty, seems to me.  And changeable since mornin’.  You was willin’ enough to talk about him then.  Now, Gracie, you mustn’t take a spite against poor Mr. Ellery just because I’ve got to keep house for him.  ’Tain’t his fault; he don’t even know it yet.”