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 rehearsed 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 circumstances.  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.”