The young man demurred a little at thrusting himself upon the hospitality of the Daniels’s home, but Keziah assured him that his unexpected coming would cause no trouble.  So he entered the now dark study and came out wearing his coat and carrying his hat and valise in his hand.

“I’m sure I’m ever so much obliged to you,” he said.  “And, as we are going to be more or less together—­or at least I guess as much from what you say—­would you mind if I suggest a mutual introduction.  I’m John Ellery; you know that already.  And you—­”

Keziah stopped short on her way to the door.

“Well, I declare!” she exclaimed.  “If I ain’t the very worst!  Fact is, you dropped in so ahead of time and in such a irregular sort of way, that I never once thought of introducin’ anybody; and I’m sure Grace didn’t.  I’m Keziah Coffin, and Cap’n Elkanah and I signed articles, so to speak, this mornin’, and I’m goin’ to keep house for you.”

She explained the reason upsetting the former arrangement by which Lurania Phelps was to have had the position.

“So I’m to keep house for you,” she concluded.  Adding:  “For a spell, anyhow.”

“Why do you say that?” asked the minister.

“Well, you might not like me.  You may be particular, you know.”

“I think I can run that risk.”

“Yes; well, you can’t tell.  Or I might not like you.  You see, I’m pretty particular myself,” she added with a laugh.

At the Daniels’s door Keziah turned her new charge over to Matilda Snow, the hired girl.  It was an indication of the family’s social position that they kept “hired help.”  This was unusual in Trumet in those days, even among the well to do.

“Good night,” said the young man, extending his hand.  “Good night, Miss—­or is it Mrs.—­Coffin?”

“Mrs. Good night.”

“She’s a widow,” explained Matilda.  “Husband died ’fore she come back here to live.  Guess he didn’t amount to much; she never mentions his name.”

“There was one thing I meant to tell her,” mused the minister, hesitating on the threshold.  “I meant to tell her not to attempt any cleaning up at the parsonage to-night.  To-morrow will do just as well.”

“Heavens to Betsy!” sniffed the “hired help,” speaking from the depths of personal conviction, “nobody but a born fool would clean house in the night, ‘specially after the cleanin’ she’s been doin’ at her own place.  I guess you needn’t worry.”

So Mr. Ellery did not worry.  And yet, until three o’clock of the following morning, the dull light of a whale-oil lantern illuminated the rooms of the parsonage as Keziah scrubbed and swept and washed, giving to the musty place the “lick and promise” she had prophesied.  If the spiders had prepared those ascension robes, they could have used them that night.