Mrs. Coffin waved the hammer deprecatingly.  “There! there!” she interrupted.  “I guess it’s a good thing I’m goin’ away.  Here’s you and I praisin’ up each other’s beliefs, just as if that wasn’t a crime here in Trumet.  Sometimes when I see how the two societies in this little one-horse place row with each other, I declare if it doesn’t look as if they’d crossed out the first word of ‘Love your neighbor’ and wrote in ‘Fight,’ instead.  Yet I’m a pretty good Regular, too, and when it comes to whoopin’ and carryin’ on like the Come-Outers, I—­Well! well! never mind; don’t begin to bristle up.  I won’t say another word about religion.  Let’s pick the new minister to pieces.  Any kind of a Christian can do that.”

But the new minister was destined to remain undissected that morning, in that house at least.  Grace was serious now and she voiced the matter which had been uppermost in her mind since she left home.

“Aunt Keziah,” she said, “why do you go away?  What makes you?  Is it absolutely necessary?”

“Why do I go?  Why, for the same reason that the feller that was hove overboard left the ship—­cause I can’t stay.  You’ve got to have vittles and clothes, even in Trumet, and a place to put your head in nights.  Long’s Sol was alive and could do his cobblin’ we managed to get along somehow.  What I could earn sewin’ helped, and we lived simple.  But when he was taken down and died, the doctor’s bills and the undertaker’s used up what little money I had put by, and the sewin’ alone wouldn’t keep a healthy canary in bird seed.  Dear land knows I hate to leave the old house I’ve lived in for fourteen years and the town I was born in, but I’ve got to, for all I see.  Thank mercy, I can pay Cap’n Elkanah his last month’s rent and go with a clear conscience.  I won’t owe anybody, that’s a comfort, and nobody will owe me; though I could stand that, I guess,” she added, prying at the carpet edge.

“I don’t care!” The girl’s dark eyes flashed indignantly.  “I think it’s too bad of Cap’n Elkanah to turn you out when—­”

“Don’t talk that way.  He ain’t turnin’ me out.  He ain’t lettin’ houses for his health and he’ll need the money to buy his daughter’s summer rigs.  She ain’t had a new dress for a month, pretty near, and here’s a young and good-lookin’ parson heavin’ in sight.  Maybe Cap’n Elkanah would think a minister was high-toned enough even for Annabel to marry.”

“He’s only twenty-three, they say,” remarked Grace, a trifle maliciously.  “Perhaps she’ll adopt him.”

Annabel was the only child of Captain Elkanah Daniels, who owned the finest house in town.  She was the belle of Trumet, and had been for a good many years.

Keziah laughed.

“Well,” she said, “anyhow I’ve got to go.  Maybe I’ll like Boston first rate, you can’t tell.  Or maybe I won’t.  Ah, hum! ’twouldn’t be the first thing I’ve had to do that I didn’t like.”

Her friend looked at her.