“I ain’t so sure.  Mr. Ellery’s young, but he’s got a mind of his own.”

Captain Hammond chuckled and slapped his knee.

“Ho, ho!” he laughed.  “I’ve been hearin’ somethin’ about that mind.  Went to the chapel last night, I understand, and he and dad had a set-to.  Oh, I heard about it!  Wish I might have been there.”

“How does your father act about it?”

“’Bout the way a red-hot stove acts when you spill water on it; every time he thinks of the minister he sizzles.  Ho, ho!  I do wish I could have been there.”

“What does Grace say?”

“Oh, she doesn’t say much.  I wouldn’t wonder if she felt the way I do, though we both keep quiet.  I’ll tell you, between ourselves and the ship’s pump, that I sort of glory in the young chap’s spunk.”

“Good!  So do I. I like him.”

“See here, Keziah!  I’m gettin’ frightened.  You ain’t settin’ your cap to be a parson’s wife, are you?  Because—­”

“Don’t be silly.  I might adopt him, but that’s all, I guess.”

Her friend leaned forward.

“Keziah,” he said earnestly, “there’s no sense in your slavin’ yourself to death here.  I can think of a good deal pleasanter berth than that.  Pleasanter for me, anyhow, and I’d do my best to make it pleasant for you.  You’ve only got to say the word and—­No?  Well, then all I can do is hope through another voyage.”

“Please don’t, Nat.  You know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“Well, perhaps you don’t.  But I know.  I like you, Nat.  I count on you as the straightest, truest friend I’ve got; and I want to keep on countin’ on you just that way.  Mayn’t I?”

“’Course you can, Keziah.  But—­”

“Then don’t say another word, please.”

He sighed and looked out at the open door.  The kitchen clock ticked loud in the silence.

“All right,” he said at last.  “All right, but I’m goin’ to keep on hopin’.”

“You mustn’t, Nat.”

“Keziah, when you set your foot down you’re pretty stubborn; but I’ve got somethin’ of a foot myself.  You remember you said so a few minutes ago.  Hi, hum!  Well, speakin’ of dad reminds me that I’m kind of worried about him.”

“You are?  Why?  Isn’t he well?”

“Pretty well, but he ain’t strong, and he gets too excited over things like last night’s foolishness.  Grace tells me that the doctor says he must be careful or he’ll drop off sudden some of these days.  He had a shock five or six years ago, a little one, and I’ve been anxious about him ever since.  I’ve got to go to New York off and on for the next month; after that I hope to be home for a spell and I can keep an eye on him.  Keziah, if you’ll listen I’ll whisper somethin’ to you—­religion’s a good thing and so’s a mustard plaster, but both of ’em can be put on too strong.  Dad is just a little mite crazy on Come-Outers, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, no, I guess not!  You mustn’t worry.  How did Grace look to you?”