“What!” she exclaimed.  “Don’t want but one piece of huckleberry pie?  Why, a week ago you ate three and looked kind of disappointed ’cause the dish was empty.  What is the matter?  Are you sick?”

“No, Mrs. Coffin,” replied the Reverend John.  “No, I’m not sick.  I just don’t feel hungry, that’s all.”

“Hum!  Well, I’ve usually noticed that when a healthy man don’t feel hungry at dinner time, ’specially in the huckleberry season, his healthiness is pretty shaky.  What does ail you, Mr. Ellery?  Got somethin’ on your mind?  If you have, I’d heave it overboard.  Or you might unload it onto me and let me prescribe.  I’ve had consider’ble experience in that kind of doctorin’.”

But the answer was unsatisfactory.  Mr. Ellery laughed, changed the subject, and wandered out into the garden, where Keziah saw him, shortly afterwards, intently regarding nothing in particular with a rapt stare.  She watched him for a few moments and then, with a puzzled shake of the head, returned to her work.  She believed that he was troubled about something and was herself troubled in consequence.

His absent-mindedness was most acute on Sunday evenings, before prayer meeting, and after he had returned from the afternoon at Captain Elkanah’s.

“Say, Mr. Ellery,” she said, on one of these Sunday evenings, “do you know, it seems to me that Elkanah’s meals must go to your head.  Don’t have any of his granddad’s New England rum, do you?  They tell me he’s got some of that down cellar that he doles out occasional to his very particular friends.  That’s the common yarn around town, though I couldn’t swear ’twas gospel.”

The minister smiled and denied acquaintanceship with the New England beverage.

“Humph!  Then it must be the other thing.  You ain’t in love, are you?”

The young man started, colored, and was plainly embarrassed.

“In love?” he repeated.  “In love, Mrs. Coffin?”

“Yes, in love.  Annabel hasn’t landed a male at last, has she?  She’s a line over the side for a long time.”

The hearty laugh with which this was received settled the question of Annabel’s success.  Keziah was relieved.

“Well, I’m glad of that,” she said.  “I ain’t got any grudge against Annabel, but neither have I got one against you.  Another man in that family would have an easy time in one way, he wouldn’t have to do any thinkin’ for himself—­Elkanah and his daughter would do all that was necessary.  So you’re not in love.  Then I don’t know what does ail you.  I’ll say this, though, for a body that ain’t in love you certainly stay with the Danielses a long time.  You went there right after meetin’ this noon and now it’s seven o’clock and you’ve just got home.  And ’twas the same last Sunday and the one before.  Been there all the time, have you?”

She knew he had not, because she had seen him pass the parsonage, on the opposite side of the road, two hours before.  But she was curious to learn what his reply would be.  It was noncommittal.