Galusha looked at the young people; he was almost as distressed as they were.  He liked young Howard; the latter had been very kind to him on the fateful Friday afternoon when he had alighted at South Wellmouth.  He liked Lulie, also—­had fancied her at first sight.  He wished he might help them.  And then he had an idea.

“I wouldn’t—­ah—­interfere in your affairs for the world, Miss Hallett,” he faltered, “but if I might—­ah—­offer a suggestion, suppose I—­ah—­meet your father and talk with him for a few moments.  Then you might—­so to speak—­ah—­go, you know.”

“Yes, of course, of course.  Oh, will you, Mr. Bangs?  Thank you so much.”

Galusha climbed the bank.  There was no one in sight, but he heard masculine voices from the hollow beyond the farther end of the cemetery.  He hastened to that end and, stooping, began to examine the inscription upon a tomb.

The voices drew nearer as the men climbed the hill.  The breeze now was stronger than ever and was blowing more from the west.  The conversation, borne by the gusts, came to Galusha’s ears clearly and distinctly.  One of the speakers seemed to be explaining, urging, the other peremptorily refusing to listen.

“But, Cap’n Jeth,” urged the first voice, and Mr. Bangs recognized it as belonging to his obliging guide and pilot of the fateful Friday evening, Mr. Horatio Pulcifer.  “But, Cap’n Jeth,” said Mr. Pulcifer, “don’t fly off the handle for nothin’.  I ain’t tryin’ to put nothin’ over on you.  I’m just—­”

“I don’t want to hear you,” broke in the second voice, gruffly.  “This is the Lord’s Day and I don’t want to talk business with you or nobody else—­especially with you.”

For some reason this seemed to irritate Mr. Pulcifer.  His tone had lost a little of its urbanity when he answered.

“Oh, especially with me, eh?” he repeated.  “Well, what’s the ‘especially with me’ for?  If you think I’m any more to blame than the rest, you’re mistaken.  I tell you when you and me and Cap’n Jim and all hands of us got the Wellmouth Development Company goin’ it looked like a cinch.  How was I to know?”

“I tell you, Raish, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And I tell you, Jeth Hallett, I do want to.  You’ve hove in that ‘especially with me’ and I don’t like it.  Look here, what are you pickin’ on me for?  How was I to—­ No, now you wait a minute, Cap’n Jeth, and answer me.  I’ve chased you ’way over here and you can give me five minutes even if ’tis Sunday.  Come, Cap’n, come, just answer me and then I won’t bother you any more.”

There was silence for a brief interval.  Galusha, crouching behind the tomb and wondering if the time had come for him to show himself, waited anxiously.  But Captain Hallett’s answer, when at last he did reply, sounded no nearer.  Apparently the men were now standing still.

“Well,” grunted the light keeper, “I’ll listen to you for the five minutes, Raish, but no more.  I hadn’t ought to do that.  This is Sabbath day and I make it a p’int never—­”