She whirled like a flash. “You're not going to tell him?” she cried. “No, no! You mustn't. You must promise me you won't. Promise.” “Somebody'll tell him. Telling things is Trumet's specialty.” “Then you must stop it. No one must tell him--no one except me. I shall tell him, of course. He must hear it from me and not from anyone else. He would think I was disloyal and ungrateful--and I am! I have been! But I was--I COULDN'T help it. You know, doctor, you know--” “Yes, yes, I know. Well, I'll promise, but it will all come out right, you see. You mustn't think I--we--have been interfering in your affairs, Grace. But we've all come to think a whole lot of that parson of ours and what he wanted we wanted him to have, that's all.” “I know. Thank you very much for all your kindness, and for your promise.” He would have liked to say much more, but he could not, under the circumstances. He stammered a good-by and, with a question concerning Mrs. Coffin's whereabouts, went out to join Captain Zeb. “Well?” queried the latter anxiously. “How is it? What's up? What's the next tack?” “We'll go to the parsonage,” was the gloomy answer. “If anybody can see a glimmer in this cussed muddle Keziah Coffin can.” Keziah was on her knees in her room, beside a trunk, the same trunk she had been packing the day of the minister's arrival in Trumet. She was working frantically, sorting garments from a pile, rejecting some and keeping others. She heard voices on the walk below and went down to admit the callers. “What's the matter, Keziah?” asked Dr. Parker sharply, after a look at her face. “You look as if you'd been through the war. Humph! I suppose you've heard the news?” Keziah brushed back the hair from her forehead. “Yes,” she answered slowly. “I've heard it.” “Well, it's great news, and if it wasn't for--if things weren't as they are, I'd be crowing hallelujahs this minute. Trumet has got a good man safe and sound again, and the Lord knows it needs all of that kind it can get.” “Yes.” “Yes. But there's the other matter. I've been to see Grace. She didn't say so, but it was easy enough to see; the man she promised to marry and thought was dead, is alive. She's a girl of her word--she promised him and she promised her dying uncle--and she'll marry him. And then what will become of John Ellery? He'll go downhill so fast that a ship's anchor wouldn't hold him. If he doesn't die I'll have to send him away somewhere, and the Regular church will lose the minister we've fought so hard for.” “Yes,” concurred Zebedee, “and them blasted Danielses'll run the shebang and the rest of us'll have to sing small, I tell you.” “So we've come to you, Keziah,” went on the doctor. “Do you see any salvation?” “Yes, I do.” “You do? Where?” “In Nat Hammond. If he knows Grace doesn't want to marry him, do you suppose he'll hold her to her promise?”