“Queer! Say, Mr. Ellery, you remind me of a half-breed Portugee feller--half Portugee and a half Indian--that went to sea with my father, back in the old days. He hardly ever spoke a word, mainly grunted and made signs. One day he and another fo'mast hand went aloft in a calm to do somethin' to the tops'l. The half-breed--they called him Billy Peter and he always called himself that--was out on the end of the yard, with his foot on the rope underneath, I forget the name of it, when the tarred twine he had for a shoe string caught. Tryin' to get it loose it broke sudden, his shoe pulled off, he lost his balance and fell. He grabbed at the yard, saved himself for a second, fell again, grabbed the next yard, then a rope and so on down, grabbin' and pullin' all the way. First his shoe hit the deck, then his sheath knife, then a piece of rope, and finally himself, landin' right on top of the Irish cook who was goin' aft from the galley with father's dinner. “There was the greatest racket you ever heard, pans fallin', dishes smashin', men yellin', and the cook swearin'. Father run on deck, thinkin' the ship was dismasted. He found the cook and Billy Peter sittin' in the middle of the mess, lookin' at each other. Neither was hurt a mite. The mates and the crew, part of 'em, was standin' starin' at the pair. “'For Heaven sakes!' says father; 'what happened?' “The half-breed looked up and rubbed his head. 'Ugh!' says he, 'Billy Peter bust his shoe string.' “The cook, his name was O'Neill, looked at him disgusted. 'Well, begorra!' says he, 'Billy Peter, you don't exaggerate none, do ye! It's a good thing BOTH of 'em didn't bust or we'd have foundered.' “You remind me of Billy Peter, Mr. Ellery, you don't exaggerate. Queer? Some folks think your goin' to that meetin' last night QUEER? At this moment one half of Trumet is talkin' about it and runnin' out to tell the other half. I guess I'd better hurry up with this breakfast. We're goin' to have callers.” Strange to say, however, this prophecy of early morning visitors did not prove true. Nine o'clock, then ten, and no visitor came to the parsonage. Mrs. Coffin affirmed that she did not understand it. Where was Didama? Where Lavinia Pepper? Had the “Trumet Daily Advertiser” suspended publication? At half past ten the gate slammed. Keziah peered from the window. “Humph!” she ejaculated. “Here comes Elkanah and he's got storm signals set, by the looks. He's comin' after you, Mr. Ellery.” “Very well,” was the calm reply; “let him come.” “What are you goin' to say to him?” “Nothing, except that I did what I considered right at the time. Show him into the study, Mrs. Coffin, please.” Captain Daniels marched to the dining-room door, his gold-headed cane marking time like a drumbeat. He nodded curtly to Keziah, who answered the knock, and stepped across the threshold. “Hum--ha!” he barked. “Is the minister--hum--ha! is Mr. Ellery in?” “Yes, he's in.” “Tell him I want to see him.”