“Whew!” puffed Captain Zeb, mopping his forehead. “How be you, Keziah? What? You ain't all alone! Thought you'd have a cabin full of gab machines by this time. Have they been and gone?” “No, they haven't been. I--My land, my pie!” She rushed into the kitchen and snatched the pastry from the oven. Her new caller followed her. “So they ain't been, hey?” he said. “That's queer.” “Elkanah's here. He's in there with the minister now.” “He is? Givin' the young feller Hail Columby, I cal'late. Well, now, he shan't. He, he! When they told me how the minister passed old hop-and-go-fetch-it what was due him at the chapel last night I riz up and hoorayed till my wife shut the windows. She said the neighbors all thought I was loony, anyhow, and I needn't prove it to 'em. He, he! But Elkanah ain't got any funny bone. He's as solemn as a stuffed owl, and he'll--Well, I'm goin' to put MY oar in. I'm parish committee, too, I cal'late, and I've got somethin' to say, even if I wa'n't christened Daniels. Here goes!” He headed for the study, but before he crossed the threshold of the kitchen Ellery and his visitor came out into the dining room. Captain Elkanah's face was flushed, and he fidgeted. The minister looked determined but calm. “Ahoy there, Elkanah!” hailed Zebedee cheerfully. “'Mornin', Mr. Ellery. Been havin' officers' counsel, have you?” “Good morning, Captain Mayo,” said the minister. “'Mornin', Zebedee,” grunted Elkanah. “I have--hum--ha!--been discussing the regrettable affair of last night with Mr. Ellery. I have tried--hum--ha! to show him that respectable people of our society don't associate with Come-Outers, and that for a Regular minister to go to their meetings is something neither the congregation nor the parish committee approves of. No--er--hum--ha! no!” “And I explained to Captain Daniels,” observed the minister, “that I went there for what seemed to me good reasons, and, as they did seem to me good at the time, I'm not ashamed of having gone. It was an honest mistake on my part and I may make more.” “But the society--” began Elkanah. Captain Zeb interrupted him. “Don't worry about the society, Mr. Ellery,” he said with emphasis. “Nor about the parish committee, either. Great fishhooks! the most of us are tickled to death over what you said to Eben Hammond. We think it's a mighty good joke. YOU didn't know, of course, and what you did was done innocent. He! he! he! Did you lay him out, hey?” “Zebedee,” began Captain Daniels, “I must say I can't see anything to laugh at.” “You never could, Elkanah. I remember that time when you and me and some of the fellers home from sea went out sailin' and the boom knocked you overboard with your Sunday clothes on. Lordy, how the rest of us did holler! but you never cracked a smile. If you'd seen yourself when we hauled you in! whiskers runnin' salt water; beaver hat lookin' like a drownded kitten--”