"You came a good ways to tell me that, Captain Phippeny."
"Yes, I did. Leastways I didn't," he responded. "I come to tell you about—about Mellony."
"What about Mellony, Captain Phippeny?" she demanded, pale, but uncompromising. "What have you got to tell me about Mellony Pember?" she reiterated as he paused.
"Not Mellony Pember," gasped the captain, a three-cornered smile trying to make headway against his embarrassment as he recalled the ancient tale of breaking the news to the Widow Smith; "Mellony Baldwin."
"Mellony Baldwin!" repeated Mrs. Pember, stonily, not yet fully comprehending.
The captain grew more and more nervous.
"Yes," he proceeded, with the haste of despair, "yes. Mis' Pember, you see Mellony—Mellony's married."
"Mellony married!" Strangely enough she had not thought of that. She grasped the doorpost for support.
"Yes, she up and married him," went on the captain more blithely. "I hardly thought it of Mellony," he added in not unpleasurable reflection, "nor yet of Ira."
"Nor I either." Mrs. Pember's lips moved with difficulty. Mellony married! The structure reared with tears and prayers, the structure of Mellony's happiness, seemed to crumble before her eyes.