“Where’ve you been keeping him? Ain’t you going to fetch him out?” she cried, rising. “I’ll go get him.”
“Wait, Clemmie. It’s been nigh onto twenty-five year since he was born, so he ain’t a baby. Let Mack fetch him. Mack!” called the Captain sharply. A slight twinkle in his eyes offset the assumed severity of his command.
The door opened and Mr. McGowan stood on the threshold. Miss Pipkin stared from the one to the other.
“Be the both of you clean crazy?” she demanded, as the men grinned rather foolishly at each other.
“No, Clemmie. We’ve just woke up to our senses, that’s all.”
“If you think this a good joke,–––”
“It ain’t no joke,” said the Captain, motioning Mr. McGowan to come nearer. “I give you my word, it ain’t, Clemmie. There’s Adoniah Phillips’ son.”
With a smothered exclamation Miss Pipkin dropped back against the table. “You––you–––” But she ended with a gasp for breath and words.
“The Cap’n is telling you the truth,” confirmed the minister.