“That’s so, Josiah. He is so good without trying to be,” declared Miss Pipkin. She lifted a hand to each of the old man’s shoulders, and he put his arms about her. “Do you believe in the care of Providence, Josiah, and in the guiding hand of God?”
The Captain tightened his embrace, and one of the bony hands of the housekeeper slipped into the knotty fingers about her waist.
“I’m larning to, Clemmie, but I’m going to need a heap of help. I ain’t used to these 383 religious channels, and I cal’late you’ll have to take the helm right often.”
They had not heard the sound of footsteps in the outer room. It was Mrs. Beaver’s voice that caused them to start.
“I thought I’d come over to borrow some–––”
Mrs. Beaver stopped short on the threshold, looked at the Captain and the housekeeper, and began to retreat. The practical Miss Pipkin was the first to recover speech.
“Come on right in, Mrs. Beaver. That’s a silly thing for me to say, seeing you’re already in. But what is it you’d like to borrow?”
Mrs. Beaver continued to retreat and stare. She saw the puddle of coffee on the floor. She eyed with interest the upset table. She saw that the Captain was undetermined what he ought to do with his hands. She watched him as he stumbled backward into the cupboard. Her face was a study.
“What was it you was going to ask for, Eadie?” asked the seaman, trying to appear unconcerned in his decided embarrassment.
“Well, I never!” exclaimed Mrs. Beaver.