“Just got her off the ways, I’d say,” he commented, jerking his head toward an open window through which came the sound of many voices. “You’d best tell ’em where you’re staying, Clemmie, or you’re li’ble to hear some things not intended for your ears.”
She bridled past him and swept into the church. There was a brief pause in the buzz, but the hubbub that followed was doubled in intensity.
That evening while Miss Pipkin was placing the food on the table she appeared worried. She inquired solicitously concerning the minister’s ankle, but there was a distant polite tone in her voice. After supper she asked the Captain to dry the dishes for her, and went to the kitchen. The seaman took his place at the sink only to have the cloth snatched from his hand.
“Josiah,”––she whispered,––“close that door to the dining-room, I’ve got something to ask you.”
“Ain’t you going to let me dry them dishes for you?”
“Of course not.”
The door was closed, and the Captain came back to the sink.
“What’s wrong with Mr. McGowan?”
“Too much red pepper, I cal’late.”