When they reached the lighthouse, Mr. Shepard, who had seen them coming, was standing on the doorstep to welcome them.
"How do you do, Ethan?" said Mr. Frothingham, grasping Mr. Shepard's hand warmly.
"How d'y' do, Henry?" replied Mr. Shepard as heartily; "so it's you that have brought home that gal of mine! Glad enough to see you."
Mr. Shepard led the way into the parlor, and threw open all the window-blinds in a hurry.
"I can't see what wimmin want to keep out all the daylight for," he said; "but that's Martha's way.—You go tell yer aunt there's a friend of mine here, Ruth, an' I'd like to introduce her."
Ruth went to tell her aunt, and Mr. Shepard continued,—
"I b'lieve you ha'n't seen my new wife yet?"
"No. I hope you've drawn a prize in the lottery, Ethan."
"Wall, I don't know what I've drawn; somethin', that's sure." Here Mr. Shepard looked ominously sober. "The wust thing I've found out yet is that she's plaguey jealous."
"Jealous!" exclaimed Mr. Frothingham, in astonishment. "Why, it can't be possible, Ethan. You are not the kind of a man to give a woman the slightest excuse for jealousy."