“Well, Keziah, it's trouble enough. Dad and I have had a fallin' out.”
Mrs. Coffin's mouth and eyes opened.
“What?” she cried, in utter astonishment.
“Yes. It's true. We had what was next door to a real quarrel after dinner to-day. It would have been a real one if I hadn't walked off and left him. He's as set as the rock of Gibraltar, and—”
“And your foundations ain't given to slippin' much. Nat Hammond, I'm surprised at you! What was it all about? Religion?”
“No, not a sliver of religion in it. If 'twas that, I could dodge, or haul down my colors, if I had to. But it's somethin' worse, enough sight worse. Somethin' I can't do—even for dad—and won't either. Keziah, he's dead set on my marryin' Grace. Says if I don't he'll know that I don't really care a tin nickel for him, or for his wishes, or what becomes of the girl after he's gone.”
“Nat!”
“It's a fact. You see, dad realizes, better'n I thought he did, that his health is pretty shaky and that he is likely to founder 'most any time. He says that don't worry him; if he knew Grace and I were provided for he'd slip his cable with a clean manifest. But the dream of his life, he says, has been that we should marry. And he wants to see it done.”
Keziah was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly:
“And Grace herself? How does she feel about it? Has he spoken to her?”