The minister was obliged to laugh, then.
“I wouldn't do that,” he said. “From what I hear, Mr. Pratt is worth several times fifteen hundred.”
“I know it; but he's so dum mean that 'twould break his heart to see even ten cents gettin' away from him. However, that ain't my only plan. He and Laviny ain't got any mortgage on the marryin' business. Other folks can do it as well as them. What do you think of Hannah Poundberry?”
“What do I think of her? What do you mean?”
“Never mind what I mean. Just you keep that in your head, Mr. Ellery. You remember that I asked you, as man to man, 'What do you think of Hannah Poundberry?'—Yes, yes, Laviny, I'm a-comin'. They want me to ask you to marry 'em,” he added. “I s'pose you'll have to. But say, Mr. Ellery, when you do, just tell Pratt that your usual price for the job is ten dollars. That'll spile his honeymoon for him, or I miss my guess.”
He turned away and moved sulkily toward his beckoning sister and her escort; but wheeled once more to add, in a mysterious whisper, “Don't you forget now, Mr. Ellery. Remember that question I put to you: 'What do you think of'—Yes, yes, La-viny, I hear you!—of you know who?'”
That evening, at the parsonage, Keziah was clearing the table and Captain Nat was helping her. A happy party of four had enjoyed the meal, John and Mrs. Coffin acting as hosts and Grace and the captain being the invited guests. Now the younger couple had gone over to the church, the bell of which was ringing for evening service.
“Hurry up, Keziah,” urged Nat. “If you and me don't get decks cleared pretty soon we'll be late for meetin', and I'd hate to do that, considerin' I'm such a brand-new disciple, as you might say. What do we do next, shorten sail? Like this, hey?”
He pulled the cloth from the table, sending the crumbs flying in all directions, and proceeded to fold it, after a fashion.
“There!” he exclaimed with satisfaction; “there she is, canvas furled and under bare poles. Now we can clear out, can't we? What's the matter?”