“Keziah!”
“Well, don't get mad. I think a lot of Grace, and I don't know anyone I'd rather see you marry.”
“I do. Keziah, that's enough of that. Are you and dad in partnership to get me spliced and out of the way? He was at me this mornin' along the same line. Don't say anything like that again, even in fun. YOU know why.”
“All right, all right. Now tell me about yourself. Have you had a good voyage? How do you like your owners? How did Zach Foster ever get the packet in through yesterday's fog?”
“Voyage was all right. Some rugged weather on the trip out, but homeward bound we slid along like a slush bucket on a greased plank. Owners are all right. Good people as ever I sailed for. As for Zach and the packet—Ho, ho!”
He laughed, rocking back and forth on the chair, which creaked in sympathy.
“What's the joke?” demanded the housekeeper. “Don't do that! That chair wasn't made for elephants to use.”
“Hey? 'Tis pretty weak in the knees, ain't it? Dad would say 'twas a piece with the creed of those that owned it. I—What's that? Somebody's comin'. I'm goin' to clear out. I don't want to be put through my catechism yet a while.”
“No, you mustn't go. I want you to meet Mr. Ellery. You sit out on the wash bench by the back door till I get rid of whoever 'tis that's comin'. Scoot!”
Nat “scooted,” stopping to snatch up his hat as he ran. Keziah went into the dining room and admitted Captain Zebedee Mayo, who was panting from the exertion of his walk.