“And this mornin',” crowed Captain Zebedee, concluding his long yarn, “after that, mind you, that lubber Zach Foster is around town tellin' folks that his schooner had been over the course so often she COULDN'T get lost. She found her way home herself. WHAT do you think of that?”
The two members of the parish committee left the parsonage soon after Captain Mayo had finished his story. Elkanah had listened with growing irritation and impatience. Zebedee lingered a moment behind his companions.
“Don't you fret yourself about what happened last night, Mr. Ellery,” he whispered. “It'll be all right. 'Course nobody'd want you to keep up chummin' in with Come-Outers, but what you said to old Eben'll square you this time. So long.”
The minister shut the door behind his departing guests. Then he went out into the kitchen, whither the housekeeper had preceded him. He found her standing on the back step, looking across the fields. The wash bench was untenanted.
“Hum!” mused Ellery thoughtfully, “that was a good story of Captain Mayo's. This man Hammond must be a fine chap. I should like to meet him.”
Keziah still looked away over the fields. She did not wish her employer to see her face—just then.
“I thought you would meet him,” she said. “He was here a little while ago and I asked him to wait. I guess Zeb's yarn was too much for him; he doesn't like to be praised.”
“So? Was he here? At the Regular parsonage? I'm surprised.”
“He and I have known each other for a long while.”
“Well, I'm sorry he's gone. I think I should like him.”