Keziah Coffin Part 14

Captain Daniels marched to the dining-room door, his gold-headed cane marking time like a drumbeat. He nodded curtly to Keziah, who answered the knock, and stepped across the threshold.

"Hum--ha!" he barked. "Is the minister--hum--ha! is Mr. Ellery in?"

"Yes, he's in."

"Tell him I want to see him."

The housekeeper announced the visitor.

"He's as sour as a skimmin' of last week's milk," she whispered. "Don't be afraid of him, though."

"Oh, I'm not. Show him in."

"All right. Say, Mr. Ellery, it's none of my business, but I wouldn't say anything about your seein' Grace home. That's none of HIS business, either, or anybody else's."

The head of the parish committee stalked into the study and the door closed behind him. A rumble of voices in animated conversation succeeded.

Mrs. Coffin went out into the kitchen and resumed her business of making a dried-apple pie. There was a hot fire in the stove and she opened the back door to let in the fresh air. She worked briskly, rolling out the dough, filling the deep dish, and pinking the edges of the upper crust with a fork. She was thinking as she worked, but not of the minister or his visitor.

She put the pie in the oven and set the damper. And, as she knelt by the stove, something struck her lightly on the back of the neck. She looked up and about her, but there was no one in sight. Then she picked up the object which had struck her. It was a cranberry, withered and softened by the winter frosts.

She looked at the cranberry, then at the open door, and her eyes twinkled. Running quickly to the threshold she peered out. The back yard was, apparently, empty, save for a few hens belonging to near neighbors, and these had stopped scratching for a living and were huddled near the fence.

"Hum!" she mused. "You rascal! Eddie Snow, if it's you, I'll be after you in a minute. Just because you're big enough to quit school and drive store wagon is no reason why I can't--Hey? Oh!"

She was looking down below the door, which opened outward and was swung partly back on its hinges. From under the door projected a boot, a man's boot and one of ample size.

Keziah's cheeks, already red from the heat of the stove, reddened still more. Her lips twitched and her eyes sparkled.

"Hum!" she said again. "They say you can tell the Old Scratch by his footprints, even if you can't smell the sulphur. Anyhow, you can tell a Hammond by the size of his boots. Come out from behind that door this minute. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?"

The owner of the boot stepped forth from behind the door and seized her by both hands.

"Halloo, Keziah!" he cried joyfully. "My, but it's good to see you."

"Halloo, Nat!" said Keziah heartily. "It's kind of good to see you, too."

The rest of him was in keeping with his boots. He was big and broad-shouldered and bearded. His face, above the beard, was tanned to a deep reddish brown, and the corners of his eyes were marked with dozens of tiny wrinkles. He was dressed in blue cloth and wore a wide-brimmed, soft felt hat. He entered the kitchen and tossed the hat into a corner.

"Well!" he exclaimed. "Why don't you act surprised to see a feller? Here I've been cruisin' from the Horn to Barnegat and back again, and you act as if I'd just dropped in to fetch the cup of mola.s.ses I borrowed yesterday. What do you mean by it?"

"Oh, I heard you'd made port."

"Did, hey? That's Trumet, sure pop. You ain't the only one. I sneaked off acrost lots so's to dodge the gang of neighbors that I knew would be sailin' into our yard, the whole fleet loaded to the gunwale with questions. Wanted to see you first, Keziah."

"Yes. So, instead of callin' like a Christian, you crept up the back way and threw cranberries at me. Ain't you ashamed of yourself?"

"Not a mite." He took a handful of the frostbitten berries from his coat pocket and inspected them lovingly. "Ain't they fine?" he asked, crunching two or three between his teeth. "I picked 'em up as I came along. I tell you, that's the home taste, all right."

"Don't eat those frozen things. They'll give you your never-get-over."

"What? Cape Cod cranberries! Never in the world. I'd rather eat sand down here than the finest mug my steward can cook. Tell you what I'll do, though; I'll swear off on the cranberries if you'll give me a four-inch slice of that pie I saw you put in the oven. Dried-apple, I'll bet my sou'wester. Think you might ask a feller to sit down. Ain't you glad to see me?"

Mrs. Coffin pulled forward one of the kitchen chairs. He seated himself on it and it groaned under his weight.

"Whew!" he whistled. "Never made to stand rough weather, was it? Well, AIN'T you glad?"

Keziah looked at him gravely.

"You know I'm glad, Nat," she said.

"So? I hoped you would be, but I did want to hear you say it. Now you come to anchor yourself and let's have a talk. I've been countin' on it ever since we set tops'ls off Surinam."

The housekeeper took the other chair.

"How are you--" she began. He stopped her.

"S-shh!" he interrupted. "Don't say anything for a minute. Let me look at you. Just as clean and wholesome and good-lookin' as ever. They don't make girls like that anywhere else but down on this old sand bar. Not a day older, by the jumpin'--"

She held up her hand.

"Hush, Nat," she protested; "don't talk foolish. Girl? Not a day older?

Why, if feelin's count for anything, I'm as old as Methusaleh. Haven't I had enough to make me old?"

He was grave immediately.

"I beg your pardon, Keziah," he said. "I'm a dough head, that's a fact.

I hadn't forgot about Sol, but I was so glad to be home again and to see dad and Grace and the old town and you that everything else flew out of my mind. Poor Sol! I liked him."

"He liked you, too. No wonder, considerin' what you did to--"

"Belay! Never mind that. Poor chap! Well, he's rid of his sufferin's at last. Tell me about it, if you can without bringin' all the trouble back too plain."

So she told him of her brother's sickness and death, of having to give up the old home, and, finally, of her acceptance of the housekeeper's position. He listened, at first with sympathy and then with suppressed indignation.

"By the jumpin' Moses!" he exclaimed. "And Elkanah was goin' to turn you out of house and home. The mean, pompous old--"

"Hus.h.!.+ hus.h.!.+ he's in there with Mr. Ellery."

"Who? Elkanah?"

"Yes; they're in the study."

"By the jumpin'--Let me talk to him for a few minutes. I'LL tell him what's good for his health. You just listen."

He rose from the chair, but she made him sit down again.

"No, no," she protested. "He wasn't to blame. He had to have his rent and I didn't feel that I could afford to keep up a whole house, just for myself. And, besides, I ought to be thankful to him, I suppose. He got me this place."