Keziah Coffin Part 51

Keziah was delighted; here was work after her own heart. But she still hesitated.

"Doctor," she said, "you've forgot one thing, that's Gracie herself.

Would she marry him now, knowing it may mean the loss of his ministry and all, any more than she would at first? I don't believe it."

"That's your part, Keziah. You've got to show her she MUST marry him or he'll die; see? Call on me to back you up in any fairy yarn you spin.

You prove to her it's her duty to marry him. You'll have to stay, here and help nurse, of course, and that's easy because his disease isn't contagious. You convince her and I'll take care of the congregation.

He'll live to be minister here for the rest of his life, if he wants to, and she'll be a minister's wife and sit in the front pew. I'll guarantee the church if you'll guarantee the girl. Why, it's your duty! Come, now, what do you say?"

Keziah's hesitation was at an end. Her face lit up.

"I say good!" she cried. "And I'll be thankful to you all the rest of my life. But for the dear mercy sakes, don't say 'duty' to me again. Oh, doctor, if you only knew what it means to me to be fightin' at last for somethin' that ain't just duty, but what I really want! I do honestly believe we can win. Glory, hallelujah! And now I want to give you a piece of advice, your course for the first leg, as you might say: you see Cap'n Zebedee Mayo."

"Humph! Cap'n Zeb is the first man I mean to see."

Captain Zeb listened with his mouth and eyes and ears open. Mrs. Mayo was with him when the doctor called, and she, too, listened.

"Well!" exclaimed the captain, when the plea for support was ended.

"Well, by the flukes of Jonah's whale! Talk about surprises! Old lady, what do you say?"

"I say go ahead, Zebedee. Go ahead! If Mr. Ellery wanted to marry Jezebel's sister, and I knew he really wanted to, I'd--I do believe I'd help him get her. And Grace Van Horne is a good girl. Go ahead."

"Of course," put in Parker, profiting by a hint of Mrs. Coffin's, "of course Daniels will fight tooth and nail against us. He'll be for discharging Ellery at once. And he really runs the parish committee."

"He does, hey? Well, I cal'late he don't. Not if I'm on deck, he don't.

All right, doctor, I'm with you. He, he, he!" he chuckled. "Say, doc, do you know I sort of love a good lively row. That's been the only trouble with our society sence Mr. Ellery took command of it--there ain't been any rows. He, he, he! Well, there'll be one now."

There was, and it was lively enough to suit even Captain Zeb. Dr.

Parker, on his calls that day, was a.s.sailed with a mult.i.tude of questions concerning Grace's presence at the shanty. He answered them cheerfully, dilating upon the girl's bravery, her good sense, and the fact that she had saved Mr. Ellery's life. Then he confided, as a strict secret, the fact that the two were engaged. Before his hearers had recovered from the shock of this explosion, he was justifying the engagement. Why shouldn't they marry if they wanted to? It was a free country. The girl wasn't a Come-Outer any longer, and, besides--and this carried weight in a good many households--what a black eye the marriage would be for that no-account crowd at the chapel.

Captain Zebedee, having s.h.i.+pped with the insurgents, worked for them from sunrise to sunset and after. Zeb was something of a politician and knew whom to "get at." He sought his fellows on the parish committee and labored with them. Mrs. Mayo and the doctor's wife championed the cause at sewing circle. They were lively, those sewing meetings, and the fur flew. Didama Rogers and Lavinia Pepper were everywhere and ready to agree with whichever side seemed likely to win. Lavinia was so deeply interested that she forgot to catechise Abishai further about his untimely reference to Peters's grove. And Kyan, puzzled but thankful, kept silence.

It was by no means a one-sided struggle. Captain Elkanah, spurred on by the furious Annabel, marshaled his forces and proclaimed that Ellery, having disgraced the Regular Society, should no longer occupy its pulpit.

"If he does," thundered Elkanah, "I shall never cross the threshold of that church. And I've wors.h.i.+ped there for fifty years. Hum--ha! I should like to know whose money has gone more liberal for that meeting house than mine! But not another cent--no, sir! not one--if that licentious young scamp continues to blaspheme there."

He hinted concerning a good-sized contribution toward a parish house, something the society needed. If Ellery was discharged, the contribution would probably be made, not otherwise. And this was a point worth considering.

Daniels also wrote to his influential friends of the National Regular Society. But Captain Zebedee had forestalled him there and both letters were laid on the table to await further developments. As for the Come-Outers, they were wild with rage and Grace was formally read out of their communion.

"I wonder," shrieked Ezekiel Ba.s.sett, in prayer meeting, "what the sperrit of the good and great man who used to lead us from this 'ere platform would say if he was here now? Hey? what would he say?"

Josiah Badger upreared his lanky person. "I dreamed about Cap'n Eben t'other n-nin-nun-night," he stammered. "I see him just as--p-pup-pup-plain as you hear me n-n-now. And he says to me, he says, Josiah,' he says, 'I-I-I-I--'"

"Ki yi!" broke in Thoph Baker, from the shadow of the rear seat. Josiah turned to berate Thoph, who, being in disgrace because of his defense of Ellery, was reckless, and the communication from the dead leader of the Come-Outers was lost in the squabble which followed.

Meantime Keziah, installed as head nurse at the shanty, was having her troubles. The minister was getting better, slowly but surely getting better. The danger of brain fever was at an end, but he was very weak and must not be excited, so the doctor said. He knew nothing of the struggle for and against him which was splitting Trumet in twain, and care was taken that he should not know it. He was not allowed to talk, and, for the most part, was quite contented to be silent, watching Grace as she moved about the room. If he wondered why she was still with him, he said nothing, and the thought of what his congregation might say did not vex him in the least. She was there, he saw her every day, that was enough.

He had expressed a wish to talk with his housekeeper. "I've got something to tell you, Aunt Keziah," he said weakly. "Some news for you and--and--"

"Cat's foot!" snapped Keziah briskly, "don't start in tellin' me news now. I've got my hands full as 'tis. News'll keep and you won't, if you talk another minute."

"But this is important."

"So are you, though you may not think so. If you don't believe it ask Grace."

"Well," the minister sighed. "Well, perhaps I won't tell it now. I'd rather wait until I feel stronger. You won t care, will you? It will be hard to tell and I--"

"No, no! Care? No. If it's bad news I don't want to hear it, and if it's good I can wait, I cal'late. You turn over and take a nap."

She could manage him; it was with Grace that she had her struggle. John was safe now; he would be himself again before very long, and the girl had begun to think of his future and his reputation. She knew that gossip must be busy in the village, and, much as she wished to remain by his side, she decided that she should not do so. And then Keziah began to fulfill her agreement with Dr. Parker.

First, and bluntly, she told the girl that her leaving now was useless.

The secret was out; it had been made public. Everyone knew she was in love with John and he with her. Their engagement was considered an established certainty. Grace was greatly agitated and very indignant.

"Who dared say so?" she demanded. "Who dared say we were engaged? It's not true. It's a wicked lie and--Who is responsible, Aunt Keziah?"

"Well, I suppose likely I am, much as anybody, deary."

"You? You, Aunt Keziah?"

"Yup; me. You are in love with him; at any rate, you said so. And you're here with him, ain't you? If you two ain't engaged you ought to be."

"Aunt Keziah, how can you speak so? Don't you realize--"

"Look here. Don't you want to marry him?"

"WANT to? Oh, please--How can you? I--"

"S-s-s.h.!.+ There! there! I am a bull-headed old thing, for sure. But I'm like the dog that chased the rat across the shelf where they kept the best china, my intentions are good. Don't cry, deary. Let's get to the bottom of this thing, as the man said when he tumbled into the well.

When I first knew that you and John were in love with each other, I felt dreadful. I knew your uncle and I knew Trumet. If you had married then, or let people know that you thought of it, 'twould have been the end, and ruin for John and you. But things are diff'rent now, a good deal diff'rent. John is wors.h.i.+ped pretty nigh, since his pluck with that smallpox man. He could go into church and dance a jig in the pulpit and n.o.body--or precious few, at least--would find fault. And you've stood by him. If it wa'n't for you he wouldn't be here to-day, and people know that. Dr. Parker and Captain Zebedee and Gaius Winslow and dozens more are fighting for him and for you. And the doctor says they are going to win. Do you want to spoil it all?"

"Aunt Keziah, that night before uncle died I was upstairs in my room and I heard uncle and Captain Elkanah Daniels talking."

"Elkanah? Was he there at your house?"

"Yes. Somehow or other--I don't know how--he had learned about--about John and me. And he was furious. Aunt Keziah, I heard him say that unless I broke off with John he would drive him from the ministry and from Trumet and disgrace him forever. He said that if I really cared for him I would not ruin his life. That brought me to myself. I realized how wicked I had been and what I was doing. That was why I--I--"

"There! there! Tut! tut! tut! hum! Now I see. But, Gracie, you ain't goin' to ruin his life. No, nor Elkanah ain't goin' to do it, either.

He can't, no matter how hard he tries. I've lived to see the day when there's a bigger man in the Reg'lar church than Elkanah Daniels, and I thank the good Lord for it."

"I never should have come here. I know it. But he needed me. Aunt Keziah, he was sick and dying almost, and I couldn't leave him. I came, and now he will be ruined and disgraced."

"He won't, I tell you; he won't. Listen to me. I ain't talkin' for my health. Listen!"

She argued and pleaded and coaxed, and, at last, when she began to think she had prevailed, Grace brought forward another objection. She had given her word to her uncle. How could she break that promise made to a dying man? She would feel like a traitor.

"Traitor to who?" demanded the housekeeper, losing patience. "Not to poor Nat, for he's gone. And don't you suppose that he and Eben understand things better now, where they are? Do you suppose that Nat wouldn't want you to be happy? I know he would, for I knew him."

It was still unsettled when the long talk was over, but Grace agreed not to leave the minister at present. She would stay where she was until he was himself again, at least. Keziah was satisfied with the preliminary skirmish. She felt confident of winning the victory, and in the prospect of happiness for others, she was almost happy herself. Yet each time the mail was brought to the shanty she dreaded to look at it, and the sight of a stranger made her shake with fear. Ansel Coffin had threatened to come to Trumet. If he came, she had made up her mind what to do.