window of Zoeth Peters's house, next door to the Regular church,
was thrown up and Mrs. Peters's head, bound with a blue-and-white
handkerchief in lieu of a sweeping cap, was thrust forth into the crisp
March air.

"What is it, Cap'n Mayo?" screamed Mrs. Peters. "Hey?"

"Hey?" repeated Captain Zeb, peering round the chaise curtain. "Who's
that?"

"It's me. Is somebody dead?"

"Who's me? Oh! No, Hettie, nobody's dead, though I'm likely to bust a
blood vessel if I keep on yellin' much longer. Is the parson to home?"

"Hey?"

"Oh, heavens alive! I say is--Ha, there you be, Mr. Ellery. Mornin',
Keziah."

The minister and Mrs. Coffin, the former with a napkin in his hand, had
emerged from the side door of the parsonage and now came hurrying down
to the gate.

"Land of Goshen!" exclaimed the captain, "you don't mean to tell me
you ain't done breakfast yet, and it after seven o'clock. Why, we're
thinkin' about dinner up to our house."

Keziah answered. "Yes," she said, "I shouldn't wonder. Your wife tells
me, Zeb, that the only time you ain't thinkin' about dinner is when you
think of breakfast or supper. We ain't so hungry here that we get up
to eat in the middle of the night. What's the matter? Hettie Peters is
hollerin' at you; did you know it?"

"Did I know it? Tut! tut! tut! I'd known it if I was a mile away, 'less
I was paralyzed in my ears. Let her holler; 'twill do her good and keep
her in practice for Come-Outer meetin'. Why, Mr. Ellery, I tell you:
Em'lous Sparrow, the fish peddler, stepped up to our house a few minutes
ago. He's just come down from the shanties over on the shore by the
light--where the wreck was, you know--and he says there's a 'morphrodite
brig anchored three or four mile off and she's flyin' colors ha'f mast
and union down. They're gettin' a boat's crew together to go off to
her and see what's the row. I'm goin' to drive over and I thought maybe
you'd like to go along. I told the old lady--my wife, I mean--that I
thought of pickin' you up and she said 'twas a good idee. Said my likin'
to cruise with a parson in my old age was either a sign that I was
hopeful or fearful, she didn't know which; and either way it ought to be
encouraged. He, he, he! What do you say, Mr. Ellery? Want to go?"

The minister hesitated. "I'd like to," he said. "I'd like to very much.
But I ought to work on my sermon this morning."

Keziah cut in here. "Cat's foot!" she sniffed. "Let your sermon go for
this