ealthy foreign
gentleman, a friend of the skipper's--and do not let him go again. Pay
him enough and the skipper will think it a first rate joke."

"But he might be so angry that he would refuse to marry us after all our
trouble."

"Oh, do not you believe that--if you make the fee large enough. Treat
him kindly, represent to him the absolute necessity of the case, say
that you never would have thought of such a thing if it could in any way
have been avoided, and I'll warrant he will do the job before you reach
New York."

"I wish I felt as certain as you do."

"Well, suppose he will not be mollified. What then? Your end is
attained. He has acted as chaperon, and involuntary master of propriety
whether he would or not. A minister is just as good as a matron to
chaperon the maiden. Of course he will have his action for damages
against you, and you will be willing to pay him fairly, but if he brings
you before a jury of New Yorkers, and you simply relate the facts, and
the necessity of the case, little will he get of damages beyond a
plentiful supply of jokes and laughter. You know there is very little
love lost between the people of the two colonies; and that the Manhattan
people have no more respect for all the witchcraft business, than you
and I have."

Master Raymond made no reply. He did not want to kidnap a minister, if
it could be in any way avoided. With Master Putnam, however, that
seemed to be one of the most desirable features of the proposed plan,
only he was tenfold more sorry now than ever, that such weighty
prudential reasons prevented his taking any active share in the
enterprise. To kidnap a minister--especially if it could be the Reverend
Cotton Mather--seemed to him something which was worth almost the
risking of his liberty and property in which to take a hand.

CHAPTER XXVII.

The Dissimulation of Master Raymond.

About this time the gossips of Salem village began to remark upon the
attentions that were being paid by the wealthy young Englishman, Master
Ellis Raymond, to various members of the "afflicted circle." He petted
those bright and terribly precocious children of twelve, Ann Putnam and
Abigail Williams; he almost courted the older girls, Mary Walcot, Mercy
Lewis and Leah Herrick and had a kindly word for Mary Warren, Sarah
Churchill and others, whenever he saw them. As for Mistress Ann Putnam,
the mother, he always had been very respectful to her. While in Boston
he had purch