ng that night, things began to happen with lightning-like
rapidity. A spirit of distrust and suspicion sprang up among the members
of the little church over night. The congregations dwindled down, till
within a month they were not one-half their original size. But in spite
of the friction that was grinding at the religious machinery, Mr.
McGowan went on steadily about his work. He visited the Inn more
frequently, and won no little renown among the members of the club. But
here he also had his enemies, and they were becoming bolder in
proportion as the church grew more hostile toward its minister. Sim
Hicks, the keeper of the Inn, began an open fight against Mr. McGowan's
intrusions, declaring he would make good a former threat to oust the
"Psalm-singer" from the village.

One evening Mr. McGowan returned to his study deeply perplexed. What was
the meaning in the unjust persecution? Not that he complained; his
difficulty was rather his inability to get at the bottom of it all. He
stood before his window gazing absently out into the gathering dusk,
when Captain Pott quietly opened the door and entered.

"Can I come in, Mack?"

"I'd love to have you. I need company."

"Anything special wrong? I've been noticing you're getting awful thin of
late. Ain't Eadie's cooking agreeing with you?"

"I'm afraid that food cooked to the queen's taste wouldn't agree with me
these days."

"Ain't in love, be you? I've heard tell how it affects people like
that."

The young man turned toward his friend. The wry smile with which he
tried to divert the seaman did not hide the hurt expression in his eyes.
The Captain caught the expression.

"Thought likely," he observed, pulling at his moustache. "But that ain't
no reason for you losing sleep and flesh over, unless she ain't in love
with you."

"There's no reason why she should be."

"Tush, tush, son. Don't ever try to hurry 'em. Let her take all the time
she wants. Women are funny that way."

"Cap'n," said the minister in tense earnestness, "there is something
vitally wrong in this town, and I can't seem to find out what it is."

"I know," nodded the Captain.

"Then I wish you would enlighten me."

"I cal'late I can't do that, Mack. All I can see is that there's
something like mutiny brewing aboard your salvation sloop, and mutiny is
a mighty funny thing. You can't put your finger on it and say, 'Lo,
here, or lo, there,' according to scripture. Ain't that right?"

"You hav