believe they ever willcome, but--There! there! everybody has to bear burdens in this life, Ical'late. It's a vale of tears, 'cordin' to you Come-Outer folks, thoughI've never seen much good in wearin' a long face and a crape bathin'suit on that account. Hey? What are you listenin' to?"
"I thought I heard a carriage stop, that was all."
Mrs. Coffin went to the window and peered into the fog.
"Can't see anything," she said. "'Tain't anybody for here, that's sure.I guess likely 'twas Cap'n Elkanah. He and Annabel were goin' to driveover to Denboro this afternoon. She had some trimmin' to buy. Takes morethan fog to separate Annabel Daniels from dressmakin'. Well, there's alittle more packin' to do; then I thought I'd go down to that parsonageand take a whack at the cobwebs. I never saw so many in my born days.You'd think all the spiders from here to Ostable had been holdin' campmeetin' in that shut-up house."
The packing took about an hour. When it was finished, the carpet rolledup, and the last piece of linen placed in the old trunk, Keziah turnedto her guest.
"Now, Gracie," she said, "I feel as though I ought to go to theparsonage. I can't do much more'n look at the cobwebs to-night, butto-morrow those spiders had better put on their ascension robes. Theend of the world's comin' for them, even though it missed fire for theMillerites when they had their doin's a few years ago. You can stayhere and wait, if 'twon't be too lonesome. We'll have supper when I getback."
Grace looked tempted.
"I've a good mind to go with you," she said. "I want to be with you asmuch as I can, and HE isn't there yet. I'm afraid uncle might not likeit, but--"
"Sho! Come along. Eben Hammond may be a chronic sufferer from acuteCome-Outiveness, but he ain't a ninny. Nobody'll see you, anyway. Thisfog's like charity, it'll cover a heap of sins. Do come right along.Wait till I get on my things."
She threw a shawl over her shoulders, draped a white knitted "cloud"over her head, and took from a nail a key, attached by a strong cord toa block of wood eight inches long.
"Elkanah left the key with me," she observed. "No danger of losin' it,is there. Might as well lose a lumber yard. Old Parson Langley tied itup this way, so he wouldn't miss his moorin's, I presume likely. Thepoor old thing was so nearsighted and absent-minded along toward thelast that they say he used to hire Noah Myrick's boy to come in and lookhim over every Sunday mornin' before church, so's to be sure he hadn'tgot his wig on stern foremost. That's the way Zeb Mayo tells the yarn,anyhow."
They left the house and came out into the wet mist. Then, turning tothe right, in the direction which Trumet, with unconscious irony, calls"downtown," they climbed the long slope where the main road mounts theoutlying ridge of Cannon Hill, passed Captain Mayo's big house--thefinest in Trumet, with the exception of the Daniels mansion--anddescended into the hollow beyond. Here, at the corner where the"Lighthouse Lane" begins its winding way over the rolling knolls anddunes to the light and the fish shanties on the "ocean side," stoodthe plain, straight-up-and-down meeting house of the Regular society.Directly opposite was the little parsonage, also very straight up anddown. Both were painted white with green blinds. This statement issuperfluous to those who remember Cape architecture at this period;practically every building from Sandwich to Provincetown was white andgreen.
They entered the yard, through the gap in the white fence, and wentaround the house, past the dripping evergreens and the bare, wet lilacbushes, to the side door, the lock of which Keziah's key fitted. Therewas a lock on the front door, of course, but no one thought of meddlingwith that. That door had been opened but once during the late pastor'sthirty-year tenantry. On the occasion of his funeral the mourners cameand went, as was proper, by that solemn portal.
Mrs. Coffin thrust the key into the keyhole of the side door and essayedto turn it.
"Humph!" she muttered, twisting to no purpose; "I don't see why--Thismust be the right key, because--Well, I declare, if it ain't unlockedalready! That's some of Cap'n Elkanah's doin's. For a critter as fussyand particular about some things, he's careless enough about others.Mercy we ain't had any tramps around here lately. Come in."
She led the way into the dining room of the parsonage. Two of the blindsshading the windows of that apartment had been opened when she andCaptain Daniels made their visit, and the dim gray light made the roommore lonesome and forsaken in appearance than a deeper gloom couldpossibly have done. The black walnut extension table in the center,closed to its smallest dimensions because Parson Langley had eaten alonefor so many years; the black walnut chairs set back against the wall atregular intervals; the rag carpet and braided mats--homemade donationsfrom the ladies of the parish--on the green painted floor; the dolorouspictures on the walls; "Death of Washington," "Stoning of Stephen," anda still more deadly "fruit piece" committed in oils years ago by a nowdeceased boat painter; a black walnut sideboard with some blue-and-whitecrockery upon it; a gilt-framed mirror with another outrage in oilsemphasizing its upper half; dust over everything and the cobwebsmentioned by Keziah draping the corners of the ceiling; this was thedining room of the Regular parsonage as Grace saw it upon this, herfirst visit. The dust and cobwebs were, in her eyes, the only novelties,however. Otherwise, the room was like many others in Trumet, and, ifthere had been one or two paintings of ships, would have been typical ofthe better class.
"Phew!" exclaimed Keziah, sniffing disgustedly. "Musty and shut upenough, ain't it? Down here in the dampness, and 'specially in thespring, it don't take any time for a house to get musty if it ain'taired out regular. Mr. Langley died only three months ago, but we'vebeen candidatin' ever since and the candidates have been boarded round.There's been enough of 'em, too; we're awful hard to suit, I guess.That's it. Do open some more blinds and a window. Fresh air don't hurtanybody--unless it's spiders," with a glare at the loathed cobwebs.
The blinds and a window being opened, more light entered the room. Graceglanced about it curiously.
"So this is going to be your new home now, Aunt Keziah," she observed."How queer that seems."
"Um--h'm. Does seem queer, don't it? Must seem queer to you to be sonear the headquarters of everything your uncle thinks is wicked. Smellof brimstone any, does it?" she asked with a smile.
"No, I haven't noticed it. You've got a lot of cleaning to do. I wish Icould help. Look at the mud on the floor."
Keziah looked.
"Mud?" she exclaimed. "Why, so 'tis! How in the world did that comehere? Wet feet, sure's you're born. Man's foot, too. Cap'n Elkanah's,I guess likely; though the prints don't look hardly big enough for his.Elkanah's convinced that he's a great man and his boots bear him outin it, don't they? Those marks don't look broad enough for hisunderstandin', but I guess he made 'em; nobody else could. Here's thesettin' room."
She threw open another door. A room gloomy with black walnut andfragrant with camphor was dimly visible.
"Cheerful's a tomb, ain't it?" was Mrs. Coffin's comment. "Well, we'llget some light and air in here pretty soon. Here's the front hall andthere's the front stairs. The parlor's off to the left. We won't botherwith that yet a while. This little place in here is what Mr. Langleyused to call his 'study.' Halloa! how this door sticks!"
The door did stick, and no amount of tugging could get it open, thoughGrace added her efforts to those of Keziah.
"'Tain't locked," commented Mrs. Coffin, "cause there ain't any lock onit. I guess it's just swelled and stuck from the damp. Though it's odd,I don't remember--Oh, well! never mind. Let's sweeten up this settin'room a little. Open a window or two in here. We'll have to hurry if wewant to do anything before it gets dark. I'm goin' into the kitchen toget a broom."
She hurried out, returning in a moment or two with a broom and a mostdisgusted expression.
"How's a body goin' to sweep with that?" she demanded, exhibiting thefrayed utensil, the business end of which was worn to a stub. "Morelike a shovel, enough sight. Well, there's pretty nigh dust enough fora shovel, so maybe this'll take off the top layers. S'pose I'll ever getthis house fit for Mr. Ellery
to live in before he comes? I wonder ifhe's a particular man?"
Grace, who was struggling with a refractory window, paused for breath.
"I'm sure I don't know," she replied. "I've never seen
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