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"Who, then " continued Grandma, in an awful tone "do you consider made beans, pa?" Grandpa's eyes, as he glared at the dish, were large and round, and significant of unspeakable things. "Bijonah Keeler!" Grandma hastened to say; "my ears have heard enough!" As for Grandma, neither her appetite, nor her spirits, flagged.
But then she ought not to feel so. Why, there was time and time agin that I didn't git no letter from Bijonah Keeler when he was voyagin', and to be sure, they wasn't much better than nothin' when they did come; for pa" Grandma cast a calmly comprehensive glance at her unconscious mate "pa was a man that had a great many idees in general, but, when he set down to write a letter, somehow he seemed to consider that it wasn't no place for idees, a letter wasn't seemed as though he managed a'most a purpose not to get none in."
"Bijonah Keeler!" came from behind the door in accents still calm, indeed, but freighted with a significance which words have faint power to express. "Yis, yis, ma! I'm a coming, ma!" replied Grandpa, rising hastily and shuffling toward the door; "I'm a coming, ma! I'm a coming!" The door opened wide enough to receive him, and then closed upon him in all his ignominy.
It was only noon, but Bijonah was speculating, and when he saw the fog bank coming he refused to run any risk with his men, and recalled them to the schooner by firing his shotgun until they all replied to the signal by raising one oar upright. It must not be thought that it was the fog that induced Bijonah to do this.
He ranged up astern of the Rosan with a cheery yell and let go his anchor, ordering the dories over the side in the same breath. But his aspirations received a chilling setback from none other than Bijonah Tanner himself.
At Swallowtail Bijonah rounded the point, gave one majestic wave of his hat in farewell, and put the Rosan over on the starboard tack, for the course was southeast, and followed practically the wake of Code Schofield. One after another the schooners and sloops, closely bunched, came about as smartly as their crews could bring them and the smartest of them all was Nat Burns's Nettie B.
She had made a long berth overnight, dressed an excellent morning's catch, and knocked off half a day because Bijonah did not feel it right to keep Code longer away from his vessel. And Tanner managed the thing with a good eye to the dramatic. When he reached the rear guard of the fleet he began to work his vessel gracefully in and out among the sloops and schooners.
"Forget it, papa," he said, easily insolent, as he climbed over the rail in the teeth of a broadside. "We're not goin' to foul your rodin' or steal your fish. I've just come to make a call and tell you the news from home." He handed Bijonah a couple of letters and a package containing those of the men. Two others he kept in his hand.
"Yes, indeed; she was very happy about it, and told me to come right down and tell you." "Wal, if it suits her it suits me," was the dry conclusion. "I hope you'll be happy. You've got a fine gal there, Nat." "I know I have, captain," said Burns warmly; "and I'll try to make her happy." "All right," grunted Bijonah, and sank back into his chair.
Then it was in another key, weighty, yet expressive of no weak irritation, that Grandma called "Come, pa! pa-a! pa-a-a!" Still no answer. Then that voice of Grandma's sung out like a trumpet, terrible with meaning "Bijonah Keeler!" But Grandpa appeared not.
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