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Updated: June 10, 2025
It was a misty, black night, and Trumet sidewalks were uneven and hard to navigate. But she stumbled on, up the main road to the Corners, down the "Turn-off," past the chapel of the Come-Outers, from the open window of which sounded the drone of a high, nasal voice. Josiah Badger was "testifying," and Keziah caught a fragment of the testimony as she hurried by.
"There, now!" said Keziah. "I was ma-akin' a'most sure you didn't see the right of it, Master Costrell. And I wasn't far wrong, that once!" "Maybe I'm out, but I do-an't see rightly where. A girl's an orphan, with ne'er a fa-ather nor a moother. Maybe one o' them was living? Will that square it?" "One o' them's living still. And none so vairy far from where we stand.
God spare us a while, just for to know the meaning of it all." It was a confession of the hopelessness of any attempt to grapple with it then. Keziah Solmes, while preparing some supper, looked in once, twice, at the watchers beside the still sleeping figure on the bed.
In fact, almost every worshiper in that chapel had determined to visit the Hammond tavern as soon as the service was at an end. In the Regular parsonage Keziah sat alone by the sitting-room table. Prayer meeting and supper she had forgotten entirely. The minister had not come home for his evening meal, and food was furthest from the housekeeper's thoughts. What should she do? What ought she to do?
I guess Zeb's yarn was too much for him; he doesn't like to be praised." "So? Was he here? At the Regular parsonage? I'm surprised." "He and I have known each other for a long while." "Well, I'm sorry he's gone. I think I should like him." Keziah turned from the door. "I know you would," she said.
Two voices of women in the kitchen without. One, Elizabeth-next-door; the other, surely, Keziah Solmes from the Towers. So much the better! "I may tell it them, my lady?" said Widow Thrale. Gwen had to think a moment, before saying: "Yes but they must not talk of it in the village not yet! Go out and tell them. I will remain with your mother."
"Hoot, man! there's no call for you to sit on pins and needles in that fashion," said Keziah. "It's a daft body that cannot hear a word of praise without turning as red as a turkey-cock and fidging like a parched pea on a drum-head.
"So it is!" cried Keziah. "So it isn't," added Samantha. "Mother, that's not what he had on yesterday." "He's been trading again," mildly suggested Pamela. "Dabney," said Mrs. Kinzer, "what does this mean?" "Mean!" replied Dabney, "Why, these are the clothes you told me to buy. The lot I wore yesterday were a present from Ham Morris. He's a splendid fellow. I'm glad he got the best of the girls."
Hammond, Nat's mother, and around it gathered the fifty or sixty friends who had come to pay their last tribute to the old sailor and tavern keeper. The Come-Outers were there, all of them, and some members of the Regular society, Captain Zeb Mayo, Dr. Parker, Keziah Coffin, Mrs. Higgins, and Ike. Mrs.
Snow to her one evening, when Miss Butterworth was illuminating the parsonage by her presence "now, really, you must tell us all about it. I'm dying to know." "Oh, it's too ridiculous for anything," said Miss Butterworth, laughing herself almost into hysterics. "Now, what, Keziah? What's too ridiculous? You are the most provoking person!" "The idea of my getting married!" Mrs.
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