John Ellery said,with emphasis,that he thought well of it.He began to realize that this woman,with her blunt common sense,was likely to be a pilot worth having in the difficult waters which he must navigate as skipper of the Regular church in Trumet.Also,he began to realize that,as such a skipper,he was most inexperienced.And Captain Daniels had spoken highly--condescendingly but highly--of his housekeeper's qualifications and personality.So the agreement was ratified,with relief on his part.
The first Sunday came and with it the first sermon.He read that sermon to Keziah on Saturday evening and she approved of it as a whole,though she criticised some of its details.
Don't be afraid to put in plenty of salt,she said.Where you've got the Christian life and spirit written down as bein'like a quiet,peaceful home,free from all distrust,and like that,why don't you change it to a good safe anchorage,where the soul can ride forever without fear of breakers or no'theasters or the dangers besettin'the mariner on a lee shore.They'll understand that;it gets right home to 'em.There's scarcely a man or a woman in your congregation that ain't been out of sight of land for weeks on a stretch.The breakfast hour on Sunday would be at nine o'clock,instead of seven,as on week days,she told him.
Trumet lays to bed Sunday mornin's,she explained.It's almost a part of its religion,as you might say,and lived up to more conscientious than some other parts,I'm afraid.Six days shalt thou labor and wear comfort'ble clothes;and on the seventh you must be lazy and dress up.Likewise you must have baked beans Saturday for supper,as we're havinem,and more beans with fish balls next mornin'.That is,if you want to be orthodox.The service began at eleven o'clock.At half past ten the sexton,old Mr.Jubal Knowles,rang the first bell,a clanging five-minute reminder.Twenty minutes later he began on the second and final call.Mr.Ellery was ready--and nervous--before the first bell had finished ringing.But Keziah,entering the sitting room dressed in black alpaca and carrying the hymn book with her name in gilt letters on the cover,forbade his leaving the parsonage thus early.
I shall go pretty soon,she said,but you mustn't.The minister ain't expected until the last bell's 'most done.Parson Langley used to wait until the Winslows went in.Gaius Winslow is a widower man who lives up to the west end of the town and he's got nine children,all boys.You'll know 'em because they always drive down to meetin'in one carryall with a white horse.Gaius is as punctual as a boardin'-house dinner.The old parson used to wait until the last Winslow had toddled up the meetin'-house steps and then he'd come out of this side door with his sermon in his hand.It's a pretty good rule to remember and saves watchin'the clock.Besides,it's what we've been used to,and that goes a good ways with some folks.Good-by,Mr.Ellery.You'll see me in the third pew from the back,on the right side,wishin'you luck just as hard as I can.So,as in couples or family groups,afoot or in all sorts of vehicles,the members of Trumet's Regular society came to the church to hear their new minister,that functionary peeped under the parlor window shade of the parsonage and waited,fidgetting and apprehensive,for the Winslows.They arrived at last,and were not hard to recognize,for ten individuals packed into one carriage are hard to overlook anywhere.As Gaius,with the youngest in his arms,passed in at the church door,John Ellery passed out of the parsonage gate.The last bell clanged its final stroke,the vibrations ceased,the rustle of skirts and the sounds of decorous coughing subsided and were succeeded by the dry rattle of the hymn-book pages,the organ,presented by Captain Elkanah and played by his daughter,uttered its preliminary groan,the service began.
Outside the spring breeze stirred the budding silver-leafs,the distant breakers grumbled,the crows in the pines near Captain Eben Hammond's tavern cawed ribald answers to the screaming gulls perched along the top of the breakwater.And seated on one of the hard benches of the little Come-Outer chapel,Grace Van Horne heard her Uncle Eben,who,as usual,was conducting the meeting,speak of them who,in purple and fine linen,with organs and trumpets and vain shows,are gathered elsewhere in this community to hear a hired priest make a mock of the gospel.(A-MEN!)But John Ellery,the hired priest,knew nothing of this.He did know,however,that he was the center of interest for his own congregation,the people among whom he had been called to labor.
Their praise or criticism meant everything to him;therefore he preached for dear life.
And Keziah Coffin,in the third pew from the back,watched him intently,her mind working in sympathetic unison with his.She was not one to be greatly influenced by first impressions,but she had been favorably impressed by this young fellow,and had already begun to feel that sense of guardianship and personal responsibility which,later on,was to make Captain Zebedee Mayo nickname the minister Keziah's Parson.The sermon was a success.
