Captain Pott's Minister Part 16

"That's my calculation. Want to go along?"

"If I may."

"Of course you can. Did you leave something aboard last night?"

"No. I just came down here on purpose to see you. I felt certain you would be going out."

"You come down just to see me? What do you want to see an old feller like me for? Now, if it was----"

"You, old! Who's been telling you that?"

"n.o.body, 'cepting this infernal rheumatism. But I ain't quite as badly crippled up this morning as the preacher is, at that."

"Do you mean to say that the minister has the rheumatism?"

"No, he ain't got nothing as tame or ordinary as that. He started with a sprained j'int from the cruise, but he's going to have something far worse, if I don't miss my guess. Clemmie's been soaking his ankle in red pepper." He chuckled quietly as he helped Elizabeth into the dory.

"Soaking his foot in red pepper?"

"Yes. Hot as fire, too, it was. I asked if she didn't have the water a mite too red, but she said it wa'n't, and I cal'late she'd otter know."

"Isn't she the quaintest little woman? I remember her when I was a child, but she didn't like me one bit because I spilled some hot water on her once. Is she going to stay with you?"

"She's going to keep house," replied the Captain, drawing the dory alongside his power-boat. "Well, here we be, Beth."

Elizabeth sprang lightly over the side. She led the way to the roof of the cabin, where she sat down. When the Captain had taken his place at her side, she looked up eagerly into his eyes.

"I do so hope you will understand me, Uncle Josiah!"

"I've always tried to, Beth."

"I know you have! Tell me, did my--did any one you know have anything to do with making up that boxing match the other night?"

"There was a good many that had to do with it, unless I'm 'way off in my reckoning."

"Has Mr. McGowan said anything about Father in connection with the affair?"

"He ain't said nothing to me," responded the Captain.

"Uncle Josiah!" exclaimed the girl, her eyes growing wide in her earnestness. "I know Father has not treated Mr. McGowan one bit nicely since what happened at our house, and I don't know why. There must be some reason, though, for Father would not harm any one without just reasons. He is the best man in the whole world! But he has had his way so long with all the other ministers that he cannot become accustomed to the way Mr. McGowan ignores him. Father does a lot of good, and Mr.

McGowan dare not think ill of him!"

"There, there, Beth," soothed the Captain. "You're trying to tell me something, but you're getting off the course. Just you tell me calm-like what it's all about. The fust thing to do is to get our bearings. Has some one been telling you that Mr. McGowan thinks and talks about your dad in the way you say?"

"No-o. But I've heard others say that Father knew all about the plans for that fight before it happened, and that he could have stopped it had he wished to. It isn't true! And if Mr. McGowan even thinks it's true he isn't fair. He will misjudge Father if he has the least idea that he would stoop to such a frame-up."

"I cal'late he ain't misjudging your father none, Beth. So far as disobeying orders goes, it's because he knows what's best. He ain't likely to go contrary, unless----"

"But I know he does misjudge Father," broke in the girl in an attempt to return to her former subject. "And Father feels it keenly. If he doesn't misjudge him, why doesn't he come to our house any more to ask advice about parish matters? He just goes ahead to suit himself. Do you think that fair?"

Captain Pott wanted to say no, in order to agree with his young friend, but her big blue eyes were too intent with eagerness to permit of anything but the truth, or to hedge. He chose the easiest way and hedged.

"I ain't in no position to answer that, Beth."

"Oh, I can't understand it at all! Why can't they be friends as they were at first? What has happened?"

"I can't answer that, neither."

"It's just because Father has refused to bow to him in some little matter, I suppose. Isn't there some way to get them together or at least to get them to compromise?"

"I'm 'feared it ain't in neither of 'em to do either one."

"I suppose not," she replied, a little catch in her voice. "But it is too bad to have the work go to pieces like it is just because they are both so stubborn."

"It sartin is, Beth." The seaman fidgeted. What could the girl be driving at?

"But I'm in sympathy with my father!" she cried.

"That's right for you, Beth. I'd think less of you if you felt any other way."

"If only Mr. McGowan would go to him!"

"Let's see if I get the hull drift of your argument. You say that you think your father is right, and the minister is wrong. That being your conviction you think the minister otter go to him and do a little apologizing. Well, he won't. What he's done is just as right to him as what your father thinks he'd otter done is right to your dad. To try to get 'em together would be like trying to mix 'ile and water, both of 'em good enough in their place, but when you try to mix 'em what you get ain't one nor t'other, and sp'iles both. Cal'late we'd best leave 'em as they are."

"I didn't mean that Mr. McGowan should go to Father and apologize. That would be too much like all of the others before him. But I did think you might suggest some other way to bring them together before things get worse."

"Beth, I'd like to accommodate you, if that's what you're asking of me, but if Mack McGowan had chosen any other way than the one he took, I'd cut him adrift, sartin as death."

The seaman felt the girl at his side stiffen and tremble against his arm as she turned from him. Despair seized him.

"Forgive me, Beth, for making you cry like that. I ain't nothing but a rough old sailor, and can't say things as they'd otter be said. Come, it ain't wuth crying over. What I meant was that I'd have disowned him, because I'd have known he was going contrary-wise to what he thought was right."

She trembled more violently than before. Too miserable for words, he seized her and turned her about. He was amazed to find no tears in her eyes.

"I wasn't crying," she choked, drawing the corner of her handkerchief from her mouth. "It struck me so funny, Uncle Josiah!"

"Your notion of fun is the funniest I ever see," he commented. "Mind telling me what it was that tickled you so?"

"You! Captain Josiah Pott! Threatening to disown the minister should he fail to toe your chalk-line! Where, may I ask, can one find a more high-handed tyranny of spurned authority than that? It's too funny for words!"

"I cal'late you'd do some disowning, too, if he'd go traipsing round asking everybody's pardon just because he steps on a few toes now and again."

"I disown him?" she asked, not able to check the rush of color to her cheeks. "Pray tell! Why----"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Now, see here, Beth, there ain't no use of your pretending to me."--_Page 146._]

"Now, see here, Beth, there ain't no use of your pretending to me. I've got a pair of eyes, and I make use of 'em. You wouldn't want him a mite different, and if he was, you'd be as disapp'inted as me. I know what I'm talking about," he declared, holding up his pipe with a convincing gesture. "All that he's done is as religious to him as preaching a sermon, even that fight down to the Inn. It was a heap sight more religious than a lot of sermons I've listened to in my day."