V.

Captain Asa Shaw had been absent for some time in New York on

business, and Captain Crowe was confined to his handsome house with a

lame ankle; but it happened that they both reappeared on the chief

business street of Longport the very same day. One might have fancied

that each wore an expression of anxiety; the truth was, they had made

vows to themselves that another twenty-four hours should not pass over

their heads before they made a bold push for the coveted prize. They

were more afraid of the minister's rivalry than they knew; but not the

least of each other's. There were angry lines down the middle of

Captain Asa Shaw's forehead as he assured himself that he would soon

put an end to the minister business, and Captain Crowe thumped his

cane emphatically as he walked along the street. Captain John

Witherspoon looked thin and eager, but a hopeful light shone in his

eyes: his choice was not from his judgment, but from his heart.

It was strange that it should be so difficult--nay, impossible--for

anybody to find an opportunity to speak with Mrs. Lunn upon this most

private and sacred of personal affairs, and that day after day went by

while the poor captains fretted and grew more and more impatient. They

had it in mind to speak at once when the time came; neither Captain

Crowe nor Captain Shaw felt that he could do himself or his feelings

any justice in a letter.

On a rainy autumn afternoon, Mrs. Lunn sat down by her front window,

and drew her wicker work-basket into her lap from the end of the

narrow table before her. She was tired, and glad to rest. She had been

busy all the morning, putting in order the rooms that were to be set

apart for the minister's sleeping-room and study. Her thoughts were

evidently pleasant as she looked out into the street for a few

minutes, and then crossed her plump hands over the work-basket.

Presently, as a large, familiar green umbrella passed her window, she

caught up a bit of sewing, and seemed to be busy with it, as some one

opened her front door and came into the little square entry without

knocking.

"May I take the liberty? I saw you settin' by the window this wet

day," said Captain Shaw.

"Walk right in, sir; do!" Mrs. Lunn fluttered a little on her perch at

the sight of him, and then settled herself quietly, as trig and demure

as ever.

"I'm glad, ma'am, to find you alone. I have long had it in mind to

speak with you on a matter of interest to us both." The captain felt

more embarrassed than he had expected, but Mrs. Lunn remained

tranquil, and glanced up at him inquiringly.

"It relates to the future," explained Captain Asa Shaw. "I make no

doubt you have seen what my feelin's have been this good while. I can

offer you a good home, and I shall want you to have your liberty."

"I enjoy a good home and my liberty now," said Mrs. Lunn stiffly,

looking straight before her.

"I mean liberty to use my means, and to have plenty to do with, so as

to make you feel comfortable," explained the captain, reddening. "Mis'

Lunn, I'm a straight-forward business man, and I intend business now.

I don't know any of your flowery ways of sayin' things, but there

ain't anybody in Longport I'd like better to see at the head of my

house. You and I ain't young, but we"--

"Don't say a word, sir," protested Mrs. Lunn. "You can get you just as

good housekeepers as I am. I don't feel to change my situation just at

present, sir."

"Is that final?" said Captain Shaw, looking crestfallen. "Come now,

Maria! I'm a good-hearted man, I'm worth over forty thousand dollars,

and I'll make you a good husband, I promise. Here's the minister on

your hands, I know. I did feel all ashore when I found you'd promised

to take him in. I tried to get a chance to speak with you before you

went off, but when I come home from New York 't was the first news I

heard. I don't deem it best for you; you can't make nothin' out o' one

boarder, anyway. I tried it once myself."

"Excuse me, Mr. Shaw," said Mrs. Lunn coldly; "I know my own business

best. You have had my answer, sir." She added in a more amiable tone,

"Not but what I feel obliged to you for payin' me the compliment."

There was a sudden loud knocking at the side door, which startled our

friends extremely. They looked at each other with apprehension; then

Mrs. Lunn slowly rose and answered the summons.

The gentle voice of the giant was heard without. "Oh, Mis' Lunn," said

Captain Crowe excitedly, "I saw some elegant mackerel brought ashore,

blown up from the south'ard, I expect, though so late in the season;

and I recalled that you once found some acceptable. I thought 't would

help you out."

"I'm obliged to you, Captain Crowe," said the mistress of the house;

"and to think of your bringin' 'em yourself this drenchin' day! I take

it very neighborly, sir." Her tone was entirely different from that in

which she had conducted so decisive a conversation with the guest in

the sitting-room. They heard the front door bang just as Captain Crowe

entered with his fish.

"Was that the wind sprung up so quick?" he inquired, alert to any

change of weather.

"I expect it was Captain Shaw, just leavin'," said Mrs. Lunn angrily.

"He's always full o' business, ain't he? No wonder those children of

his are without manners." There was no favor in her tone, and the

spirits of Captain Crowe were for once equal to his height.

The daylight was fading fast. The mackerel were deposited in their

proper place, and the donor was kindly bidden to come in and sit down.

Mrs. Lunn's old-fashioned sitting-room was warm and pleasant, and the

big captain felt that his moment had come; the very atmosphere was

encouraging. He was sitting in the rocking-chair, and she had taken

her place by the window. There was a pause; the captain remembered how

he had felt once in the China Seas just before a typhoon struck the

ship.

"Maria," he said huskily, his voice sounding as if it came from the

next room,--"Maria, I s'pose you know what I'm thinkin' of?"

"I don't," said Mrs. Lunn, with cheerful firmness. "Cap'n Crowe, I

know it ain't polite to talk about your goin' when you've just come

in; but when you do go, I've got something I want to send over to your

sister Eliza."

The captain gasped; there was something in her tone that he could not

fathom. He began to speak, but his voice failed him altogether. There

she sat, perfectly self-possessed, just as she looked every day.

"What are you payin' now for potatoes, sir?" continued Mrs. Lunn.

"Sixty cents a bushel for the last, ma'am," faltered the captain. "I

wish you'd hear to me, Maria," he burst out. "I wish"--

"Now don't, cap'n," urged the pleasant little woman. "I've made other

arrangements. At any rate," she added, with her voice growing more

business-like than ever,--"at any rate, I deem it best to wait until

the late potatoes come into market; they seem to keep better."

The typhoon had gone past, but the captain waited a moment, still

apprehensive. Then he took his hat, and slowly and sadly departed

without any words of farewell. In spite of his lame foot he walked

some distance beyond his own house, in a fit of absent-mindedness that

was born of deep regret. It was impossible to help respecting

Mrs. Lunn's character and ability more than ever. "Oh! them ministers,

them ministers!" he groaned, turning in at his high white gate between

the tall posts with their funeral urns.

Mrs. Lunn heard the door close behind Captain Crowe; then she smoothed

down her nice white apron abstractedly, and glanced out of the window

to see if he were out of sight, but she could not catch a glimpse of

the captain's broad, expressive back, to judge his feelings or the

manner in which he was taking his rebuff. She felt unexpectedly sorry

for him; it was lonely in his handsome, large house, where his two

sisters made so poor a home for him and such a good one for

themselves.

It was almost dark now, and the shut windows of the room made the

afternoon seem more gloomy; the days were fast growing shorter. After

her successful conduct of the affair with her two lovers, she felt a

little lonely and uncertain. Although she had learned to dislike

Captain Shaw, and had dismissed him with no small pleasure, with

Captain Crowe it was different; he was a good, kind-hearted man, and

she had made a great effort to save his feelings.

Just then her quick ears caught the sound of a footstep in the street.

She listened intently for a moment, and then stood close to the

window, looking out. The rain was falling steadily; it streaked the

square panes in long lines, so that Mrs. Lunn's heart recognized the

approach of a friend more easily than her eyes. But the expected

umbrella tipped away on the wind as it passed, so that she could see

the large ivory handle. She lifted the sash in an instant. "I wish

you'd step in just one minute, sir, if it's perfectly convenient," she

said appealingly, and then felt herself grow very red in the face as

she crossed the room and opened the door.

"I'm 'most too wet to come into a lady's parlor," apologized Captain

Witherspoon gallantly. "Command me, Mrs. Lunn, if there's any way I

can serve you. I expect to go down street again this evening."

"Do you think you'd better, sir?" gently inquired Mrs. Lunn. There was

something beautiful about the captain's rosy cheeks and his curly gray

hair. His kind blue eyes beamed at her like a boy's.

"I have had some business fall to me, you see, Cap'n," she continued,

blushing still more; "and I feel as if I'd better ask your advice. My

late cousin, Mrs. Hicks, has left me all her property. The amount is

very unexpected; I never looked for more than a small remembrance.

There will have to be steps taken."

"Command me, madam," said the captain again, to whom it never for one

moment occurred that Mrs. Lunn was better skilled in business matters

than himself. He instantly assumed the place of protector, which she

so unaffectedly offered. For a minute he stood like an admiral ready

to do the honors of his ship; then he put out his honest hand.

"Maria," he faltered, and the walls about him seemed to flicker and

grow unsteady,--"Maria, I dare say it's no time to say the word just

now, but if you could feel toward me"?--

He never finished the sentence; he never needed to finish it. Maria

Lunn said no word in answer, but they each took a step forward. They

may not have been young, but they knew all the better how to value

happiness.

About half an hour afterward, the captain appeared again in the dark

street, in all the rain, without his umbrella. As he paraded toward

his lodgings, he chanced to meet the Reverend Mr. Farley, whom he

saluted proudly. He had demurred a little at the minister's making a

third in their household; but in the brief, delightful space of their

engagement, Mrs. Lunn had laid before him her sensible plans, and

persuaded Captain Witherspoon that the minister--dear, good man! was

one who always had his head in a book when he was in the house, and

would never give a bit of trouble; and that they might as well have

the price of his board and the pleasure of his company as anybody.

Mrs. Lunn sat down to her belated and solitary supper, and made an

excellent meal. "'T will be pleasant for me to have company again,"

she murmured. "I think 'tis better for a person." She had a way, as

many lonely women have, of talking to herself, just for the sake of

hearing the sound of a voice. "I guess Mr. Farley's situation is goin'

to please him, too," she added; "I feel as if I'd done it all for the

best." Mrs. Lunn rose, and crossed the room with a youthful step, and

stood before the little looking-glass, holding her head this way and

that, like a girl; then she turned, still blushing a little, and put

away the tea-things. "'T is about time now for the Cap'n to go down

town after his newspaper," she whispered; and at that moment the

Captain opened the door.

One day, the next spring, Captain Crowe, who had always honored the

heroine of this tale for saving his self-respect, and allowing him to

affirm with solemn asseverations that though she was a prize for any

man, he never had really offered himself to Mrs. Lunn--Captain Crowe

and Captain Witherspoon were sitting at the head of Long Wharf

together in the sunshine.

"I've been a very fortunate man, sir," said the little captain boldly.

"My own property has looked up a good deal since I was married, what

with that piece of land I sold for the new hotel, and other things

that have come to bear--this wharf property, for instance. I shall

have to lay out considerable for new plank, but I'm able to do it."

"Yes, sir; things have started up in Longport a good deal this spring;

but it never is goin' to be what it was once," answered Captain Crowe,

who had grown as much older as his friend had grown younger since the

autumn, though he always looked best out of doors. "Don't you think,

Captain Witherspoon," he said, changing his tone, "that you ought to

consider the matter of re-shinglin' your house? You'll have to engage

men now, anyway, to do your plankin'. I know of some extra cedar

shingles that were landed yesterday from somewheres up river. Or was

Mis' Witherspoon a little over-anxious last season?"

"I think, with proper attention, sir," said the Captain sedately,

"that the present shingles may last us a number of years yet."