"Good! So do I. I like him."

"See here, Keziah! I'm gettin' frightened. You ain't settin' your cap to
be a parson's wife, are you? Because--"

"Don't be silly. I might adopt him, but that's all, I guess."

Her friend leaned forward.

"Keziah," he said earnestly, "there's no sense in your slavin' yourself
to death here. I can think of a good deal pleasanter berth than that.
Pleasanter for me, anyhow, and I'd do my best to make it pleasant for
you. You've only got to say the word and--No? Well, then all I can do is
hope through another voyage."

"Please don't, Nat. You know."

"No, I don't know."

"Well, perhaps you don't. But I know. I like you, Nat. I count on you as
the straightest, truest friend I've got; and I want to keep on countin'
on you just that way. Mayn't I?"

"'Course you can, Keziah. But--"

"Then don't say another word, please."

He sighed and looked out at the open door. The kitchen clock ticked loud
in the silence.