Occasionally she seemed to choke.

Keziah eyed her suspiciously.

"Humph!" she mused. "'Twas funny, wasn't it?"

"Oh, dreadfully!" was the hurried answer.

"Yes. Seems to me you took an awful long time findin' that hammer."

"It was away back in the drawer. I didn't see it at first."

"Hum! Grace Van Horne, if I thought you heard what that--that THING said
to me, I'd--I'd--Good land of mercy! somebody ELSE is comin'."

Steps, measured, dignified steps, sounded on the walk. From without came
a "Hum--ha!" a portentous combination of cough and grunt. Grace dodged
back from the window and hastily began donning her hat and jacket.

"It's Cap'n Elkanah," she whispered. "I must go. This seems to be your
busy morning, Aunt Keziah. I"--here she choked again--"really, I didn't
know you were so popular."

Keziah opened the door. Captain Elkanah Daniels, prosperous, pompous,
and unbending, crossed the threshold. Richest man in the village,
retired shipowner, pillar of the Regular church and leading member of
its parish committee, Captain Elkanah looked the part. He removed
his hat, cleared his throat behind his black stock, and spoke with
impressive deliberation.