from there, since he first left home, quite fifty years since."

The doctor saw the contradiction, and it set him thinking, and
conjecturing, but he was too discreet to betray himself. An explanation
there probably was, and he trusted to time to ascertain it.

"What has become of captain Gar'ner?" he asked, looking curiously around,
as if he expected to find him tied to the niece's apron-string.

Mary blushed, but she was too innocent to betray any real confusion.

"He has gone back to the schooner, in order to have the boat ready for
your return."

"And that return must take place, young lady, as soon as I have drunk two
cups of your tea. I have patients at the Harbour who must yet be visited
this evening, and the wind goes down with the sun. Let the poor man take
the draughts I have left for him--they will soothe him, and help his
breathing--more than this my skill can do nothing for him. Deacon, you
need say nothing of this visit--I am sufficiently repaid by the air, the
sail, and Miss Mary's welcome. I perceive that she is glad to see me, and
that is something, between so young a woman and so old a man. And now for
the two cups of tea."

The tea was drunk, and the doctor took his leave, shaking his head as he
repeated to the niece, that the medical science could do nothing for the
sick man.

"Let his friends know his situation at once, deacon," he said, as they
walked towards the wharf, where the whale-boat was all ready for a start.