"Ye don't?"

"But I do; an' what's more, he _had_ to. Ther wuz men come after him in
the nighttime, but he must hev heard 'em, fur they didn't find him in
his room, an' this mornin' they found that his sailboat was gone, too.
An' what's more, ther's a printed notice up about him, an' he's a
defaulter, and there's five thousand dollars for whoever catches him,
an' he's stole _twenty-five_, an' he's all described in the notice, as
p'ticular as if he was a full-blood Alderney cow."

"Poor fellow," sighed the deacon, for which interruption he received a
withering glance from Miss Peekin.

"They say Millie's a goin' on awful, and that she sez she'll marry him
now if he'll come back. But it ain't likely he'll be such a fool; now
he's got so much money, he don't need hern. Reckon her an' her father
won't be so high an' mighty an' stuck up now. It's powerful discouragin'
to the righteous to see the ungodly flourishin' so, an' a-rollin' in
ther wealth, when ther betters has to be on needles all year fur fear
the next mack'ril catch won't 'mount to much. The idee of her bein'
willin' to marry a defaulter! I can't understand it."

"Poor girl!" sighed Mrs. Crankett, wiping one eye with the corner of her
apron. "I'd do it myself, ef I was her?"

The deacon dropped the ax-helve, and gave his wife a tender kiss on each
eye.