Miss Macy.

Solemnly the captain wiped his brow. "I declare I wish Abner could
hear it," he remarked proudly. "There ain't a single mistake, big
words an' all. It ought to please M'lissy, if anything will."

At the thought of Melissa Captain Enoch's honest heart began to beat
faster. He threw open his window with all the eagerness of a lover,
and looked over toward Melissa's old-fashioned house with its
comfortable veranda and wide chimney.

His bronzed face turned suddenly white and he gripped the window
sill with all the strength of his powerful hands. Two men were
turning in at Melissa's gate. The short fat man was Thomas Peters,
the tall thin one the village clergyman. To Captain Enoch the fact
that Peters and the minister were calling upon Melissa together
could mean but one thing. Hours and years of the captain's life
seemed to pass, as he watched the two men go slowly up Melissa's
gravel walk. When the door closed behind them, he turned about,
dazed and trembling. He was breathing hard like a man at the end of
a race. Half an hour later he had packed his bag and paid his board
bill, leaving Mrs. Crowell in a state of bewilderment and curiosity
that was sufficient to disturb her peace of mind for many a day.

From Boston the tramp had wallowed her way around the Horn to San
Francisco and back again as far as Rio Janiero when Captain Enoch
received his first mail from home. A travel-stained letter, bearing
Abner Crowell's cramped handwriting, threw the captain into a sudden
panic.