“That is natural, deacon—­quite natural; and what is natural, is very likely to happen.  The natural man loves all sorts of indulgences, and these among others.”

As there was no gainsaying this commonplace commentary on the species, it was permitted to pass unanswered.

“I hope my kinsman has not been a burthen to any on Oyster Pond?” said the nephew, inquiringly.

“I cannot say that he has,” returned the deacon.  “He was at little cost, at first, and got along by selling a few odd things that he owned.  As Providence had placed him in the dwelling of a poor widow, I thought it might be pleasing to the friends—­and every man has some friends, I suppose—­to settle with her.  This I did, this very morning, taking her receipt in full, as you can see,” passing the paper to the stranger.  “As a sort of security for my advances, I had the chest of the deceased removed to this house; and it is now up-stairs, ready to be examined.  It feels light, and I do not think much silver or gold will be found in it.”

To own the truth, the Vineyard seaman looked a little disappointed.  It was so natural that a man who has been absent fifty years should bring back the fruits of his labour, that he had expected some slight reward for the trouble he was now taking, to be bestowed in this particular form.  This, however, was not the specific object of his visit, as will appear as we proceed.  Keeping in view his real motive, the nephew continued his inquiries, always putting his questions a little indirectly, and receiving answers that were as evasive and cautious as his own interrogatories.  All this was characteristic of the wary people from which both had sprung, who seldom speak, in a matter of business, without bearing in mind all the possible constructions of what they are saying.  After a discourse of some fifteen minutes, in which the history of the chest, in its outlines, was fully given, and during which the stranger produced written evidence of his right to interfere, it was determined to make an inventory, on the spot, of the property left by Daggett, for the benefit of all who might have any interest in it.  Accordingly, the whole party, including Mary, was soon assembled in the deacon’s own room, with the sea-chest placed invitingly in the centre.  All eyes were fastened on the lid, in curious anticipations of the contents; for, the deacon excepted, all supposed that those contents were a profound secret.  The Widow White could have told them better, she having rummaged that chest a dozen times, at least, though without abstracting even a pin.  Curiosity had been her ruling motive, far more than cupidity.  It is true, the good woman had a prudent regard to her own interests, and felt some anxiety to learn the prospects of her receiving the stipulated price for board—­only $1.50 per week—­but the sales of the needles, and palms, and carved whale-bone, having kept her accounts reasonably square, solicitude on this particular