Frank N. Westcott

“ Hepsey inquired solicitously.
“No, I haven’t got no headache; but when I left that porch yesterday noon it was blue, and now I’m blamed if it don’t seem gray. Does it look gray-like to you, Hepsey?”
“Why certainly! What’s that you say? Do you say you painted it blue? That certainly’s mighty queer. But then you know some kinds of paint fade—some kinds do!” She nodded, looking suspiciously at the work.
“Fade!” Jonathan sneered. “Paints don’t fade by moonlight in one night. That isn’t no faded blue. It’s just plain gray. I must be goin’ color blind, or something.” ”

“ Virginia advanced rustling, and gave Betty a frigid finger-tip, held shoulder-high, and cast a collective stare at hostess and guests through her lorgnette, bowing to Maxwell and ignoring his proffered handshake.
There was an awkward pause. For once even Betty-the-self-possessed was at a loss for the necessary tactics.
A hearty voice soon filled the empty spaces: “Hello there, Ginty; I always did say those auto’s was a poor imitation of a street-car; when they get balky and leave you sticking in the road-side and make you behind-time, you can’t so much as get your fare back and walk. ”

“ To this, Maxwell, who was somewhat nettled, replied:
“I suppose that in any case the responsibility for the success of a parish must be somewhat divided between the parson and the people. I am sure I may count on your assistance.”
“Oh yes; oh yes; of course. I shall be very glad to advise you in any way I can. Prevention is better than cure: don’t hesitate to come to me for suggestions. You will doubtless be anxious to follow in the good old ways, and avoid extremes. I am a firm believer in expediency. ”

“ As the man on the suit-case gazed about him at the general air of dilapidation and neglect characteristic of a country town on the down grade, and recalled the congenial life of the city which he had left, with all its busy competition, with all its absorbing activities, the companionship of the men he loved, and the restful, inspiring intimacy with a certain young woman, he felt, for the moment, a pang of homesickness. ”

“ Betty; I never say nothin’ worse than that—’cept when I lose my temper,” he added, safely, examining first the hone and then the edge of the scythe, as if intending to sharpen it.
“I AIN’T A CHICKEN NO MORE, MRS. BETTY, AND I’VE ’MOST FORGOT HOW TO DO A BIT OF COURTIN’”
141
Hepsey had gone into the house to inspect for herself the thoroughness of Mary McGuire’s operations; Betty thought the opportunity favorable for certain counsels.
“The trouble with you is you shouldn’t be living alone, like this, Jonathan. You have all the disadvantages of a house, and none of the pleasures of a home.” ”

“ Yes; we’re awful modest, like most country parishes that don’t pay their rector more than enough to get his collars laundered. We want a man who can preach like the Archbishop of Canterbury, and call on everybody twice a week, and know just when anyone is sick without bein’ told a word about it. He’s got to be an awful good mixer, to draw the young people like a porous plaster, and fill the pews. He must have lots of sociables, and fairs, and things to take the place of religion; and he must dress well, and live like a gentleman on the salary of a book-agent. ”