"Anna," said Sam Johnson, "I am told you have charge of Henry's wake. Is there anything I can do?"
Sam was the tall, imperious precentor of the Mill Row meeting-house. He was also the chief baker of the town and "looked up to" in matters relating to morals as well as loaves.
"Mister Gwynn has promised t' read a chapther, Mister Johnson. He'll read, maybe, the fourteenth of John. If he diz, tell him t' go aisy over th' twelth verse an' explain that th' works He did can be done in Antrim by any poor craither who's got th' Spirit."
Sam straightened up to his full height and in measured words said:
"Ye know, no doubt, Anna, that Misther Gwynn is a Churchman an' I'm a Presbyterian. He wouldn't take kindly to a hint from a Mill Row maan, I fear, especially on a disputed text."
"Well, dear knows if there's aanything this oul world needs more than another it's an undisputed text. Couldn't ye find us wan, Misther Johnson?"
"All texts are disputed," he said, "but there are texts not in dispute."
"I think I could name wan at laste, Mister Johnson."
"Maybe."
"'Deed no, not maybe at all, but sure-be. Jamie dear, get m' th' Bible if ye plaze."