"I fail to see it! I fail to see it!" rasped Crabtree. "There ain't no similarity in the two cases. My mind is made up on the point, and I don't propose to change it."
"Which sorter reminds me of the mule Mr. Merriwell mentioned a few minutes ago," declared Applesnack, as he turned away.
Frank secured his mail and was leaving the post office, when outside the door he came face to face with Owen Clearpath, the new parson of the village church.
"I'd like to have a word with you, Mr. Merriwell," said the parson; "just a word."
He drew Frank aside, while Hodge waited.
"I don't see how Merry keeps his patience and temper in dealing with these hide-bound yokels," muttered Bart.
Clearpath seemed confused and ill at ease. He hemmed a little while Merry waited quietly for him to speak.
Suddenly the young minister began, as if forcing himself with a great effort to say something he regarded as decidedly disagreeable.
"You know, Mr. Merriwell," he said, "that I hold you in the highest estimation. You know I'm considered by the members of my church and the people of this town generally as a liberal preacher. In fact, I'm entirely too liberal to suit some of the church members. You've done a splendid work for Bloomfield, and you're doing a splendid work. I'm proud of you, sir."
"It isn't necessary to sugar coat the pill, parson," smiled Frank. "Just hand it out to me, and I'll swallow it."