“They were going to have made a very absurd choice.”
“But you prevented it? Who was it?”
“Ah! I told you Master Ritchie was turning out a popular preacher.”
“You don’t mean that they chose Richard!” cried Margaret breathlessly.
“As sure as my name is Dick May, they did, every man of them, except Tomkins, and even he held his tongue; I did not think it of them,” said the doctor, almost overcome; “but there is much more goodness of heart in the world than one gives it credit for.”
And good Dr. May was not one to give the least credit for all that was like himself.
“But it was Richard’s own doing,” he continued. “Those sermons made a great impression, and they love the boy, because he has grown up among them. The old mayor waddled up to me, as I came in, telling me that they had been talking it over, and they were unanimously agreed that they could not have a parson they should like better than Mr. Richard.”
“Good old Mr. Doddesley! I can see him!” cried Ethel.
“I expected it so little, that I thought he meant some Richards; but no, he said Mr. Richard May, if he had nothing better in view—they liked him, and knew he was a very steady, good young gentleman, and if he took after his fathers that went before him—and they thought we might like to have him settled near!”
“How very kind!” said Margaret, as the tears came. “We shall love our own townsfolk better than ever!”