"What your mother believes, or doesn't believe, shouldn't come into the question, dear. It's the Lord's opinion of us we've got to trouble about. But you make a great mistake if you think you've got to give up fun, so long as it's innocent fun. Why, I believe God is often disappointed in His children because they're such a long-faced, sour lot; I do indeed."
But just then Mrs. Marchant sent in a message that Bessie was wanted at once.
That same evening Phebe was called into the grocery department to see a woman who particularly wished to speak to her. She was a very forlorn-looking being, and seeing the marks of tears upon her face Phebe invited her into the parlour, placing a chair for her by the fire, for the evening was chilly.
"I've come to ask you, Mrs. Waring, if you will come and see my husband. I do believe he is dying."
"But why do you want me to see him?" Phebe was feeling very bewildered. "Why not get a doctor? I'm not even a nurse."
"Oh, it's not that. I've got a doctor for him; he wants to talk to you. It's him that sent me to ask you."
"But why does he want to see me?"
"I asked him if I should get anybody to come and pray to him, and he said as how he didn't want no parsons a-bothering of him, but he would like Mrs. Waring to come, for," in quite a whisper, "he's mortal afeared of dying."
"He wants me to come in place of a minister?" said Phebe with a gasp. "How does he know me? How did he come to ask for me?"
"Why, you know he used to go a good deal to 'The Rose in June,' and they was a-talking about you there one night—he told me so when he came home—as how you shut your shops early on Saturday 'cause you were particular about Sunday. One of your shopfolks said so to somebody. And my Jim said as how you must be one of the right sort, for your religion cost you summat. That's how it is. He's talked about it a lot of times; and one night some of the men that goes to 'The Rose in June' came to have a look at you."