“Mr. Crowdy,” added Mrs. T., reproachfully, “came all the way from Williamtown to preach our Christmas morning sermon. It was a beautiful sermon, if ever I heard one.”
“It was that,” put in David, wagging his kind old head. “But you should have told Mr. Crowdy, my dear, how Miriam feels our heat. I wouldn't let her go this morning, Mr. Crowdy, on that account. So you see it's me that's to blame.”
Mr. Crowdy looked very sorry for Miriam, but very well pleased with himself and the world. Missy was shooting glances of gratitude at her indefatigable old champion. Mr. Crowdy began to eye her kindly out of his fat red face.
“So your name's Miriam? A good old-fashioned Biblical name, is Miriam,” he said, in a wheezy, plethoric voice. “Singular thing, too, my name's Aaron; but I'd make an oldish brother for you, young lady, hey?”
Miriam laughed without understanding, and showed this. So Mr. Teesdale explained.
“Miriam, my dear, was the sister of Moses and Aaron, you remember.”
Missy did remember.
“Moses and Aaron? Why, of course!” cried she. “'Says Moses to Aaron! '”
The quotation was not meant to go any further; but the white-haired minister asked blandly, “Well, what did he say?” So bland, indeed, was the question that Missy hummed forth after a very trifling hesitation—
“Says Moses to Aaron,