"Certainly. How do you think of it?"
"Well, to tell the truth, I have not thought much about it."
Before Mrs. Dlimm could reply, there came anything but a heavenly interruption. It was as if Moses and Aaron were within the cool and shadowy tabernacle, feasting on spiritual manna, and there came a delegation from the Hebrew camp, clamoring for the "leeks and onions of Egypt."
Though the congregation often said, "It's a pity Mrs. Dlimm is such a meek and quiet little woman," and though the self-appointed committee of ladies was so large, and the minister himself was downstairs, yet when the first real emergency of the evening arose, the upstairs members of the committee were helpless, and the best thing Mrs. Gubling, the leading spirit downstairs, could do, was to "slick up," as she said, and "go tell the parson's wife." But seeing Mr. Dlimm on the way, she beckoned him aside with a portentous nod. He, poor man, heard her tidings with dismay. He had fallen into the habit of taking all his difficulties either to the Lord or to his wife, and in this case he felt that both must come to his aid.
With Mrs. Gubling he at once hastened to the nursery, and entered rather abruptly.
Mrs. Dlimm raised her finger impressively, then pointed to the cradle.
"But, my dear—" began her husband, rather impatiently.
"Hush," said the wife, in a low tone; "whatever's the matter don't wake the baby, for then I can't do anything."
"Mrs. Dlimm," said Mrs. Gubling, "they've eat up about everything there is downstairs, 'cept me, and there's three tables yet It's such a fine night, and the sleighing's so good, that lots more have come than we expected. I don't know how much money they brought, but they hain't brought provisions enough."
"What shall we do?" asked Mr. Dlimm, nervously.