“No,” said Mrs. Smith, “I haven't the honor.”
“I thought mebby you might know him,” said Mrs. Stein. “His business took him 'round considerable, and I thought mebby it might have took him to New York, and that mebby you might have met him.”
Mrs. Bell sighed audibly.
“It's goin' to be an awful trial to Susan if she can't go,” she said; “but I dunno WHAT to say. Seems like I oughtn't to say 'go,' an' yet I can't abear to say 'stay.'”
“I MUST have Susan,” said Mrs. Smith, putting her arm about the girl. “I know you can trust her with me.”
“Clementina,” said Mr. Bell suddenly, “why don't you leave it to the minister? He'd settle it for the best. Why don't you leave it to him? Hey?”
“Well, bless my stars,” said Mrs. Bell, brightening with relief, “I'd ought to have thought of that long ago. He WOULD know what was for the best. I'll ask him to-morrow.”
To-morrow was the picnic day.
As Mrs. Smith led the way for Eliph' Hewlitt, the minister left the group of women who had clustered about him, and walked toward her.
“Sister Smith,” he said, in his grave, kind way, “Sister Bell tells me you want to carry off our little Susan. You know we must be wise as serpents and gentle as doves I deciding, and”—he laid his hand on her arm—“though I doubt not all will be well, I must think over the matter a while. Welcome, brother,” he added, offering his hand to Eliph' Hewlitt.