“But you’re not such a dum fool as to think that a contract legally made between two parties is not binding, are you? You admit that I have fulfilled my part, and now you must pay for the services rendered or else I shall bring suit against you.”
The reply to this was not audible, but the farmer did not seem to be quite convinced.
After what seemed to her an interminable interval the door banged, and she knew that Bascom was alone. She did not wait for any invitation, but rising quietly she went into the inner office and took the chair vacated by the farmer. Bascom made a pretense 275 of writing, in silence, with his back towards her, during which interval Hepsey waited patiently. Then, looking up with the expression of a deaf-mute, he asked colorlessly:
“Well, Mrs. Burke, what may I do for you?”
“You can do nothing for me—but you can and must do something for the Maxwells,” she replied firmly but quietly.
“Don’t you think it would be better to let Maxwell take care of his own affairs?”
“Yes, most certainly, if he were in a position to do so. But you know that the clergy are a long-sufferin’ lot, more’s the pity; they’ll endure almost anythin’ rather than complain. That’s why you and others take advantage of them.”
“Ah, but an earnest minister of the Gospel does not look for the loaves and fishes of his calling.”
“I shouldn’t think he would. I hate fish, myself; but Maxwell has a perfect right to look for the honest fulfillment of a contract made between you and him. Didn’t I hear you tell that farmer that he was a dum fool if he thought that a contract made between two parties is not legally binding, and that if you fulfilled your part he must pay for your services or you would sue him? Do you suppose that a contract with a carpenter or a plumber or a mason is 276 binding, while a contract with a clergyman is not? What is the matter with you, anyway?”
Bascom made no reply, but turned his back towards Hepsey and started to write. She resumed: