"Well, my friend," he said, coming up to him, "I trust this affliction may be sanctified to you."
Zeph glared on him with an impatient movement and turned to walk away; the Deacon, however, followed assiduously by his side, going on with his exhortation.
"You know it's no use contendin' with the Lord."
"Well, who's ben a contendin' with the Lord?" exclaimed Zeph, "I haint."
The tone and manner were not hopeful, but the Deacon persevered.
"We must jest let the Lord do what he will with us and ours."
"I hev let him—how was I goin' to help it?"
"We mustn't murmur," continued the Deacon in a feebler voice, as he saw that his exhortation was not hopefully received.
"Who's ben a murmurin? I haint!"
"Then you feel resigned, don't you?"