"Good-morning, good-morning, neighbor," cried Deacon Dustan, heartily, his sharp gray eyes twinkling as he fixed them on the old clergyman's face. "Good-morning to you, Father. Mr. Rensford, I believe? I heard of your arrival, sir, and intended to call and make your acquaintance."
The old man acknowledged the compliment in his usual simple and beautiful manner.
"We thought of getting around to your place yesterday, deacon," said Mr. Royden. "But we found we had not time."
"Try again, and better luck!" replied Deacon Dustan. "By the way," he added, in an off-hand, careless manner, "I suppose you will put your name on our paper for the new meeting-house?"
"Is the thing decided upon?"
"Oh, yes. The old shell has held together long enough. The other society has got the start of us, at the village; and we must try to be a little in the fashion, or many of our people will go there to meeting."
"I don't know; but I suppose I must do something, if a new house is built," said Mr. Royden. "The old one seems to me, though, to be a very respectable place of worship, if we are only a mind to think so."
"It would do very well five years ago," said Deacon Dustan. "But our society has come up wonderfully. We have got just the right kind of minister now. Mr. Corlis is doing a great thing for us. I don't think we could have got a more popular preacher. He is very desirous to see the movement go on."
Mr. Royden said he would consider the matter; a few more remarks were passed, touching the business of farmers, the favorable state of the weather to commence haying, and so forth; and the deacon, switching his little black pony, pursued his way.
"I am not much in favor of building a new meeting-house," said Mr. Royden, with a dissatisfied air, driving on. "Although I am not a church-member, I shall feel obliged to give in proportion with my neighbors towards the enterprise."