“Well,” said Temperance, modestly, “I ain’t much on religion, Mr. Martin. I can’t argue and praise and testify the way some can, but my experience has been that when folks begin to think themselves and their lives perfect and to mix up earth with heaven, and forget which one they’re livin’ in, they’re apt to be brought up sudden. It seems to me heaven’s a good deal like a bit o’ sugar held in front of a tired horse to make him pull. I guess there’s a good many of us would lie down in the harness if it wasn’t for that same bit of sugar; we may look past the sugar for a while, but when we get to a bit of stiff clay or run up against a rock we’re mighty glad to have the sugar in front o’ us again; but, sakes! you ain’t made no breakfast, and there’s the girls! You’ll breakfast with—her—after all.”
Temperance gave him an arch look and departed, and Mabella had hardly crossed the threshold before the sympathetic Miss Tribbey called her; when she arrived in the back kitchen Temperance took her by the shoulders and whispered energetically in her ear:
“Sakes, M’bella! Don’t go where you ain’t wanted.”
Mabella’s eyes lighted with sympathy.
“You don’t say!” she said.
Temperance nodded like a mandarin.
“It must be catching!” said Mabella. “It was Nathan brought the infection to the house.”
“Go ’long with you,” said Temperance, and with a very considerate clatter of dishes she made her intended entry audible to the two people in the kitchen.
Mabella looked at Vashti eagerly—sympathetically, but the calm, beautiful face of her cousin was as a sealed book.
“Whatever was that noise in the night, Temperance?” asked Vashti.