Janet's Love and Service

by Margaret M. Robertson

“Mr Snow often drives the minister, and thinks himself well paid, just to have a talk with him,” said a pretty black-eyed girl, trying to cover Rebecca’s retreat. But Rebecca wouldn’t retreat.

“I didn’t mean any offence, Mis’ Fish, and if it ain’t so about the deacon, you can say so now, before it goes farther.”

But it was not to be contradicted, and that Mrs Fish well knew, though what business it was of anybody’s, and why the minister, who seemed to be well off, shouldn’t pay for the use of a horse and cutter, she couldn’t understand. The subject was changed by Mrs Slowcome.

“He must have piles and piles of old sermons. It don’t seem as though he needs to spend as much time in his study, as Mrs Nasmyth tells about.”

Here there was a murmur of dissent. Would sermons made for the British, be such as to suit free-born American citizens? the children of the Puritans? The prevailing feeling was against such a supposition.

“Old or new, I like them,” said Celestia Jones, the pretty black-eyed girl, who had spoken before. “And so do others, who are better judges than I.”

“Squire Greenleaf, I suppose,” said Ruby Fox, in a loud whisper. “He was up there last Sunday night; she has been aching to tell it all the afternoon.”

Celestia’s black eyes flashed fire at the speaker, and the sly Ruby said no more. Indeed, there was no more said about the sermons, for that they were something for the Merleville people to be proud of, all agreed. Mr Elliott’s preaching had filled the old meeting-house. People who had never been regular churchgoers came now; some from out of the town, even. Young Squire Greenleaf, who seemed to have the prospect of succeeding Judge Merle, as the great man of Merleville, had brought over the judges from Rixford, and they had dined at the minister’s, and had come to church on Sunday. Young Squire Greenleaf was a triumph of himself. He had never been at meeting “much, if any,” since he had completed his legal studies. If he ever did go, it was to the Episcopal church at Rixford, which, to the liberal Mrs Page, looked considerably like coquetting with the scarlet woman. Now, he hardly ever lost a Sunday, besides going sometimes to conference meetings, and making frequent visits to the minister’s house. Having put all these things together, and considered the matter, Mrs Page came to the conclusion, that the squire was not in so hopeless a condition as she had been wont to suppose, a fact which, on this occasion, she took the opportunity of rejoicing over. The rest rejoiced too. There was a murmur of dissent from Miss Pettimore, but it passed unnoticed, as usual. There was a gleam which looked a little like scorn, in the black eyes of Miss Celestia, which said more plainly than Miss Pettimore’s words could have done, that the squire was better now, than the most in Merleville, but like a wise young person as she was, she expended all her scornful glances on the shirt sleeve she was making, and said nothing.

The minister was then allowed to rest a little while, and the other members of the family were discussed, with equal interest. Upon the whole, the conclusion arrived at was pretty favourable. But Mrs Page and her friends were not quite satisfied with Graeme. As the minister’s eldest daughter, and “serious,” they were disposed to overlook her youthfulness, and give her a prominent place in their circle. But Graeme hung back, and would not be prevailed upon to take such honour to herself, and so some said she was proud, and some said she was only shy. But she was kindly dealt with, even by Mrs Page, for her loving care of the rest of the children had won for her the love of many a motherly heart among these kind people. And she was after all but a child, little more than fifteen.

There were numberless stories afloat about the boys,—their mirth, their mischief, their good scholarship, their respect and obedience to their father, which it was not beneath the dignity of the ladies assembled to repeat and discuss. The boys had visited faithfully through the parish, if their father had not, and almost everywhere they had won for themselves a welcome. It is true, there had been one or two rather serious scrapes, in which they had involved themselves, and other lads of the village; but kind-hearted people forgot the mischief sooner than the mirth, and Norman and Harry were very popular among old and young.