"Would you call him the best man in Ciscasset?" pursued the farmer, with a wave of his hand toward 'Tilda Jane.
Mr. Price's snapping eyes had already taken her in. "What do you mean by best?" he asked, coolly.
"I mean a man as always does what is right," said 'Tilda Jane, when the question was left for her to answer.
"Don't go to Burness, then," said Mr. Price, rapidly. "Good preacher—poor practiser."
"Ain't there any good practisers in Ciscasset?" asked the farmer, dryly.
"Well—I know some pretty fair ones," responded Mr. Price. "I don't know of one perfect person in the length and breadth of the town. But I know two people, though, who come near enough to perfection for your job, I guess," and his brilliant glance rested on 'Tilda Jane.
"Who be they?" asked the farmer, curiously.
"Is it this young girl that wants 'em?" asked Mr. Price.
"Yes, sir," said the farmer, "it is."