"But as you say, 'Liphalet," she went on, "Fred ain't the worst boy in the world, nor the dumbest neither, ef I do say it myself. I ain't a-sayin', mind you, that he 's anything so great or wonderful; but I 've got to thinkin' that there 's somethin' in him besides original sin, an' I should feel that the Lord had been mighty favourin' to me ef I could manage to draw it out. The
fact of it is, 'Liphalet, I 've took a notion in my head about Fred, an' I 'm a-goin' to tell you what it is. I 've decided to make a preacher out o' him."
"H'm—ah—well, Miss Hester, don't you think you 'd better let the Lord do that?"
"Nonsense, 'Liphalet! you 'ain't got no insight at all. I believe in people a-doin' their part an' not a-shovin' everything off on the Lord. The shiftless don't want nothin' better than to say that they will leave the Lord to take care o' things, an' then fold their arms an' set down an' let things go to the devil. Remember, Brother Hodges, I don't mean that in a perfane way. But then, because God made the sunlight an' the rain, it ain't no sign that we should n't prune the vine."
Miss Hester's face had flushed up with the animation of her talk, and her eyes were sparkling with excitement.
Eliphalet looked at her, and his heart leaped. He felt that the time had come to speak.
"Miss Hester," he began, and the hat in his hand went round and round nervously.
"'Liphalet, fur goodness' sake do lay
yore hat on the table. You 'll ruin the band of it, an' you make me as nervous as a cat."
He felt a little dampened after this, but he laid down the offending hat and began again. "I 've been thinkin' some myself, Miss Hester, an' it 's been about you."