"Well, partly he did an' partly he did n't, ef you can understand that."
"Sally Martin, what do you mean? A body has to fairly pick a thing out o' you."
"I mean that she told Mr. Daniels he might work fur him half of every day."
"Half a day! An' what 's he goin' to do the other half?"
"He 's a-goin' to the Bible Seminary the other half-day. She 's a-goin' to make a preacher out o' him."
Mrs. Martin had slowly and tortuously worked up to her climax, and she shot forth the last sentence with a jubilant ring. She had well calculated its effects. Sitting back in her chair, she supped her tea complacently as she contemplated her companion's astonishment. Mrs. Smith had completely collapsed into her seat, folded her arms, and closed her eyes. "Laws a massy!" she
exclaimed. "What next? Old Tom, drunken Tom, swearin' an' ravin' Tom Brent's boy a preacher!" Then suddenly she opened her eyes and sat up very erect and alert as she broke forth, "Sally Martin, what air you a-tellin' me? It ain't possible. It 's ag'in' nature. A panther's cub ain't a-goin' to be a lamb. It 's downright wicked, that 's what I say."
"An' so says I to Mis' Murphy, them same identical words; says I, 'Mis' Murphy, it 's downright wicked. It 's a-shamin' of the Lord's holy callin' o' the ministry.'"
"An' does the young scamp pertend to 'a' had a call?"
"No, indeed: he was mighty opposed to it, and so was her husband; but that woman was so set she would n't agree to nothin' else. He don't pertend to 'a' heerd no call, 'ceptin' Miss Hester's, an' that was a command. I know it 's all true, fur Mis' Murphy, while she was n't jest a-listenin', lives next door and heerd it all."