"Possibly that was a mistake," replied her companion in a queer, strained voice. "But no one is sorrier than the bishop himself when he blunders."
"Then I sh'd think he would be more careful about giving us another misfit. We are tired of 'em."
"Dr. Shumway is a man whom everyone loves," said the ministerial-looking gentleman warmly.
"I'm glad of that, then; but I am sorry he is coming to South Avenue Church just the same. He doesn't look as if he could stand being kicked any more'n Papa could. Has he got any children?"
"Yes, five, I believe."
"Any my size?"
"I think his family is pretty well grown up, my girl."
"That's lucky, for if the church should happen to wear him out like they did Papa, why, his children could take care of themselves when he died and not have to dig like we did, and fin'ly be adopted or else sent to the poor farm."
The big man fidgeted in his pew and looked quite uncomfortable as the relentless voice continued, "I sh'd hate to be a bishop and have such things blamed onto me; but if the bishop hadn't insisted on sending Papa to that Pendennis Church when they had asked for someone else, maybe he might be living with his family yet, instead of with the angels."
"Who was your Papa?" the gruff voice gently asked.