"Seen yesterday's Press?"
"No. I can't talk, Grace."
"This town's all for Buchanan and Breckenridge. How will the Squire vote?"
"Ask him. Take care, Josiah."
"If the Squire isn't taking any active part, Mrs. Penhallow is. She is taking a good deal of interest in the roof of my chapel and—and—other things."
The rector did not like it. "I can't talk, Grace."
"But I can."—"Well," thought the rector, "for an intelligent man you are slow at taking hints." The good-natured rotund preacher went on, amazing his helpless friend, "I wonder if the Squire would like her canvassing—"
"Ask him."
"Guess not. She's a good woman, but not just after the fashion of St.
Paul's women."
"She hasn't done no talking to me," said Josiah, chuckling. "There, sir,
I'm through."