The preacher turned his head and saw a man approaching with the decided and rather quick step of one who had something on his mind.
"Is that brother Martin?" asked Mr. Odell, calling to Aunt Nancy, who was near the window of her hut.
"Yes, please goodness! Wonder what he comin' here 'bout."
"We'll soon see," returned the preacher, composing himself in his chair.
In a few minutes, the farmer, looking sadly "flustered," arrived at the door of the old negro's humble abode. Odell kept his seat with an air of entire self-possession and unconcern, and looked at the new comer as he would have done at any other stranger.
"Mr. Odell, the new preacher on this circuit?" said Martin, in a respectful manner, as he advanced towards the minister.
"Yes, sir," replied Odell, without rising or evincing any surprise at the question.
"I am very sorry indeed, sir! very sorry," began Martin in a deprecating and troubled voice, "that you should have been so badly neglected as you were to-day. I had no idea—I never once thought—the preachers have always stayed at sister Russell's—I took it for granted that you were there. To think you should not have been invited home by any one! I am mortified to death."
"Oh, no," returned the preacher, smiling; "it is not quite so bad as that. Our good old sister here very kindly tendered me the hospitalities of her humble home, which I accepted gratefully. No one could be kinder to me than she has been—no one could have given me a warmer welcome."
"But—but," stammered forth Martin, "this is no place for a preacher to stay."