“My approval?”
“Er—yes. You see, I’ve bought the lot right next to the church site. Now, this cottage—er—— Here! Let me show you. We can have the mill work for it shipped in with the church stuff. The same gang that builds the church can run the house up. There’s the front elevation. Say, Nell, how do you like it?”
“Why, it’s lovely!” she cried.
“Do you think it’s nice enough for a parson’s wife to live in?”
“Ford! Mr. Hunt! I——”
“Better let the ‘Mr. Hunt’ stuff slide, Nell Blossom,” he said, getting hold of her hand. “Even a minister’s wife is supposed to call her husband by his first name—at least, in private.”
“Oh, Ford!”
“That’s better.”
“But—but I am not fit to be a parson’s wife, Ford,” she cried, trembling.
“Do you know, sometimes I’ve half believed I wasn’t fit to be a parson? But it’s my job and I’m going to do the best I can with it. And—I need your help, Nell Blossom.”