“May, I’ll make this agreement. I’ll come down and stay as long as you play and sing, but I’m not a–goin’ to stay and have any min’ster advise me in a long sermon, for I know as much as he about it, and more too.”
“Well, grandfather, stay while the singing lasts.”
There was another invitation extended. This was given by Walter to Chauncy Aldrich.
“Ah, ah,” said Chauncy in his self–important way, lifting his hat, and with great dignity running his hand through his wall of hair, “you want me to honor the place with the presence of C. Aldrich? Yes, I’ll come. But look here, none of your long, prosy sermons, but something warm, and something short. Ha, ha!”
One by one, all preparations were made for the service. Miss Green promised to lend her cracked voice to the “choir,” and two or three young fishermen offered to roar in the bass. Don Pedro, whom Uncle Boardman had kept at his house to assist in some of the autumn work on the farm, made himself very helpful in sweeping out the Hall and arranging its seats.
“What time do you expect the clergyman will hold the service?” inquired Miss Green, as Walter was about leaving the post–office one day.
“Oh, I think he will come in the evening, if we want him,” replied Walter.
“There!” reflected this young master of ceremonies as he left the house. “If that isn’t just like me! I declare if I didn’t forget to ask the clergyman! But of course he will come, and I will take Uncle Boardman’s team and go up at once, to ask him.”
Alas, the rector couldn’t come!