“And now, my dear sir,” said she, after the common courtesies of the day were passed, “I have taken the liberty to send for you to transact a little business for me. If not too great a tax upon your time, will you purchase a pew for me?”
The deacon grimly smiled, and rubbing his knee, replied,
“Why, yes, Mrs. Norton, I shall be glad to attend to the matter. True, it is a busy season with us farmers, but the Lord forbid I should therefore neglect his business.”
“Do you think you can procure me one?” asked Mrs. Norton.
“O, I reckon so, for I am certain there are several pews now to be let or sold either.”
“And what price, Mr. Humphreys?”
“Well, I guess about sixty dollars; and now I recollect, Squire Bryce wants to sell his—it is right alongside of mine, and I reckon my pew is as good for hearing the word as any in the meeting-house. I am glad, really I do rejoice to find you a true believer.”
“You mistake my church, I see,” said Mrs. Norton, smiling, “I belong to a different denomination from the one of which as I am aware you are a professor.”
“Then,” cried the deacon, rising hastily and making for the door, “excuse me—I—I know nothing of any other church or its pews. I cannot be the instrument of seating you where false doctrines are preached! I—good morning, ma’am.”
The widow sighed as the gate slammed after her visiter, but Grace burst into a merry fit of laughter.