WITH A PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR AND A PICTURE BY HARRY TOWNSEND
(NOTEWORTHY STORIES OF THE LAST GENERATION)
THE minister’s got a job,” said Mr. Snell.
Mr. Snell had been driven in by a shower from the painting of a barn, and was now sitting, with one bedaubed overall leg crossed over the other, in Mr. Hamblin’s shop.
Half a dozen other men who had likewise found in the rain a call to leisure looked up at him inquiringly.
“How do you mean?” said Mr. Noyes, who sat beside him, girt with a nail-pocket. “‘The minister’s got a job?’ How do you mean?” And Mr. Noyes assumed a listener’s air, and stroked his thin, yellow beard.
Mr. Snell smiled with half-shut, knowing eyes, but made no answer.
“How do you mean?” repeated Mr. Noyes. “‘The minister’s got a job?’ Of course he has—got a stiddy job. We knew that before.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Snell, with a placid face; “seeing’s you know so much about it, enough said. Let it rest there.”
“But,” said Mr. Noyes, nervously blowing his nose, “you lay down this proposition: ‘The minister’s got a job.’ Now I ask, what is it?”