difficult still it became when the old lawyer died, for he at least
had been a sort of fictitious head of the family and his mere
existence kept David within bounds.

David was a lively, harum-scarum, handsome youth, good at his lessons,
popular with his companions, always in a scrape, into which he was
generally drawn by the minister's son, so the neighbors thought. At
any rate, Dick Larrabee, as David's senior, received the lion's share
of the blame when mischief was abroad. If Parson Larrabee's boy
couldn't behave any better than an unbelieving black-smith's, a
Methodist farmer's, or a Baptist storekeeper's, what was the use of
claiming superior efficacy for the Congregational form of belief?

"Dick's father's never succeeded in bringing him into the church,
though he's worked on him from the time he was knee-high to a toad,"
said Mrs. Popham.

"P'raps his mother kind o' vaccinated him with religion 'stid o'
leavin' him to take it the natural way, as the ol' sayin' is," was her
husband's response. "The first Mis' Larrabee was as good as gold, but
she may have overdone the trick a little mite, mebbe; and what's more,
I kind o' suspicion the parson thinks so himself. He ain't never been
quite the same sence Dick left home, 'cept in preaching'; an' I tell
you, Maria, his high-water mark there is higher 'n ever. Abel Dunn o'
Boston walked home from meetin' with me Thanksgivin', an', says he,
takin' off his hat an' moppin' his forehead, 'Osh,' says he, 'does
your minister preach like that every Sunday?' 'No,' says I, 'he don't.
If he did we couldn't stan' it! He preaches like that about once a
month, an' we don't care what he says the rest o' the time.'"