seemed a simple one; both answered it in the same breath--

"Barclay Goodson."

"Yes," said Richards, "he could have done it, and it would have been like
him, but there's not another in the town."

"Everybody will grant that, Edward--grant it privately, anyway. For six
months, now, the village has been its own proper self once more--honest,
narrow, self-righteous, and stingy."

"It is what he always called it, to the day of his death--said it right
out publicly, too."

"Yes, and he was hated for it."

"Oh, of course; but he didn't care. I reckon he was the best-hated man
among us, except the Reverend Burgess."

"Well, Burgess deserves it--he will never get another congregation here.
Mean as the town is, it knows how to estimate HIM. Edward, doesn't it
seem odd that the stranger should appoint Burgess to deliver the money?"

"Well, yes--it does. That is--that is--"

"Why so much that-IS-ing? Would YOU select him?"

"Mary, maybe the stranger knows him better than this village does."

"Much THAT would help Burgess!"