"Miss," replied Jane mysteriously, "it is a parson, and you are so
fond of them, I could not think to let him go away without getting a
word with anybody; and he has such a face. La, miss, you never saw
such a face."

"Silly girl, what have I to do with handsome faces?"

"But he is not handsome, miss, not in the least, only he is beautiful.
You go and see else."

"I hate strangers' faces, but I will go to him, Jane; it is my duty,
since it is a clergyman. I will just go upstairs."

"La, miss, what for? you are always neat, you are--nobody ever catches
you in your dishables like the rest of 'em."

"I'll just smooth my hair."

"La, miss, what for? it is smooth as marble--it always is."

"Where is he, Jane?"

"In the front parlor."

"I won't be a moment."

She went upstairs. There was no necessity; Jane was right there; but
it was a strict custom in the country, and is, for that matter, and
will be till time and vanity shall be no more. More majorum a girl