sense and decorum."

"Why did they ever build that manse beside the graveyard in the
first place?" asked Anne. "Their lawn is so small there is no
place for them to play except in the graveyard."

"It WAS a mistake," admitted Miss Cornelia. "But they got the
lot cheap. And no other manse children ever thought of playing
there. Mr. Meredith shouldn't allow it. But he has always got
his nose buried in a book, when he is home. He reads and reads,
or walks about in his study in a day-dream. So far he hasn't
forgotten to be in church on Sundays, but twice he has forgotten
about the prayer-meeting and one of the elders had to go over to
the manse and remind him. And he forgot about Fanny Cooper's
wedding. They rang him up on the 'phone and then he rushed right
over, just as he was, carpet slippers and all. One wouldn't mind
if the Methodists didn't laugh so about it. But there's one
comfort--they can't criticize his sermons. He wakes up when he's
in the pulpit, believe ME. And the Methodist minister can't
preach at all--so they tell me. _I_ have never heard him, thank
goodness."

Miss Cornelia's scorn of men had abated somewhat since her
marriage, but her scorn of Methodists remained untinged of
charity. Susan smiled slyly.

"They do say, Mrs. Marshall Elliott, that the Methodists and
Presbyterians are talking of uniting," she said.

"Well, all I hope is that I'll be under the sod if that ever