"Why, how do you do, Mr. Letgood?" said the Deacon cordially. "I'm glad
to see you, sir, as you are too, I'm sartin," he added, turning to his
wife and putting his arms round her waist and his lips to her cheek in
an affectionate caress. "Take a seat, won't you? It's too hot to stand."
As Mrs. Hooper sank down beside him on the sofa and their visitor drew
over a chair, he went on, taking up again the broken thread of his
thought. "No one thinks more of you than Isabelle. She said only last
Sunday there warn't such a preacher as you west of the Mississippi
River. How's that for high, eh?"--And then, still seeking back like a
dog on a lost scent, he added, looking from his wife to the clergyman,
as if recalled to a sense of the actualities of the situation by a
certain constraint in their manner, "But what's that I heard about
Chicago? There ain't nothin' fresh--Is there?"

"Oh," replied Mrs. Hooper, with a look of remonstrance thrown sideways
at her admirer, while with a woman's quick decision she at once cut the
knot, "I guess there is something fresh. Mr. Letgood, just think of it,
has had a 'call' from the Second Baptist Church in Chicago, and it's ten
thousand dollars a year. Now who's right about his preachin'? And he
ain't goin' to accept it. He's goin' to stay right here. At least," she
added coyly, "he said he'd refuse it--didn't you?"

The Deacon stared from one to the other as Mr. Letgood, with a forced
half-laugh which came from a dry throat, answered: "That would be going
perhaps a little too far. I said," he went on, catching a coldness in
the glance of the brown eyes, "I wished to refuse it. But of course I
shall have to consider the matter thoroughly--and seek for guidance."

"Wall," said the Deacon in amazement, "ef that don't beat everythin'. I
guess nobody would refuse an offer like that. _Ten thousand dollars a