as not sinning in
ignorance either, for she herself, had told him his duty in this
respect.

"And what did he say?" asked some one.

"Oh! he didn't say much, but I could see that his conscience wasn't
easy. However, there has been no improvement yet," she added, with
grave severity.

"He hain't got a horse, and I've heard say, that deacon Fish charges him
six cents a mile for his horse and cutter, whenever he has it. He
couldn't afford to ride round much at that rate, on five hundred dollars
a year."

This bold speech was ventured by Miss Rebecca Pettimore, Mrs Captain
Liscome's help, who took turns with that lady, in attending the
sewing-circle. But it was well known, that she was always "on the off
side," and Mrs Page deigned no reply. There was a moment's silence.

"Eli heard Mr Snow say so, in Page's shop yesterday," added Rebecca,
who always gave her authority, when she repeated an item of news. Mrs
Fish took her up sharply.

"Sampson Snow had better let the minister have his horse and cutter, if
he can afford to do it for nothing. Mr Fish can't."

"My goodness, Mis' Fish, I wouldn't have said a word, if I'd thought you
were here," said Rebecca, with an embarrassed laugh.

"Mr Snow often drives the minister, and thinks himself well paid, just
to have a talk with him," said a pretty black-eyed girl, trying to cover
Rebecca's retreat. But Rebecca wouldn't retreat.

"I didn't mean any offence, Mis' Fish, and if it ain't so about the
deacon, you can say so now, before it goes farther."

But it was not to be contradicted, and that Mrs Fish well knew, though
what business it was of anybody's, and why the minister, who seemed to
be well off, shouldn't pay for the use of a horse and cutter, she
couldn't understand. The subject was changed by Mrs Slowcome.

"He must have piles and piles of old sermons. It don't seem as though
he needs to spend as much time in his study, as Mrs Nasmyth tells
about."

Here there was a murmur of dissent. Would sermons made for the British,
be such as to suit free-born American citizens? the children of the
Puritans? The prevailing feeling was against such a supposition.

"Old or new, I like them," said Celestia Jones, the pretty black-eyed
girl, who had spoken before. "And so do others, who are better judges
than I."

"Squire Greenleaf, I suppose," said Ruby Fox, in a loud whisper. "He
was up there last Sunday night; she has been aching to tell it all the
aftern