"Country parsons are not apt to have diamond rings to dispose of."

"Very true, my dear. The remark does credit to your good judgment and
penetration. But I know how to get over that."

"As how?"

"Be a little more particular about your speech, my dear. Remember, you
are a minister's wife, and must use refined expressions. What is easier
than to say that the ring was given me by a benevolent lady of my
congregation, to dispose of for the benefit of the poor?"

"Well thought of, Tony. You've got a good head-piece."

"You're right, my dear. I don't like to indulge in self-praise, but I
believe I know a thing or two. And now for the masquerade. Where are the
duds?"

"In the black trunk."

"Then we'd better lose no time in putting them on."

Without describing the process of transformation in detail, it will be
sufficient to say that the next twenty minutes wrought a decided change
in the appearance of Mr. and Mrs. Felix Montgomery. The former was
arrayed in a suit of canonical black, not of the latest cut. A white
neckcloth was substituted for the more gaudy article worn by the jeweler
from Syracuse, and a pair of silver-bowed spectacles, composed of plain
glass, lent a scholarly air to his face. His hair was combed behind his
ears, and, so far as appearance went, he quite looked the character of a
clergyman from the rural districts.

"How will I do, my dear?" he asked, complacently.

"Tiptop," answered the lady. "How do I look?"

Mrs. Montgomery had put on a dress of sober tint, and scant
circumference, contrasting in a marked manner with the mode then
prevailing. A very plain collar encircled her neck. Her hands were
incased in brown silk gloves, while her husband wore black kids.
Her bonnet was exceedingly plain, and her whole costume was almost
Quaker-like in its simplicity.

Her husband surveyed her with satisfaction.

"My dear," he said, "you are a fitting helpmeet for the Rev. Mr. Barnes,
of Hayfield Centre. By Jove, you do me credit!"

"'By Jove' is not a proper expression for a man of your profession, Mr.
Barnes," said the new minister's wife, with a smile.

"You are right, my dear. I must eschew profanity, and cultivate a
decorous style of speech. Well, are we ready?"

"I am."

"Then let us set forth on our pilgrimage. We will imagine, Mrs. Barnes,
that we are about to make some pastoral calls."

They emerged into the street. On the way downstairs they met Mrs. Flagg,
the landlady, who b