is.
Well, the minister was stan'in' side of Isabel when the tarts was
passed. He was sort o' shinin' up to her that night, an' I guess he felt
a mite twittery; so when the tarts come to him, he reached out kind o'
delicate, with his little finger straight out, an' tried to take one.
An' a ring o' crust come off on his finger. Then he tried it ag'in, an'
got another ring. Everybody'd ha' laughed, if it hadn't been the
minister; but Isabel she tickled right out, an' says, 'You don't take
jelly, do you, Mr. Bond?' An' he turned as red as fire, an' says, 'No, I
thank you.'"

"She wouldn't ha' said it, if she hadn't ha' been so nervous," remarked
Miss Sally, taking a little parcel of peppermints from her pocket, and
proceeding to divide them.

"No, I don't s'pose she would," owned Mrs. Page reflectively. "But if
what they say is true, she's been pretty sassy to him, fust an' last.
Why, you know, no matter how the parson begins his prayer, he's sure to
end up on one line: 'Lord, we thank Thee we have not been left to live
by the dim light of natur'.' 'Lisha Cole, when he come home from
Illinois, walked over here to meetin', to surprise some o' the folks. He
waited in the entry to ketch 'em comin' out, an' the fust word he heard
was, 'Lord, we thank Thee we have not been left to live by the dim light
of natur'.' 'Lisha said he'd had time to be shipwrecked (you know he
went to California fust an' made the v'yage), an' be married twice, an'
lay by enough to keep him, and come home poor; but when he heard that,
he felt as if the world hadn't moved sence he started."

Sally Ware dropped her mitten, to avoid listening and the necessity of
reply; it was too evident that the conversational tone was becoming
profane. But Mrs. Page's eyes were gleaming with pure dramatic joy, and
she continued:--

"Well, a fortnight or so ago he went over to see Isabel, an' Sadie an'
her husband happened to be there. They were all settin' purrin' in the
dark, because they'd forgot to send for any kerosene. 'No light?' says
he, hittin' his head ag'inst the chimbly-piece goin' in,--'no light?'
'No,' says Isabel, 'none but the dim light of natur'.'"

There was a chime of delighted laughter in many keys. The company felt
the ease of unrestricted speech. They wished the nooning might be
indefinitely prolonged.

"Sometimes I think she sets out to make him believe she's wuss 'n she
is," remarked Mrs. Cole. "Remember how she carried on last Sabbath?"