"I guess so!" returned Mrs. Page. "You see, Tilly, he's kind o' pushin'
her for'ard to make her seem more suitable,--he'd like to have her as
old as the hills!--an' nothin' would do but she must go into the Bible
class. Ain't a member that's under fifty, but there that little young
thing sets, cheeks red as a beet, an' the elder asks her questions, when
he gits to her, as if he was coverin' on her over with cotton wool.
Well, last Sabbath old Deacon Pitts--le's see, there ain't any o' his
folks present, be they?--well, he was late, an' he hadn't looked at his
lesson besides. 'T was the fust chapter in Ruth, where it begins, 'In
the days when the judges ruled.' You recollect Naomi told the two
darters they'd got to set sail, an' then the Bible says, 'they lifted up
their voice an' wept.' 'Who wept?' says the parson to Deacon Pitts,
afore he'd got fairly se' down. The deacon he opened his Bible, an'
whirled over the leaves. 'Who wept, Brother Pitts?' says the parson over
ag'in. Somebody found the deacon the place, an' p'inted. He was growin'
redder an' redder, an' his spe'tacles kep' slippin' down, but he did
manage to see the chapter begun suthin' about the judges. Well, by that
time parson spoke out sort o' sharp. 'Brother Pitts,' says he, 'who
wept?' The deacon see 't he'd got to put some kind of a face on 't, an'
he looked up an' spoke out, as bold as brass. 'I conclude,' says
he,--'I conclude 't was the judges!'"

Even Miss Ware smiled a little, and adjusted her gold beads. The others
laughed out rich and free.

"Well, what'd that have to do with Isabel?" asked Mrs. Ellison, who
never forgot the main issue.

"Why, everybody else drawed down their faces, an' tried to keep 'em
straight, but Isabel, she begun to laugh, an' she laughed till the tears
streamed down her cheeks. Deacon Pitts was real put out, for him, an'
the parson tried not to take no notice. But it went so fur he couldn't
help it, an' so he says, 'Miss Isabel, I'm real pained,' says he. But 't
was jest as you'd cuff the kitten for snarlin' up your yarn."

"Well, what's Isabel goin' to do?" asked Mrs. Ellison. "S'pose she'll
marry him?"

"Why, she won't unless he tells her to. If he does, I dunno but she'll
think she's got to."

"I say it's a shame," put in Mrs. Robbins incisively; "an' Isabel with
everything all fixed complete so 't she could have a good time. Her
sister's well married, an' Isabel stays every night with her. Them two
girls have