appers, and her iron-grey hair was always
combed neatly down over her ears. Joseph sat between us, sleeping or
purring. She spun so expertly that she could keep a close watch on the
road as well, and I got the biography of every individual who went by.
As for the poor young Methodist minister, who liked to read or walk on
the verandah of our neighbour's house, Aunt Philippa never had a good
word for him. I had met him once or twice socially and had liked him.
I wanted to ask him to call but dared not--Aunt Philippa had vowed he
should never enter her house.

"If I was dead and he came to my funeral I'd rise up and order him
out," she said.

"I thought he made a very nice prayer at Mrs. Seaman's funeral the
other day," I said.

"Oh, I've no doubt he can pray. I never heard anyone make more
beautiful prayers than old Simon Kennedy down at the harbour, who was
always drunk or hoping to be--and the drunker he was the better he
prayed. It ain't no matter how well a man prays if his preaching isn't
right. That Methodist man preaches a lot of things that ain't true,
and what's worse they ain't sound doctrine. At least, that's what I've
heard. I never was in a Methodist church, thank goodness."

"Don't you think Methodists go to heaven as well as Presbyterians,
Aunt Philippa?" I asked gravely.

"That ain't for us to decide," said Aunt Philippa solemnly. "It's in
higher hands than ours. But I ain't going to associate with them on
_earth_, whatever I may have to do in heaven. The folks round here
mostly don't make much difference and go to the Methodist church quite
often. But _I_ say if you are a Presbyterian, _be_ a Presbyterian. Of
course, if you ain't, it don't matter much what you do. As for that
minister man, he has a grand-uncle who was sent to the penitentiary
for embezzlement. I found out _that_ much."

And evidently Aunt Philippa had taken an unholy joy in finding it out.

"I dare say some of our own ancestors deserved to go to the
penitentiary, even if they never did," I remarked. "Who is that woman
driving past, Aunt Philippa? She must have been very pretty once."

"She was--and that was all the good it did her. 'Favour is deceitful
and beauty is vain,' Ursula. She was Sarah Pyatt and she married Fred
Proctor. He was one of your wicked, fascinating men. After she married
him he give up being fascinating but he kept on being wicked. _That's_
the men for you. Her sister Flora weren't much luckier. _Her_ man was