ife. She's wastin' a lot of bottled up interest
and sympathy on foolish things. If she'd married and had seven babies,
they would have seen to it that she didn't make a fool of herself.
However, it isn't her fault. She's volunteered to act as Deaconess to
every unmarried parson we've had; and it's a miracle of wonders one of
'em didn't succumb; parsons are such--oh, do excuse me! I mean so
injudicious on the subject of matrimony."

"But, Mrs. Burke, don't you think a clergyman ought to be a married
man?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, t'aint me that's been doin' the thinkin'
along those lines, for most of the parsons we've had. I've been more
of a first aid to the injured, in the matrimonial troubles of our
parish, and the Lord only knows when love-making has got as far as
actual injury to the parties engaged,--well thinkin' 'aint much use.
But there's Ginty for example. She's been worryin' herself thin for
the last five years, doin' matrimonial equations for the clergy. She's
a firm believer in the virtue of patience, and if the Lord only keeps
on sendin' us unmarried rectors, Ginty is goin' to have her day. It's
just naturally bound to come. I 'aint sure whether she's got a right
to be still runnin' with the lambs or not, but that don't matter
much,--old maids will rush in where angels fear to tread."

Maxwell smiled. "Old maids, and old bachelors, are pretty much alike.
I know a few of the latter, that no woman on earth could make into
regular human beings."

"Oh, yes; old bachelors aren't the nicest thing the Lord ever made.
Most of 'em are mighty selfish critters, take 'em as they run; and a
man that's never had a real great love in his life doesn't know what
life is."

"That's quite true," Donald responded, with such warmth that Mrs.
Burke glanced at him suspiciously, and changed her tune, as she
continued:

"Seems to me a parson, or any other man, is very foolish to marry
before he can support a wife comfortably, and lay by somethin' for a
rainy day, though. The last rector had five babies and seventeen cents
to feed 'em with. Yes, there were little olive branches on all four
sides of the table, and under the table too. The Whittimores seemed to
have their quiver full of 'em, as the psalmist says. Mrs. Whittimore
used to say to me, 'The Lord will provide,'--just to keep her courage
up, poor thing! Well, I suppose the Lord did provide; but I had to do
a lot of hustlin', just the same. No sir, if a parson m