“A couple of years ago I received a visit from Reuben Penner. I didn’t recognise him, which wasn’t wonderful, since I hadn’t seen him for thirty years or more. He is well over fifty now, a large, heavy-faced man with uncommonly wild eyes for a greengrocer--which is what he is, though he dresses very well, considering. He was quite respectful at first, and very awkward in his manner. He took a little time to get his courage, and then he began questioning me about my religious feelings. Well, Mr. Hewitt, I am not the sort of person to stand a lecture from a junior and an inferior, whatever my religious opinions may be, and I pretty soon made him realise it. But somehow he persevered. He wanted to know if I would go to some place of worship that he called his ‘Tabernacle.’ I asked him who was the pastor. He said himself. I asked him how many members of the congregation there were, and (the man was as solemn as an owl. I assure you, Mr. Hewitt) he actually said five! I kept my countenance and asked why such a small number couldn’t attend church, or, at any rate, attach itself to some decent Dissenting chapel. And then the man burst out; mad--mad as a hatter. He was as incoherent as such people usually are, but as far as I could make out he talked, among a lot of other things, of some imaginary woman--a woman standing on the moon and driven into a wilderness on the wings of an eagle. The man was so madly possessed of his fancies that I assure you for a while he almost ceased to look ridiculous. He was so earnest in his rant. But I soon cut him short. It’s best to be severe with these people--it’s the only chance of bringing them to their senses. ‘Reuben Penner,’ I said, ‘shut up. Your mother was a very decent person in her way, I believe, but she was half a lunatic with her superstitious notions, and you’re a bigger fool than she was. Imagine a grown man, and of your age, coming and asking me, of all people in the world, to leave my church and make another fool in a congregation of five, with _you_ to rave at me about women in the moon! Go away and look after your greengrocery, and go to church or chapel like a sensible man. Go away and don’t play the fool any longer; I won’t hear another word!’ [Illustration: “‘REUBEN PENNER,’ I SAID, ‘SHUT UP!’”] “When I talk like this I am usually attended to, and in this case Penner went away with scarcely another word. I saw nothing of him for about a month or six weeks, and then he came and spoke to me as I was cutting roses in my front garden. This time he talked--to begin with, at least--more sensibly. ‘Mrs. Mallett,’ he said, ‘you have in your keeping a very sacred relic.’ “‘I have,’ I said, ‘left me by my great-uncle Joseph. And what then?’ “‘Well’--he hummed and hawed a little--‘I wanted to ask if you might be disposed to part with it.’ “‘What?’ I said, dropping my scissors--‘sell it?’ “‘Well, yes,’ he answered, putting on as bold a face as he could.