“None,” said the other, “if Brother Cross knew anything about the party he introduced. But it so happens, as we learn from Brother Cross himself, that the first acquaintance he had with Stevens was made upon the road, where Stevens played a trick upon him by giving him brandy to drink.” “No trick, Brother Calvert; the young man gave it me as a medicine, took it as a medicine himself, and, when I bade him, threw away the accursed beverage.” “Ordinary men, governed by ordinary reason, Brother Cross, would say that Stevens knew very well what he was giving you, and that it was a trick.” “But only think, Mr. Calvert,” said Mrs. Hinkley, lifting her hands and eyes at the same moment, “the blessed young man threw away the evil liquor the moment he was told to do so. What a sign of meekness was that!” “I will not dwell on this point,” was the reply of Calvert. “He comes into our village and declares his purpose to adopt the profession of the preacher, and proceeds to his studies under the direction of Brother Cross.” “And didn't he study them?” demanded Mrs. Hinkley. “Wasn't he, late and early, at the blessed volume? I heard him at all hours above stairs. Oh! how often was he on his bended knees in behalf of our sinful race, ungrateful and misbelieving that we are!” “I am afraid, madam,” said Calvert, “that his studies were scarcely so profound as you think them. Indeed. I am at a loss to conceive how you should blind your eyes to the fact that the greater part of his time was spent among the young girls of the village.” “And where is it denied,” exclaimed old Hinkley, “that the lambs of God should sport together?” “Do not speak in that language, I pray you, Mr. Hinkley,” said Calvert, with something of pious horror in his look; “this young man was no lamb of God, but, I fear, as you will find, a wolf in the fold. It is, I say, very well known that he was constantly wandering, even till a late hour of the night, with one of the village maidens.” “Who was that one, Brother Calvert?” demanded John Cross. “Margaret Cooper.” “Hem!” said the preacher. “Well, he quarrels with my young friend, the worthy son of Brother Hinkley--” “Do not speak of that ungrateful cub. Brother Stevens did not quarrel with him. He quarrelled with Brother Stevens, and would have murdered him, but that I put in in time to save.” “Say not so, Mr. Hinkley. I have good reason to believe that Stevens went forth especially to fight with William.” “I would not believe it, if a prophet were to tell me it.” “Nevertheless, I believe it. We found both of them placed at the usual fighting-distance.” “Ah! but where were Brother Stevens's pistols?” “In his pocket, I suppose.”