“But,” the parson argued, “we have the district meetings—times of refreshing: when brain meets brain, you know, and wit meets wit, and the sparks fly. Ha, ha! Yes, indeed! The social aspect is not to be neglected. Dear me, no! Now, for illustration, Mrs. Jaunt is to entertain the clergy at the parsonage on Thursday evening. Yes, indeed! She’s planned the refreshments already.” The parson gave Aunt Tibbie a sly, sly glance, and burst out laughing. “Ha, ha!” he roared. “I know what you want. You want to know what she’s going to have, don’t you? Woman’s curiosity, eh? Ha, ha! Oh, you women!” Aunt Tibbie smiled. “Well,” said the parson, importantly, “I’ll tell you. But it’s a secret, mind you! Don’t you tell Brother All!” Aunt Tibbie beamed. “Well,” the parson continued, his voice falling to a whisper, “she’s going to have a jelly-cake, and an angel-cake, and a tin of beef.” The twins sat up, wide-eyed with attention. “Eh? Ha, ha!” the parson laughed. “You got that? And she’s going to have something more.” Aunt Tibbie leaned forward—agape, her eyes staring. The twins were already overcome. “Yes, indeed!” said the parson. “_She’s got a dozen bananas from St. John’s!_ Eh? Ha, ha! And she’s going to slice ’em and put ’em in a custard. Ha, ha!” The twins gasped. “Ha, ha!” the parson roared. They were all delighted—parson, skipper, housewife, and twins. Nor in providing this hospitality for the Black Bay clergy was the parson in thought or deed a selfish shepherd. It would be unkind—it would be most unfair—to think it. He was an honest, earnest servant of the Master he acknowledged, doing good at Candlestick Cove, in fair and foul weather. He lived his life as best he could—earnestly, diligently, with pure, high purpose. But he was not clever: that is all. ’Twould be an evil thing for more brilliant folk (and possibly less kindly) to scorn him. “Yes, indeed!” the parson laughed. “And look here, now—why, I must be off! Where’s my umbrella? Here it is.... _Will_ you look at that baby, Aunt Tibbie? He’s staring at me yet. Get out, you squid! Stop that laughing. Got a kiss for me? Oh, you _have_, have you? Then give it to me.... A fine baby that; yes, indeed! A fine baby.... Get out, you wriggler! Leave your toes be. Ha-a-a! I’ll catch you—yes, I will!... What a night it is! How the wind blows and the rain comes down! And no sign of fish, Skipper Jonathan? Ah, well, the Lord will provide. Good-night. God bless you!” “You’ll get wonderful wet, sir,” said Aunt Tibbie, with a little frown of anxiety. “I don’t mind it in the least,” cried the parson. “Not at all. I’m used to it.” Skipper Jonathan shut the door against the wind. “Will it never stop blowin’!” Aunt Tibbie complained. Outside, wind and rain had their way with the world. Aunt Tibbie and Skipper Jonathan exchanged glances. They were thinking of the dawn. “I’m wantin’ t’ go t’ bed, Tibbie,” Jonathan sighed, “for I’m wonderful tired.”