“My stars!” said she, casting her eyes to the right and left, half rising from the luxurious couch to peep into one corner, and almost breaking her neck to dive into another, “my stars, deacon, if this don’t beat all I ever did see!” But the deacon, with an air worthy of a funeral, shook his head, closed his eyes, and muttered, “Vanity—vanity!” The door opened, and Grace gliding in, sweetly apologized for her mother, whom a violent headache detained in her apartment. “Well, I do wish I knew what they were!” again exclaimed Mrs. Humphreys, as she took the deacon’s arm and plodded thoughtfully homeward. Then going to a dark cupboard under the stairs, she rummaged for some time among the jars and gallipots, and finally producing one marked “Raspberry Jam,” she told Naomi to put on her Sunday bonnet, and carry it to the cottage, and— “Naomi, you may just as well ask Grace Norton what meeting she goes to.” Delighted to make the acquaintance of Grace, Naomi threw on her bonnet and tripped lightly to the cottage, thinking little, we fear, of her mother’s last charge. At any rate it was omitted, and so the night-cap of Mrs. Humphreys again threw its broad frilling over an unsatisfied brow. In the morning the deacon received a very neat note from Mrs. Norton, requesting to see him up on business. “And now, my dear sir,” said she, after the common courtesies of the day were passed, “I have taken the liberty to send for you to transact a little business for me. If not too great a tax upon your time, will you purchase a pew for me?” The deacon grimly smiled, and rubbing his knee, replied, “Why, yes, Mrs. Norton, I shall be glad to attend to the matter. True, it is a busy season with us farmers, but the Lord forbid I should therefore neglect _his_ business.” “Do you think you can procure me one?” asked Mrs. Norton. “O, I reckon so, for I am certain there are several pews now to be let or sold either.” “And what price, Mr. Humphreys?” “Well, I guess about sixty dollars; and now I recollect, Squire Bryce wants to sell his—it is right alongside of mine, and I reckon my pew is as good for hearing the word as any in the meeting-house. I am glad, really I do rejoice to find you a true believer.” “You mistake my church, I see,” said Mrs. Norton, smiling, “I belong to a different denomination from the one of which as I am aware you are a professor.” “Then,” cried the deacon, rising hastily and making for the door, “excuse me—I—I know nothing of any other church or its pews. I cannot be the instrument of seating you where false doctrines are preached! I—good morning, ma’am.” The widow sighed as the gate slammed after her visiter, but Grace burst into a merry fit of laughter. “How ridiculous!” she exclaimed; “was there ever such absurdity!” “Hush, hush my dear child,” said Mrs. Norton, “Mr. Humphreys is without doubt perfectly conscientious in this matter—we may pity, but not condemn such zeal in the cause of religion.”