"I write this hasty line, feeling sure that you and Mrs. Strong will be anxious to hear the outcome of the meeting. "With kindest regards to both, and affectionate greeting to the little flock, believe me always "Faithfully yours, "JOHN BLISS." The little minister sealed and addressed his note, then took his hat and stick and started for the post-office. "You won't forget my pink worsted, John!" and Mrs. Bliss popped her pretty head out of the window. "Certainly not, my dear! certainly not!" said Mr. Bliss, with an air of collecting his wits hurriedly. "Pink worsted; to be sure! At Miss Pardon's, I presume?" "Of course! Saxony; you have the sample in your pocket, pinned into an envelope. Two skeins, John dear. Now do you think you can get that right? It is a shame to make you do such things, but I cannot leave Baby, and he really needs the jacket." "Of course, Marietta; of course, my dear! You know I am only too glad to help in little ways; I wish I could do more!" "It is so little a man can do!" he reflected, as he paced along the village street; "and Marietta's care is incessant. Motherhood is a blessed but a most laborious state." Arrived at the post-office, he found Seth Weaver perched on a ladder, inspecting the weather-beaten sign-board, which bore the legend, "Elmerton Post-office." "Good morning, Seth!" said the little minister. [Illustration: "'GOOD MORNING, SETH!' SAID THE LITTLE MINISTER"] "Same to you, Elder!" replied Seth, taking his pipe from his mouth. "Nice day! I was lookin' to see whether we'd need us a new sign, but I guess this board'll do, come to scrape and plane it. It's a good pine board; stood a lot o' weather, this board has. My father painted this." "Did he so, Seth?" said Mr. Bliss. "I was not aware that your father was a painter." "Painter, carpenter, odd-job man, same's me! He learned me all his trades, and too many of 'em. It would be money in my pocket to-day if I didn't know the half of 'em." Seth sat down on the top round of the ladder--it was a short one--and took out his knife and a bit of soft wood. The minister sighed, thinking of his sermon at home half-written, but accepted the unspoken invitation. "How is that, Seth?" he asked, cheerfully. Seth settled himself comfortably--it is not every man who can sit comfortably on a ladder--and, squaring his shoulders, began to whittle complacently.