The Reverend Mr. Birdsall, the minister, treated Aun' Sheba with much consideration; he justly regarded her as one of the "pillars of the church," knowing well from long experience that she abounded in liberality if not in long prayers and contentions. He was a plain, sincere, positive man who preached what he believed to be the truth. If he was sometimes beyond it, beneath it or away from it altogether, he was as serenely unconscious of the fact as were his hearers. There was no agnosticism in his congregation, for he laid down the law and the gospel in a way that discouraged theological speculation. Nevertheless, among his followers there were controversial spirits who never doubted that they were right, however much they might question his ecclesiastical methods and views. To many, freedom meant the right to have their say, and, as is often true, those having the least weighty matter on their minds were the most ready to volunteer opinions and advice. Aun' Sheba was a doer, not a talker, in her church relations. If she occasionally dozed a little in her pew during the sermon, she was always wide awake when the plate was passed around; and if a "brother" or a "sister" were sick she found time for a visit, nor did she go empty-handed. If it were a case of back-sliding she had a homely way of talking sense to the delinquent that savored a little of worldly wisdom. There were not a few who shared in her doubt whether she was "'ligious" or not, but the Reverend Mr. Birdsall was not of these. He would only have been too glad to have discovered more religion like hers. "Mis' Buggone," he said, sympathetically, after Aun' Sheba had given her symptoms with much detail, "in you is a case whar de spirit is willin' but de flesh is weak. You'se been a-goin' beyon' you strengt." "Yes, Elder, dat is de gist ob de whole business," affirmed Kern Watson. "Moder's tromped de streets wid her big basket till she is dun beat out. She's undertook mo'n her share an' is s'portin' too many people." "Kern, you means well," said Aun' Sheba with dignity, "but you mus' not 'fleet on young Missy. She am de las' one in de worl' to let a body s'port her while she fol' her han's. She's po'ly too, jes' kase she's a workin' harde'n me." Uncle Sheba hitched uneasily in his chair, feeling that the conversation rather reflected on him, and he was conscious that old Tobe, keeper of the "rasteran," was glaring at him. "I reckin," he said, "dat de min'ster might offer a word ob prar an' comfort fore he go." "What pressin' business," asked his wife, severely, "hab you got, Unc., dat you in sech a hurry fer de min'ster ter go? We ain't into de shank ob de ebenin' yet, an' dar's no 'casion to talk 'bout folks goin'." "I dun said nothin' 'bout folks goin'," complained Uncle Sheba in an aggrieved tone, "I was ony a suggestin' wot 'ud be 'propriate ter de 'casion _fore_ dey go."