"She has been telling me a story of a good man. We will ask her to preach again." "Perhaps," said Aunt Hildy, "more'n just you and I will hear her. I can't see how all these ideas are comin' out, and 'pears to me, it looks as ef we'd got to meet, and have a battle somewhere before long. The troubles are simmerin' over the fire of different minds, and I shall never sell my birthright over a mess of pottage; that's jest what I shan't do. It has stuck to me where everything else has failed, and I'm never agoin' to let go of it." I knew to what she alluded, for our good minister had stirred the waters with his sermons, and they were, of course, induced by his fearing the progress of liberal thought in our midst. We had ourselves received a sermon evidently directed at us, which described the act of going to hear Mr. Ballou as a wrong step. Even if we had not been clear-sighted enough to have taken the sermon to ourselves, we should have been reminded of it by the looks of some of the congregation, who sought out our pew with strong reproof in their eyes; among those whose eyes met mine in this manner, I remember most distinctly Jane North and Deacon Grover. I smiled involuntarily, and with a glance of horror at my wickedness, they turned their faces toward the preacher. Clara was not with us that Sabbath, for which I was glad. I wondered what would be done, and the week after mother left us, Jane North came over, and I expected to hear some talk concerning it. She brought her knitting in a little gingham bag on her arm, and there was no way to get rid of her or of her coming talk, which, I confess, I dreaded. "Oh, dear!" I said to Clara, "that wretched meddler is coming. What shall we do with her?" "I will try and help you, Emily. Perhaps she has a good heart after all, and meddles only because her conditions in life have fitted her for nothing better." "It isn't so, Clara; she tells stories about everybody; I would not believe her under oath." "Charity," she said softly, and through the door came Jane. "Good afternoon, Emily." "Take a seat," I said, bowing. "Good afternoon, Mis' Densin," to Clara. "Mrs. _De-mond_," I said, pronouncing the name rather forcibly. "Oh! _De_-mond is it?" with accent on the first syllable "That is more like it," said Clara. "How do you do to-day? let me take your things." "Don't feel very scrumptious, and ain't sick neither, kinder so so. How are all here? I heard Mis' Minot was gone. Ain't you lonesome?" "We do miss her sadly," said Clara. "Gone to a weddin', ain't she?" I laughed aloud. "Only for a change," said Clara. "Why, Mis' Grover"-- Clara waited for no news, but said quickly: "You were very kind, thinking we were lonely, to come over and see. Come into the other side of the house," and she led the way to her sitting-room.