“The school term isn’t closed,” said Mrs. Hadley oracularly. “Appearances are deceitful.”
It is rather singular that Mabel was favorably regarded by the fathers, while the mothers, to a man, were against her. There is something wrong in this sentence, but let it stand.
Chapter 5
In an old fashioned house a little east of the village lived the Rev. Theophilus Wilson, pastor of the Congregational Church in Granville. The house was considerably out of repair, and badly needed painting. It belonged to Squire Hadley, of whom the minister hired it, together with an acre of land adjoining, for seventy five dollars a year. An expenditure of one or two hundred dollars would have improved its appearance and made it a little more habitable, and the Squire, who was not a mean man, would have consented to this outlay but for the strenuous opposition of his wife.
“It’s good enough for the minister,” she said. “Ministers shouldn’t be too particular about their earthly dwellings. I believe in ministers being unworldly, for my part.”
“The house does look rather bad,” said the Squire. “Mrs. Wilson says the roof leaks, too.”
“A few drops won’t hurt all the furniture she’s got,” said Mrs. Hadley contemptuously.
Mrs. Hadley was rather inconsistent. She regarded the minister’s poor furniture and his wife’s worn dresses with scornful superiority; yet, had either complained, she would have charged them with worldliness.
“One coat of paint won’t cost much,” said the Squire, watching his wife’s countenance for signs of approval or the opposite.
“It will do no good,” said she positively. “It won’t make the house any warmer, and will only conduce to the vanity of the minister and his wife.”
“I never thought either of them vain,” expostulated her husband.
“You only look to the surface,” said his wife, in a tone of calm superiority. “I go deeper. You think, because Mrs. Wilson can’t afford to dress well, that she has no vanity. I can read her better. If she had the means she’d cut a dash, you may depend upon it.”
“There’s one thing I can’t understand, Lucretia,” said her husband. “Why are things worldly in them that are not in us?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You like to dress well, and I like my house to look neat. Why doesn’t that show a worldly spirit in us?”
“Because you are not a minister nor I a minister’s wife.”
“What difference does that make?”
“You are very dull this morning, Mr. Hadley,” said his wife scornfully.
“Perhaps I may be, but still I should like an explanation.”
“Ministers should set their hearts on things above.”
“Shouldn’t we?”
“Not in the same way. They should be humble and not self seeking. They should set a good example to the parish. Does Mr. Wilson pay his rent regular?” she asked, suddenly changing the subject.
“Tolerable.”
“Isn’t he in arrears?
“I can’t tell exactly without looking at the books,” said the Squire evasively.
“I understand; you don’t want to tell me. I dare say he is owing you half a year’s rent.”
This was quite true, but Squire Hadley neither confirmed nor denied it. He could quite understand that Mr. Wilson, with a wife and three children, found it hard to keep even with the world on his scanty stipend, and he did not feel like pressing him.
“I think it shameful for a minister not to pay his debts,” said Mrs. Hadley, in an acid tone.
“Suppose he can’t, my dear.”
“Don’t dear me. I am out of patience with you,” said the lady sharply.
“Why?”
“You needn’t ask. You encourage the minister in his shiftless course.”
“Suppose I had three children, and all our clothing and household expenses had to be paid out of five hundred a year.”
“If you was a minister you ought to do it.”
“A minister can’t make a dollar go any farther than other people.”
“He can give up luxuries and vanities.”
“Our minister indulges in very few of those,” said the Squire, shrugging his shoulders.
“I don’t know about that. I saw Sarah Wilson in the store the other day buying some granulated sugar, when brown is cheaper and would do equally as well.”