“I believe we use granulated sugar, Lucretia,” said Squire Hadley, his eyes twinkling.
“You’re not a minister.”
“And I shouldn’t want to be if the sinners are to get all the good things of this life, and the saints have to take up with the poorest.”
“Call yourself a sinner if you like, but don’t call me one, Mr. Hadley,” said his wife with some asperity.
“Ain’t you a sinner?”
“We are all sinners, if it comes to that, but I consider myself as good as most people. How much rent did you say the minister was owing you?”
“I didn’t say,” said the Squire shrewdly.
“Keep it a secret if you please. All I say is that it’s a duty you owe your family to collect what is honestly due you. I would do it if I were a man.”
“I think you would, Lucretia. However, to please you, I’ll attend to it within a week.”
“I am glad you’re getting sensible. You allow your good nature to run away with you.”
“I am glad you allow me one good quality, Lucretia,” said her husband with an attempt at humor.
Mrs. Hadley did not fail to inquire of her husband, a few days afterward, if the rent had been collected, and heard with satisfaction that it had been paid up to the current month.
“I told you he would pay it if you pressed him,” she said triumphantly.
Her husband smiled. He thought it best not to relate the circumstances under which it had been paid. He had called at the minister’s study the day after the conversation above detailed, and after a few remarks on indifferent topics said:
“By the way, Mr. Wilson, in regard to the rent — — ”
“I regret being so much in arrears, Squire Hadley,” said the minister uncomfortably; “but really it is a very perplexing problem to make my salary cover the necessary expenses of my family. I hope in a few weeks to be able to pay something.”
Don’t trouble yourself, my dear sir,” said the Squire genially. “You must find it difficult, I am sure. I find, by my books, that you are owing me six months’ rent.”
“I am afraid it is as much as that,” said Mr. Wilson, sighing.
“And I am going to help you to pay it.”
The minister looked at his guest in surprise. Squire Hadley took out his pocket book, and drew there-from four ten dollar bills.
“Mr. Wilson,” said he, “I make you a present of this, and now, perhaps, you will be able to pay me the rent due — thirty seven dollars and a, half, I think the exact amount is.”
“My good friend,” said the minister, almost overcome, “how can I thank you for this generosity?”
“By paying me my rent,” said the Squire smiling. “I am very particular to have that paid promptly. If you will furnish me with writing materials I will write you a receipt. Now, Mr. Wilson,” he added, as he rose to go, “I am going to ask you a favor.”
“Only mention it, my friend.”
“Let this little transaction be a secret between us.”
It is hard to promise that; I should like to speak to others of your goodness. If I say nothing about it, it will seem ungrateful.”
“If you do mention it, you will get me into hot water.”
“How is that?” inquired the minister, in some perplexity.
“The fact is my wife is very frugal, and just a leetle stingy. She can’t help it, you understand. Her father was pretty close fisted. She wouldn’t approve of my giving away so much money, and might remonstrate.”
“Yes, I understand,” said the minister, who knew, as all the village did, that Mrs. Hadley was quite as close fisted as her lamented father.
“So we had better say nothing about it.”
“I can tell my wife?”
“Yes, you may tell her, for it may relieve her from anxiety. Of course she won’t mention it.”
“You are a firm friend, Squire Hadley,” said Mr. Wilson, grasping the hand of his parishioner cordially. “You are one of those who do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.”