“I don’t think people ought to buy meat if they can’t pay for it,” said the butcher bluntly.
“The parish is owing me more than the amount of your bill, Mr. Bennett,” said the perplexed minister. “Just as soon as I can collect the money — — ”
“I need it now,” said the butcher coarsely. “I have bills to pay, and I can’t pay them unless my customers pay me.”
“I wish I could pay you at once.” said Mr. Wilson wistfully. “Would you take an order on the parish treasurer?”
“No; he’s so slack it wouldn’t do, me any good. Can’t you pay half today, Mr. Wilson?”
“I have but five dollars on hand, Mr. Bennett; I can’t pay you the whole of that. I will divide it with you.” “Two dollars and a half! It would be only ten per cent of my bill.”
He closed, however, by agreeing to take it; but grumbled as he did so.
“These things try me a good deal,” said the minister, with a sigh, after the departure of his creditor. “I sometimes think I will leave the profession, and try to find some business that will pay me better.”
“It would be hazardous to change now, Theophilus,” said his wife. “You have no business training, and would be as likely to do worse as better.”
“Perhaps you are right, my dear. I suppose we must worry along. Do you think we could economize any more than we do?
“I don’t see how we can. I’ve lain awake many a night thinking whether it would be possible, but I don’t see how. We couldn’t pinch our table any more without risking health.”
“I am afraid you are right.”
“Why not call on Mr. Ferry, the treasurer, and see if he cannot collect some more money for you?”
“I will do so; but I fear it will be of no use.”
The minister was right. Mr. Ferry handed him two dollars.
“It is all I have been able to collect,” he said. “Money is tight, Mr. Wilson, and everybody puts off paying.”
This was what made Mrs. Wilson’s face a shade more careworn than usual on this particular day. To add to her trouble, Mrs. Bennett, the wife of her husband’s creditor, who was also a member of the sewing circle, had treated her with great coolness, and almost turned her back upon her. The minister’s wife was sensitive, and she felt the slight. When, however, she found Mabel at her side, she smiled pleasantly.
“I am glad to have a chance to thank you, Miss Frost, for the pains you have taken with my little Henry. He has never learned so fast with any teacher before. You must have special talent for teaching.”
“I am glad if you think so, Mrs. Wilson. I am a novice, you know. I have succeeded better than I anticipated.”
“You have succeeded in winning the children’s love. Henry is enthusiastic about you.”
“I don’t think I should be willing to teach unless I could win the good will of my scholars,” said Mabel, earnestly. “With that, it is very pleasant to teach.”
“I can quite understand your feelings. Before I married Mr. Wilson, I served an apprenticeship as a teacher. I believe I failed as a disciplinarian,” she added, smiling faintly. “The committee thought I wasn’t strict enough.”
I am not surprised,” said Mabel. “You look too kind to be strict.”
“I believe I was too indulgent; but I think I would rather err in that than in the opposite direction.”
“I fancy,” said Mabel, “that you must find your position as a minister’s wife almost as difficult as keeping school.”
“It certainly has its hard side,” said Mrs. Wilson cautiously; for she did not venture to speak freely before so many of her husband’s parishioners.
Just then Mrs. Bennett, the butcher’s wife, who sat on the opposite side of the table, interrupted their conversation. She was a large, coarse looking woman, with a red face and a loud voice.
“Miss Frost,” she said, in a tone of voice audible to all the guests, “I have a bone to pick with you.”
Mabel arched her brows, and met the glance of Mrs. Bennett with quiet haughtiness.