"
"Tut, tut, woman!" remonstrated Mrs. Stickles. "It's wrong fer ye to talk
that way. Hev ye ever really wanted? Didn't the flour and the ile come
somehow? Whenever we're scrapin' the bottom of the barrel it seems that
the Lord allus hears us, and doesn't let us want. I guess, if we stan' by
the Lord, He'll stan' by us. I'm mighty sorry yer man signed that
pertition aginst that man of God. It don't seem right nohow."
"I'm not worryin' about that, Mrs. Stickles. Farrington has considerable
right on his side. The parson is old. We do need a young man with snap an'
vim. The parson's sermints are too dry an' deep. Abraham sleeps right
through 'em, an' says it's impossible to keep awake."
"Well, I declare!" and Mrs. Stickles held up her hands in amazement. "To
think that I should live to hear sich words in me own house. Ye say the
parson's too old. Ain't ye ashamed of them words? Too old! D'ye want some
new dapper little snob spoutin' from the pulpit who hasn't as much
knowledge in his hull body as Parson John has in his little finger? I know
there's many a thing the parson talks about that I can't understan', an'
so there is in the Bible.
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