“No,” said Angy, “let me go.  I can talk it over better’n you can.  I’ll go.”

And Angy went.  The interview between the two women was long.  Angy pleaded as nobody else in the parish could have done; and Draxy’s heart was all on her side.  But Draxy’s judgment was unconvinced.

“If I could be sure, Angy, that it would be best for the people, I should not hesitate.  But you know very well, if I begin I shall keep on,” she said.

She consulted Reuben.  His heart, too, was on the people’s side, but his judgment was like hers, perplexed.

“One thing’s very certain, daughter:  there is not anybody they can ever find to settle here, or that they are likely to, who can preach as the Elder did.  His old sermons are worlds better than any new ones they’ll get.”

“Yes, indeed, I know that,” said Draxy.  “That’s what makes me feel as if I must do it.”

This had been her strongest motive.  Only too well she knew what would be the probable calibre of a man who would come to this poor and lonely little village which she so loved.

At last she consented to make the experiment.  “I will read for you every Sunday, two sermons of Mr. Kinney’s,” she said, “until you hear of some one whom you would like to settle for your minister.”

Angy Plummer, clapped her hands when her father repeated at tea on Thursday evening what “Mis’ Kinney” had said.

“That’s good’s settlin’ her,” she exclaimed.  “Oh, I never thought she’d come to it,” and real tears of joy stood in Angy’s eyes.

“I don’t know ’bout that, Angy,” replied the Deacon; “there’s a good deal to be thought on, fust ‘n’ last.  Folks ‘11 talk like everythin’, I expect, ‘n’ say we’ve got a woman preacher.  It wouldn’t never do for any great length o’ time; but it will be a blessin’ to hear some th’ Elder’s good rousin’ comfortin’ sermons for a spell, arter the stuff we hev been a havin’, ‘n’ they can’t say she’s any more ‘n’ a reader anyhow.  That’s quite different from preachin’.”

“Of course it is,” said Angy, who was wise enough to keep some of her thoughts and hopes to herself; “they’re’s different’s any other two things.  I don’t suppose anybody’d say you was a settin’ up to preach, if you’d ha’ read the sermons, ‘n’ I don’t see why they need to any more o’ Mis’ Kinney.”  And so, on the next Sunday Draxy’s ministry to her husband’s people began.  Again with softened and gladdened faces the little congregation looked up to the fair, tall priestess with her snow-white robes and snow-white hair, and gleaming steadfast eyes, standing meekly between the communion-table and the chair in which sat her golden-haired little son.  Her voice was clearer and stronger than ever; and there was a calm peacefulness in her whole atmosphere which had not been there at first.

Again the people crowded around, and thanked her, and clasped her hands.  This time she answered them with cordial good cheer, and did not tremble.  To little Reuby also they spoke gratefully.