“You help too, Reuby, don’t you?” said Angy Plummer,—­“do you like it?”

“Very much, ma’am; mamma says I help, but I think she’s mistaken,” replied the little fellow, archly.

“Yes you do, you darling,” said Mrs. Plummer, stooping and kissing him tenderly.  Angy Plummer loved Reuby.  She never looked at him without thinking that but for his existence the true mother-heart would perhaps never have been born in her bosom.

The reading of the sermons grew easier and easier to Draxy, Sunday by Sunday.  She became conscious of a strange sense of being lifted out of herself, as soon as she began to speak.  She felt more and more as if it were her husband speaking through her; and she felt more and more closely drawn into relation with the people.

“Oh, father dear,” she said more than once, “I don’t know how I shall ever give it up when the time comes.  It makes me so happy:  I feel almost as if I could see Seth standing right by me and holding my gown while I read.  And father, dear,” she proceeded in a lower, slower voice, “I don’t know but you’ll think it wrong; I’m almost afraid to tell you, but sometimes I say words that aren’t in the sermons; just a sentence or two, where I think Seth would put it in if he were here now; and I almost believe he puts the very words into my head.”

She paused and looked anxiously and inquiringly at her father.

“No, Draxy,” replied Reuben solemnly, “I don’t think it wrong.  I feel more and more, every Sunday I listen to you, as if the Lord had set you apart for this thing; and I don’t believe he’d send any other angel except your husband on the errand of helpin’ you.”

The summer passed, and the parish gave no signs of readiness for a new minister.  When Draxy spoke of it, she was met by such heartfelt grief on all sides that she was silenced.  At last she had a long, serious talk with the deacons, which set her mind more at rest.  They had, it seemed, consulted several neighboring ministers, Elder Williams among the number, and they had all advised that while the congregation seemed so absorbed in interest, no change should be made.

“Elder Williams he sez he’ll come over regular for the communion,” said Deacon Plummer, “and for baptisms whenever we want him, and thet’s the main thing, for, thank the Lord, we haint many funerals ’n course of a year.  And Mis’ Kinney, ef ye’ll excuse my makin’ so bold, I’ll tell ye jest what Elder Williams said about ye:  sez he, It’s my opinion that ef there was ever a woman born thet was jest cut out for a minister to a congregation, it’s that Elder’s wife o’ your’n; and sez we to him ’Thet’s jest what the hull town thinks, sir, and it’s our opinion that ef we should try to settle anythin’ in the shape of a man in this parish, there wouldn’t be anythin’ but empty pews for him to preach to, for the people’d all be gone up to Mis’ Kinney’s.’”

Draxy smiled in spite of herself.  But her heart was very solemn.