His courtesy added to Mr. Drake’s confusion:  it was plain the man imagined he had brought him his money!  Times were indeed changed since his wife used to drive out in her brougham to pay the bills!  Was this what a man had for working in the vineyard the better part of a lifetime?  The property he did not heed.  That had been the portion of the messengers of heaven from the first.  But the shame!—­what was he to do with that?  Who ever heard of St. Paul not being able to pay a butcher’s bill!  No doubt St. Paul was a mighty general, and he but a poor subaltern, but in the service there was no respect of persons.  On the other hand, who ever heard of St. Paul having any bills to pay!—­or for that matter, indeed, of his marrying a rich wife, and getting into expensive habits through popularity!  Who ever heard of his being dependent on a congregation!  He accepted help sometimes, but had always his goats’-hair and his tent-making to fall back upon!—­Only, after all, was the Lord never a hard master?  Had he not let it come to this?

Much more of the sort went through his mind in a flash.  The country woman had again drawn the attention of the butcher with a parting word.

“You don’t want a chicken to-day—­do you, Mr. Drake?” she said, as she turned to go.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Thomson.  How is your husband?”

“Better, I thank you sir.  Good morning, sir.”

“Mr. Jones,” said the minister—­and as he spoke, he stepped inside the shop, removed his hat, and wiped his forehead, “I come to you with shame.  I have not money enough to pay your bill.  Indeed I can not even pay a portion of it till next quarter-day.”

“Don’t mention it, Mr. Drake, sir.”

“But your bill on Monday, Mr. Jones!”

“Oh! never mind that.  I shall do very well, I dare say.  I have a many as owes me a good deal more than you do, sir, and I’m much obliged to you for letting of me know at once.  You see, sir, if you hadn’t—­”

“Yes, I know:  I asked for it!  I am the sorrier I can’t pay it after all.  It is quite disgraceful, but I simply can’t help it.”

“Disgraceful, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Jones, almost as if hurt:  “I wish they thought as you do as has ten times the reason, sir!”

“But I have a request to make,” the pastor went on, heedless of the butcher’s remark, and pulling out a large and handsome gold watch:  “Would you oblige me by taking this watch in security until I do pay you?  It is worth a great deal more than your bill.  It would add much to the obligation, if you would put it out of sight somewhere, and say nothing about it.  If I should die before paying your bill, you will be at liberty to sell it; and what is over, after deducting interest, you will kindly hand to my daughter.”

Mr. Jones stared with open mouth.  He thought the minister had lost his senses.

“What do you make of me, sir?” he said at last.  “You go for to trust me with a watch like that, and fancy I wouldn’t trust you with a little bill that ain’t been owing three months yet!  You make me that I don’t know myself, sir!  Never you mention the bill to me again, sir.  I’ll ask for it, all in good time.  Can I serve you with any thing to-day, sir?”