This was the Peewee Christianity; and after such a sermon the deacon has been known to say to his wife—­thin she was in the face, which had a settled shade, like the sober twilight of valleys from which the sun has long been gone, though it has not yet set—­

“What shocking people the Hindoos are!  They actually burn widows!  My dear, how grateful we ought to be that we live in a Christian country where wives are not burned!—­Abraham! if you put another stick of wood into that stove I’ll skin you alive, Sir.  Go to bed this instant, you wicked boy!—­It must be bad enough to be a widow, my dear, let alone the burning.  Shall we have evening prayers, Mrs. Deacon?”

In the evening of the day on which the Doctor improved the drowning, and exhorted his hearers to be brave, Mr. Gray asked Gabriel Bennet, “Where was the text?”

“I don’t know, Sir,” replied Gabriel.  As he spoke there was the sound of warm discussion on the other side of the dining-room, in which the boys sat during the evening.

“What is it, Gyles?” asked Mr. Gray.

“Why, Sir,” replied he, “it’s nothing.  We were talking about a ribbon, Sir.”

“What ribbon?”

“A ribbon we saw at church, Sir.”

“Well, whose was it?” asked Mr. Gray.

“I believe it was Miss Hope Wayne’s.”

“You believe, Gyles?  Why don’t you speak out?”

“Well, Sir, the fact is that Abel Newt says she had a purple ribbon on her bonnet—­”

“She hadn’t,” said Gabriel, breaking in, impetuously.  “She had a beautiful blue ribbon, and lilies of the valley inside, and a white lace vail, and—­”

Gabriel stopped and turned very red, for he caught Abel Newt’s eyes fixed sharply upon him.

“Oh ho! the text was there, was it?” asked Mr. Gray, smiling.

But Abel Newt only said, quietly: 

“Oh well!  I guess it was a blue ribbon after all.”

CHAPTER VI.

EXPERIMENTUM CRUCIS.

“The truth is, Gyles;” said Abel to Blanding, his chum, “Gabriel Bennet’s mother ought to come and take him home for the summer to play with the other calves in the country.  People shouldn’t leave their spoons about.”

The two boys went in to tea.

In the evening, as the pupils were sitting in the dining-room, as usual, some chatting, some reading, others quite ready to go to bed,

“Mr. Gray,” said Abel to Uncle Savory, who was sitting talking with Mrs. Gray, whose hands, which were never idle, were now busily knitting.

“Well, Abel.”

“Suppose we have some game.”

“Certainly.  Boys, what shall we do?  Let us see.  There’s the Grand Mufti, and the Elements, and My ship’s come loaded with—­and—­well, what shall it be?”

“Mr. Gray, it’s a good while since we’ve tried all calling out together.  We haven’t done it since Gabriel Bennet came.”