The clergyman repressed a smile as he well knew that the Lord had nothing to do with it.  He kept his thoughts to himself, however, and busied himself with picking up the various articles and broken fragments which strewed the floor.

“What an awful baby he is,” Mrs. Marden at length, exclaimed.  “If he can do such a terrible thing now, what will he do when he grows up?  It is not safe to have such a child in your house.”

“Why, any child would have done the same,” the parson replied.  “He didn’t mean any harm.”

“He didn’t!  Why, what else did he mean, then?  Children should be taught to behave themselves.  I never allowed a child of mine to climb up and pull things over.  Poor dear Abner often said that I was the one woman in the whole parish who knew how to bring up children.  But, there, I must go.  My head is aching badly, and I know that I shall get no rest to-night.  Oh, what troubles we poor mortals are heir to in this mundane sphere.”

“You must not walk, Mrs. Marden,” Parson Dan insisted.  “I shall drive you home.  It will take me only a few minutes to harness Sweepstakes.”

“But I’m afraid it will be too much trouble,” was the reply.

“Not at all, not at all, Mrs. Marden, I shall be only too glad to do it.”  In fact the rector was most anxious to get his visitor out of the house before she began to pour forth her tale of woe, which he believed she had forgotten.  But in this he was doomed to disappointment.

“Just a minute, parson,” the widow began.  “I haven’t told you yet the object of my visit here to-night.”

“Doesn’t your head trouble you too much to bother with it now?” the clergyman asked, trying to look as sympathetic as possible.  “Suppose you wait until you feel better.”

“No, I can’t do that, for it might be too late.  Just think what might become of me and my poor fatherless children if I put it off until to-morrow.”

“Oh, is it as serious as that, Mrs. Marden?”

“Indeed it is, and it is but another example of how the widow is oppressed.  If poor Abner was only alive!  But now that he is gone, people think that they can do what they like with a lonely widow.”

“What, has any one been trying to injure you, Mrs. Marden?”

“Yes, that’s just it.  Tom Dunker is the one, and he’s trying to get the lighthouse from me.”

“Ah, so that’s it?” and the parson gave a deep sigh.

“Yes.  He’s had the promise of it, so I understand.  I’ve looked after that lighthouse ever since Abner died, and I have never failed in my duty once.  But Tom Dunker, the sneak, wants it.  He’s a Government supporter, and thinks he ought to have it for what he did at the last election.  Abner voted opposition, and though they let me keep it ever since he died, the Dunkers have been making such a fuss about it that something has to be done to pacify them.”

“I am very sorry to hear this, Mrs. Marden,” and Parson Dan placed his hand to his forehead.  This news troubled him, for he saw breakers ahead.