It is a pity he said that.  Mrs. Dr. Matthews being a woman, and being a member of that church, knew she was not powerless.  And women of her stamp are sure to be dared by random, half-earnest sentences, to show the very utmost that their weak selves can do.  As truly as I tell you the story here to-day, that is the way the ferment began.  “A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump.”  Aye, and a little acid sours the whole lump.  Do you think Mrs. Dr. Matthews sallied out directly her meal was concluded, and openly and bitterly denounced Dr. Selmser as a pulpit slanderer?  She did nothing of the sort.  She chose her time and place and persons with skill and tact, and said, “Didn’t they think, just among themselves, not intending to breathe it outside for the world, that Dr. Selmser was getting a little unpopular among the young people?  He was so grave—­almost stern.  She felt distressed sometimes lest they should cultivate a feeling of fear toward him.  She did think it was so important that the young people should be attracted.”

Watching her opportunity—­and it is wonderful how many opportunities there are in the world, if one only watches for them—­she remarked at Mrs. Brower’s that Dr. Selmser was just a little inclined, she thought, to pay rather too much attention to families like the Harrisons.  It was natural, she supposed.  Ministers were but human, and of course with their wealth and influence they could make their home very attractive to him; but she always felt sorry when she saw a clergyman neglecting the poor.  Dr. Selmser certainly had called at Mr. Harrison’s twice during this very week.  Of course he might have had business—­she did not pretend to say.  But there were some who were feeling as though their pastor didn’t get time to see them very often.  He ought to be willing to divide his attentions.

Now Mrs. Brower belonged by nature to that type of woman who is disposed to keep an almanac account with her pastor.  She knew just how many calls Dr. Selmser made on her in a year, and just how far apart they were.  It really needed but a suggestion to make her feel doubly alert—­on the qui vive, indeed—­to have her feelings hurt.  So of course they were hurt.

In point of fact, there is nothing easier to accomplish in this jarring world than to get your feelings injured.  If you are bent on being slighted there is no manner of difficulty in finding people who apparently “live and move and breathe” for no other purpose than to slight you.  And as often as you think about them, and dwell on their doings, they increase in number.  A new name is added to the list every time you think it over; and the fair probability is that every single person you meet on that day when you have just gone over your troubles will say or do, or leave unsaid or undone, that which will cruelly hurt you.  I tell you, dear friend, it becomes you to keep those feelings of yours hidden under lock and key, out of sight and memory of anyone but your loving Lord, if you don’t want them hurt every hour in the day.