The confession had burst from an overburdened soul, for like Gay he could tolerate no divergence from the straight line of duty, no variation from the traditional type, in any woman who was related to him.  Men would be men, he was aware, but if any phrase so original as “women will be women” had been propounded to him, he would probably have retorted with philosophic cynicism, that “he did not see the necessity.”  His vision was enclosed in a circle beyond which he could not penetrate even if he had desire to, and the conspicuous fact within this circle at the moment was that Judy had made a fool of herself—­that she had actually burst out crying in church when Mr. Mullen had announced his acceptance of a distant call!  He was sorry for Abel, because Judy was his wife, but, since it is human nature to exaggerate the personal element, he was far sorrier for himself because she was his daughter.

“Yes, Judy’s a fool,” he repeated angrily, and there was a bitter comfort in the knowledge that he had first put into words the thought that had engaged every mind at the ordinary.

“Oh, she’s young yet, an’ she’ll outgrow it,” observed Betsey as sincerely as she had made the opposite remark some minutes before.  “A soft heart is mo’ to be pitied than blamed, an’ it’ll soon harden into shape now she’s settled down to matrimony.”

“I ain’t never seen a female with an ounce of good hard sense except you, Mrs. Bottom,” replied Solomon.  “Thar’s a contrariness in the rest of ’em that makes ’em tryin’ companions to a rational critter like man, with a firm grip on his heart.  To think of gittin’ a husband like Abel Revercomb—­the risin’ man in the county—­an’ then to turn aside from the comforts of life on o’count of nothin’ mo’ than a feelin’.”

“Well, it ain’t as if she’d taken a fancy to a plain, ordinary kind of man,” remarked Betsey.  “Thar’s somethin’ mo’ elevatin’ about a parson, an’ doubtless it’s difficult to come down from a pulpit to common earth when you’ve once lifted yo’ eyes to it.  Thar warn’t no shame about her cryin’ out like that in church.  They ought to have broke it to her mo’ gently.”

“I warn’t thar,” said old Adam, “but how did Abel conduct himself?”

“Oh, he just got up an’ led her out sort of gently, while she was cryin’ an’ sobbin’ so loud that it drowned what Mr. Mullen was sayin’,” replied Betsey.

“Thar ain’t a better husband in the county,” said Solomon, “accordin’ to a man’s way of lookin’ at it, but it seems a woman is never satisfied.”

“I’m glad I never married,” remarked young Adam, “for I might have got one of the foolish sort seein’ as they’re so plentiful.”

“Well, I never axed much bein’ so unattractive to the sex,” observed Jim Halloween, “an’ as long as a woman was handsome, with a full figger, an’ sweet tempered an’ thrifty an’ a good cook, with a sure hand for pastry, an’ al’ays tidy, with her hair curlin’ naturally, an’ neat an’ fresh without carin’ about dress, I’d have been easy to please with just the things any man might have a right to expect.”