“Yes,” responded the President, “it is nominally fixed by the Board at twelve hundred dollars.  But then, gentlemen, the perquisites are something.  In the course of a year they net up to a pretty large amount.  Last winter, the ladies clubbed together and made the parson a present of carpets for his parlors; the year before we gave him a donation party; almost every year, Deacon Goodsole sends him a barrel of flour from his store; in one way or another he gets a good many similar little presents.  I always send him a free pass over the road.  And then there are the wedding fees which must amount to a handsome item in the course of the year.  It can’t be less than two thousand or twenty-five hundred dollars all told.  A very snug little income, gentlemen.”

“Double what I get,” murmured Mr. Hardcap.  A very exemplary gentleman is Mr. Hardcap, the carpenter, but more known for the virtue of economy than for any other.  He lives in three rooms over his carpenter shop down in Willow lane.  If our pastor lived there he would be dismissed very soon.

I wondered, as the President was speaking, whether he included the profit he made in selling Koniwasset coal to the Newtown railroad among his perquisitis, and as part of his salary.  But I did not ask.

“Week before last,” said Deacon Goodsole, “the parson was called to attend a wedding at Compton Mills.  He drove down Monday, through that furious storm, was gone nearly all day, paid six dollars for his horse and buggy, and received five dollars wedding fee.  I wonder how long it would take at that rate to bring his salary up to twenty-five hundred dollars.”

There was a general laugh at the parson’s mercantile venture, but no other response.

“Well, gentlemen,” said the President, a little gruffly, I fancied, “let us get back to business.  How shall we raise this mortgage interest?  I will be one of ten to pay it off.”

“Excuse me,” said I, gently, “but before we begin to pay our debts, we must find out how much they are.  Can the Treasurer tell us how much we owe Mr. Work?”

The Treasurer looked inquiringly at the President, but getting no response, found his voice, and replied, “Three hundred dollars.”

“The whole of last quarter?” said I.

The Treasurer nodded.

“I think there is a little due on last year,” said Deacon Goodsole.

“A hundred and seventy-five dollars,” said the Treasurer.

“The fact is, gentlemen,” said the President, resuming his blandest manner, “you know the Methodists have just got into their new stone church.  The trustees thought it necessary not to be behind their neighbors, and so we have completely upholstered our church anew, at a cost of five hundred dollars.” ("And made the parson pay the bill,” said Deacon Goodsole, soto voce.) “We should have frescoed it, too, if we had had the money.” ("Why didn’t you take his wedding fees?” said the Deacon, soto voce.)