“Reverses,” echoed the clerical visitor, with difficulty keeping his seat.  This was the very thing he had come to find out and here it was actually thrown at him.  He congratulated himself on his cleverness in having inspired so much confidence and thought with glee of his triumph when he returned with the full story to the Lady Trustees.  Simulating, therefore, the deepest sympathy he tried to draw his hostess out: 

“Dear me, how sad!  You met with reverses.”

Turning to his sister, who was sitting in her corner like a petrified mummy, he added: 

“Jane, do you hear?  How inexpressibly sad!  They have met with reverses!”

He paused, hoping that Mrs. Rossmore would go on to explain just what their reverses had been, but she was silent.  As a gentle hint he said softly: 

“Did I interrupt you, Madam?”

“Not at all, I did not speak,” she answered.

Thus baffled, he turned the whites of his eyes up to the ceiling and said: 

“When reverses come we naturally look for spiritual consolation.  My dear Mrs. Rossmore, in the name of the Unified All Souls Baptismal Presbytery I offer you that consolation.”

Mrs. Rossmore looked helplessly from one to the other embarrassed as to what to say.  Who were these strangers that intruded on her privacy offering a consolation she did not want?  Miss Deetle, as if glad of the opportunity to joke at her brother’s expense, said explosively: 

“My dear Pontifex, you have already offered a strawberry festival which Mrs. Rossmore has been unable to accept.”

“Well, what of it?” demanded Mr. Deetle, glaring at his sister for the irrelevant interruption.

“You are both most kind,” murmured Mrs. Rossmore; “but we could not accept in any case.  My daughter is returning home from Paris next week.”

“Ah, your daughter—­you have a daughter?” exclaimed Mr. Deetle, grasping at the slightest straw to add to his stock of information.  “Coming from Paris, too!  Such a wicked city!”

He had never been to Paris, he went on to explain, but he had read enough about it and he was grateful that the Lord had chosen Massapequa as the field of his labours.  Here at least, life was sweet and wholesome and one’s hopes of future salvation fairly reasonable.  He was not a brilliant talker when the conversation extended beyond Massapequa but he rambled on airing his views on the viciousness of the foreigner in general, until Mrs. Rossmore, utterly wearied, began to wonder when they would go.  Finally he fell back upon the weather.

“We are very fortunate in having such pleasant weather, don’t you think so, Madam?  Oh, Massapequa is a lovely spot, isn’t it?  We think it’s the one place to live in.  We are all one happy family.  That’s why my sister and I called to make your acquaintance.”

“You are very good, I’m sure.  I shall tell my husband you came and he’ll be very pleased.”