gerly through the woods, joining now one group,
now another; he laughed when they laughed, understanding, however, but
few of their allusions. He was restlessly anxious to join in the
singing, but could not, as he did not know their songs, and he proposed,
in entire good faith, one or two psalms, giving them up, however,
immediately, when old Mrs. Bannert, who had taken upon herself the task
of keeping him down, remarked sternly that no one knew the tunes. He
went to see the view, and extending his hand, said, in his best manner,
"Behold! brethren, is there not hill, and dale, and mountain, and
valley, and--river?" As he said "river" he closed his eyes impressively,
and stood there among them the image of self-complacence. The wind blew
out his black coat, and showed how thin it was, and the wearer as well.

[Illustration: "HE TOOK HIS BEST COAT FROM HIS LEAN VALISE."]

"Why is it always a thin, weakly man like that who insists upon calling
people 'brethren'?" said Heathcote, as they stood a little apart.

"Because, being weakly, we can not knock him down for it, as we
certainly should do if he was stronger," said Dexter.

But it was especially at lunch that the Reverend Ezra shone forth;
rising to the occasion, he brought forth all the gallant speeches of his
youth, which had much the air of his grandfather's Green Mountain
musket. Some of his phrases Anne recognized: Miss Lois used them. The
young girl was pained to see how out of place he was, how absurd in his
well-intentioned efforts; and she therefore drew him a little apart, and
strove to entertain him herself. She had known plain people on the
island, and had experienced much of their faithful goodness and
generosity in times of trouble; it hurt her to have him ridiculed. It
came out, during this conversation, that he knew something of botany,
and on the strength of this passport she took him to Miss Vanhorn. The
Reverend Ezra really did understand the flora of the district, through
which he had journeyed many times in former years on his old mare; Miss
Vanhorn's sharp questions brought out what he knew, and gave him also
the grateful sensation of imparting valuable information. He now
appeared quite collected and sensible. He mentioned, after a while, that
an orchid grew in these very woods at some distance up the mountain--an
orchid which was rare. Miss Vanhorn had never seen that particular
orchid in its wild state; a flush rose in her cheek.

"We can dri