t night."

"But it was more than a scare, I saw the fire."

"Course you did. 'Twas old Dan Trelaw's hen-house that was burned down.
The mites was bothering him, and he wanted the insurance to build a
better one."

"He burned his hen-house to collect insurance?"

"That's what Josiah said."

"That's absurd. There isn't an insurance company in Suffolk County that
would write a policy on such junk, and if they did he could never
collect a cent if it is known he burned it on purpose."

"Josiah said it wasn't a regular company, just local. I guess he'll get
his money, all right. Are you ready for your breakfast?"

A boyish grin slowly lighted the minister's face as the truth of what
had happened dawned on him.

"Do you mean----"

"I ain't saying right out just what I mean," she broke in as she paused
on the kitchen threshold. "If you're real bright on guessing, you'll be
able to figure that out for yourself. The thing that's most interesting
to me is that the Lord is wonderful in the performing of all His works,
and we ain't to question how He brings 'em to pass. I wasn't much in
favor of the way Josiah done last night when he first told me, but the
more I think about it, the more it seems all right to me. It didn't seem
dignified and nice to break up even a bad meeting that way, but what
else was he to do? You've got to stay here, that's plain, and if He
ain't got saints enough to keep you He'll use the heathen.... Go right
in and set down."

"I'm not sure that it will bring Providence or any one else much glory
if I stay here," said the minister, with a faint smile.

Miss Pipkin returned with a steaming pot of coffee. She took her place
at the table and for some time eyed the minister in silence. She was a
thoroughgoing mystic in her religious faith, but her mysticism was
tempered with such a practical turn of mind that it was wholesome and
inspiring.

"Mr. McGowan, it is the will of God that you stay right here in this
town. If we do His will we ain't to worry about the glory part," she
emphatically affirmed. She placed the cups and saucers beside the
coffee-pot and filled them. "You hit 'em hard last night, and that is
exactly what's ailing them. You've been hitting 'em too hard for
comfort. The shoe's pinching and they're not able to keep from showing
how it hurts. You hit me, too," she observed, looking earnestly into the
minister's eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"You needn't be, 'cause it wasn't you speaking.