rown.

William and I were walking by his garden one day, after he had sulked
for a month, and saw him standing in the midst of it with a lordly air.
William would have passed him by with a sorrowful bow, but I hailed him:

"Good afternoon, Brother Sears! You have a beautiful garden, but I
believe our pole beans are two inches taller than yours on the
cornstalk."

He was all competitive animation at once, measured the curling height
of his tallest bean vine, and insisted upon coming home with us to
measure ours, which, thank heavens, were four inches shorter.

He was so elated over this victory that he apparently forgave William
on the spot for his Dives sermon, and handed him ten dollars on
quarterage to indicate the return of his good will.

"Mary," said William, staring down happily at the crisp bill in his
hand as Sears disappeared, "never say again that the Lord does not
answer prayer!"

For a moment I felt a flash of resentment. Who was it that had had the
courage to beard Sears in his own garden? Who had tolled him all the
way across town into our garden to measure our bean stalk? Who was it
that had thought up this method of natural reconciliation, anyhow? Not
William, walking beside us in sad New Testament silence. Then,
suddenly, my crest fell. After all, I was merely the instrument chosen
by which William's prayers for Sears had been answered. To his faith
we owed this reaction of grace, not to me, who had not uttered a single
petition for the old goat.

From time to time William had queer experiences with the political
element in his churches. This is composed usually, not of bad men, but
of men who have Democratic or Republican immortalities. Apt as not the
leading steward would be the manager of the political machine in that
particular community. There was Brother Miller, for example, at
Hartsville, a splendid square-looking man, with a strong face, a still
eye, and an impeccable testimony at "experience" meetings. He held up
William's hands for two years without blinking, and professed the
greatest benefits from his sermons. No man could pray a more
open-faced, self-respecting prayer, and not one was more conscientious
in the discharge of his duties to the church and the pastor. It never
seemed to disturb him that the portion of the community which was
opposed to the "machine" that elected everything from the village
coroner to the representative, regarded him as the most debauched an