nce of married parsons here: what do you
think?"

"Well, you see the matter is just like this: Every parish wants an
unmarried parson; the vestry 'cause he's cheap, every unmarried woman
'cause he may be a possible suitor; and it's easier to run him than it
is a married man. He may be decent, well-bred and educated. And he
comes to a parcel of ignoramuses who think they know ten times as much
as he does. If he can't earn enough to marry on, and has the good
sense to keep out of matrimony, the people talk about his bein' a
selfish old bachelor who neglects his duty to society. He can't afford
to run a tumble-down rectory like ours. If in the face of all this he
marries, he has to scrimp and stint until it is a question of buyin'
one egg or two, and lettin' his wife worry and work until she's fit
for a lunatic asylum. No business corporation, not even a
milk-peddlin' trust, would treat its men so or expect good work from
'em. Then the average layman seldom thinks how he can help the parson.
His one idea is to be a kicker as long as he can think of anything to
kick about. The only man in this parish who never kicks is paralyzed
in both legs. Yes sir; the parson of the country parish is the parish
goat, as the sayin' is."

Mrs. Burke ceased her tirade, and after a while Maxwell remarked
quietly:

"Mrs. Burke, I'm afraid you are a pessimist."

"I'm no such thing," she retorted hotly. "A pessimist's a man that
sees nothin' but the bad, and says there's no help for it and won't
raise a hand: he's a proper sour-belly. An optimist's a man that sees
nothin' but the good, and says everything's all right; let's have a
good time. Poor fool! The practical man--anyway, the practical
woman--sees both the bad and the good, and says we can make things a
whole lot better if we try; let's take off our coats and hustle to
beat the cars, and see what happens. The real pessimists are your
Bascoms, and that kind: and I guess I pity him more than blame him: he
seems as lonesome as a tooth-pick in a cider-barrel."

"But I thought that Bascom was a wealthy man. He ought to be able to
help out, and raise money enough so that the town could keep a parson
and his wife comfortably."

"Sure thing! But the church isn't supported by tight-fisted wealthy
people. It's the hard-workin' middle class who are willin' to turn in
and spend their last cent for the church. And don't you get me started
on Bascom as you value your life. Maybe I'll swear a b