“Araminta was only a year old when her ma got enough of marrying and went to her reward in Heaven.  What she ’d been through would have tried the patience of a saint, and Barbara wasn’t no saint.  None of the Smith family have ever grown wings here on earth, but it’s my belief that we’ll all be awarded our proper plumage in Heaven.

“He—­” the pronoun was sufficiently definite to indicate Araminta’s hapless father—­“was always tracking dirt into the clean kitchen, and he had an appetite like a horse.  Barbara would make a cake to set away for company, and he’d gobble it all up at one meal just as if ’t was a doughnut.  She was forever cooking and washing dishes and sweeping up after him.  When he come into the house, she’d run for the broom and dustpan, and follow him around, sweeping up, and if you’ll believe me, the brute scolded her for it.  He actually said once, in my presence, that if he’d known how neat she was, he didn’t believe he’d have married her.  That shows what men are—­if it needs showing.  It’s no wonder poor Barbara died.  I hope there ain’t any brooms in Heaven and that she’s havin’ a good rest now.

“Araminta’s goin’ on nineteen, and she’s a sensible girl, if I do say it as shouldn’t.  She’s never spoke to a man except to say ‘yes’ and ‘no.’  I’ve taught her to steer clear of ’em, and even when she was only seven years old, she’d run if she saw one coming.  She knows they ’re pizen and I don’t believe I’ll ever have any cause to worry about Minty.

“I’ve got the minister boarding with me,” pursued Miss Hitty, undaunted, and cheerfully taking a fresh start.  “Ministers don’t count, and I must say that, for a man, Mr. Thorpe is very little trouble.  He wipes his feet sometimes for as much as five minutes when he’s coming in, and mostly, when it’s pleasant weather, he’s out.  When he’s in, he usually stays in his room, except at meals.  He don’t eat much more ’n a canary, and likes what he eats, and don’t need hardly any pickin’ up after, though a week ago last Saturday he left a collar layin’ on the bureau instead of putting it into his bag.

“I left it right where ’t was, and Sunday morning he put it where it belonged.  He’s never been married and he’s learned to pick up after himself.  I wouldn’t have had him, on Araminta’s account, only that there wasn’t no other place for him to stay, and it was put to me by the elders as being my Christian duty.  I wouldn’t have took him, otherwise, and we’ve never had an unmarried minister before.

“Besides, Mr. Thorpe ain’t pleasing the congregation, and I don’t know that he’ll stay long.  He’s been here six months and three Sundays over, and I’ve been to every single service, church and Sunday-school and prayer-meeting, and he ain’t never said one word about hell.  It’s all of the joys of Heaven and a sure reward in the hereafter for everybody that’s done what they think is right—­nothing much, mind you, about what is right.  Why, when Mr. Brewster was preaching for us, some of the sinners would get up and run right out of the church when he got started on hell and the lost souls writhin’ in the flames.  That was a minister worth having.