I would lie and watch him as he put a stick on the fire and tiptoed to his armchair by the table, on which three lighted candles were burning.  Then he would adjust his spectacles, pick up his book, and begin to read, and I would see him smile or frown or laugh until I wondered what was between the black covers of the book to move him so.  In the morning he said that he could come the next Tuesday night, if we needed him, and set out right after breakfast, in the dim dawn light, to walk to Canton.

“Peabody Baynes,” said my Aunt Deel as she stood looking out of the window at Mr. Wright, “that is one of the grandest, splendidest men that I ever see or heard of.  He’s an awful smart man, an’ a day o’ his time is worth more’n a month of our’n, but he comes away off here to set up with a sick young one and walks back.  Does beat all—­don’t it?—­ayes!”

“If any one needs help Sile Wright is always on hand,” said Uncle Peabody.

I was soon out of bed and he came no more to sit up with me.

When I was well again Aunt Deel said one day “Peabody Baynes, I ain’t heard no preachin’ since Mr Pangborn died.  I guess we better go down to Canton to meetin’ some Sunday.  If there ain’t no minister Sile Wright always reads a sermon, if he’s home, and the paper says he don’t go ’way for a month yit.  I kind o’ feel the need of a good sermon—­ayes!”

“All right.  I’ll hitch up the hosses and we’ll go.  We can start at eight o’clock and take a bite with us an’ git back here by three.”

“Could I wear my new shoes and trousers?” I asked joyfully.

“Ayes I guess ye can if you’re a good boy—­ayes!” said Aunt Deel.

I had told Aunt Deel what Sally had said of my personal appearance.

“Your coat is good enough for anybody—­ayes!” said she.  “I’ll make you a pair o’ breeches an’ then I guess you won’t have to be ’shamed no more.”

She had spent several evenings making them out of an old gray flannel petticoat of hers and had put two pockets in them of which I was very proud.  They came just to the tops of my shoes, which pleased me, for thereby the glory of my new shoes suffered no encroachment.

The next Sunday after they were finished we had preaching in the schoolhouse and I was eager to go and wear my wonderful trousers.  Uncle Peabody said that he didn’t know whether his leg would hold out or not “through a whole meetin’.”  His left leg was lame from a wrench and pained him if he sat long in one position.  I greatly enjoyed this first public exhibition of my new trousers.  I remember praying in silence, as we sat down, that Uncle Peabody’s leg would hold out.  Later, when the long sermon had begun to weary me, I prayed that it would not.