“Well, it ain't a church question. It's a Society question.”
Mrs. Bolton replied, on her passage to the dining-room with the plate of sliced bread: “I can't make it seem right to have the minister a Society question. Seems to me that the church members'd ought have the say.”
“Well, you can't make the discipline over to suit everybody,” said Bolton. “I presume it was ordered for a wise purpose.”
“Why, land alive, Oliver Bolton,” his wife shouted back from the remoteness to which his words had followed her, “the statute provisions and rules of the Society wa'n't ordered by Providence.”
“Well, not directly, as you may say,” said Bolton, beginning high, and lowering his voice as she rejoined them, “but I presume the hearts of them that made them was moved.”
Mrs. Bolton could not combat a position of such unimpregnable piety in words, but she permitted herself a contemptuous sniff, and went on getting the things into the dining-room.
“And I guess it's all goin' to work together for good. I ain't afraid any but what it's goin' to come out all right. But we got to be up and doin', as they say about 'lection times. The Lord helps them that helps themselves,” said Bolton, and then, as if he felt the weakness of this position as compared with that of entire trust in Providence, he winked his mild eyes, and added, “if they're on the right side, and put their faith in His promises.”
“Well, your dinner's ready now,” Mrs. Bolton said to Annie.
Idella had clung fast to Annie's hand; as Annie started toward the dining-room she got before her, and whispered vehemently.
“What?” asked Annie, bending down; she laughed, in lifting her head, “I promised Idella you'd let us have some preserves to-day, Mrs. Bolton.”
Mrs. Bolton smiled with grim pleasure. “I see all the while her mind was set on something. She ain't one to let you forget _your_ promises. Well, I guess if Mr. Peck had a little more of _her_ disposition there wouldn't be much doubt about the way it would all come out.”
“Well, you don't often see pairents take after their children,” said Bolton, venturing a small joke.
“No, nor husbands after their wives, either,” said Mrs. Bolton sharply. “The more's the pity.”
Dr. Morrell came to see Annie late the next Wednesday evening.