"Yes, you look very nice, very nice indeed," he said, after a grave
inspection that took in every detail of face and figure. A young,
innocent face it was, with soft brown hair as bright and as fine as silk,
all turned back from a low forehead, around which it grew in the very
prettiest way in the world, and gathered in loose braids in the neck; and
she had such a fresh, clear complexion, and such honest, loving, gray
eyes, and such a round, girlish figure,--how was it people never made
more of her prettiness?

"I think you look nicer than any one here," Mr. Halloway added, in
thorough conviction. "You must be an adept in ironing." Phebe laughed
softly in pure pleasure. It was so new to have such pretty things said to
her. "Would it be very wrong to slip away together for a rest?" he
continued, leading her a little farther along. "Let us sit down on the
steps here and recruit. I have talked my throat hoarse to each of the
very deafest old ladies in turn,--I suppose they came here purposely to
be screeched at,--and I saw you working valiantly among the old men. What
a place this is for longevity!"

"You are finding out its characteristics by degrees, I see."

"Yes, am I not?" said he, with his pleasant laugh. "I know intimately
every member of my parish and every member of every other parish by this
time from sheer hearsay. Each house I visit gives me no end of valuable
and minute information about all the other houses. I am waiting to come
out with a rousing sermon against gossip, till I shall have gained all
possible enlightenment and help from it. I mustn't kill my goose that
lays the golden eggs before I have all the eggs I want, must I?"