A preacher had ordered a load of hay from one of his parishioners. About
noon, the parishioner's little son came to the house crying lustily. On
being asked what the matter was, he said that the load of hay had tipped
over in the street. The preacher, a kindly man, assured the little
fellow that it was nothing serious, and asked him in to dinner.

"Pa wouldn't like it," said the boy.

But the preacher assured him that he would fix it all right with his
father, and urged him to take dinner before going for the hay. After
dinner the boy was asked if he were not glad that he had stayed.

"Pa won't like it," he persisted.

The preacher, unable to understand, asked the boy what made him think
his father would object.

"Why, you see, pa's under the hay," explained the boy.


There was an old Miss from Antrim,
Who looked for the leak with a glim.
Alack and alas!
The cause was the gas.
We will now sing the fifty-fourth hymn.

--_Gilbert K. Chesterton_.