subject by this question, addressed to him as church-warden and an
authority in all parochial matters.

'Ah,' he answered, 'the parson's bothered us into it at last, and we're
to begin pulling down this spring. But we haven't got money enough yet. I
was for waiting till we'd made up the sum, and, for my part, I think the
congregation's fell off o' late; though Mr. Barton says that's because
there's been no room for the people when they've come. You see, the
congregation got so large in Parry's time, the people stood in the
aisles; but there's never any crowd now, as I can see.'

'Well,' said Mrs. Hackit, whose good-nature began to act now that it was
a little in contradiction with the dominant tone of the conversation,
'_I_ like Mr. Barton. I think he's a good sort o' man, for all he's not
overburthen'd i' th' upper storey; and his wife's as nice a lady-like
woman as I'd wish to see. How nice she keeps her children! and little
enough money to do't with; and a delicate creatur'--six children, and
another a-coming. I don't know how they make both ends meet, I'm sure,
now her aunt has left 'em. But I sent 'em a cheese and a sack o' potatoes
last week; that's something towards filling the little mouths.'

'Ah!' said Mr. Hackit, 'and my wife makes Mr. Barton a good stiff glass
o' brandy-and-water, when he comes into supper after his cottage
preaching. The parson likes it; it puts a bit o' colour into 'is face,
and makes him look a deal handsomer.'

This allusion to brandy-and-water suggested to Miss Gibbs the
introduction of the liquor decanters, now that the tea was cleared away;
for in bucolic society five-and-twenty years ago, the human animal of the
male sex was understood to be perpetually athirst, and 'something to