"Well," said his housekeeper from her station opposite him at the
breakfast table, "if I was you I wouldn't take too long a one. You'd
better be back here by ten, anyhow. Where was you thinkin' of goin'?"

Mr. Ellery had no particular destination in mind. He would like to see
something of the village and, perhaps, if she could give him the names
of a few of his parishioners, he might make a few calls. Keziah shook
her head.

"Gracious goodness!" she exclaimed. "I wouldn't advise you to do that.
You ain't been here long enough to make forenoon calls. If you should
catch some of the women in this town with aprons and calico on, they'd
never forgive you in this world. Wait till afternoon; they'll be
expectin' you then and they'll be rigged out in their best bibs and
tuckers. S'pose you found Annabel Daniels with her hair done up in
curl papers; what do you think would happen? Mornin's are no time
for ministers' calls. Even old Mr. Langley never made calls in the
forenoon--and he'd been here thirty-odd years."

"All right, you know best. Much obliged for the advice. Then I'll simply
take my walk and leave the calls until later."

"I'd be back by ten, though. Folks'll begin callin' on you by that
time."

"They will? Doesn't the rule work both ways?"

"Not with new ministers it don't. Cat's foot! You don't s'pose Didama
Rogers and Laviny Pepper and their kind'll wait any longer'n they can
help afore they come to see what you look like, do you?"