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What's th' good fightin' 'mong ourselves?" One of the light-footed soldiers turned upon him red-faced and violent. "Yeh needn't come around here with yer preachin'. I s'pose yeh don't approve 'a fightin' since Charley Morgan licked yeh; but I don't see what business this here is 'a yours or anybody else." "Well, it ain't," said the friend mildly. "Still I hate t' see "
"I have been thinking, Rhoda, that when you are a good scholar, and grandmother and you grow to like each other, as I believe you will, I might fall in love with you." "Lord sakes! Me loved by a preacher? Couldn't I never stay home from the preachin'? But then, to hear your own ole man a-barkin' away at the other gals, I think it would be right good!"
"Say, do YOU?" If there was anything in it you'd have kept on preachin' to that bunch and made some of 'em believe they was headed for hell; you'd have made one of 'em that owns the flat house I live in, who gets fancy rents out of us poor girls, give it up. That's a nice kind of business for a church member, ain't it?" "Owns the house in which you live!" "Sure."
There was a drowsy hum from the bee-hive near the window, and the shadows were lengthening as sunset approached. "One queer thing about it," she resumed, "was that while Sally Ann was talkin', not one of us felt like laughin'. We set there as solemn as if parson was preachin' to us on 'lection and predestination. But whenever I think about it now, I laugh fit to kill.
"An' the Elder never said much of anything either, though he was always preachin'! Now your husband, Mis' Baxter, always has plenty to say after you think he's all through. There's water in his well when the others is all dry!" "But how about the pews?" interrupted Mrs. Burbank. "I think Nancy's idea is splendid, and I want to see it carried out.
Sae would the garden o' the Lord bloom and floorish if a' were droppin' a 'word in season' and a bit o' kindness here and there. But if I stay here an' preach to ye that need na preachin', these sins o' the garden, the weeds, will grow apace. Go you an' look in yer strawberry-bed."
'Blessed Master Peden had been here i' the "killing times," ye ken, preachin' till the puir hill folk, an' baptizin' their bairns he baptized a forebear o' my ain and it would likely be the annivairsary o' the day when he escaped frae the hans o' the hunters through the "haar," when I chanced to come by here an' saw a bit tent pit up, an' heard folk carousin' within.
"Don't you know that it's wrong to pitch pennies?" he said gravely. "None of your chaff, mister," retorted one of the street boys, irreverently. "When did you come from the country, old Goggles?" "My son, you should address me with more respect." "Just get out of the way, mister! I don't want to hear no preachin'." "I am afraid you have been badly brought up, my son."
It makes me ireful to think o' them. Why, it's them that, not content with printin' lies on paper an' preachin' them out of pulpits, does want to be cuttin' them on the tombstones. Look here all around you in what airt ye will.
"Sure, Miss, I dunno but dat 'pears like I can't hab hevin' wid dat man thar." "He will be changed and good." "Can't think so. Dat man needs dat fire; preachin' could'nt do him no good, noway." "We will agree to let each other think as they feel, but our Father must love all his children."
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