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"Stay back; you have brought snow enough into the hall without spoiling
the parlor carpet, too," Mrs. Martha said, angrily; then, going to her
husband, whose purpose she divined, she continued; "Charles, are you
crazy, to think of going out in this storm?"
"But, my dear," the rector began, meekly, "if the poor old man is
dying--and Hannah would never have sent in such a storm unless she
thought so--if he is dying and desires the comfort of the communion,
shall I refuse it to him because of a little inconvenience to myself?
No, no; I have not so learned Christ. Please bring me my coat, Martha,
and my boots, and the little communion service."
"A pretty time of day to think of that, just as the candle is burned to
the snuff," Mrs. Martha retorted. "Here for years you have exhorted and
entreated him to be confirmed, and he has resisted all your appeals with
the excuse that for him to go to the Lord's table would be a mortal sin;
and now, just at the last, in such a storm, he sends for you. I consider
it an insult to his Creator and to you, too.


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