"My dear, how pretty you are," she would say to a girl visitor, or, "Forgive me, but I must tell you I don't think I ever saw a nicer hat." The women in the congregation had no comfort in their new clothes until Mrs.Macdonald had pronounced on them.

A word was enough.

Perhaps at the church door some congregational matter would be discussed; then, at parting, a quick touch on the arm and--"Most successful bonnet I ever saw you get," or, "The coat's worth all the money," or, "Everything new, and you look as young as your daughter." Pamela and Jean found the minister and his wife in the garden.

Mr.
Macdonald was pacing up and down the path overlooking the river, with his next Sunday's sermon in his hand, while Mrs.Macdonald raked the gravel before the front door (she liked the place kept so tidy that her sons had been wont to say bitterly, as they spent an hour of their precious Saturdays helping, that she dusted the branches and wiped the faces of the flowers with a handkerchief) and carried on a conversation with her husband which was of little profit, as the rake on the stones dimmed the sense of her words.
"Wasn't that right, John ?" she was saying as her husband came near her.
"Dear me, woman, how can I tell?
I haven't heard a word you've been saying.

Here are callers.