I didn't come to see you now; I'm here to see the preacher, Alfaretta.
Come, don't keep me out here in the sun," he added impatiently, shaking the gate again.
"I guess he's too busy to see you this morning,--he's awful busy." "I guess he's not too busy to see me," said the elder.
Alfaretta's face was white now, but she still stood barring the gateway.
"Well, you can't see him, anyhow;" her voice had begun to tremble, and Mrs.Ward, who had joined them, said, with a surprised look,-- "Why, what do you mean, Alfaretta?
Of course Mr.Ward will see your father.

I hope your lumbago is better, Elder Dean ?" Mr.Dean did not notice her question.

"Certainly he will see me.

Come, now, open the gate; be spry." "You can't see him!" cried Alfaretta, bursting into tears.

"I say he won't see you, so there!" Her mistress looked at her in astonishment, but her father put his big hand over the gate, and, wrenching the little latch open, strode up to the front door of the parsonage.
Helen and her maid looked at each other; Alfaretta's face working convulsively to keep back the tears, and her mistress's eyes full of disapproval.
"Why did you say that, Alfaretta ?" she said.