Methodist minister, wandering about like any Jew, was such a prize! If you and the young doctor take my advice, you won’t have much to do with the Methodists. My motto is—if you are a Presbyterian, be a Presbyterian.”

“Don’t you think that Methodists go to heaven as well as Presbyterians?” asked Anne smilelessly.

“That isn’t for US to decide. It’s in higher hands than ours,” said Miss Cornelia solemnly. “But I ain’t going to associate with them on earth whatever I may have to do in heaven. This Methodist minister isn’t married. The last one they had was, and his wife was the silliest, flightiest little thing I ever saw. I told her husband once that he should have waited till she was grown up before he married her. He said he wanted to have the training of her. Wasn’t that like a man?”

“It’s rather hard to decide just when people are grown up,” laughed Anne.

“That’s a true word, dearie. Some are grown up when they’re born, and others ain’t grown up when they’re eighty, believe me. That same Mrs. Roderick I was speaking of never grew up. She was as foolish when she was a hundred as when she was ten.”

“Perhaps that was why she lived so long,” suggested Anne.

“Maybe ’twas. I’d rather live fifty sensible years than a hundred foolish ones.”