human
Mistress Perkins, these are trying times, trying times. There is a sound of a going in the tops of the mulberry-trees--h-m! Sea and waves roaring of a truth--h-m! h-m! I trust, Mistress Perkins, you submit to the Divine Will with meekness.
gpt
Well, I don't know, replied Hannah, with a queer little twinkle in her eye.
human
I don't believe I be as meek as Moses, parson. I should like things fixed different, to speak truth.
gpt
Dear me! Dear me--h-m! h-m! My good woman, the Lord reigneth. You must submit; you must submit. You know it is the duty of a vessel of wrath to be broken to pieces if it glorifieth the Maker.
human
Well, mebbe 'tis. I don't know much about that kind o' vessel. I've got to submit because there ain't anything else to do, as I see. I can't say it goes easy--not'n' be honest; but I try to look on the bright side, and to believe the Lord'll take care of my folks better'n I could, even if they was here.
gpt
H-m! h-m! Well, stammered the embarrassed parson, completely at his wit's end with this cheerful theology,
human
Well, you know what it says about takin' care of sparrers, in the Bible, and how we was more valerable than they be, a lot. That kind o' text comes home these times, I tell ye. You fetch a person down to the bedrock, as Grandsir Penlyn used to say, and then they know where they be. And ef the Lord is really the Lord of all, I expect He'll take care of all; 'nd I don't doubt but what He is and does. So I can fetch up on that.