The widow was deep in suds over the family wash, when she saw her pastor coming up the path to the door. She gave directions to her young son to answer the bell, and to tell the clergyman that his mother had just gone down the street on an errand.
Since the single ground floor room of the cottage offered no better hiding place against observation from the door, she crouched behind a clothes-horse hung with drying garments.
When the boy had opened the door to the minister, and had duly delivered the message concerning his mother’s absence, the reverend gentleman cast a sharp look toward the screen of drying clothes, and addressed the boy: “Well, just tell your mother I called. And you might say to her that the next time she goes down the street, she should take her feet along.”