“Why, I thought he'd be in the pulpit.” Rot him, I forgot he was a preacher.  I see I was up a stump again, so I played another chicken bone and got another think.  Then I says: “Blame it, do you suppose there ain't but one preacher to a church?” “Why, what do they want with more?” “What!--to preach before a king?  I never did see such a girl as you. They don't have no less than seventeen.” “Seventeen!  My land!  Why, I wouldn't set out such a string as that, not if I _never_ got to glory.  It must take 'em a week.” “Shucks, they don't _all_ of 'em preach the same day--only _one_ of 'em.” “Well, then, what does the rest of 'em do?” “Oh, nothing much.  Loll around, pass the plate--and one thing or another.  But mainly they don't do nothing.” “Well, then, what are they _for_?” “Why, they're for _style_.  Don't you know nothing?” “Well, I don't _want_ to know no such foolishness as that.  How is servants treated in England?  Do they treat 'em better 'n we treat our niggers?” “_No_!  A servant ain't nobody there.  They treat them worse than dogs.” “Don't they give 'em holidays, the way we do, Christmas and New Year's week, and Fourth of July?” “Oh, just listen!  A body could tell _you_ hain't ever been to England by that.  Why, Hare-l--why, Joanna, they never see a holiday from year's end to year's end; never go to the circus, nor theater, nor nigger shows, nor nowheres.” “Nor church?” “Nor church.” “But _you_ always went to church.” Well, I was gone up again.  I forgot I was the old man's servant.  But next minute I whirled in on a kind of an explanation how a valley was different from a common servant and _had_ to go to church whether he wanted to or not, and set with the family, on account of its being the law.  But I didn't do it pretty good, and when I got done I see she warn't satisfied.  She says: “Honest injun, now, hain't you been telling me a lot of lies?” “Honest injun,” says I. “None of it at all?” “None of it at all.  Not a lie in it