e rhythm of his phrases.

This influence again benumbed him to forgetfulness, so that during the
final prayer he was dramatizing a scene in which three large and savage
dogs leaped upon Frank and Frank destroyed them--ate them up. And when
he stood at last for the doxology one of his feet had veritably gone to
sleep, the one that had been cramped back under the seat, so that he
stumbled and drew unwelcome attention to himself while the foot tingled
to wakefulness.

The ever-tractable Merle had been attentive to the sermon, had sung
beautifully, and was still immaculate of garb, while the Wilbur twin
emerged from the ordeal in rank disorder, seeming to have survived a
scuffle in which efforts had been made to wrench away his Sunday clothes
and to choke him with his collar and cravat. And the coating of soap had
played his hair false. It stood out behind and stood up in front, not
with any system, but merely here and there.

"You are a perfect sight," muttered Winona to him. "I don't see how you
do it." But neither did the offender.

With a graciously relaxed tension the freed congregation made a
leisurely progress to the doors of the church; many lingered here in
groups for greetings and light exchanges. It was here that the Penniman
group coalesced with the Whipple group, a circumstance that the trailing
Wilbur noted with alarm. The families did not commonly affiliate, and
the circumstance boded ominously. It could surely not be without
purpose. The Wilbur twin's alarm was that the Whipple family had
regretted its prodigality of the day before and was about to demand its
money back. He lurked in the shadowy doorway.

The Whipples were surrounding Merle with every sign of interest. They
shook hands with him. They seemed to appraise him as if he were
something choice on exhibition at a fair. Harvey D. was showing the most
interest, bending above the exhibit in apparently light converse. But
the Wilbur twin knew all about Harvey D. He was the banker and wore a
beard. He was to be seen on week days as one passed the First National
Bank, looking out through slender bars--exactly as the Penniman lion
did--upon a world that wanted money, but couldn't have it without some
good reason. He had not been present when the Whipple money was so
thoughtlessly loosened, and he would be just the man to make a fuss
about it now. He would want to take it back and put it behind those bars
in the bank where no one could get it. But he c