eputation as a teacher. These were a few of
the reports, contradicted and added to from day to day.

To quote Josiah Dimick again: "Sortin' out the truth from the lies is
like tryin' to find a quart of sardines in a schooner load of herrin'.
And they dump in more herrin' every half hour."

Angeline Phinney was having the time of her life. The perfect boarding
house hummed like a fly trap. Keturah and Mrs. Tripp had deserted to
the enemy, and the minority, meaning Asaph and Bailey, had little
opportunity to defend their friend's cause, even if they had dared.
Heman Atkins, his Christian charity and high-mindedness, his devotion to
duty, regardless of political consequences, and the magnificent speech
at town meeting were lauded and exalted. The Bayport Breeze contained
a full account of the meeting, and it was read aloud by Keturah, amidst
hymns of praise from the elect.

"'Whom the Lord hath joined,'" read Mrs. Bangs, "'let no man put
asunder.' Ain't that splendid? Ain't that FINE? The paper says: 'When
Congressman Atkins delivered this noble sentiment a hush fell upon the
excited throng.' I should think 'twould. I remember when I was married
the minister said pretty nigh the same thing, and I COULDN'T speak. I
couldn't have opened my mouth to save me. Don't you remember I couldn't,
Bailey?"

Mr. Bangs nodded gloomily. It is possible that he wished the effect of
the minister's declaration might have been more lasting. Asaph stirred
in his chair.

"I don't care," he said. "This puttin' asunder business is all right,
but there's always two sides to everything. I see this Thomas critter
when he fust come, and he didn't look like no saint then--nor smell like
one, neither, unless 'twas a specimen pickled in alcohol."

Here was irreverence almost atheistic. Keturah's face showed her shocked
disapproval. Matilda Tripp voiced the general sentiment.

"Humph!" she sniffed. "Well, all I can say is that I've met Mr. Thomas
two or three times, and _I_ didn't notice anything but politeness and
good manners. Maybe my nose ain't so fine for smellin' liquor as some
folks's--p'raps it ain't had the experience--but all _I_ saw was a poor
lame man with a black eye. I pitied him, and I don't care who hears me
say it."

"Yes," concurred Miss Phinney, "and if he was a drinkin' man, do you
suppose Mr. Atkins would have anything to do with him? Cyrus Whittaker
made a whole lot of talk about his insultin' some woman or other, but
nobo