re was the time to canvass round? An' what could we do with the
other little things? But Timothy wouldn't listen to nothin'.

"'Amanda,' s'e in a married voice, 'what I say is this, I forbid you to
carry a drop o' Jersey milk or any other kind o' milk up to that
church.'

"With that he was out the front door an' liniment forgot.

"Mis' Sykes spatted her hands.

"'He'll find Silas Sykes an' Eppleby,' she says to Mis' Holcomb. 'Quick.
Le's us get our hands on my bread an' your cookies. Them poor little
things--'way past their supper hour.'

"'An' none of 'em got mothers,' says Mis' Sturgis, 'just left 'round
with lockets on, I sp'ose, an' wrecked an' hungry....'

"'An' one o' 'em lame,' Mame Holcomb puts in, down on her knees tryin'
to sort out her overshoes. The Sodality never could tell its own
overshoes.

"Well, they scattered so quick it made you think o' mulberry leaves,
some years, in the first frost--an' I was left alone with Mis' Toplady.

"'Here,' she says to me then, all squintin' with firmness, 'you take
along all the linen an' comfortables you can lug. Timothy didn't mention
them. An' _leave the rest to me_.'

"I went over that in my mind while I stumbled along back to the church,
loaded down. But I couldn't make much out of it. I knew Timothy Toplady:
that he was meek till he turned an' then it was look out. An' I knew,
too, that Timothy could run Silas Sykes, the postmaster's political
strength, like you've noticed, makin' him kind o' wobbled in his own
judgment of other things. I didn't know how Eppleby Holcomb'd be--it
might turn out to be one o' the things he'd up an' question, civilized,
but I wa'n't sure. Anyhow, the cream cookies an' the two loaves wasn't
so vital as them five loaves o' bread.

"When I got back to the church, here it was all lit up. Abel had lit the
chandelier on a secular scene! Bless 'em, it surely was secular, though,
accordin' to my lights, it was some sacred too. Six or seven of the
little things was buildin' a palace out o' the split wood, with the
little lame girl for queen. The little blonde an' the one that was rill
delicate lookin' had gone to sleep by the stove on Abel's overcoat.
Mitsy, she run from somewheres an' grabbed my hand. An' Abel had the
rest over by the other stove tellin' 'em stories. I heard him say
dragon, an' blue velvet, an' golden hair.

"I hadn't more'n got inside the door before Zittelhof's wagon come with
the cots. An' Mis' Zittelhof was wit