reath, turned her face to the wall, and silently wiped the paint of the
wainscoting. The blood that had rushed into her cheeks at Mrs. Sargent's
jeering reference to Justin Peabody still lingered there for any one who
ran to read, but fortunately nobody ran; they were too busy scrubbing.

"Not yet. Folks don't hurry about answering when you ask them for a
contribution," replied the president, with a cynicism common to persons
who collect funds for charitable purposes. "George Wickham sent me
twenty-five cents from Denver. When I wrote him a receipt, I said thank
you same as Aunt Polly did when the neighbors brought her a piece of
beef: 'Ever so much obleeged, but don't forget me when you come to kill
a pig.'--Now, Mrs. Baxter, you shan't clean James Bruce's pew, or what
was his before he turned Second Advent. I'll do that myself, for he used
to be in my Sunday-School class."

"He's the backbone o' that congregation now," asserted Mrs. Sargent,
"and they say he's goin' to marry Mrs. Sam Peters, who sings in their
choir, as soon as his year is up. They make a perfect fool of him in
that church."

"You can't make a fool of a man that nature ain't begun with," argued
Miss Brewster. "Jim Bruce never was very strong-minded, but I declare it
seems to me that when men lose their wives, they lose their wits! I
was sure Jim would marry Hannah Thompson that keeps house for him. I
suspected she was lookin' out for a life job when she hired out with
him."

"Hannah Thompson may keep Jim's house, but she'll never keep Jim, that's
certain!" affirmed the president; "and I can't see that Mrs. Peters will
better herself much."

"I don't blame her, for one!" came in no uncertain tones from the
left-wing pews, and the Widow Buzzell rose from her knees and approached
the group by the pulpit. "If there's anything duller than cookin' three
meals a day for yourself, and settin' down and eatin' 'em by yourself,
and then gettin' up and clearin' 'em away after yourself, I'd like to
know it! I should n't want any good-lookin', pleasant-spoken man to
offer himself to me without he expected to be snapped up, that's all!
But if you've made out to get one husband in York County, you can thank
the Lord and not expect any more favors. I used to think Tom was poor
comp'ny and complain I could n't have any conversation with him, but
land, I could talk at him, and there's considerable comfort in that.
And I could pick up after him! Now every room in my