repress a smile at the
tone, half-whine, half-snuffle, with which Galletly ended up.

"I think I had better call and see this Mrs. Palmer," he said slowly.

"'Twould be no airthly use, Mr. Telford. Min'd slam the door in your
face if she did nothing worse. She hates ministers and everything
that's good. She hasn't darkened a church door for years. She never
had any religious tendency to begin with, and when there was such a
scandal about her, old Mr. Dinwoodie, our pastor then--a godly man,
Mr. Telford--he didn't hold no truck with evildoers--he went right to
her to reprove and rebuke her for her sins. Min, she flew at him. She
vowed then she'd never go to church again, and she never has. People
hereabouts has talked to her and tried to do her good, but it ain't no
use. Why, I've heard that woman say there was no God. It's a fact, Mr.
Telford--I have. Some of our ministers has tried to visit her. They
didn't try it more than once. The last one--he was about your heft--he
got a scare, I tell you. Min just caught him by the shoulder and shook
him like a rat! Didn't see it myself but Mrs. Rawlings did. Ye ought
to hear her describin' of it."

Galletly chuckled over the recollection, his wicked little eyes
glistening with delight. Telford was thankful when they reached the
store. He felt that he could not endure this man's society any
longer.

Nevertheless, he felt strangely interested. This Min Palmer must at
least be different from the rest of the Cornerites, if only in the
greater force of her wickedness. He almost felt as if her sins on the
grand scale were less blameworthy than the petty vices of her
censorious neighbours.

Galletly eagerly joined the group of loungers on the dirty wet
platform, and Telford passed into the store. A couple of slatternly
women were talking to Mrs. Rykman about "the Palmer row." Telford made
his small purchases hastily. As he turned from the counter, he came
face to face with a woman who had paused in the doorway to survey the
scene with an air of sullen scorn. By some subtle intuition Telford
knew that this was Min Palmer.

The young man's first feeling was one of admiration for the woman
before him, who, in spite of her grotesque attire and defiant,
unwomanly air, was strikingly beautiful. She was tall, and not even
the man's ragged overcoat which she wore could conceal the grace of
her figure. Her abundant black hair was twisted into a sagging knot at
her neck, and from beneat