Andrew Malden's mail had been well inspected
before it left the office.

The wrath of the Dean family reached its culmination on that Sunday
night when Dan came home with the news that Job had attended the
Coyote Valley camp-meeting and had been converted; "now he would be
putting on holy airs and setting himself above folks." That night in
Dean's shanty Sally and Dan and "Pap" put their heads together to plan
how they could in some way make Job Malden backslide.

It was toward this house that Job was making his way, on the very next
week, bound for the semi-weekly mail. As he went up the path old Dean
himself rose to meet him; and, putting up his pipe, remarked on the
"uncommon fine morning." As he pushed open the shanty door, Mrs. Dean
and fifteen-year-old Sally were all smiles. The postman had brought no
mail, the former said, but wouldn't he stay and rest? She had heard
the Methodists were having a fandango down in the valley. Queer
people, whose religion consisted in shouting and jumping. As for her,
she believed in practical religion; she paid her honest debts and
didn't set herself up above her neighbors.

Job was just leaving, when Mrs. Dean said:

"Oh, you mustn't go without drinking to Sally's health--she's fifteen
to-day. See what a big girl she is--what rosy cheeks and big hands!
Come, we have the finest cider out; just drink with us to Sally's
health."

"Why, excuse me, ma'am," stammered Job, quite bewildered by this
sudden good nature and the invitation to drink. "Why--I can't drink
any more--I--"

"Oh, my!" said Mrs. Dean. "You're all straight! This won't be too
much, if you have drank before this afternoon."

"Oh, but--" stammered Job, "I don't mean that. I don't drink any
more--I have joined the Methodists and been converted."

"Such a likely boy as you gone and jined the fools! Surely Andy
Malden don't know it, does he?"

"Why--no," stammered Job.

"Waal, now, purty feller you are, to take your bread and butter from
Andy Malden, and then go and disgrace him by joinin' the hypocrites
and never tellin' him, and then comin' round here and refusin' to
drink harmless apple juice with our Sally! Puttin' yourself up above
respectable people like us, whose parents lie in respectable graves."

Job faltered. That speech cut. The hot blood came to his brow. A week
ago he would have lost his temper, but now he bit his lip and kept
still.

Then the woman's mood changed. She wished him no ill luck,