sh pink of the turnip. She blushed again and said: "I reckon we'd
have rain if it was cloudy, but it ain't. Where's pa?" And then
looking round she called: "Come on, pap."

"Comin'," the old man replied, walking with a limp in his Sunday
shoes. He did not wait for an introduction to Lyman, but shook hands
with him, glanced upward and said: "Mighty bright day."

"Just as fresh as if this were the first one," Lyman replied.

"Well, sir, I hadn't thought of that, but I reckon you're right." His
daughter reached over and brushed a measuring-worm off his shoulder.
"Going to get a new coat," she said. "Worm measuring you."

"Put him on me," said Lyman, looking about as if searching for the
worm.

"Get away," Warren broke in, shoving him to one side. "I want him.
Well, let him go. How far do you live from here, Mr. Pitt?"

"Well, a leetle the rise of three mile and a half, at this time of the
year, but when the weather is bad, the road stretches powerful. My
wife wanted to come today to hear the new preacher, but along come
some folks visitin' from over the creek, with a passul of haungry
children, and she had to stay and git 'em a bite to eat. Her doctrine
is that it's better to feed the haungry than to eat, even if the table
is served by a new preacher. Well," he added, as a hymn arose within
the church, "they've struck up the tune of sorrow in there and I
reckon we'd better go in."

Warren walked with Nancy. "What, we ain't going in the same door?" she
said as they approached.

"Yes," he replied, "and I'm going to sit with you during the sermon."

"No," she said, drawing back. "That won't do. I have heard that in
town the women and the men sit together in church, but they don't out
here, and if I did I'd never hear the last of it."

"All right, I don't want to mark you in any way, but I want you to
wait for me when you come out."

Bostic came in. His face was grave, and he carried the timid air of a
first appearance as he walked slowly down the aisle. The men mumbled,
the women whispered, and Lyman heard a girl remark: "He ain't so
mighty good-looking." At the door, there was a rustle of strange
skirts, and as if a new note had been introduced into an old melody,
the congregation looked around. Lyman looked too, and his breast grew
warm with the new beating of his heart. Mrs. McElwin and her daughter
entered the church. The preacher glanced up from his text and saw
them, and his eye kindled. He gave out an old