bang at me," said the smith, defending his
position. "But I'll ask him the easiest one of the lot. Baby boy," he
said, in a gentle way of his own, "who is it makes everything?--who
makes all the lovely things in the world?"

Shyly the tiny man leaned back on the arm he felt he knew, and gravely,
to the utter astonishment of the big, rough men, in his sweet baby
utterance, he said:

"Bruv-ver--Jim."

A roar of laughter instantly followed, giving the youngster a start
that almost shook him from his seat.

"By jinks!" said Keno. "That's all right. You bet he knows."

But the Sunday-school programme was not again attempted. When
something like calm had settled once more on the audience, If-only Jim
remarked that he guessed they would have to quit their fooling and get
down to the business of church.

CHAPTER VII

THE SUNDAY HAPPENINGS

But to open the service when quiet reigned again and expectation was
once more concentrated upon him afforded something of a poser still to
the lanky old Jim, elected to perform the offices of leading.

"Where's Shorty Hobb with his fiddle?" said he.

"Parky wouldn't leave him come," answered Bone. "He loaned him money
on his vierlin, and he says he owns it and won't leave him play in no
church that ever got invented."

"Parky, hey?" said Jim, drawlingly. "Wal, bless his little home'pathic
pill of a soul!"

"He says he's fed more poor and done more fer charity than any man in
town," informed a voice.

"Does, hey?" said the miner. "I'll bet his belly's the only poor thing
he feeds regular. His hand ain't got callous cutting bread for the
orphans. But he ain't a subject for church. If only I'd 'a' known
what he was agoin' to do I'd made a harp. But let it go. We'll start
off with roll-call and follow that up with a song."

He therefore began with the name of Webber, who responded "Here," and
proceeding to note who was present, he drawled the name or familiar
sobriquet of each in turn, till all had admitted they were personally
in attendance.

"Ahem," said Jim, at the end of this impressive ceremony. "Now we'll
sing a hymn. What hymn do you fellows prefer?"

There was not a great confusion of replies; in fact, the confusion
resulted from a lack thereof.

"As no one indicates a preference," announced the miner, "we'll tackle
'Darling, I am growing old.' Are there any objections? All in
favor?--contrary minded?--the motion prevails. Now, then, all
to