p the snow-covered mountain, he caught sight of
the glowing stove through the window of Bethel church house whither he
was bound this winter night to conduct singing school. He chuckled to
himself, drawing the knitted muffler closer about his thin throat and
making fast the earflaps of his coonskin cap. "Yes, they're getting the
place het up before the womenfolk come. Mathias or Jonathan, one or the
other." The singing master had come to know the signs by the behavior of
the old heating stove--who rivaled, who courted, who might be on the
outs. "It's Jonathan that's making the fire tonight. I caught the shadow
of him against the wall when he threw in the stove wood. Jonathan's all
of a head taller than Mathias. Trying to get in favor with Drusilla
Osborn. It's a plum shame the way that girl taynts him and Mathias. At
meeting first with one, then the other. She's got the two young fellows
as mad as hornets at each other nigh half the time. No telling, Dru's
liable to shun them both when it comes to choosing a mate. Women are
strange creatures." The singing master talked to himself as he plodded
on.

Many the year Philomel Whiffet traveled that selfsame road with the
selfsame aim, for the church house was the only place on Pigeon Creek
where folks could gather. The seat of learning too it was there in the
Tennessee mountains, so that old Whiffet, having journeyed hither and
yon to take up a subscription for singing school, must need get the
consent of school trustees and elders in order to hold forth in Bethel
church house. Honor-bound too, was he, to divide his fee of a dollar per
scholar with his benefactors.

"We're giving you the chance, brother Whiffet, to earn a living," one of
the elders murmured when the singing master that year shared with them
his meager earnings. But when Philomel ventured to suggest it might
liven the gathering somewhat if he brought along his dulcimer and
strummed the tune while scholars sang, both elders and trustees stood
aghast. Couldn't believe their ears. "Brother Whiffet!" gasped one of
the elders, "so long as we're in our right mind no music box of any
nature shall be brought into Bethel church house. We don't intend to
contrary the good Lord in any such way."

That settled it.

The memory of that session brought a smile to the old man's face.
"Elders and women have strange ways," he told himself as he walked on
through the snow, eyes fixed on the beacon light of the old heating
s