his sleep and struck out a little jarringly against the
back of the narrow gallery pew. Jot turned back and scanned the place
they had so innocently taken for their quarters the night before. The
gallery pew they were in was like a tiny half-walled room, with seats
running around three sides and up to the queer door on the fourth side.
The walls of the pews were almost as high as Jot's head if he had dared
to stand up.

Kent stirred uneasily and threw out his arm with a smart rap against the
side. Jot crept across to him in terror. "Sh! Sh! Keep quiet! don't
breathe! You're in meeting!" he whispered. "The minister's down there
preaching now! Oh, sh!"

"Lemme--" But Jot's hand cut off the rest. The other hand gently shook
Kent's arm.

"I tell you we're in meeting; don't make a sound!"

"Who's making a sound?" whispered Kent, now thoroughly awake. Was Jot
taken suddenly crazy? Hark! who was that talking?

"If you don't believe me, raise your eye over that wall and sec what!"
whispered Jot eagerly. He drew Kent up beside him and they peeped
carefully over. Kent dropped back, as Jot had done, in sheer surprise.
The two boys gazed at each other silently. It was too much for Kent,
though, and, to suppress a laugh, he stuffed his handkerchief in his
mouth.

Kent pointed to Old Tilly and smiled broadly.

"He promised mother he'd take us to meeting," he whispered, "and he's
done it!"

"Yes, but she wouldn't like to see him asleep in church!" Jot whispered
hack.

Below them the minister's deep voice tolled on solemnly. They could not
catch all the words.

"Come on! I'm going to sit up like folks. I want to hear what he's
saying," Jot whispered after awhile.

They smoothed their hair and tried to straighten collars and ties, and
then suddenly some of the people down below in the body of the church
glanced up and saw two boyish faces, side by side, in the gallery. The
puzzle was beyond unraveling. The women prodded each other gently with
their parasol tips and raised their eyebrows. The men looked blank.
When had those youngsters got up there in that pew? One of the deacons
scowled a little, but the two quiet brown faces allayed his suspicions.
It wasn't mischief--it was mystery.

The sight that had met Jot's astonished eyes in the beginning was a
quaint one. This was a new kind of a church! At home there were rows
upon rows of red-cushioned seats, with the hymn books and fans in the
racks making