s
presiding officer of the meeting. Then she continued:

"Excuse me; I forgot the previous question which somebody moved. Shall
we have lettuce or chicken sandwiches at our next meetin'? You have
heard the question. Those in favor of chicken please say aye. Ah! The
ayes have the chicken, and the chicken is unanimously carried. Any
more business to come before the meetin'? If not, we'll proceed to
carry out the lit'ary program arranged by Miss Perkins. Then we'll
close this meetin' by singin' the 224th hymn. Don't forget the basket
by the door."

* * * * *

Silas Bingham was an undersized, timid, pulpy soul, with a horizontal
forehead, watery blue eyes, and a receding chin. Out of "office hours"
he looked like a meek solicitor for a Sunday School magazine. One
bright morning just as he had finished sweeping out the saloon and was
polishing the brass rod on the front of the bar, Mrs. Burke walked in,
and extended her hand to the astonished bar-keeper, whose chin dropped
from sheer amazement. She introduced herself in the most cordial and
sympathetic of tones, saying:

"How do you do, Mr. Bingham? I haven't had the pleasure of meetin' you
before; but I always make it a point to call on strangers when they
come to town. It must be awful lonesome when you first arrive and
don't know a livin' soul. I hope your wife is tolerable well."

Bingham gradually pulled himself together and turned very red, as he
replied:

"Thanks! But my wife doesn't live here. It's awful kind of you, I'm
sure; but you'll find my wife in the third house beyond the bakery,
down two blocks--turn to the right. She'll be glad to see you."

"That's good," Hepsey responded, "but you see I don't have much to do
on Thursdays, and I'll just have a little visit with you, now I'm
here. Fine day, isn't it."

Mrs. Burke drew up a chair and sat down, adjusted her feet comfortably
to the rung of another chair, and pulled out her knitting from her
work-bag, much to the consternation of the proprietor of the place.

"How nice you've got things fixed up, Mr. Bingham," Hepsey remarked,
gazing serenely at the seductive variety of bottles and glasses, and
the glare of mirrors behind the bar. "Nothin' like havin' a fine
lookin' place to draw trade. Is business prosperin' now-a-days?"

Silas turned three shades redder, and stammered badly as he replied:

"Yes, I'm doin' as well as I can expect--er--I suppose."

"Proba