go. I could wring you out like a mop, and drop you down a
knot-hole, and nobody'd be the wiser."

The door now opened slowly and a small girl, miserably clad, entered
the saloon. Her head was covered with a worn, soiled shawl. From
underneath the shawl she produced a battered tin pail and placed it on
the bar with the phlegmatic remark, "Pa wants a quart of beer."

Mrs. Burke looked at the girl and then at Bingham, and then back at
the girl inquiringly.

"Are you in the habit of gettin' beer here, child?"

"Sure thing!" the girl replied, cheerfully.

"How old are you?"

"Ten, goin' on eleven."

"And you sell it to her?" Hepsey asked, turning to Bingham.

"Oh, it's for her father. He sends for it." He frowned at the child
and she quickly disappeared, leaving the can behind her.

"Does he? But I thought you said that a saloon was no place for a
woman; and surely it can't be a decent place for a girl under age. Now
my friend, I've got somethin' to say to you."

"You are the very devil and all," Silas remarked.

"Thanks, Silas. The devil sticks to his job, anyway; and owin' to the
likes of you he wins out, nine times out of ten. Now will you clear
out of this location, or won't you?"

"Another day like this would send me to the lunatic asylum."

"Then I'll be around in the mornin' at six-thirty sharp."

"You just get out of here," he threatened.

"If you promise to clear out yourself within three days."

"I guess I'd clear out of Heaven itself to get rid of you."

"Very well; and if you are still here Saturday afternoon, ten of us
women will come and sit on your steps until you go. A woman can't vote
whether you shall be allowed to entice her men-folk into a place like
this, and at the very church door; but the average woman can be mighty
disagreeable when she tries."

Silas Bingham had a good business head: he reckoned up the costs--and
cleared out.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVII

NOTICE TO QUIT

Before the year was over Mrs. Betty had become popular with Maxwell's
parishioners through her unfailing good-nature, cordiality and
persistent optimism. Even Mrs. Nolan, who lived down by the bridge,
and made rag carpets, and suffered from chronic dyspepsia, remarked to
Mrs. Burke that she thought the parson's wife was very nice "'cause
she 'aint a bit better than any of the rest of us,"--which tribute to
Mrs. Betty's tact made Mrs. Burke smile and look pleased. All the
young men and girls of