ed on other duties. No; go 'way. I don't
want to see you around here again until the whole thing's over."

"All right Hepsey, all right. I guess if it goes through the way you
want you'll be that set up you'll be wantin' to marry old Bascom
'stead of me," chuckled Jonathan, as the lady of his choice turned to
enter the house.

She faced round upon him as she reached the door, her features set
with grim determination:

"If I get the whole caboodle, bag and baggage, from the meetin' and
from Bascom, there's no knowin' but what I'll send for the parson and
be married right there and then. There isn't a thing I could think of,
in the line of a real expensive sacrifice, that'd measure up as
compensation for winnin' out--not even marryin' you, Jonathan
Jackson."

So Hepsey laid down lines for control of the meeting, ready with a
different variety of expedients, from point to point in its progress,
as Sylvester Bascom's attitude at the time might necessitate. For she
felt very little anxiety as to her ability to carry the main body of
the audience along with her.

The night of the meeting the Sunday School Room, adjacent to the
church, was filled full to a seat at least a quarter of an hour before
the time announced for the meeting. Hepsey had provided herself with a
chair in the center of the front row, directly facing the low platform
to be occupied by the chairman. Her leather bag hung formidably on one
arm, and a long narrow blank book was laid on her lap. She took little
notice of her surroundings, and her anxiety was imperceptible, as she
thrummed with a pencil upon the book, glancing now and then at the
side door, watching for Bascom's entrance. The meeting buzzed light
conversation, as a preliminary. Had she miscalculated on the very
first move? Was he going to treat the whole affair with lofty disdain?
As the hour struck, dead silence reigned in the room, expectant; and
Jonathan, who sat next her, fidgeted nervously.

"Five minutes' grace, and that's all; if he's not here by then, it'll
be up to you to call the meetin' to order," whispered Hepsey.

"Sakes!" hissed the terrified Junior Warden, "you didn't say nothin'
about that, Hepsey," he protested.

She leveled a withering glance at him, and was about to reduce him to
utter impotence by some scathing remark, when both were startled by a
voice in front of them, issuing from "the chair." Silently the Senior
Warden had entered, and had proceeded to open the m