n by the fool gangs that go in for style and show? Up your way
everything is more on a level. One man is as good as another. That is
one thing I like about religion. In the backwoods, at least, it does
away with a lot of stuck-up ideas. You mustn't think I want you to quit
going to church. No, I want you to go. I can't take part, but you can go
on the same as you used to."

They were now in front of the tent's opening. And as Tilly was peering
in at the brilliantly lighted platform on which sat some singers behind
an organ, and a young, square-jawed, long-haired minister in a
frock-coat, John thought she might be interested in the service.

"Maybe you'd rather go in to-night," he advanced. "It is with you to
decide. Is it preaching or show?"

"But you don't like preaching," she said.

"I don't count in this shuffle," he jested. "They are both shows to me.
The only difference is that the burnt-cork and dancing people admit they
want your money, and these people lie about it."

Tilly frowned. "You get worse and worse," she said. "Let's go to the
show. It will be good for you after working so hard to-day."

"Well, we'll come here to-morrow night," he said. "We've got to have
some amusements. You are by yourself too much. I've been thinking a lot
about the way you are fixed down here in this measly, hypocritical town.
You see, up there where you were raised you know every man, woman, and
child, but here you are a stranger. I mean-- I mean--" He was beyond his
depth and realized it, quite to his chagrin. Tilly came to his rescue.

"Never mind about me," she broke in, quickly and with tact, as she drew
him on in the direction of the lights and music farther up the street.
"I am thoroughly happy here. I don't want anything but you and our
little home. I love you more and more. Some day you will know why, but I
do. I'm going to make you happy, John, happier than you've ever been."

He sighed, and it was as if he were conscious that the sigh which had
surged up within him, in a way, was a denial of the hope her words
extended.

He paid their fare at the opening in the tent and went in and sat on one
of the crude, unbacked benches. The place was filling fast. Laughing
parties of young men and young ladies entered. John told Tilly who some
of them were. The "chipper, fluffy-headed blonde" was a banker's
daughter, with the son of the president of the largest iron-works in
Ridgeville. Another girl was the only child of a ri