pardon, but the skirt o' yore bonnet is ripped, le'me see it a minute,'
an', la me! Brother Mitchell's eyes fairly danced in his head. I
heerd him laugh out sudden an' then he kivered his mouth 'ith his long,
bony hand an' coughed as I snatched the bonnet frum 'er head an' begun
to tear a seam open. She made a grab over his spindlin' legs fer it,
but I paid no attention to 'er, pretendin' to be fixin' it. Then the
fun begun. I seed 'im lay hold of 'er wrists an' look 'er spank, dab
in the eyes, an' 'en he begun to rant. Purty soon I seed her back
limberin' up an' I knowed, as the sayin' is, that she was our meat.
All at once, still a-hold o' 'er hands, he turned to me, an' sez he:
'Go ax Brother Quagmire to sing "How firm a foundation" three times,
with the second an' last verse left out, an' tell 'im to foller that up
with "Jesus, Lover." Git 'im to walk up an' down this aisle--this un,
remember. Tell 'im I've got a case heer wuth more 'n a whole bench
full o' them scrubs 'at'll backslide as soon as meetin' 's over; tell
'im to whoop 'em up. Sister Bradley, you are addin' more feathers to
yore wings right now 'an you ever sprouted in one day o' the Lord's
labor. But, for all you do, hold on to that blasted devil's
contraption.' He meant the bonnet.

"I slid out 'twixt the benches on one side, an' went round to the stand
an' spoke to Brother Quagmire, who wus leadin'; he's the big,
white-headed man they say looks like Moody an' has the scalps o' more
sinners in 'is belt than any man on the war-path. When I tol' 'im what
wus up, he giggled an' said, 'God bless 'im, Mitch is a wheel-hoss!'
an' with that he busted out singin' 'How firm a foundation, ye saints
o' the Lord,' an' he waved his hands up an' down like a buzzard's
wings, an' went up our aisle, a-clappin' an' singin' to beat the Dutch.
I never seed the like before. I wusn't cryin' fer the same reason 'at
the rest of 'em wus, but the tears wus jest a-streamin' down my face
like a leaky well-bucket, fer I believed the thing wus goin' to work,
an' I wus thinkin' how glad you'd be. She looked up an' seed my face
an' busted out cryin'. Then Brother Mitchell ketched 'er up in his
arms an' yelled: 'You little, ol', triflin' thing, I'm a-gwine to put
you in the arms o' yore Redeemer,' an' then I jest couldn't help
cryin'. Luke seed me give way an' sneeked off to water the hosses.
John, she was the happiest creetur God ever made. She laid 'er old
bare head