throwing out the intruder, a familiar tall figure was seen crossing the
floor, and putting his arm about the lubbering, drunken boy.

"Come along, sonnie; steady now," he whispered, leading him quickly
away.

Half an hour later, sauntering back to the church social, Uncle Ambrose
found that supper time was past and that the tables having been cleared
away there was more and more room for conversation. Once again he
sought the Widow Tarwater's side, but this time was received more
graciously, for, putting out a trembling hand, she clasped Uncle
Ambrose's with gratitude. "I'm obliged to you, Ambrose Thompson," she
said. "That boy's ever been a thorn in my flesh. I have kept him at the
farm because my late husband was good to him, but after to-night I don't
feel called to have him stay on."

The Rev. Elias Tupper's voice thereafter was sufficiently loud to reach
the ears of a number of the members of his congregation who were grouped
about nearby.

"That boy," he announced, folding his short arms across his chest and
sighing deeply, "is a painful example of original sin."

Since his return to the room up to this time Uncle Ambrose had made no
remark, but now clearing his throat he eyed the last speaker for so long
in silence that a little clacking noise was heard close by him and an
old, old woman with an ear trumpet held to her ear leaned so far out of
her wheeled chair that only her daughter's restraining hand kept her
from falling.

"Original sin, Brother Elias?" The tall man drawled his question
thoughtfully. "I wonder now why you speak of this boy's weaknesses as
_original_ sin? I've done lived in Pennyrile a right smart number of
years and I ain't been witness to a single original sin. Seems like
every fault a human crittur commits is just a plain copy of some fault
that has gone before him. And I reckon it's more'n likely there's a good
many original sinners among us men here to-night that has been original
along pretty much the same lines as this here boy."

There was an unspoken yet moving appeal in the sympathetic tones of the
well-known voice, softening some of the women listeners and a few of the
men, but the Hon. Calvin Jones had still to be heard from.

There are men in this world to whom even the simplest exchange of words
is a chance for oratory. So the Honorable Calvin, frowning and with one
finger thrust in his coat, by his dramatic silence held his audience for
a moment spellbound.

"May I i