lost its look of easy laughter, the crow's feet
about the corners of his eyes spoke of nights of hard service. Perhaps
he was even longer and leaner than ever, while the hair upon his
forehead was slowly beginning to recede like a wave from the shore.

Now his familiar spirit of fun took hold on him. The little man was
talking to him earnestly. "Go easy, Miner," he whispered, bending his
tall head, "ef you want to keep your secret from the women; there's Miss
Susan less'n a block away." He also continued his teasing even after
joining the minister and Mrs. Barrows, managing in a few moments to pass
with the two men into his house, leaving the lady bristling with anger.

"There's somethin' fermentin' in the head of every man in this here
town," she flared, coming out on to the sidewalk and then following the
trio into Ambrose's yard the better to deliver her message, "somethin'
you're hidin' from the women, and what men keeps to themselves ain't no
good and never was! Suppose we ain't noticed you plottin' new mischief
together? Like it wasn't enough," she ended bitterly, "that women has
had to bear a war, go half starved, and do man's work as well as their
own 'thout bein' asked whether they'd like a war or not. Wonder if the
good time's comin' when women kin reveal what they think and not have to
stand fer the things they don't have no hand in the makin' of."

Although during this tirade her audience had disappeared, eternal
vigilance was forever Mrs. Barrows' motto. So now she went on with her
watching, while the three men remained a long time inside the cottage,
and by and by, when darkness had fallen, other men with their faces
hidden followed in after them. Soon these men came out, and last of all
Miner, Ambrose, and Brother Bibbs. Miner was scowling; nevertheless his
scowl was concealing an expression of triumph; the minister's figure
plainly showed defeat, but Ambrose, whatever his former look, laughed
aloud, catching sight of his neighbour through the gloom, standing on a
kitchen chair and leaning across the dividing rails between her house
and his in order to peep through the closed slats of his sitting-room
window.

"Look out, Miss Susan, the meetin' is over, and high places is rickety,"
he called suddenly.

Mrs. Barrows started guiltily, accomplishing her own downfall, and over
she went with the wreck of her chair, only to spring up so quickly
afterward that her hoopskirts appeared to carry her higher than