ith that boat. It can't have
started yet."

Marion grasped her hand firmly, and spoke like a commander:

"Flossy Shipley, don't you go to getting nervous and acting like a
simpleton, for I won't have it. As for that boat, it is half way to
Mayville by this time, and I am glad of it. Do you suppose I am going to
make an ignominious retreat now, when we have got so far advanced? Not a
bit of it. If there is no meeting, we will go where there ought to be
one, since it was advertised, and not a word said about rain. It isn't
likely they stay out-doors when it actually pours. Very likely they go
in somewhere and have a prayer-meeting. So now compose your nerves and
walk fast, for if the spot is within walking distance I am going to find
it. I tell you I am to get ten dollars at least for writing up this
meeting, and I am going to write it if there is one to write about. If
there isn't I shall have to make up one. I dare say I could make it
interesting. I'll put you in if I do, and you shall be Mrs. Fearful--in
Pilgrim's Progress, you know--if you don't stop shivering and walk
faster."

During this time they had really been making as rapid progress as the
up-hill way and their doubt of the road would allow. Flossy made no
reply to this harangue, for the reason that a sudden turn in the path
brought them into bright light and the sound of a ringing voice.

"There!" whispered Marion as the mammoth tent came in view. "What did I
tell you? What do you think of _that_ for a prayer-meeting?" And then
she, too, relapsed into silence, for the ringing tones of the speaker's
voice were distinct and clear. They made their way rapidly and silently
under the tent, down the aisle--half way down--then a gentleman beckoned
them, and by dint of some pushing and moving secured them seats. Then
both girls looked about them in astonishment. Who would have supposed
that it rained! Why, there were rows and rows and rows of heads, men and
women, and even children. A tent larger than they had imagined could be
built and packed with people.

Marion's tongue was uncontrollable. She was barely seated before she
began her whispered comments:

"That man who is speaking is Dr. Vincent. Hasn't he a ringing voice? It
reminds me of a trumpet. He likes to use it, I know he does; he has
learned to manage it so nicely, and with an eye to the effect. You will
hear his voice often enough, and you just watch and see if you don't
learn to know the first echo