not
profane the church. But his look and voice silenced her and she sank
back in amazement.

He preached a powerful sermon, and at its close told something of his
life and who he was, and Martha found herself all at once the centre of
attention; and her face glowed and her heart burned within her as the
people about her nodded and smiled at her through their tears, and
hurled "Amen" upon "Amen."

Madison hurried to her side after the services. "I des wanted to s'prise
you a little, Marthy," he said.

She was too happy to answer and, pressing his arm very tightly, she
walked out among her congratulating friends, and between her husband and
the Rev. Silas Todbury went proudly home to her Christmas dinner.

_Three_

THE MISSION OF MR. SCATTERS

It took something just short of a revolution to wake up the sleepy
little town of Miltonville. Through the slow, hot days it drowsed along
like a lazy dog, only half rousing now and then to snap at some flying
rumour, and relapsing at once into its pristine somnolence.

It was not a dreamless sleep, however, that held the town in chains. It
had its dreams--dreams of greatness, of wealth, of consequence and of
growth. Granted that there was no effort to realise these visions, they
were yet there, and, combined with the memory of a past that was not
without credit, went far to give tone to its dormant spirit.

It was a real spirit, too; the gallant Bourbon spirit of the old South;
of Kentucky when she is most the daughter of Virginia, as was evidenced
in the awed respect which all Miltonvillians, white and black alike,
showed to Major Richardson in his house on the hill. He was part of the
traditions of the place. It was shown in the conservatism of the old
white families, and a certain stalwart if reflected self-respect in the
older coloured inhabitants.

In all the days since the school had been founded and Mr. Dunkin's
marriage to the teacher had raised a brief ripple of excitement, these
coloured people had slumbered. They were still slumbering that hot
August day, unmindful of the sensation that lay at their very doors,
heedless of the portents that said as plain as preaching, "Miltonville,
the time is at hand, awake!"

So it was that that afternoon there were only a few loungers, and these
not very alert, about the station when the little train wheezed and
puffed its way into it. It had been so long since anyone save those whom
they knew had alighted at Milt