e feel well disposed toward Tom
Mayberry, come bedtime, we may feed him a half dozen."

And in accordance with time-honored custom the stroke of one found the
Providence matrons grouped along the Road and up Mother Mayberry's
front walk, in the act of assembling for the good work in hand.

"Come in, everybody," exclaimed Mother Mayberry, as she welcomed them
from the front steps. "I'm mighty glad all are on time, for I have got
the best of things to tell, as I have been saving by the hardest for
three days. A woman holding back news is mighty like root-beer, liable
to pop the cork and foam over in spite of all."

"I'm mighty glad to hear something good," said Mrs. Peavey in a doleful
tone. "Looks like the world have got into astonishing misery. Did you
all read in the Bolivar Herald last week about that explode in a mine
in Delyware; a terrible flood in Louisianny and the man that killed his
wife and six children in Kansas? I don't know what we're a-coming to. I
told Mr. Peavey and Buck this morning, but they ain't either of 'em got
any sympathy. They just went on talking about the good trade Mr. Hoover
made in hogs over to Springfield and the fine clover stand they have
got in the north field."

By this time the assembly had removed their hats, laid them on Mother
Mayberry's snowy bed and settled themselves in rocking-chairs that had
been collected from all over the house for the occasion. Gay sewing
bags had been produced and the armor of thimbles and scissors had been
buckled on. Mother Mayberry still stood in the center of the room
watching to see that all of her guests were comfortably seated.

"Them were mighty bad happenings, Mis' Peavey, and I know we all feel
for such trouble being sent on the Lord's people," said Mother Mayberry
seriously, though a smile quirked at the corners of the Widow Pratt's
pretty mouth and young Mrs. Nath Mosbey bent over to hunt in her bag
for an unnecessary spool of thread. Mrs. Peavey's nature was of the
genus kill-joy, and it was hard to steer her into the peaceful waters
of social enjoyment.

"I don't think any of that is as bad as three divorce cases I read
about in a town paper that Mr. Petway wrapped up some calico for me
in," answered Mrs. Peavey, continuing her lamentations over conditions
in general, which they all knew would get to be over conditions in
particular if something did not intervene to stop the tide of her
dissatisfaction.

"Divorces oughtn't to be allow