ously, insultingly, perhaps--she did not know.

It is a part of the formula of village life in such a community as
Spring Valley, for the young men thus lingering in the vestibule to
accost the maidens of their choice as they emerge from the body proper
of the church building. The youth steps forward--preceding any rival if
he may--removes his hat, at least in part, and having gained the
maiden's eye, speaks the unvarying phrase, "May I see you home tonight?"
Whereupon the young lady, smiling if favorably disposed to him, is
expected to take his arm in sight of all; and they thus, arm in arm,
descend the eight wooden steps to the sidewalk, and so walk away
undisturbed. Thus there gradually ensues a general pairing off of all.
The swain or the maid left alone is not rated of the social elect. This
is the selecting place of the sexes, far more than the sacred parlor
with its horsehair chairs and its album midway on the table of the
marble top.

But now, as the little assemblage in the vestibule dissipated, there
came an added commotion, not at the rear, but at the front of the
vestibule. Someone was pushing on inside of the door--someone who
apparently did not belong there.

It was the half-witted son of Ephraim Adamson, John, commonly called
Johnnie, the idiot! Why he had come hither, why he was allowed to come,
none might say, nor why he came unattended by any of his kin as was the
usual custom. But none molested him. A bold youth said "Hello, Johnnie,"
and Johnnie respectfully took off his hat to him with an amiable grin.
They would have mocked him had they dared, but in truth none knew what
to do with him.

When Aurora Lane had passed in part the gauntlet of the loitering
youths, and was about to step down the stair into the street, she felt a
heavy hand fall on her arm. Then a peal of laughter rose back of
her--laughter on the threshold of the church itself. For what the
half-wit did was what he had seen these others do. Sidling up to her,
his hat off, he said, "May I see--may I see you home this--this
evening?"

This was accounted the greatest jest, the most unfailingly mirthful
thing in the recountal, ever known in the annals of Spring Valley.

Aurora Lane started back from him in sudden shocked loathing, swiftly
resentful also of the mocking laughter that she heard from those who
still stood within the sanctuary. Sanctuary? Was there such a place as
sanctuary for her in all the world? Was there any place wh