er. There were but few persons on the street as the car passed
but on its return, everybody in the stores was out on the sidewalk.

"Take off that old barn-door hat, Landy, so we can see what ye got,"
called someone from the walk. Landy complied with the request. Davy
waved his greetings to the curious. The party halted at Jode's hotel
and restaurant. A woman came out.

Presently a young fellow, coatless and hatless, came running from the
old warehouse. "We should have had a band to head the parade," he
exclaimed apologetically, "but you are surely welcome. I have been
adding more camp chairs to our seating capacity. We'll need them all."
It was the young preacher. Adine made the introductions.

"Do you want another parade this afternoon?" asked Davy. "Getting out
the Standing Room Only sign is always an asset for future
entertainments."

"And will you be with us again?" asked the young minister quickly.

"No, this is my last public appearance," said Davy firmly. "In this
matter, I am fulfilling an agreement. I want to give all I've got;
because I got just what I wanted. But if Adine is willing, we'll
parade this afternoon."

And parade they did, at three o'clock. Davy insisted that Landy
participate. The aged Nestor--a perfect representative of other
days--held grimly to his seat as the car, driven by a very handsome
and smiling young lady, moved slowly up and down the thoroughfare,
packed with people who had come to see--a midget!

Adine, Davy, and Landy were joined in the evening meal by Mr. and Mrs.
Charles Gillis and Welborn, who had come in Jim's car, via the Carter
filling station. The Silver Falls project was well represented. On the
way over, Welborn figured he could have taken fully an ounce of dust
from the company holdings, but he was loyal to his friend--and
promise.

The audience that assembled for the entertainment at the Burns
warehouse exceeded the young minister's estimates. The standing
audience was greater than the number that found seats. A few
venturesome lads who had never seen a midget climbed up to the braces
that held sill to pillar to get a better view. But withal it was a
quiet, orderly gathering of the men, women, and children of the
little city and its far-reaching suburbs.

While the crowd was assembling young Paul Curtis, the preacher, acted
as usher. He seated Adine Lough and her party of five on the platform.
Occasionally he consulted with Brother Peyton, the doorkeeper. And