"Too much red pepper, I cal'late."

"Don't be silly. You know what I mean. There is something awfully wrong.
I can't help noticing it."

"What makes you think that, Clemmie?"

"What I heard this afternoon.... And, you know, the most of 'em knew me,
but none excepting Mrs. Beaver knew where I was staying, and she didn't
tell. She come over and set down by me, different from what she used to
be, quiet and real refined."

"Eadie Beaver quiet, you say? Well, I cal'late the million is coming,
sartin sure."

"Millennium or no millennium, that's the truth. I was kind of 'feared at
first that she wasn't real well."

"She'd be a real cur'osity in this here new state of hers," mused the
Captain.

"Well, I begun to hear things about him,"--she pointed toward the closed
door,--"and Mrs. Beaver was that indignant that she didn't know what to
do. From all I heard, it seems the minister has been doing things he has
no right to do, fighting and the like. Then, too,"--came in an awed
tone,--"he ain't orthodox. He's preaching all sorts of new-fangled ideas
that he shouldn't mention in the pulpit, and though you don't know it,
Josiah, that is hairsay! That is worse than killing a man, because it
sends their souls to hell."

"If I was you, Clemmie, I'd wait and judge his preaching for myself. You
ain't heard him yet."

Miss Pipkin agreed to the fairness of the Captain's proposition, but she
was still troubled.

"Josiah, there's going to be some sort of meeting next Sunday night
after the regular service, and there is going to be something done to
get Mr. McGowan out of his church. Of course, if he ain't orthodox, I'd
hate to see the meeting interfered with, but----"

"Clemmie, I ain't up on this hairsay and orthodox stuff, and I ain't
sartin I want to be. It all sounds like mighty dry picking to me. But
I've been thinking, and I've decided that whatever them things are they
ain't real religion. And I've decided that the Lord ain't been sitting
in on them church meetings for quite a spell. I cal'late I'll be on hand
next Sunday night with a special invitation for Him to cut the pack for
this new deal."

Miss Pipkin looked as though she expected him to be struck dead. But he
was not. This fact decided her in favor of being present to witness the
thing which the Captain intended to do.

CHAPTER VIII

On Sunday evening the chapel was packed. It was evident that many were
there, not for the service, but for what promi