om everywhere. The Reverend Mr. Means is coming out
from New York."

"If they're all like that feller, they'll be a hot lot."

"Josiah Pott! Haven't you any respect for the cloth?"

"Not for the kind he wears, I ain't. I'd say his cloth is a sort of
sheep's clothing, same as the Bible speaks of."

"If you can't talk decent I sha'n't stay," said Mrs. Beaver. She bridled
past him, and on into her own yard.

What Mrs. Beaver had said concerning plans for the installation service
was true. Elder Fox was carrying the full responsibility, for he wished
to make this meeting one long to be remembered. He selected with great
care those who were to sit on the council. The Reverend Mr. Means had
been chosen for two reasons, first that he was a personal friend of the
Elder, and second because his presence would add dignity to the
occasion. It was even arranged that the city clergyman should be made
moderator.

The eventful day arrived, and with it dignitaries of city and
countryside. It was a fearfully hot humid day in July, one of those days
when to move about was torment, and to work was torture. Not a breath of
air stirred. The clergymen were plainly enervated as they descended from
the various vehicles which had conveyed them over from Little River. The
Reverend Mr. Means mopped his face as the chauffeur assisted him from
the Elder's limousine. He greeted every one with deep sonorous tones.
His manner was graciously condescending, but never once familiar. He
made his way up the steps of the chapel with what was evidently meant
for a majestic stride, but his heavy frame turned it into a decided
waddle. He shook hands with a chosen few, all the while looking far
above their heads as though his vision were not of this world.

The Captain watched the clergyman till he had disappeared behind the
vestibule doors, and then remarked to Mrs. Beaver, "Them kind ain't hard
to sight. I could sight that feller a mile in the offin', on a dark
night, with my eyes shut! If Mack McGowan was that kind, he'd get to
stay here about twenty-four hours, and then he'd smell fire and
brimstone."

Mrs. Beaver surprised the seaman with a wry smile and vigorous nod.

Mr. McGowan arrived in due season under tow of the Elder. Mr. Fox led
him before the clergyman from the city, who was lounging near an open
window in the front of the auditorium.

"How do you do, Brother Fox!" boomed the deep voice of Mr. Means. "And
is this the fortunate young ma