glasses were raised and
drained. And then some bold spirit asked the man with the diamond how
he'd feel if the town went dry.

"Why," drawled that individual, "I've been looking down men's throats
and watching their Adam's apple and listening to them guzzling their
liquor for something like twenty years now and I wouldn't mind a
change. I left the city because I was hankering for something I didn't
know the name of. Thought I'd find it here. Thought this was a mighty
restful town. It is--but not for me and my business. But I'm glad I
came, for that young parson of yours put me next to what I really want
to do. I've been wanting all my life to run a stock farm. But I
didn't know it till that kid preacher told me so. Seems he's been
knocking around the country with Hank Lolly and knows of two or three
that are up for sale. I'm going out with him next week to look at
them. So this town running dry won't upset me any. I've just about
made up my mind to quit this game and spend the rest of my life
with--cattle. I won't mind the dryness. I don't drink. Never have."

The rain that had been threatening for an hour came suddenly, came down
in big angry drops; and there was everywhere in town a scurrying for
home. Men buttoned their coats and bent their heads and hurried home,
hoping to find there cheerful wives and peace.

They found their wives cheerful enough, almost suspiciously so, and
exceedingly busy with the telephone. By listening to several one-sided
conversations Green Valley men learned that while they had been
discussing things in Billy's office, Mrs. Brownlee had called on Jim
Tumley's wife and on several other more prominent Green Valley matrons;
had telephoned to others and had in three morning hours organized a
Woman's Civic League.

"A Civic League? What's that? And what for?" Green Valley husbands
wanted to know.

"Why, I don't know. I said yes, of course I'd join. I couldn't be
mean to the woman after what her little girl did last night," said
Green Valley wives.

CHAPTER XIX

A GRAY DAY

Up on his wooded knoll Green Valley's young minister lay grieving and
staring up into a gray unhappy sky, a sky choked with thick gray clouds
that hung so low and were so full of sadness that even the little hills
mourned and the Green Valley world all about lay hushed and penitent.

Summer was dead and everywhere tired winds moaned and sighed and sobbed
and then grew suddenly still. Th