s voice ceased, and she raised
her mournful eyes. It seemed she had encountered her unnatural relative
at the post-office. Everybody had a tale similar. Siskiyou had denounced
their humane act.

"Let them act ugly," said Mrs. Slocum. "We will not swerve."

"I sent roses this morning," said Mrs. Parsons.

"_Did_ you, dear?" said Mrs. Day. "My lilies shall go this afternoon."

"Here is a letter from the prisoner," said Amanda, producing the
treasure; and they huddled to hear it. It was very affecting. It
mentioned the violets blooming beside the hard couch, and spoke of
prayer.

"He had lovely hair," said Mrs. Slocum.

"_So_ brown!" said Mrs. Day.

"Black, my dear, and curly."

"Light brown. I was a good deal closer, Susan--"

"Never mind about his hair," said Amanda. "We are here not to flinch. We
must act. Our course is chosen, and well chosen. The prison fare is a
sin, and a beefsteak goes to them both at noon from my house."

"Oh, why didn't we ever think of that before?" cried the ladies, in an
ecstasy, and fell to planning a series of lunches in spite of what
Siskiyou might say or do. Siskiyou did not say very much; but it looked;
and the ladies waxed more enthusiastic, luxuriating in a sense of
martyrdom because now the prisoners were stopped writing any more
letters to them. This was doubtless a high-handed step, and it set
certain pulpits preaching about love. The day set for the trial was
approaching; Amanda and her flock were going. Prayer-meetings were held,
food and flowers for the two in jail increased in volume, and every day
saw some of the Lyceum waiting below the prisoners' barred windows till
the men inside would thrust a hand through and wave to them; then they
would shake a handkerchief in reply, and go away thrilled to talk it
over at the Lyceum. And Siskiyou looked on all the while, darker and
darker.

Then finally Amanda had a great thought. Listening to "Fatinitza" one
morning, she suddenly arose and visited Herr Schwartz, the band-master.
Herr Schwartz was a wise and well-educated German. They had a lengthy
conference.

"I don't pelief dot vill be very goot," said the band-master.

But at that Amanda talked a good deal; and the worthy Teuton was soon
bewildered, and at last gave a dubious consent, "since it would blease
de ladies."

The president of the Lyceum arranged the coming event after her own
heart. The voice of Woman should speak in Siskiyou. The helpless victims
of mal