brutal passion to a brutal crime, and the eyes of the congregation were
focused upon her.

"Bruddahs, sistahs," said Susannah, in her wonderful voice, with its
chords of plaintive music, which made her hearers grin out of sheer
emotion, "I nev' did aim to do dat po' young man hurt; but he sayd
t'ings to me, t'ings"--she sighed and hung her head--"he hadn't orter
have sayd, him bein' a married man; an' I be'n right mad at him, an' I
own up I done him right onchristian an' onmussiful, for I didn't show no
sympathy or even go see 'm hanged. Now, I do repent. But it ain't nare
preachin' of Sist' Humphreys done give me a brokin an' a contrary hairt.
Her scorchin' don' make me mo'n. Hit cakes up my hairt. She nev' did
have one single revival. Rev. Bulkely of de Ridge he does have a mighty
big one ever' spring; you kin hear de screeches 'mos' a mile! He tol' me
hisse'f he w'u'd be willin' to minister a spell to dis sorely tried
flock, an', mo'-ovah, he tol' me dat we-all _c'u'dn't_ have Sist'
Humphreys nor no woman preach to us; for it be'n ag'in' de rule of de
Baptis' Chu'ch. Hit be'n forbid. We cayn't be Baptis' an' keep Sist'
Humphreys."

With meek grace Susannah resumed her seat and the sheltering support of
the blacksmith's arm. She had won. Now that a way of escape was
opened,--a way, moreover, ending in a dazzling vista of a "big
revival,"--no sympathy for the Widow Macklin could induce Zion to face
the fiery chariots of the Seventh Commandment driven by Sister
Humphreys.

In spite of the schoolmistress' eloquence and the stumbling speech of
two boys who tried to tell that Sister Humphreys had done a heap for
them, when the vote was put, only six of the forty-eight persons present
voted to retain the preacher. Brother Moore declined to vote.

Susannah watched the downcast faces of Sister Humphreys' supporters
through her half-shut eyes and smiled her languid, mysterious smile.

But of a sudden one of the two striplings who had spoken for Sister
Humphreys left his place by the window and ran to the door.

With instant premonition of peril, the flock of Zion turned on the
benches. A deep intake of breath signified their dismay as there entered
a tall brown woman in widow's weeds. She cast a calm, full eye over the
faces under the lamplights--faces already stricken awry with fear; for,
notwithstanding their numbers and apparent strength of position, dread
of the pastor insisted, as light insists through closed eyel