m some
disagreement with Douglas, his temper ruffled for the day.

Polly was utterly unconscious of the unfriendly glances cast in her
direction as she came running into the garden, leading the widow's two
children.

She nodded gaily to Julia Strong, who was coming through the gate, then
hurried to Mrs. Willoughby, begging that the children be allowed to
remain a little longer. She was making up a new game, she said, and
needed Willie and Jennie for the set.

"My children do not play in promiscuous games," said the widow, icily.

"Oh, but this isn't pro-pro-pro"--Polly stammered. "It's a new game. You
put two here, and two here, and----"

"I don't care to know." The widow turned away, and pretended to talk to
Julia.

"Oh!" gasped Polly, stunned by the widow's rebuff.

She stood with bowed head in the centre of the circle. The blood flew
from her cheeks, then she turned to go.

Douglas stepped quickly to her side. "Wait a minute," he said. She
paused, all eyes were turned upon them. "Is this a game that grown-ups
can play?"

"Why, yes, of course."

"Good! Then I'll make up your set. I need a little amusement just now.
Excuse me," he added, turning to the deacons. Then he ran with her out
through the trees.

The deacons and the women stared at each other, aghast.

"Well, what do you think of that?" said Mrs. Willoughby, as the flying
skirts of the girl and the black figure of the man disappeared up the
path.

"I think it's scandalous, if you are talking to me," said Miss Perkins.
"The idea of a full-grown parson a-runnin' off to play children's games
with a circus ridin' girl!"

"She isn't such a child," sneered Julia.

"It's ENOUGH to make folks talk," put in Mrs. Willoughby, with a sly
look at the deacons.

"And me a-waitin' to discuss the new church service," bellowed Strong.

"And me a-waiting to give him Mrs. Elverson's message," piped Elverson.

"The church bore all this in silence so long as that girl was sick,"
snapped Miss Perkins. "But now she's perfectly well, and still a-hanging
on. No wonder folks are talking."

"Who's talking?" thundered Strong.

"Didn't you know?" simpered Mrs. Willoughby, not knowing herself nor
caring, so long as the suspicion grew.

"Know what?" yelled the excited deacon. Mrs. Willoughby floundered. Miss
Perkins rushed into the breach.

"Well, if _I_ was deacon of this church, it seems to me I'd know
something about what's going on in it."

"What IS goin'