. Mrs. Bradley leaned
against the mantel-piece. Their lips moved, and Mrs. Dawson was
gesticulating furiously, but he could not hear their voices. Suddenly
Mrs. Bradley took the bag from the old woman and put it on the bed.
Then she untied Mrs. Dawson's bonnet-strings, took off the bonnet and
shawl, and drew her back to the fire. They stood talking for a moment,
then sat down together. Mrs. Bradley, holding the shawl and bonnet in
her lap, put her arm round the old woman. Mrs. Dawson began fumbling
in the pocket of her dress. She got out her handkerchief and held it
to her face, then Mrs. Bradley began to wipe her own eyes on the corner
of her apron.

"My God!" groaned Westerfelt, as he turned away, "this is more than I
can bear!"

The next day was Sunday. It was as bright and balmy as spring.
Westerfelt slept late. When he went in to breakfast Mrs. Bradley told
him that Mrs. Dawson was out at the barn with Luke. They all intended
to go to camp-meeting that day, she said. A revival had been going on
at the meeting-house for the past week, and the congregation had
increased so much that the little building would no longer hold the
people. It had, therefore, been announced that the Sunday service
would be held at Stone Hill Camp-ground, two miles from the village on
the most picturesque of the Cohutta Valley roads.

As Westerfelt went down to the stable after breakfast he saw wagons,
hacks, and old-fashioned carriages standing at nearly every gate on the
street. Washburn and a colored boy, Jake, were at the stable busy
washing and oiling the wheels of vehicles and currying horses.

"I wus jest about to send up to you," was Washburn's greeting.
"Turnouts are at a premium to-day. I didn't know whether to let out
yore own hoss an' buggy or not; two or three fellers that want to take
the'r girls are offerin' any price fer some'n to ride in."

"I am going myself."

"Hossback ur buggy?"

"Buggy." Westerfelt turned suddenly and walked back towards the hotel.
He had decided to invite Harriet Floyd to go to camp-meeting with him,
let the consequences be what they might. He wanted to see her, and
nothing should prevent it--not even Mrs. Dawson's presence in the
village nor her threats.

As Westerfelt walked away Washburn said to himself; "It u'd be tough on
'im ef Bascom Bates is ahead of 'im, after all his hangin' back. By
George! I can't imagine who else Bates could 'a' intended to ask; he's
give up g