ountenance, "I
reckon I'm through with him. Set down in that cheer, Luke. I've been
talkin' to John about his speritual welfare, an' it's yore time now.
We've got to turn over a new leaf, Luke--me 'n' you has; we've jest
gone fur enough in iniquity--that is, you have; I've meant well enough
all along."

"I say!" Luke sat down uneasily and glanced at Westerfelt, who sat
staring at him with an assumed look of seriousness which threatened to
go to pieces at any instant.

"Yes, Luke," went on his wife, "you've been my mill-rock long enough,
an' now I'm goin' to take a new an' a firmer stand in my treatment uv
you. We used to hold family prayer an' ax the blessin', an' now our
house has got to be called the dancin'-door to perdition; we've got to
quit all that. I'm a-goin' to smash that jug o' bug-juice o' yo'r'n in
the closet, an' not another speck o' the vile truck shall come in my
house." (She caught Westerfelt's eye, drew down the side of her face
which was next to him, and winked slyly.)

"Oh, you are!" Bradley was a picture of absolute misery. He crossed
his legs and then put his feet side by side, only to cross and recross
his legs again.

"I've had a great awakenin' to-day, Luke," she went on, "an' now I see
nothin' ahead o' me but one solid blaze o' glory. John heer is
convicted, an' is goin' to do the right thing, but I reckon he won't
have as much to undo as you who are older in wrong livin'. That cow
you traded fer with Fred Wade has to go back early in the mornin'. You
knowed the one you swapped wus mighty nigh dry, an' 'at his'n come home
every night with 'er bag so loaded she could hardly take a step without
trippin' up--the fust thing in the mornin', mind you! I want you to
git the Book right now, too, an' read some, an' let's begin family
worship. Thar it is on the sewin'-machine; I'll bet you ain't looked
in it in a month o' Sundays."

Westerfelt was laboriously keeping a straight face, but it was waxing
red as blood and his eyes were protruding from their sockets and
twinkling with a merriment that was a delight to Mrs. Bradley, who kept
glancing at him as she talked.

"What in the dev--what do you mean, Marthy?" Bradley stammered. "The
cow kin go back, ef you say so, but blame--but I'll draw a line at home
prayin'. I ain't fittin', that's all; I ain't fittin'."

"I know that as well as you do"--Mrs. Bradley wiped a smile from her
face and winked at Westerfelt--"but this blessed Sab