hushed voice with which some women approach a tabooed subject.

"Yes ma'am, they do. They're hard drinkers. And they"--he eyed her
speculatively, trying to guess the worst sins in her category--"they
play cards--gamble--and swear, and smoke cigarettes and--"

"All the more need of someone to help them overcome," she decided
solemnly. "What you need is a coffee-house and reading room here, so
that the young men will have some place to go other than the saloons.
I shall see to that right away. And with the Mutual Improvement and
Social Society organized and working smoothly, and a library of
standard works for recreation, together with earnest personal efforts
to promote temperance and clean-living, I feel that a _wonderful_ work
can be done. I saw you drive into town, so I know you can take me out
with you; I hope you are going to start soon. I feel very impatient to
reach the field and put my sickle to the harvest."

Andy mentally threw up his hands before this unshakable person. He had
meant to tell her that he had come on horseback, but she had
forestalled him. He had meant to discourage her--head her off, he
called it to himself. But there seemed no way of doing it. He pushed
back his chair and rose, though he had not tasted his pie, and it was
lemon pie at that. He had some faint notion of hurrying out of town
and home before she could have time to get ready; but she followed him
to the door and chirped over his shoulder that it wouldn't take her
two minutes to put on her wraps. Andy groaned.

He tried--or started to try--holding out at Rusty Brown's till she
gave up in despair; but it occurred to him that Chip had asked him to
hurry back. Andy groaned again, and got the team.