"Come hyeah," she said, "come hyeah, dey been talkin' 'bout you, an' I
want to tell you."

"Why, Sis' Dicey," said the minister complacently, "what is the
mattah? Is you troubled in sperit?"

"I's troubled in sperit now," she answered, "but you'll be troubled in
a minute. Dey done had a church meetin' befo' services. Dey foun' out
you was sleepin' dis mornin' in de pulpit. You ain't only sno'ed, but
you sno'ted, an' dey 'lowin' to give you one mo' trial, an' ef you
falls f'om grace agin, dey gwine ax you fu' to 'sign f'om de
pastorship."

The minister staggered under the blow, and his brow wrinkled. To leave
Zion Church. It would be very hard. And to leave there in disgrace;
where would he go? His career would be ruined. The story would go to
every church of the connection in the country, and he would be an
outcast from his cloth and his kind. He felt that it was all a mistake
after all. He loved his work, and he loved his people. He wanted to do
the right thing, but oh, sometimes, the chapel was hot and the hours
were long. Then his head would grow heavy, and his eyes would close,
but it had been only for a minute or two. Then, this morning, he
remembered how he had tried to shake himself awake, how gradually, the
feeling had overcome him. Then--then--he had snored. He had not tried
wantonly to deceive them, but the Book said, "Let not thy right hand
know what thy left hand doeth." He did not think it necessary to tell
them that he dropped into an occasional nap in church. Now, however,
they knew all.