rasping voice broke in:

"Your class report, Mr. Dunbar, please. We're waiting for it."

A sigh of disappointment and regret swept the room.

"Oh, darn the little woodpecker!" said Ewen from the outside, in a
disgusted tone. "That's the way with Hayes. He thinks he's the whole
works, and that he never can get in wrong."

The spell was broken, never to be renewed. The story hurried to its
close, but the great climax failed of its proper effect.

"He's a hummer, ain't he?" exclaimed young Pickles to his friend, Pat
McCann.

"Some hummer, and then some!" replied Pat.

"I'm goin' in," said Pickles.

"Aw, what for? He ain't no good preachin' to them folks. By gum! I think
he's scared of 'em."

But Pickles persisted, and followed with the men and boys who lounged
lazily into the church, from which the Sunday School had now been
dismissed.

It appeared that the judgment of Pat McCann upon the merits of the
preacher would be echoed by the majority of the congregation present.
While the service was conducted in proper form and in reverent spirit,