up against, and the first thing you know, she had 'em both poke-hooked.
'Twas all in fun on her part first along, I cal'late, but pretty soon
some idiot let out that both of 'em was wuth money, and then the race
was on in earnest.

She'd drop in at the weather-factory 'long in the afternoon and pretend
to be terrible interested in the goings on there.

"I don't see how you two gentlemen CAN tell whether it's going to rain
or not. I think you are the most WONDERFUL men! Do tell me, Mr. Crocker,
will it be good weather to-morrer? I wanted to take a little walk up to
the village about four o'clock if it was."

And then Beriah'd swell out like a puffing pig and put on airs and look
out of the winder, and crow:

"Yes'm, I jedge that we'll have a southerly breeze in the morning
with some fog, but nothing to last, nothing to last. The afternoon, I
cal'late, 'll be fair. I--I--that is to say, I was figgering on goin' to
the village myself to-morrer."

Then Emma would pump up a blush, and smile, and purr that she was SO
glad, 'cause then she'd have comp'ny. And Eben would glower at Beriah
and Beriah'd grin sort of superior-like, and the mutual barometer, so's
to speak, would fall about a foot during the next hour. The brotherly
business between the two prophets was coming to an end fast, and all on
account of Mrs. Kelly.

She played 'em even for almost a month; didn't show no preference
one way or the other. First 'twas Eben that seemed to be eating up to