temper along with his smartness. They ain't either one of them got a
grain of sense when they git mad. I never seen a child with such a
temper, did you, Popper?"

But Sheeley did not heed her; he was busy doing the honors to one he
evidently considered an honored guest.

"Sit right down here, Mr. Dillingham, lemme take the book out of the
chair. I was just reading to the Missus and the kids a book Skeeter
brought home from Sunday School, all about Dan'l and the lions' den.
Tall tale that, Mr. Dillingham. About one of the raciest animal
articles I ever come acrost."

When they were ready to go, Mrs. Sheeley followed them anxiously to
the door.

"It's a awful stormy night, Popper; you ain't going to stay, are you?"

"Not long. I'll be back to finish the story. So long, kids!" He swung
himself down the wooden steps, between his two well-groomed
companions, looking back now and then at the bright, open doorway,
where the smiling fat woman stood surrounded by half a dozen tow-
headed children.

Just as they reached the saloon, the storm, which had evidently only
paused for breath, broke in all its fury. The thunder rolled nearer
and flashes of lightning pierced the darkness.

"Here! The side door!" shouted Sheeley.