again; no one knew quite what to do. The minister halted on the pulpit
stairs; he had done his part for the night, and he did not apparently
resent the action of the man who now took it on him to speak.

A tall, stout man among those who had lingered, spoke from the aisle. He
was the owner of the largest farm in the neighborhood and he had one of
the mills on the creek. In his quality of miller everybody knew him, and
he had the authority of a public character. Now he said:

"We want to hear something more than a snort and a shout from our brother
here. We heard _them_ Friday night, and we've been talkin' about it
ever since."

The appeal was half joking, half entreating. The minister was still
hesitating on the pulpit stairs, and he looked at the stranger. "Will you
come up, Brother--"

"Call me Dylks--for the present," the stranger answered with a full voice.

"Brother Dylks," the minister repeated, and he came down, and gave him
the right hand of fellowship.

The Gillespies looked on with their different indifference. Dylks turned
to them: "Shall I speak?"

"Speak!" the girl said, but her father said nothing.

Dylks ran quickly up the pulpit steps: "We will join in prayer!" he
called out, and he held the congregation, now returned to their places, in
the spell of a quick, short supplication. He ended it with the Lord's