“I said he'd have a chance--I _thought_,” said Abner. “I reckon I must 'a' got that idee from what Jesus said to the thief on the cross. You see, brother Dole, I believe the Almighty gives us all equal chances, an' I don't believe that feller in Fannin' had as good a opportunity to git his heart saftened as the feller did that was dyin' right alongside o' the great Redeemer o' the world. Nobody spoke a kind word to the Fannin' man; on the contrary, they was hootin' an' spittin' at 'im night an' day, an' they say the man he killed had pestered 'im all his life. Scriptur' says we ort to forgive a man seventy times seven, an' that is four hundred an' ninety. Why they didn't make it even five hundred I never could tell. An' yet you-uns try to make folks believe the Lord that made us, frail as we are an' prone to sin, won't forgive us once ef we happen to die sudden. Shucks! that doctrine won't hold water; it's hide-bound an' won't stretch one bit. It seems to me that the trouble with yore--” “We haven't time to listen to a speech on the subject,” interrupted the preacher, whose anger was inflamed by hearing Pole Baker sniggering. “If thar is anybody else that has anything to say we'd be glad to hear from 'em.” Then Mrs. Bishop rose, wiping her eyes. She was pale and deeply agitated. “I jest want to ax you all to be lenient with my pore brother,” she began, her thin voice cracking under its strain. “I've predicted that he'd bring disrepute down on us with his ready tongue an' odd notions. I've tried an' tried to stop 'im, but it didn't do a bit o' good.” “It's very good of you to speak in his behalf,” said Dole, as she sank back into her seat. “I'm sure the membership will do its duty, sister Bishop.” Then a little, meanly clad man behind Daniel stood up. It was Jasper Marmaduke, a ne 'er-do-well farmer, who had a large family, few friends, and no earthly possessions. He was greatly excited, and as white as if he were on trial for his life. “I ain't no member,” he began. “I know I ort to be, but I hain't. I don't know whether a outsider's got a right to chip into this or not, but it seems to me I 'll bu'st wide open ef I don't git up heer an' say as loud as I kin holler that Abner Daniel's the best man I ever seed, knowed, ur heerd tell of.” Tears were on the man's face and his voice shook with emotion. “He's fetched food an' medicine over to my folks an' run after a doctor when all the rest o' humanity had turned the'r backs on us. He made me promise not to cheep it to a soul, but I'm a-goin' to tell it--tell it, ef he never speaks to me agin. I ain't no godly man, an' this thing's makin' me so mad I feel like throwin' rocks!” And with a sob bursting from him, Marmaduke strode from the church with a loud clatter of his untied shoes.