"Not at all,--not at all! I've always said it, haven't I, Anderson? Say _yes_, you old goat!" (He whispered the last, and the marshal responded nobly.) "Now, while we are waiting for Mr. Rank, perhaps you will tell us just why you want to cut his head off today. What has the old villain been up to lately?" She composed herself for the recital. The two men looked down at her with pity in their eyes. "He d'sherted me today,--abon--abonimably d'sherted me. For'n Missionary S'ciety met safternoon at our house. All ladies in S'ciety met our house. Deac'n tol' me be generous--givvem all the r'fressmens they wanted. He went down shellar an' got some zat shider he p'up lash Marsh. He said he wanted to shee whezzer it was any good." She paused, her brow wrinkled in thought. "Lesh see--where was I?" "In the parlour?" supplied Anderson, helpfully. She shook her head impatiently. "I mean where was I talkin' 'bout? Oh, yesh,--'bout shider. When Woman For'n Missinary S'ciety come I givvem shider,--lots shider. No harm in shider, An'erson,--so don' look like that. Deacon shays baby could drink barrel shider an--and sho on an' sho forth. Well, For'n Missinary S'ciety all havin' splennid time,--singin' 'n' prayin' 'n' sho on 'n' sho forth, an'--an' sho on 'n' sho forth. Then your wife, An'erson, she jumps up 'n' shays we gotter have shong-shervice,--reg'ler shong shervice. She--" "_My_ wife?" exclaimed Anderson. "Was Eva Crow there?" "Shert'nly. Never sho happy 'n' her life. Couldn't b'lieve my eyes 'n' ears. And Sister Jones too,--your bosh's wife, Misser Squires. Say, d'you ever know she could shing bass? Well, she can, all right. She c'n shing bass an' tenor'n ev'thing else, she can. She--" "Where--where are they now?" demanded Anderson, with a wild look at Harry. "Who? The Woman For'n Missionary S'ciety?" "Yes. For heaven's sake, don't tell me they're loose on the street!" "Not mush! Promished me they wait till I capshered my hussam, deader 'live, an' bring 'im 'ome. Didden I tell you my hussam desherted me? He desherted all of us--all of For'n Missinary S'ciety. I gotter bring 'im back, deader 'live. Wannim to lead in shong shervice. My hussam's got loudes' voice in town. Leads shingin' in chursh 'n' prayer meetin' 'n' ever 'where else. Loudes' voice in town, thass what he is. Prays loudes' of anybody, too. All ladies waitin' up my house f'r loudes voice in town to lead 'em in shacred shong. Muss have somebody with loud voice to lead 'em. Lass I heard of 'em they was all shingin' differen' shongs. Loudes' voice--lou'st voich--lou--" She slumbered. The marshal and the editor looked at each other. "Well, she's safe for the time being," said the latter, wiping his wet forehead.