And then the amazing minister actually dared to say, "Here's where I change it around." What's more, he actually did it. Actually took off his collar and buttoned it to the front. The old carriage seemed almost to rock with the earthquake of the deed. "Why, Walter Temple!" his wife exclaimed. "What would they say in Ypsilanti?" "They'll never know," he answered, defiantly. "But your bib?" she said. "I've thought of that, too," he cried, as he whipped it off and stuffed it into a handbag. "Look, what I've bought." And he dangled before her startled eyes a long affair which the sudden light from a passing lamppost revealed to be nothing less than a flaring red tie. The little old lady touched it to make sure she was not dreaming it. Then, omitting further parley with fate, she snatched it away, put it round his neck, and, since her arms were embracing him, kissed him twice before she knotted the ribbon into a flaming bow. She sat back and regarded the vision a moment, then flung her arms around him and hugged him till he gasped: "Watch out-watch out. Don't crush my cigars." "Cigars! Cigars!" she echoed, in a daze. And then the astounding husband produced them in proof. "Genuine Lillian Russells--five cents straight." "But I never saw you smoke." "Haven't taken a puff since I was a young fellow," he grinned, wagging his head. "But now it's my vacation, and I'm going to smoke up." She squeezed his hand with an earlier ardor: "Now you're the old Walter Temple I used to know." [Illustration: "NOW IT'S MY VACATION, AND I'M GOING TO SMOKE UP"....] "Sally," he said, "I've been traveling through life on a half-fare ticket. Now I'm going to have my little fling. And you brace up, too, and be the old mischievous Sally I used to know. Aren't you glad to be away from those sewing circles and gossip-bees, and----" "Ugh! Don't ever mention them," she shuddered. Then she, too, felt a tinge of recurring springtide. "If you start to smoking, I think I'll take up flirting once more." He pinched her cheek and laughed. "As the saying is, go as far as you desire and I'll leave the coast clear." He kept his promise, too, for they were no sooner on the train and snugly bestowed in section five, than he was up and off. "Where are you going?" she asked. "To the smoking-room," he swaggered, brandishing a dangerous looking cigar. "Oh, Walter," she snickered, "I feel like a young runaway." "You look like one. Be careful not to let anybody know that you're a"--he lowered his voice--"an old preacher's wife." "I'm as ashamed of it as you are," she whispered. Then he threw her a kiss and a wink. She threw him a kiss and winked, too. And he went along the aisle eyeing his cigar gloatingly. As he entered the smoking-room, lighted the weed and blew out a great puff with a sigh of rapture, who could have taken him, with his feet cocked up, and his red tie rakishly askew, for a minister?