“But I guess you're right, Mis' Atterson. It's heapin' coals of fire on their heads, like what the minister at the chapel says.” “Good Land o' Goshen, child!” exclaimed the old lady, briskly. “Hot coals would scotch 'em, and I only want to fill their stomachs for once.” The husking at the Bronsons was a very well attended feast, indeed. There was a great barn floor, and on this were heaped the ear-corn in the husks--not too much, for Lettie proposed having the floor cleared and swept for square dancing, and later for the supper. She had a lot of her school friends at the husking, and at first the neighborhood boys and girls were bashful in the company of the city girls. But after they got to work husking the corn, and a few red ears had been found (for which each girl or boy had to pay a forfeit) they became a very hilarious company indeed. Now, Lettie, broadly hospitable, had invited the young folk far and wide. Even those whom she had not personally seen, were expected to attend. So it was not surprising that Pete Dickerson should come, despite the fact that Mr. Bronson had once discharged him from his employ--and for serious cause. But Pete was not a thin-skinned person. Where there was anything “doing” he wanted to cut a figure. And his desire to be important, and be marked by the company, began to make him objectionable before the evening was half over. For instance, he thought it was funny to take a run down the long barn floor and leap over the heads of those huskers squatting about a heap of corn, and land with his heavy boots on the apex of the pile, thus scattering the ears in all directions. He got long straws, too, and tickled the backs, of the girls' necks; or he dumped handfuls of bran down their backs, or shook oats into their hair--and the oats stuck. Mr. Bronson could not see to everything; and Pete was very sly at his tricks. A girl would shriek in one corner, and the lout would quickly transport himself to a distant spot. When the corn was swept aside, and the floor cleared for the dance, Pete went beyond the limit, however. He had found a pail of soft-soap in the shed and while the crowd was out of the barn, playing a “round game” in the yard while it was being swept, Pete slunk in with the soap and a swab, and managed to spread a good deal of the slippery stuff around on the boards. A broom would not remove this soft-soap. When the hostler swept, he only spread it. And when the dancing began many a couple measured their length on the planks, to Pete's great delight. But the hired man had observed Pete sneaking about while he was removing the last of the corn, and Hiram Strong discovered soft-soap on Pete's clothes, and the smell of it strong upon his unwashed hands. “You get out of here,” Mr. Bronson told the boy. “I had occasion to put you off my land once, and don't let me have to do it a third time,” and he shoved him with no gentle hand through the door and down the driveway.