"'Well,' says Silas, 'don't you women tell it out around. But the thing that's got us desperate is the schoolhouse. The entry to it--they've used it shameful. Peanut shucks, down-trod popcorn, paper bags, fruit peelin's--every mornin' the stone to the top o' the steps, under the archway, is full of 'em. An' last week the Board went up there early mornin' to do a little tinkerin', an' there set three beer bottles, all empty. So we've figgered on puttin' some iron gates up to the schoolhouse entry an' appointin' you women a Vigilance Committee to help us out.' "We felt real indignant about the schoolhouse. It stands up a little slope, and you can see it from 'most anywheres daytimes, and we all felt kind of an interest--though of course the School Board seemed to own it special. "Mis' Toplady looked warm and worried. 'But what is it you want we should do, Silas?' she ask', some irritable. 'I've got my hands so full o' my own family it don't seem as if I could vigilance for nobody.' "'S-h-h, Mis' Toplady. _I_ think it's a great trust,' says Mis' Silas Sykes. "'It is a great trust,' says Silas, warm, 'to get these young folks to stop gallivantin' an' set home where they belong.' "'How you going to get them to set home, Silas?' I ask', some puzzled. "'Well,' says Silas, 'that's where they ought to be, ain't it?' "'Why,' I says thoughtful, 'I donno's they had.' "'_What?_' says Silas, with horns on the word. 'What say, Calliope?' "'How much settin' home evenings did you do when you was young, Silas?' I says. "'I'd 'a' been a long sight better off if I'd 'a' done more of it,' says Silas. "'However that is, you _didn't_ set home,' I says back at him. 'Neither will young folks set there now, I don't believe.' "'Well,' says Silas, '_anyhow_, they've got to get off'n the streets. We've made up our minds to that. They can't set on steps nor in stairways down town, nor in entries, nor to the schoolhouse. We've got to look out for public decency.' "'_Public_ decency,' says I, again. 'They can do what they like, so's public decency ain't injured, I s'pose, Silas?' "'No such thing!' shouts Silas. 'Calliope, take shame! Ain't we doin' our best to start 'em right?' "'That's what I donno,' I answers him, troubled. 'Driving folks around don't never seem to me to be a real good start towards nowheres.' "Mis' Amanda Toplady hitched forward in her chair and spoke for the first time--ponderous and decided, but real sweet, too. 'What I think is this,' she says. 'They won't set home, as Calliope says. And when we've vigilanced 'em off the streets, where are we goin' to vigilance 'em _to_?' "'That ain't our lookout,' says Silas. "'Ain't it?' says Mis' Toplady. '_Ain't it?_' She set thinking for a minute and then her face smoothed. 'Anyhow,' she says, comfortable, 'us ladies'll vigilance awhile. It ain't clear in my mind yet what to do. But we'll do it, I guess.'