Pa tried to look pious, and resigned, but he couldn't keep his legs still, and he sweat mor'n a pail full. When the minister preached about “the worm that never dieth,” Pa reached into his vest and scratched his ribs, and he looked as though he would give ten dollars if the minister would get through. Ma she looked at Pa as though she would bite his head off, but Pa he just squirmed, and acted as though his soul was on fire. Say, does ants bite, or just crawl around? Well, when the minister said amen, and prayed the second round, and then said a brother who was a missionary to the heathen would like to make a few remarks about the work of the missionaries in Bengal, and take up a collection, Pa told Ma they would have to excuse _him_, and he lit out for home, slapping himself on the legs and on the arms and on the back, and he acted crazy. Ma and me went home, after the heathen got through, and found Pa in his bed room, with part of his clothes off, and the liver-pad was on the floor, and Pa was stamping on it with his boots, and talking offul. “What is the matter,” says Ma.. “Don't your religion agree with you?” “Religion be dashed,” says Pa, as he kicked the liver pad. “I would give ten dollars to know how a pint of red ants got into my liver pad. Religon is one thing, and a million ants walking all over a man, playing tag, is another. I didn't know the liver pad was loaded. How in Gehenna did they get in there?” and Pa scowled at Ma as though he would kill her. “'Don't swear dear,” says Ma, as she threw down her hymn book, and took off her bonnet. “You should be patient. Remember Job was patient, and he was afflicted with sore boils.” “I don't care,” says Pa, as he chased the ants out of his drawers, “Job never had ants in his liver pad. If he had he would have swore the shingles off a barn. Here you,” says Pa, speaking to me, “you head off them ants running under the bureau. If the truth was known I believe you would be responsible for this outrage.” And Pa looked at me kind of hard. “O, Pa,” says I, with tears in my eyes, “Do you think your little Sunday school boy would catch ants in a pop bottle on the lake shore, and bring them home, and put them in the hole of your liver pad, just before you put it on to go to church? You are to (sp.) bad.” And I shed some tears. I can shed tears now any time I want to, but it didn't do any good this time. Pa knew it was me, and while he was looking for the shawl strap I went to Sunday school, and now I guess he is after me, and I will go and take a walk down to Bay View. The boy moved off as his Pa turned a corner, and the grocery man said, “Well, that boy beats all I ever saw. If he was mine I would give him away.” CHAPTER XI. HIS PA TAKES A TRICK--JAMAICA RUM AND CARDS--THE BAD BOY POSSESSED OF A DEVIL--THE KIND DEACON--AT PRAYER MEETING-- THE OLD MAN TELLS HIS EXPERIENCE--THE FLYING CARDS--THE PRAYER MEETING SUDDENLY CLOSED.