not get away from the miserable feeling that the trouble was in some way due to the opposition; and cold looks, and sarcastic speeches, and discomfort and distrust had it very much their own way among certain of the workers. Well, the fair was held. Tidies, and tidies, and tidies! The number and variety seemed endless. "Tidies to right of us, tithes to left of us, tidies before us, tidies behind us, tumbled and tangled," paraphrased a young man who caught his sleeve button in one of the meshes and drew a small avalanche of them to the floor. Another, looking on hopelessly at the mass, asked what sort of carpets they would make. And another, turning from them to the pincushions, wanted to know if some of those things were not large enough for bolsters. All this aside, of course. Sales were brisk, apparently, and yet many articles were unsold. The trifles, the small keepsakes, the pretty nothings found ready purchasers; but the pieces that represented miles of silk embroidery, and hours of toil, and were to bring large returns, were still the property of the young ladies when the evening was over. It was over at last, and weary bodies and excited brains sat down to count the spoils. There was a bill to pay at the fancy store for materials; there was a bill to pay at the confectioner's; there was a bill to pay for dishes rented, and broken, and otherwise injured; there was a bill to pay for cream—where do all the little bills come from which swarm round a distracted treasurer at such a time? Unexpected expenses, and enough fancy work on hand to stock a modest store! The bills were paid, and the wearied soldiers went into camp for repairs—mental and moral; and there was deposited with the treasurer of the library fund the sum of twenty-two dollars and sixteen cents! After that there was a lull in the Penn Avenue Church. CHAPTER II.