Mr. Belcher laughed outright. Then, in a patronizing way, he said: "Miss Butterworth, I have given you considerable time, and perhaps you'll be kind enough to state your business. I'm a practical man, and I really don't see anything that particularly concerns me in all this talk. Of course, I'm sorry for Benedict and the rest of 'em, but Sevenoaks isn't a very rich town, and it cannot afford to board its paupers at the hotel, or to give them many luxuries." Miss Butterworth was calm again. She knew that she had done her cause no good, but was determined to finish her errand. "Mr. Belcher, I'm a woman." "I know it, Keziah." "And my name is Butterworth." "I know it." "You do? Well, then, here is what I came to say to you. The town-meeting comes to-morrow, and the town's poor are to be sold at auction, and to pass into Tom Buffum's hands again, unless you prevent it. I can't make a speech, and I can't vote. I never wanted to until now. You can do both, and if you don't reform this business, and set Tom Buffum at doing something else, and treat God's poor more like human beings, I shall get out of Sevenoaks before it sinks; for sink it will if there is any hole big enough to hold it." "Well, I'll think of it," said Mr. Belcher, deliberately. "Tell me you'll do it." "I'm not used to doing things in a hurry. Mr. Buffum is a friend of mine, and I've always regarded him as a very good man for the place. Of course, if there's anything wrong it ought to be righted, but I think you've exaggerated." "No, you don't mean to do anything. I see it. Good-night," and she had swept out of the door before he could say another word, or rise from his chair. She went down the hill into the village. The earth was stiffening with the frost that lingered late in that latitude, and there were patches of ice, across which she picked her way. There was a great moon overhead, but just then all beautiful things, and all things that tended to lift her thoughts upward, seemed a mockery. She reached the quiet home of Rev. Solomon Snow. "Who knows but he can be spurred up to do something?" she said to herself. There was only one way to ascertain--so she knocked at the door, and was received so kindly by Mr. Snow and Mrs. Snow and the three Misses Snow, that she sat down and unburdened herself--first, of course, as regarded Mr. Robert Belcher, and second, as concerned the Benedicts, father and son.