"Mrs. Brown ain't a bit reconciled about her rare old rum," she went on when they were seated; "she's bad enough used up over the preserves, but the rum she can't seem to get reconciled to. She says 't a saltspoonful was a sure cure f'r anythin', 'n' Dr. Carter was perfectly sound in mind 'n' body 'n' got away with two quarts." There was a silence broken only by a frog's far croak. "I ain't a doubt but this is the worst hot spell the c'mmunity 's ever had to deal with," the younger woman remarked after a while, "'n' the result is 't I'd never recommend no other town to choose such a time to give their minister a fair field 'n' no favor. I c'n only say one thing, Mrs. Lathrop, 'n' that is 't I've begun to feel 't I've misjudged the minister. I never would 'a' give him credit for anythin' like this. 'N' while I think he'd ought not to 'a' done it, still I must say 't I can't but admire--if he had it in him to try--how well he's carried it off. "'N' to think 't, after all, it was our idea 's give him the chance!" * * * * * That Friday afternoon--just one week from the forever to be remembered meeting of the Sewing Society--Mrs. Lathrop, sleeping the sleep of the stout and elderly in her kitchen rocker, was suddenly aroused to a swaying sense of the world about her by the sound of her name, the same being pronounced in her neighbor's voice, the key of that voice being pitched uncommonly high. "Mrs. Lathrop!--Mrs. Lathrop!--oh-h-h, Mrs. _Lathrop_!" Mrs. Lathrop got to the window as fast as her somewhat benumbed members would allow. Susan was standing on her own side of the fence, her eyes glowing with excitement. "The minister's come back!" Mrs. Lathrop simply fell out of the door and down the back steps. As she hastened towards the fence, her usual custom led her to hastily snatch a handful of her favorite blend, and then-- "When--" she gasped.