It was a long prayer and was proceeding smoothly, until, in its midst, from the front row, Archie B.'s head bobbed cautiously up. Keeping one eye on his father, the praying Elder, he went through a pantomime for the benefit of the young Hillites around him, who, like himself, had had enough of prayer. Before coming to the meeting he had cut from a black sheep's skin a gorgeous set of whiskers and a huge mustache. These now adorned his face. There was a convulsive snicker among the young Hillites behind him. The Elder opened one eye to see what it meant. They were natural children, whose childhood had not been dwarfed in a cotton mill, and it was exceedingly funny to them. But the young Cottontowners laughed not. They looked on in stoical wonder at the presumption of the young Hillites who dared to do such a deed. Humor had never been known to them. There is no humor in the all-day buzz of the cotton factory; and fun and the fight of life for daily bread do not sleep in the same crib. The Hillites tittered and giggled. "Maw," whispered Miss Butts, "look at Archie B." Mrs. Butts hastily reached over the bench and yanked Archie B. down. His whiskers were confiscated and in a moment he was on his knees and deeply devotional, while the young Hillites nudged each other, and giggled and the young Cottontowners stared and wondered, and looked to see when Archie B. would be hung up by the thumbs. The Bishop was reading the afternoon chapter when the animal in Archie B. broke out in another spot. The chapter was where Zacharias climbed into a sycamore tree to see his passing Lord. There was a rattling of the stove pipe in one corner. "Maw," whispered Miss Butts, "Jes' look at Archie B.--he's climbin' the stove pipe like Zacharias did the sycamo'." Horror again swept over Cottontown, while the Hillites cackled aloud. The Elder settled it by calmly laying aside his spectacles and starting down the pulpit steps. But Archie B. guessed his purpose and before he had reached the last step he was sitting demurely by the side of his pious brother, intently engaged in reading the New Testament. Without his glasses, the Elder never knew one twin from the other, but presuming that the studious one was Ozzie B., he seized the other by the ear, pulled him to the open window and pitched him out on the grass. It was Ozzie B. of course, and Archie B. turned cautiously around to the Hillites behind, after the Elder had gone back to his chapter, and whispered: "_Venture pee-wee under the bridge--bam--bam--bam._" Throughout the sermon Archie B. kept the young Hillites in a paroxysm of smirks. Elder Butts' legs were brackets, or more properly parentheses, and as he preached and thundered and gesticulated and whined and sang his sermon, he forgot all earthly things.