“La, yes;” Colonel Ledbetter’s plan had won some enthusiastic supporters among the women. “Deacon Higgins you could take an amen corner for you and your folks and we-all wouldn’t object to your shoutin’ in once in a while.” “And if the Piscopals wants to stand up and stretch their legs and try a readin’ match with the preacher now and then, why we could accommodate ’em with some Bible-readin’ ‘long with the singin’ and preachin’; the Bible makes good readin’ for any ’casion.” “I’m tired,” said a weary-eyed woman. “I’m tired of the everlastin’ scratchin’ round to git ahead of some one else; I’m tired of runnin’ our church with one eye onto four other churches to see that they don’t come out a step ahead.” Here a horse’s hoofs clattered upon the frozen road in front. Two or three women went to the window. “It’s Preacher Freeman,” they announced. “He’s on his way to Mills’s Ford to see that man that’s been hurt.” “He’s got nine miles further to ride and it’s mighty cold.” The door opened and a tall man, dark and spare, entered. He might have been thirty years old, but he smiled at the tree with boyish appreciation as he made his way past it and gave the assembly a general “Howdy.” Then he drew off his mittens and went from one to another shaking hands though he didn’t call them all by name. His own church people were there, but it is needless to name their denominational conformity—he was an honour to any church. They gave him a seat before the fire and he stretched out his shabbily shod feet toward it with a tired sigh, but an involuntary one, for he checked it. “I stopped at your house Judge Brevard,” he said, “and learned that you were here.” Embarrassed at being found in company so ecclesiastically mixed, Brevard irrelevantly felt of the young man’s coat. “Tollable thin for this weather,” he said. “The exercise of riding keeps me warm,” answered the preacher and changed the subject. “I didn’t expect to find all my people here” (with kind eyes he seemed to single out his own). “I’m _glad_ of it,” he continued heartily. “I’m _glad_ to see the whole neighbourhood joining hands.” He praised the tree, gave a few minutes to general and friendly discourse, arranged with Brevard the personal matter which had been the object of his call, wished them a “Merry Christmas” and went out. They heard him speak to his horse as he untied him but in a moment he entered the cabin again. He came forward haltingly and laid a hand upon the back of a bench, fidgeting like an embarrassed schoolboy as he began to speak: “Brethren, I spent last night twenty miles from here up on the Harriman Mountain. You-all know what Harriman is like.” Colonel Ledbetter twisted himself round and faced the speaker. “It’s the barrenest, ungratefulest land in the North Callina Mountains” (his voice had a defiant twang as if he challenged contradiction), “and how old Preacher Carr wrastles a livin’ out of that place he’s settled on, is more’n I can study out.”