"A play!" gasped Mrs. Flint, in dismay. "I am inclined to think favourably of the idea," replied Mrs. Tweedie, turning to the parson's wife. "But the Church, Mrs. Tweedie, have you forgotten what we owe to our creed?" asked Mrs. Flint, anxiously. "Oh, no, indeed," said Mrs. Tweedie, with a benevolent smile, "but the barriers between the stage and the Church are not so high as they were." "They ain't so high," added Mrs. Stout, "but what most folks can peek over if they stand on tiptoes, and their minister ain't lookin'." Mrs. Flint felt certain that the end of all things was at hand. "I'm sure," she said, "I have no idea what Mr. Flint will say." "What difference would it make?" Mrs. Stout asked, bluntly. This remark was followed by the most embarrassing, painful silence in the history of the club. When business was resumed, it was voted that a committee of five be appointed to select a play, and plan for its production. The Reverend and Mrs. Flint had a long talk that night. "And the unholy suggestion was made and adopted in my home!" thundered the reverend, forgetting that his audience consisted of only one. Manville was waking up. Chapter V The Stouts at Home THE Stouts were common folks--most of us are, for that matter, in one way or another. Excepting Sundays, Mr. Stout ate his meals with the frock on that he wore at the store; he used his knife at table in a manner not prescribed by etiquette; and at all times his English was at variance with the best authority. But in his dealings with men he was as honest as his wife in her speech, and made money despite customers who did not pay their bills. His three sons were healthy urchins, who obeyed and respected their parents--just like other boys. "How's that new club gettin' along?" Mr. Stout asked his wife while they were at supper on the day of the meeting at the parsonage. "Fine; I ain't enjoyed myself for years the way I do at them meetin's," replied Mrs. Stout, enthusiastically. "There won't be any need of a newspaper here now," observed her husband without looking up from his plate. "I expected to hear you say somethin' like that," replied Mrs. Stout. "But I want you to understand just this much, Peter Stout; that club's goin' to be the talk of the town, and do more for it than any crowd of men have ever done so far." "Won't have to do much," grunted Peter, with his mouth full of beefsteak.