Old Thompson was seldom seen at church on Sunday evening, therefore Mrs. Whittle felt quite sure that he was prowling around with a view of safe-blowing, or something of that kind, and she never referred to him except to intimate that he was up to mischief of the most pronounced sort. A man who was not at church on Sunday evening, in the opinion of Mrs. Whittle, must be drunk in a saloon, or robbing somebody, for where else could he be? Mrs. Whittle only recognized two classes of men; those who were in the churches, and those who were in the saloons; and in her head, which was entirely too small for the size of her body, there was no suspicion of a middle ground. Those who craved the attention of Mrs. Whittle found it necessary to be conspicuous either as a saint or a sinner. Theoretically Mrs. Whittle was a splendid woman, and certainly a bad woman in no particular except that she carried her virtues to such an extent that the people disliked her, and felt ashamed of themselves for it, not feeling quite certain that they had a right to find fault with one who neglected not only her affairs, but her person, to teach others neatness, and thrift, and the virtues generally. If she accomplished no good, as old Thompson Benton stoutly asserted, it was certain she did some harm, for the people finally came to neglect affairs in which they would otherwise have taken a moderate interest because of their dislike of Mrs. Whittle. A great many others who were inclined to attend to their own affairs (which are always sufficient to occupy one's time, heaven knows) were badgered to such an extent by Mrs. Whittle that they joined her in various enterprises that resulted in nothing but to make their good intentions ridiculous, and finally there was a general and a sincere hope that blunt Thompson Benton would find opportunity to come to the rescue of the people. Three times a day this trio met, and three times each day it was satisfied with itself, and dissatisfied with Davy's Bend, as well as everything in it, including Allan Dorris. The new occupant of The Locks was generally popular with the people, but the hotel trio made the absurd mistake of supposing that they were the people, therefore they talked of Dorris as though he were generally hated and despised. They were indignant, to begin with, because he did not covet the acquaintance of the only circle in the town worth cultivating, and as time wore on, and he still made no effort to know them, they could come to only one conclusion; that he was deserving of their severest denunciation.