"The weather looked a little mite lowery at noon, and Mis' Stevens was afraid she'd have to git out her covered carry-all to go for the author, but the sun came out and it breezed up real nice just after three o'clock. I don't think Mis' Stevens was ever uglier or contrarier in her life than she was that afternoon, but we excused her, for she was most tired to death. Her hired girl is sick, and she'd ben helpin' her cook up flour-food for the author, sellin' tickets over to the Centre, and finishin' a worsted-work 'God Bless Our Home' to hang over the spare-room bed. Si said he guessed the comp'ny would find out before she left that house that God done the only blessin' it was likely to git, and he was about right. She didn't like it a mite because Mis' Doctor Smith shook hands with the author first, and it was kind o' forth-puttin'. Mis' Stevens is the president of the Baptist and Mis' Doctor Smith of the Congregational Ladies' Aid, and most of the quarrelin' and pull-haulin' in the churches is between them two societies. They aid the church consid'able, I s'pose, but they do hender each other awf'ly; I'll say that for 'em! "Well, it turned out a beautiful night, and the meetin'-house was packed to the doors. Everything went off as neat as a pin when we once got the Readin' goin', but the committee had consid'able trouble at the start. First there was the fuss I told you 'bout Mis' Thomson's pianer, and Hazel Perkins hed to hev her cry out on Freedom Cobb's shoulder, and then it turned out there wa'n't no ice for the water-pitcher; and those that hed reserved seats in the choir was in trouble. You see Miss Perkins hed put appleboughs along the front o' the singin'-seats and on top o' the organ. There must 'a' ben caterpillars' nests in 'em, and I s'pose the Decorating Committee hed et their lunch up there and dropped crumbs, but 't any rate the folks was kep' busy killin' ants an' caterpillars. One woman that was a stranger to me said she didn't cal'late to pay extry for a seat an' then be et up in it. "The next thing was that Doctor Woodside couldn't be found to take the author up the broad aisle on his arm and hand her over to the minister. I was 'bout sick o' trottin', but I went out again and found him settin' in the graveyard as comf'table as could be, smokin' there on a tombstone, with the full moon shinin' on his white hair. He's one o' the smartest men in town, but some folks call him kind o' queer in the head. He does spend a good deal of his time in the graveyard, but Si says it's only natural because most of his patients is there! Then, as if that wa'n't enough, Vilruvias Bennett, that was sellin' tickets at the door, was called home, and they wanted Si to take his place, an' Si was huntin' after Almiry Berry's horse that had broke away an' carried part o' the meetin'-house fence.