"But Europe is not a city, Mr. Craig," he said. "No, of course not," exclaimed Mr. Hardesty, contemptuously. "It's an umpire." "Well, I didn't know," murmured Mr. Craig, and his voice was not heard again until he said good-night to the door post when he left the parson's house. "Mebby somebody could find out his address from Justine," said Mrs. Grimes. "Needn't let on what it's fer, y' see, an' thataway we couldn't take no chances on wastin' a stamp." "I kin ast her," said Mrs. Bolton. "I'm goin' over to her house to-morry to see if I c'n borry a couple pounds o' sugar. Dear me, I never did have sitch luck with watermillon preserves as I'm havin' this year. Silas, I leave it to you if I ain't sp'iled more----" "We ain't yere to talk about preserves, Liz, so shet up," interrupted her better half sourly. "That's right, Si. I wish to gosh I could shet mine up like that," said Mr. Hardesty, enviously. "Why, Jim Hardesty, you ain't sayin' that I talk too much," cried his wife, indignantly. "You don't say 'leven words a day, my dove," said he, arising and bowing so low that his suspenders creaked threateningly. Then he winked broadly at the assemblage, and the women tittered, whereupon Mrs. Hardesty glared at them greenly. "We are getting away from the subject, please," came the mild reproof of the pastor. "How fer had we got?" demanded Deacon Bossman. "We hain't got anywheres yet," said Mrs. Harbaugh. "That's what we're talkin' about, deacon." "Hain't found out where Jud's at yet?" "Have you been asleep?" demanded the chairman. "I'd like to know how in thund--I mean, how in tarnation--er--how in the world I could go to sleep with all you women talkin' to onct about dresses an' so forth----" "We ain't mentioned dress to-night," snorted the chairman. "You better 'tend to----" "Come, come; we must get along with the business," remonstrated the pastor. "I want to make a motion," said the postmaster, rising impressively. When he had secured the attention of the crowd he walked solemnly to the door, opened it and expectorated upon the porch. Then, wiping his lips with the back of his hairy hand, he returned to his position in the circle. "I move you, Mr. Cheerman--er, Mrs. Cheerman, beggin' your excuse--that we app'int a committee to see how much truth they is in these reports afore we go to puttin' our foot--er, properly speakin'--our feets in it too da--too extry deep." There was a dead silence and Jim looked serenely up at the right-hand corner of the parson's clothes-press, expecting the wrath of the virtuous to burst about him at any moment. "I don't think we need any more committee than our own eyes, Jim," said his wife, feeling her way. "Well, then, if that's the case, I move you we app'int a committee of hearts to work j'intly with the eyes," said James, soberly, still looking at the closet.