"I make an amendment," said Mrs. Bolton sharply. "Mrs. Cheerman, I amend that we app'int a committee of three to go to Justine an' tell her this thing's got to stop an'----" "It seems to me----" began Mr. Marks. "I think it'd be best if we'd write to her an' sign no name," said Mrs. Grimes. "That's a good idy," mused Mr. Bolton. "Mrs. Cheerman, I withdraw my motion," said Hardesty. "I move you now that we app'int a committee composed of Mr. Bolton, Mr. Craig an' Mr. Grimes to go an' notify 'Gene Crawley 'nstead of her." A shiver swept through the room. The men gasped and the perspiration started on their foreheads. Their wives moved a bit closer to them and looked appealingly toward the chairman. Postmaster Hardesty had considerable difficulty in suppressing a chuckle. "What's the use seein' 'Gene?" stammered Martin Grimes. "He ain't to be reasoned with 't all, Jim, an' you know it." "Well, you might try it," insisted Jim. "I think Justine's the most likely to be sensible," said Bolton. "Course, she'd cry an' take on turrible, while ef you went to 'Gene he might do somethin' else, so I guess it'd be best to have a committee go over an' tell her fust. She could break it gentle-like to 'Gene, y' see," agreed Hardesty, reflectively. "'N'en he could do jest as he liked." "Come to think of it," said Grimes, "I reckon it's best to write to Jud." "Then I'll move you, Mrs. Chairman, that the secretary address a letter to Mr. Sherrod, setting forth the facts as they exist," said Pastor Marks. "I can't do it alone," cried meek little Miss Cunningham, the school teacher. "We c'n all help," said Grimes, mightily relieved. "Git out yer writin' paper." The secretary nervously prepared to write the letter. Her pen scratched and every eye was glued on the holder as it wobbled vigorously above her knuckles. "I've got this far: 'Judley Sherrod, Esq., Dear Sir,'" she said. "What next?" "His name is Dudley," corrected the parson. "Oh," murmured the secretary, blushing. Then she wrote it all over again on another piece of paper. "You might say something like this," said Mr. Marks, thoughtfully. "'It is with pain that we feel called upon to acquaint you with the state of affairs in your home.' Have you written that?" "'Fate of astairs in your home,'" read Miss Cunningham. Mr. Hardesty was looking over her shoulder, and at times his unconscious chin-whiskers tickled her rosy ear. "'We are sure that you will forgive the nature of this missive, and yet we know that it will hurt you far beyond the pain of the most cruel sword thrust. You, to whom we all extend the deepest love and respect, must prepare to receive a shock, but you must bear it with Christian fortitude.' Do I go too fast, Miss Cunningham?" "'You, who toom'--I mean--'to whom, etc.'" wrote the secretary. "Sounds like we're trying to tell him there's a death in the family," said Mr. Hardesty.