"I have before me here on my desk," Griggs announced, "a letter from Deforrest Young. In answer to a letter from the church, asking him to be with us this afternoon, he has requested that Brother Ebenezer Waldstricker be instructed to vote in his name.... I do so instruct you, Brother Waldstricker." Ebenezer moved in his seat as if in consent. "It's a delicate matter which we have to consider," observed the minister, looking from pale face to pale face. Tessibel glanced at the speaker. He, too, was ashen in the dim afternoon light. "Come to the point, please," commanded Waldstricker, curtly. The minister bowed his head in silent prayer. "Tessibel Skinner," he said, "I ask you to stand up." The girl got up obediently, but sank down again, her trembling legs refused to support her. She did not, however, turn her startled brown eyes from her pastor's face. "It is charged against you, Tessibel Skinner," he read from a paper before him, "that you have broken the laws of God and violated the discipline of this church; that you, an unmarried woman, are now pregnant. Are you guilty or not guilty?" As the accusing voice ceased, the stern eyes of the dark-faced men, who had watched her closely during the reading, seemed to pierce her through and through, ... to lay bare her most intimate secrets. What should she say? She wasn't unmarried, as the pastor had charged, but the rest was true. Without Frederick's consent, she couldn't explain; she couldn't deny the charge. Surely, Frederick would stand forth and defend her now. She listened intently for a sound from him. She dared not turn toward him, for fear she might break her promise by some look or word. But nothing except the storm-sounds disturbed the silence of the little church. Frederick had failed her again! Unable alike to plead guilty or not guilty, she sat head bowed and eyes downcast before her judges. Waldstricker broke the appalling hush. "Speak up, girl," he ordered harshly. "You're guilty, aren't you?" The forlorn child struggled to her feet and raised her eyes to the speaker's face. "Oh, sirs, don't ask me 'bout it," she begged with outstretched hands. "I can't tell ye nothing 'bout it 'cept ... I air goin' to have a baby in the spring." Waldstricker glanced significantly at the other elders who nodded in acquiescence. Then he turned to the minister, still in the pulpit. "It is enough," he decided sternly. "She has confessed her sin." Dropping again into the pew, Tessibel cast a quick glance toward Frederick, who stared set-faced out into the storm. "We find, Tessibel Skinner," continued the minister, as though reciting a carefully rehearsed speech, "you have sinned grievously. Your silence convicts you. You are no longer worthy of membership in this church, of communion with Christian people. But it is not right that you should suffer alone. For your soul's welfare and in the interest of justice, I ask you the name of the man--"