The small town of Durford was not immune from the curse of drink: there was no doubt about that. Other forms of viciousness there were in plenty; but the nine saloons did more harm than all the rest of the evil influences put together, and Maxwell, though far from being a fanatic, was doing much in a quiet way to neutralize their bad influence. He turned the Sunday School room into a reading room during the week days, organized a gymnasium, kept watch of the younger men individually, and offered as best he could some chance for the expression of the gregarious instinct which drew them together after the work of the day was over. In the face of his work in these directions, it happened that a venturesome and enterprising saloon-keeper bought a vacant property adjacent to the church, and opened up an aggressive business--much to Maxwell's dismay.

Among the women of the parish there was a "Ladies' Temperance League," of which Mrs. Burke was president. They held quarterly meetings, and it was at one of the meetings held at Thunder Cliff, and at which Mrs. Burke presided, that she remarked severely:

"Mrs. Sapley, you're out of order. There's a motion before the house, and I've got something to say about it myself. Mrs. Perkins, as Mrs. Maxwell was unable to be present, will you kindly take the chair, or anything else you can lay your hands on, and I'll say what I've got to say."

Mrs. Perkins took Mrs. Burke's place as the president, while Mrs. Burke rubbed her glasses in an impatient way; and having adjusted them, began in a decided tone from which there was meant to be no appeal:

"The fact is, ladies, we're not gettin' down to business as we ought to, if we are to accomplish anything. We've been singing hymns, and recitin' lovely poems, and listenin' to reports as to how money spent for liquor would pay off the national debt; and we've been sayin' prayers, and pledgin' ourselves not to do things none of us ever was tempted to do, or thought of doin', and wearin' ribbons, and attendin' conventions, and talkin' about influencin' legislation at Washington, and eatin' sandwiches, and drinkin' weak tea, and doin' goodness knows what; but we've not done a blessed thing to stop men drinkin' right here in Durford and breakin' the town law; you know that well enough."

Mrs. Burke paused for breath after this astounding revolutionary statement, and there was a murmur of scandalized dissent from the assembled ladies at this outspoken expression on the part of the honorable president of the Parish Guild.

"No," she continued emphatically, "don't you fool yourselves. If we can't help matters right here where we live, then there's no use havin' imitation church sociables, and goin' home thinkin' we've helped the temperance cause, and callin' everybody else bad names who don't exactly agree with us."

Again there were symptoms of open rebellion against this traitorous heresy on the part of the plainspoken president; but she was not to be easily silenced; so she continued:

"Men have got to go somewheres when their work is over, and have a good time, and I believe that we won't accomplish anything until we fix up a nice, attractive set of rooms with games, and give 'em something to drink."

Cries of "Oh! Oh! Oh!" filled the room.

"I didn't say whiskey, did I? Anybody would think I'd offered to treat you, the way you receive my remarks. Now we can't get the rooms right off, 'cause we can't yet afford to pay the rent of 'em. But there's one thing we can do. There's Silas Bingham--the new man. He's gone and opened a saloon within about a hundred feet of the church, and he's sellin' liquor to children and runnin' a slot machine besides. It's all against the law; but if you think the village trustees are goin' to do anythin' to enforce the law, you're just dead wrong, every one of you. The trustees are most of 'em in it for graft, and they 'aint goin' to close no saloon when it's comin' election day 'for long, not if Bingham serves cocktails between the hymns in church. Maybe the trustees'd come to church better if he did. Maybe you think I'm usin' strong language; but it's true all the same, and you know it's true. Silas Bingham's move is a sassy challenge to us: are we goin' to lie down under it?"

"I must say that I'm painfully surprised at you, Mrs. Burke," Mrs. Burns began. "You surely can't forget what wonderful things the League has accomplished in Virginia and----"

"Yes," Mrs. Burke interrupted, "but you see Durford 'aint in Virginia so far as heard from, and it's our business to get up and hustle right here where we live. Did you think we were tryin' to reform Virginia or Alaska by absent treatment?"

Mrs. Sapley could not contain herself another moment; so, rising to her feet excitedly she sputtered:

"I do not agree with you, Mrs. Burke; I do not agree with you at all. Our meetings have been very inspiring and helpful to us all, I am perfectly sure; very uplifting and encouraging; and I am astonished that you should speak as you do."

"I'm very glad you've found them so, Mrs. Sapley. I don't drink myself, and I don't need no encouragin' and upliftin'. It's the weak man that drinks who needs encouragin' and upliftin'; and he wouldn't come near one of our meetin's any more than a bantam rooster would try to hatch turtles from moth-balls. We've got to clear Silas Bingham from off the church steps."

"Well," Mrs. Burns inquired, "what do you propose to do about it, if I may be allowed to inquire?"

"Do? The first thing I propose to do is to interview Silas Bingham myself privately, and see what I can do with him. Perhaps I won't accomplish nothin'; but I'm goin' to try, anyway, and make him get out of that location."

"You can, if anybody can," Mrs. Sapley remarked.

"Thank you for the compliment, Mrs. Sapley. Now Mrs. President, I move, sir--that is, madam--that the parish League appoints me to interview Bingham."

The motion was duly seconded and passed, notwithstanding some mild protests from the opposition, and Mrs. Burke resumed her place as presiding officer of the meeting. Then she continued:

"Excuse me; I forgot the previous question which somebody moved. Shall we have lettuce or chicken sandwiches at our next meetin'? You have heard the question. Those in favor of chicken please say aye. Ah! The ayes have the chicken, and the chicken is unanimously carried. Any more business to come before the meetin'? If not, we'll proceed to carry out the lit'ary program arranged by Miss Perkins. Then we'll close this meetin' by singin' the 224th hymn. Don't forget the basket by the door."

* * * * *

Silas Bingham was an undersized, timid, pulpy soul, with a horizontal forehead, watery blue eyes, and a receding chin. Out of "office hours" he looked like a meek solicitor for a Sunday School magazine. One bright morning just as he had finished sweeping out the saloon and was polishing the brass rod on the front of the bar, Mrs. Burke walked in, and extended her hand to the astonished bar-keeper, whose chin dropped from sheer amazement. She introduced herself in the most cordial and sympathetic of tones, saying:

"How do you do, Mr. Bingham? I haven't had the pleasure of meetin' you before; but I always make it a point to call on strangers when they come to town. It must be awful lonesome when you first arrive and don't know a livin' soul. I hope your wife is tolerable well."

Bingham gradually pulled himself together and turned very red, as he replied:

"Thanks! But my wife doesn't live here. It's awful kind of you, I'm sure; but you'll find my wife in the third house beyond the bakery, down two blocks--turn to the right. She'll be glad to see you."

"That's good," Hepsey responded, "but you see I don't have much to do on Thursdays, ............