"Not for worlds."

"It _was_ pretty, though."

"And she looked terribly stunning."

"Yes, but I'm afraid that there'll be trouble over it in the club."

"Shouldn't wonder a mite."

"Well, I must be going; good-bye."

"Good-bye; if you hear anything--"

"I'll run in; good-bye."

This was a sample of the talk that was going on all over Manville the morning after the "Big Show." Masters, mistresses, and maids, all were talking; at front doors, back doors, in the parlours, in the kitchens, on the corners--everywhere. Few praised--many censured. And poor Barbara, it was her name that was on every lip. By night everybody in Manville had taken sides for or against her, and, strange to relate, more men than women were ready to defend her.

Stout's Grocery was the objective of many of the male population that morning. Mr. Blake, the undertaker, was the first to arrive.

"A splendid show, Peter," he said.

"Fine."

"Manville ought to be proud."

"She had."

"Miss Wallace made a great hit, didn't she?"

"Say, wa'n't she great!" replied Peter, enthusiastically.

"She was, and her costume--" Mr. Blake continued, but Peter interrupted him.

"Beat 'em all," he said.

"I suppose that some of the stiff-backs are offended," remarked Mr.

Blake, after a pause.

"What if they be?" asked Peter, indignantly. Just then Doctor Jones came in. "Mornin', doctor."

"Good morning," the doctor cheerfully replied.

"Did you go to the show last night, doctor?" asked Mr. Blake.

"Yes, I got there just in time to see Miss Wallace."

"Like her?"

"Well," said the doctor, slowly, "I have always liked her, but now I think she's immense. Send our order up early, will you, Peter?" And then he hurried out of the store, b.u.mping into Sam Billings, who was coming in.

"h.e.l.lo, Doc," said Sam, familiarly, "what you got to say about the show?" The doctor, not caring to listen to a long argument, continued on his way without replying.

"Didn't that show beat all creation?" was Sam's greeting as he entered the store after his encounter with the doctor. "And did you notice the crowd? They can say all they're a mind to 'gainst advertisin', but I say it pays. That hall wouldn't have been half-full if I hadn't taken hold."

Alick Purbeck came in from the back room in time to hear enough of what Sam said to know what he was blowing about.

"Say, Sam, can't you tell us now who put you up to that advertisin'

scheme?" he asked.

"I dunno's that's any of your business," replied Sam, sulkily.

"No, it ain't," said Alick, "but I happen to know that it kicked up a row in the church and the woman's club, and folks do say that it was Miss Sawyer that put the idea into your head."

"Well," drawled Sam, "I won't deny that she _said_ somethin', but she didn't _do_ nothin'. I'm the only one responsible."

"Just as I thought," said Alick, knowingly. "I knew you'd been hangin'

round her some this winter."

"Yes, you most always know everything that's goin' on," retorted Sam.

"Back doors can't keep their mouths shut."

Alick resented this remark, and the resentment was in the form of a rotten apple which struck the offender full in the mouth.

"Quit that foolin'," growled Peter, in time to prevent trouble.

At that moment Ezra Tweedie slunk into the store, casting glances of fear behind at every step as though some dreadful monster was on his trail. He shut the door carefully, then went to the stove, held out his hands to be warmed, shivered, and sighed. His face was drawn and white, and the telltale circles beneath his eyes told of a sleepless night.

"Mornin', Ezra," said Peter, cordially.

"Good morning, gentlemen," replied Ezra, in a weak voice, as he glanced furtively about.

"You're not feeling well, Mr. Tweedie?" inquired Mr. Blake, sympathetically.

"No," replied Ezra, "I--I'm slightly indisposed, but nothing serious--nothing serious."

"And how is Mrs. Tweedie after all the work she has done?" Mr. Blake continued. Ezra shuddered and coughed.

"She is--a--somewhat nervous," he replied, hesitatingly.

"I don't wonder," blurted Sam, "but I guess she's kinder tickled over the big hit the show made, ain't she?"

"Oh, yes, yes, but--"

Ezra was spared by the entrance of Deacon Walton, whose opinion at that moment was more to be desired than anything that Ezra, in his sorry condition, might say.

Urged by Mr. Flint, the deacon had advised his wife to resign from the club, which she had done, but when the day of the performance came neither the deacon nor his wife could resist the temptation to attend and see what it was like. Their presence caused surprise, but they seemed to enjoy themselves, and many thought that perhaps Mr. Flint had weakened, and had taken that method of showing it. Those present at the store that morning felt that an explanation was due, and Sam proceeded to "pump."

"How'd you like the show, deacon?" he asked.