I got to the church rather early, and my new spring bonnet--which is a superior one--seemed to impress the ushers, so they put me in a very distinguished front pew all by myself.

I bore my honors meekly, and found them quite agreeable, in fact,--you know I always did like to be made much of,--so you can imagine my disgust when presently three of the stoutest ladies you ever saw came sailing up the aisle, and prepared to invade _my_ pew.
"Please move up, Madam," said the fattest of all, who wore a wonderful yellow hat.
But I was not "raised" at Hillsover for nothing, and remembering the success of our little ruse on the railroad train long ago, I stepped out into the aisle, and with my sweetest smile made room for them to pass.
"Perhaps I would better keep the seat next the door," I murmured to the yellow lady, "in case an attack should come on." "An attack!" she repeated in an accent of alarm.

She whispered to the others.

All three eyed me suspiciously, while I stood looking as pensive and suffering as I could.

Then after confabulating together for a little, they all swept into the seat behind mine, and I heard them speculating in low tones as to whether it was epilepsy or catalepsy or convulsions that I was subject to.