I'll see." This was enough to start the news that "Pill had skipped." This the deacons denied, saying "he'd come or send word." Outside, on the leeward side of the house, the young men who couldn't get in stood restlessly, now dancing a jig, now kicking their huge boots against the underpinning to warm their toes.

They talked spasmodically as they swung their arms about their chests, speaking from behind their huge buffalo-coat collars.
The wind roared through the creaking oaks; the horses stirred complainingly, the bells on their backs crying out querulously; the heads of the fortunates inside were shadowed outside on the snow, and the restless young men amused themselves betting on which head was Bensen and which Councill.
At last some one pounded on the desk inside.

The suffocating but lively crowd turned with painful adjustment toward the desk, from whence Deacon Benson's high, smooth voice sounded: "Brethren an' sisters, Elder Pill hain't come--and, as it's about eight o'clock, he probably won't come to-night.

After the disturbances last night, it's--a--a--we're all the more determined to--the--a--need of reforming grace is more felt than ever.

Let us hope nothing has happened to the Elder.