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The chapter was where Zacharias climbed into a sycamore tree to see his passing Lord. There was a rattling of the stove pipe in one corner. "Maw," whispered Miss Butts, "Jes' look at Archie B. he's climbin' the stove pipe like Zacharias did the sycamo'." Horror again swept over Cottontown, while the Hillites cackled aloud.
Bud slapped his leg an' yelled with delight. "Whew," said the Bishop "not so loud. We're at the church. "But remember, Bud, it's good policy allers to freeze. When you're in doubt freeze!" The Bishop's flock consisted of two distinct classes: Cottontowners and Hillites.
As this was exactly the way Miss Patsy Butts' organ music sounded, no sooner did she strike up the first notes than the coon dog joined in, with his long dismal howl much to the disgust of Uncle Dave and his family. This brought things to a standstill, and all the Hillites to giggling, while Archie B. moved up and took his seat with the mourners immediately behind the dog.
His whiskers were confiscated and in a moment he was on his knees and deeply devotional, while the young Hillites nudged each other, and giggled and the young Cottontowners stared and wondered, and looked to see when Archie B. would be hung up by the thumbs. The Bishop was reading the afternoon chapter when the animal in Archie B. broke out in another spot.
The Elder opened one eye to see what it meant. They were natural children, whose childhood had not been dwarfed in a cotton mill, and it was exceedingly funny to them. But the young Cottontowners laughed not. They looked on in stoical wonder at the presumption of the young Hillites who dared to do such a deed. Humor had never been known to them.
It was not that he had killed his man, and stolen several horses and mules, and got himself into a state of most disorderly inebriation, for, in the opinion of many Gopher Hillites, these actions might have been the visible results of certain virtuous conditions of mind.
It was Ozzie B. of course, and Archie B. turned cautiously around to the Hillites behind, after the Elder had gone back to his chapter, and whispered: "Venture pee-wee under the bridge bam bam bam." Throughout the sermon Archie B. kept the young Hillites in a paroxysm of smirks.
He had a conciliatory way with those beneath him, and he considered all the mill hands in that class. To his superiors he was a frowning, yet daring and even presumptuous underling. Somewhat better dressed than the Hillites from whom he sprang was this Whipper-in of the Acme Cotton Mills somewhat better dressed, and with the air of one who had arisen above his surroundings.
"This has been a splendid examination," said Maggie, drawing a long breath. "Real Christmassy, you know. We never had such a good time before." "Well, it has paid, don't you think?" asked Frank, as we drove home. "Rather," I answered. It did "pay" in other ways than the mere pleasure of it. There was always a better feeling between the Roaders and the Hillites thereafter.
Of all his congregation there was no more devoted member than Margaret Adams "an' as far as I kno'," the old man had often said, "if there is an angel on earth, it is that same little woman." When she came into church that day, the old man noticed that even the little Hillites drew away from her. Often they would point at the little boy by her side and make faces at him.
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