The next morning Mrs. Tweedie sent messages by her son Thomas to the members of the play committee requesting them to meet at her home that afternoon to consider a matter of "distressing importance." At two o'clock all of the committee had complied with the request, excepting Miss Sawyer, who sent word that she was "indisposed," and she might truthfully have added "to come."

"Ladies," Mrs. Tweedie began, solemnly, "yesterday one of the other sex, an unprincipled creature by the name of Billings, inflicted upon our club an irreparable injury. You have seen or at least heard of the hideous posters that some time yesterday were put up in a dozen or more conspicuous places about town. Furthermore, the sensitive feelings of an educated and highly respected citizen have been deeply wounded by this act of wantonness—I refer to the Reverend Mr. Flint. One of the posters was placed, and remained for several hours, upon the bulletin of his, I might say our, church. We all know Mr. Flint's aversion to anything pertaining to the stage, yet he has refrained from speaking of our entertainment publicly out of regard for the members of his church who are interested in the club. What his attitude from now on will be I dare not conjecture. As for the miserable villain who is responsible for the outrage—words fail to express my feelings."

"Quote Shakespeare," suggested Mrs. Stout.

"This is not the time for jesting, Mrs. Stout," replied Mrs. Tweedie, in a tone that would have withered any one but Mrs. Stout.

"Nobody knows it better than I do," she retorted. "I've got reason to be as mortified as anybody, because the outlandish work was begun in my husband's store. Of course, he ain't to blame, but he ought to have told the fool that what he was doin' would make trouble."

"No one attaches any blame upon you or your husband," Mrs. Tweedie replied.

"I'm sure," said Mrs. Jones, "that I cannot see how Mr. Stout had anything to do with it. It seems to me that it was not done maliciously, any way, but more in the spirit of a practical joke."

"Practical meddlesomeness!" snapped Mrs. Stout; "and the man that did it was set up to it, in my opinion, by a woman in this club!"

The ladies looked at Mrs. Stout, and then at each other in astonishment.

"Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Tweedie. "If you are so positive pray tell us about it."

"Well, I ain't exactly positive," Mrs. Stout began, slowly, "but I guess at things sometimes, and come pretty near bein' right, 'specially when two and two make four. I ain't a woman that'll hurt anybody's good name unless it's been rightly damaged before by theirselves. In this case I ain't sure, so I won't mention no names, only say what I think made Sam Billin's do what he did." Poor Mrs. Stout, for the first time in her life she failed to find the direct path to the point, and wallowed helplessly about in a meaningless slough of words. "Well," she continued, "I don't seem to be gettin' ahead very fast, but what I wanted to say was this: You know that we talked some about advertisin' at a meetin' of the committee awhile ago, and decided not to spend any money on it, but after the meetin' was over that day one of the ladies said to me as we was goin' home that she thought that somethin' ought to be done about advertisin'. Now, I think that she, or somebody else that thought same as she did, must have talked with Sam Billin's, and told him her opinion about advertisin', and he agreed with her, and went off and done it."

The ladies were disappointed. The delicious bit of scandal that they had anticipated was not forthcoming.

"What you have told us," said Mrs. Tweedie, "is very indefinite."

"It's about as definite as anything I hear at the club, only I didn't mention no names—some folks ain't so careful," retorted Mrs. Stout, who was angry with herself.

"I'm sure," said Mrs. Jones, "we are just as much in the dark as ever. We know what has been done, and who did it, the question is—"

"What are we goin' to do about it?" interrupted Mrs. Stout.

"We owe Mr. Flint an apology," Mrs. Tweedie replied.

"That's easy," said Mrs. Stout, "and don't cost anything."

"The virtue of dutifulness has nothing to do with ease or cost," replied Mrs. Tweedie, loftily. "I shall write the letter myself, and assume the full responsibility. Now, in regard to the creature that committed the crime, shall we take any legal steps?"

"Goodness, no!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout, in alarm. "Legal steps cost ten dollars apiece, and there's no tellin' where they'll lead to."

Everybody laughed at this remark, and apparently good nature was restored.

"It would only mean more advertising," said Mrs. Blake, "and that is just what we are objecting to now."

"That's so," replied Mrs. Stout; "we've been advertised worse'n a circus or soap; let's hide our bright and shinin' light under a basket for awhile."

After the ladies had gone Mrs. Tweedie had only time to scold Fanny, give Dora some instructions about dinner, tell Ezra that "If you had a woman's club on your hands you would have been insane weeks ago," which Ezra thought very likely, when the Reverend Elijah Flint was announced. Despite the trials of the previous twenty-four hours, Mrs. Tweedie assumed a humble look as she entered the parlour and greeted her solemn-visaged pastor.

"I have called, Mrs. Tweedie," he began, after declining to be seated, "on a matter of grave importance to our church and myself. Perhaps it will not be necessary for me to—"

"I understand, Mr. Flint," she said, with proper gravity.

"Do you fully realize the false position in which our church has been placed?" asked the parson, impressively.

"I do, and sincerely regret the unfortunate circumstance."

"Unfortunate," he repeated, as though he did not think the word adequate. "Mrs. Tweedie, our church has been defiled, desecrated, by a wanton, worthless wretch, and I desire to know whether your club, or any member of it, is responsible, even in the slightest degree, for the outrage."

"Not to my knowledge," replied Mrs. Tweedie—but she had guessed, with Mrs. Stout's assistance.

"I am profoundly relieved to hear you say so," said Mr. Flint, as he started toward the door. "Of course, you know my convictions regarding the stage?" Mrs. Tweedie bowed affirmatively. "I have refrained from expressing myself publicly," he continued, as he stopped with his hand on the door-knob, "but since the occurrence of yesterday, I feel that it is my duty to announce from the pulpit next Sunday my position in regard to the matter. Good afternoon."

As Mrs. Tweedie closed the door on the parson she groaned: "More advertising."