"You wouldn't b'lieve the things I seen in that show," said Bogle,
waggling his head.

"Don't intend to be called on to b'lieve 'em," said the deacon.
"Look.... Comin' acrost the bridge. There's Locker's boy and that there
Wife-ette, and him lookin' like he'd enjoy divin' down her throat."

"Poor Jason," said the elder, "he's reapin' the whirlwind."

"Kin he be blind?"

"Somebody ought to take Jason off to one side and give him warnin'."

The deacon considered, puckering his thin lips and cocking a hard old
eye. "'Tain't fer us to meddle," he said, righteously. "They's a divine
plan in ever'thing, and we hain't able to see what's behind all this
here. We'll jest set and wait the outcome."

That is what all Coldriver did: it sat and awaited the outcome with
ill-restrained enthusiasm, and while it waited it talked. No word or
gesture or movement of young Homer Locker and Yvette Hinchbrooke went
undiscussed. Nobody in town was unaware of Homer's infatuation for the
coffee demonstrator--with the one exception of Homer's father, who was
too busy waiting upon the unaccustomed rush of trade to notice anything
else.

On the fourth evening of Yvette's stay in Coldriver there was a dance in
the town hall. Especial interest immediately, attached to this affair
because of the speculations as to whether Homer would be so rash as to
invite Yvette as his partner. The village refused to believe the young