"Never having heard that any of 'em wanted to go I can't say just
offhand, but don't you fret none about that, ma'am; there are
churches; one's up at the Forks, and there's another at Balaam's
Cross Roads."

"But that's ten miles from Scratch Hill, isn't it?"

"It's all of that," said Yancy. He sensed it that the lady
before him, was a person of much force and energy, capable even
of reckless innovation. Mr. Yancy himself was innately
conservative; his religious inspiration had been drawn from the
Forks and Balaam's Cross Roads. It had seemed to answer very
well. Mrs. Ferris fixed his wavering glance.

"Don't you think it is too bad, Mr. Yancy, the way those children
have been neglected? There is nothing for them but to run wild."

"Well, I seen some right good children fetched up that-a-ways
--smart, too. You see, ma'am, there's a heap a child can just
naturally pick up of himself."

"Oh!" and the monosyllable was uttered rather weakly. Mr.
Yancy's name had been given her as that of a resident of weight
and influence in the classic region of Scratch Hill. Miss Malroy
came to her friend's rescue.

"Mrs. Ferris thinks the children should have a chance to learn at
home. Poor little tots!--they can't walk ten or fifteen miles to
Sunday-school, now can they, Mr. Yancy ?"