"
"I went up once," she laughed; "but Mary Trumbull pinched me an' tol'
me to look at ol' Mis' Warlick's dress, right in front of us. It had
split wide open between the shoulders an' all down the back. I thought
I'd die laughin'. They all believed I was cryin', and I got hugged by
a whole string of exhorters."
"We'd better lie low," cautioned Frank; "last year, these camp-ground
folks had some town-people indicted for disturbin' public worship, an'
they had a lots o' trouble at court. They say they've determined to
break up the fun that goes on here."
Westerfelt saw Luke Bradley and his party come in and sit down near the
centre of the shed. He caught Mrs. Dawson's glance, but she quickly
looked away. She had not forgiven him; that fact lay embedded in the
sallow hardness of her face.
A moment later he forgot that Mrs. Dawson was in existence, for Harriet
and Bates were coming in. Bates still clutched her arm and carried her
cloak thrown over his shoulder. Westerfelt looked straight ahead at
the platform, but he heard their feet rustling in the straw, and knew
that they had sat down on the bench behind Hansard and Jennie.
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