"Aunt Libby say whether she wanted stoned raisins?" asked BrotherLittell, who was copying off the list on the order book.

"I disremember, but you much better send up the reg'lar raisins. Gittin'too many quite newfangled contraptions these days. They're a-callin' ita theayter right now, the Babtists is. What you astin' fer youreatin' apples? Whew! My souls alive! I don't wonder you grocerystorekeepers git rich in a hurry. No, I guess you needn't send 'nyup. Taste too strong o' money. Don't have no good apples nowno more anyways. All so dried up and pethy. An' what is it but atheayter, I'd like to know? Weth your lectures about the Ar'ticregions an' your mum-socials, an' all like that, chargin' money ferto git in the meetin' home. I tell you what it is, Brother Littell,the women folks 'd take the money they fritter away on ribbons andartificial flowers an' gold an'costly apparel, which I have sawthem turned away from the love-feast fer wearin', an' 'ud give itin fer quarterage an' he'p support the preachin' of the Word, theywouldn't need to be no shows in the meetin' home an' they 'd bemore expeerimental religion."

Abel Horn (Abel led the singing in meeting, and had a loud bassvoice; he always began before everybody and ended after everybody)was standing behind Uncle Billy, and Lycurgus could see him withhis head juked forward and his eyebrows up and his mouth wide openin silent laughter, very disconcerting to Brother Littell, whodidn't want to anger Uncle Billy, and perhaps lose his trade bygrinning inside his face.

"An' now you got to go an' put up a Christmas tree right in thealtar," stormed Uncle Billy, "an' dike it all out with pop-corn an'candles. You're gittin' as bad 's the Catholics, every bit. Worse,I say, becuz they never had the Gospel light, an' is jist led roundby the priest an' have to pay to git their sins forgive. But you,you're a-walkin' right smack dab into it, weth your eyes open,teachin' fer Gospel the inventions o' men."