The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-03-28

&UE00 00 ID St8xttS POoK C9E8xOfc& Her Hips began to Quiver, and, instead of giv- ing a precise answer to such a precise question as she ought to have done, she gave no answer at all
 Nov, the one thing that Professor Nabs could not abide was silence. Miss Linn's silence at once put him out of sorts to such an extent that he repeated his ques- ton with qaite c shout and in a still more undesirable form.
 "What are you doing here ?"
 It doesn't do to shout at poor creatures. It fairly terrified this one all to pieces. She had just time to raise herself slightly In order to get her handkerchief out oi the pocket of her lavender print dress, and in her agony of confusion she simply told the whole truth.
 | belong to the Flower Mission" she began, her voice quavering and her heart beating, but, at the same time, we have secret mission, and it is the conversion of Professor Nabs. On, Professor Nabsl'' continued poor Miss Linn, who had now fairly broken down, and held her hand kerchief to her eyes if you would only reform If you would only take to good ways, and come to church on a Sunday. You have time vet: you don't know how soon it may be too late. And-and- Ais is why Pm here to tell you this"
 There was dead pause of an in nstant, and then Professor Nabs began to laugh Yet not unkindly; almost, it seemed, as If he saw great deal of humor in all this and was immensely tickled by it.
 "Poor creature r exclaimed he at last
 know that" r piled Miss Linn, from behind her pocket-handkerchiet.
 "This is . new idea," continued the professor, grimly; !" the opening of new and a great feid," waving his hand slightly toward the open window. al have heard of many missions, for the conversion of many heathen, but this is the first time l ever heard of a mission for the conversion of professor of math emAtics. But" he continued more snap. pishly, |" 1t won't come to anything. Sc cret things never do, any more than si. lent things. So you want me to go to church, do you3 My dear, kind creat. ure," continued he, in a graver tone don't trouble or distress yourselves ooout me. l was beyond conversion hali a century before you were bom"-which was a direct libel upon himself, for Pro. lessor Nabs was snly just turned forty too, am an old, old incurable."
 She pricked up her ears at the word and dried her blue eyes.
 eff you please, that is because you don't go to church, !" rhe replied illogic- ally. " It is In large seat not far from the side door that the incurables sit They come in always just in time for the sermon. There is old Roger Bryan, with the twisted spine, and quite blind. They lead him in, and he has a very bad tem. per, somehow. The man who always leads him died last week, though. And there's that mans sister, a girl with a white face, and great lot of yellow hair And they say she1l soon be dead, too Old Mrs. Hodge, with the black shawl, looks so we'll that you really never would think she hadn't any arms-"
 "I say," screamed Professor Nabs, raising himself suddenly, and bringing his hands down with a bang upon the piano, "what are you telling me all this foS9 can't stand it, and 1 won't"
 And before poor Miss Linn had recov- cred from the shock he pranced over to the door and held it open for her to pass out. Then shuffling noisilv down stairs after her he threw open the front deor and all of a sudden, with a kindly action laid detaining hand upon the lavender print dress.
 "My dear," said he, won't have any secret missions converting me. If tha, Flower Mission wants to convert me, why don't it say so openly? If it wants to convert me, it can tell the town so-and so shall |; and it can ask me to 20 to church with it; and, just for once in a way, will go to church with it. No. body shall ever have it in their power to say that Professor Nabs refused to en- courage new idea. But as for more young women hanging about my doors, and sticking tracts in my letter-box, ob- ject to the thing on principle, and won't have it. And now you can go home and tell the rest of them that from me-"
 It was Sunday morning, and the bells of St. Peters were ringing for church. A 6ne, sunshiny day, the little white clouds sped merrily away over the laughing blue sky, the little birds were twittering in and out of the green banks bordering Cliff Road, the hlacs and the hawthorns were smelling at all the corners the yellow sand of the church square kept firm in its place in spite ot the breeze, for there had been shower last night and it was still damp. The great budding labur- mum in the middle of the square nodded it's golden pods to and fro and, mean time, the bells raag out up above in the tower of St. Peters.
 Inside the church the long ruby and green and fawn-colored beams were light ing up the battered plaster saints. and glorifying the pure indestructible marble, and giaring 6ercely at the red cloth of the clumsy organ-gallery. It was nearly eleven, and most of the high-backed pews were comfortably filled. Little old women had begun to turn over the leaves of their aged prayer-books respectable heads of families fastened their eyes dreamily on the big wooden cross over the entrance to the chancel and thought of to-morrow's expenses; their Aippan, sons and daughters looked at each other. And two or three, dotted sparingly about, f-~ L.. al .l