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“There is more joy over one sinner that repenteth,”–but when Will and Nancy both “came through” on the same night–well, Mt. Pisgah’s walls know the story.

There was triumph in Nancy’s face as she proclaimed her conversion, and the first person she made for was Sister Pease. She shook her hands and embraced her, crying ever aloud between the vociferations of the congregation, “Oh, sistah, he’p me praise Him, he’p me praise Him,” and the elder woman in the cause caught the infection of the moment and joined in the general shout.

Afterwards she was not pleased with herself. But then if she hadn’t shouted, wouldn’t it have been worse?

The Rev. Isaiah was nothing if not dramatic in his tendencies, and on the day when he was to receive William and Nancy Pease into full membership with the church, it struck him that nothing could make upon his congregation a profounder impression for good than to have the two new Peases joined by the elder one, or as the wag would have put it, all in one pod. And it was so ordered, and the thing was done.

It is true that the preacher had to labour some with Sister Ann Pease, but when he showed her how it was her Christian duty, and if she failed of it her rival must advance before her in public opinion, she acquiesced. It was an easier matter with “Sister Wi’yum Pease.” She agreed readily, for she was filled with condescending humility, which on every occasion she took the opportunity of displaying toward her rival.

The Rev. Isaiah Johnson only made one mistake in his diplomatic manoeuvring. That was when he whispered to Sister Ann Pease, “Didn’t I tell you? Des see how easy Sister Wi’yum give in.” He was near to losing his cause and the wind was completely taken out of his sails when the widow replied with a snort, “Give in, my Lawd! Dat ooman’s got a right to give in; ain’t she got ‘uligion an’ de man, too?”

However, the storm blew over, and by the time service was begun they were all seated together on a front bench, Sister Nancy, William, and Sister Ann.

Now was the psychological moment, and after a soul-stirring hymn the preacher rose and announced his text–“Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.”

Someone in the back part of the church suggested trinity as a substitute and started a titter, but the preacher had already got his dramatic momentum, and was sweeping along in a tumultuous tide of oratory. Right at his three victims did he aim his fiery eloquence, and ever and again he came back to his theme, “Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity,” even though Ann Pease had turned her back on William, whose head was low bowed, and Nancy was ostentatiously weeping into a yellow silk handkerchief.

The sermon spurred on to a tempestuous close, and then came the climax when the doors of the church were opened. William and Nancy immediately went up to end their probation, and after a few whispered remarks the minister shook hands with each of them, then raising his voice he said: “Now, brothahs and sistahs, befo’ you all gives dese lambs de right han’ o’ fellowship to welcome dem to de fol’, I want Sister Ann Pease to come up an’ be de first to bid ’em God speed on the gospel way.” Ann Pease visibly swelled, but she marched up, and without looking at either, shook hands with each of her enemies.

“Hallelujah, praise de Lord,” shouted the preacher, clapping his hands, “Behold how good and how pleasant it is; and now let the congregation in gineral come aroun’ and welcome Brothah and Sistah Pease.”

His rich bass voice broke into “Bless Be the Tie that Binds,” and as the volume of the hymn, swelled by the full chorus of the congregation, rolled away to the rafters of the little church, the people rose and marched solemnly round, shaking hands with the new members and with each other.