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“That’s jest what I say,” returned the other woman.

Mrs. Gale went up to Caleb and nudged him.”Don’t you let them break that door down, father,” said she.

“Well, well, we’ll see,” Caleb replied. He moved away a little; his wife’s voice had been drowned out lately by a masculine clamor, and he took advantage of it.

All the people talked at once; the wind was keen, and all their garments fluttered; the two young girls had their arms around each other under their shawls; the man with the crow-bar came stalking up the hill.

“Don’t you let them break down that door, father,” said Mrs. Gale.

“Well, well,” grunted Caleb.

Regardless of remonstrances, the man set the crow-bar against the door; suddenly there was a cry, “There she is!”Everybody looked up. There was Hetty looking out of a gallery window.

Everybody was still. Hetty began to speak. Her dark old face, peering out of the window, looked ghastly; the wind blew her poor gray locks over it. She extended her little wrinkled hands.”Jest let me say one word,” said she; “jest one word.”Her voice shook. All her coolness was gone. The magnitude of her last act of defiance had caused it to react upon herself like an overloaded gun.

“Say all you want to, Hetty, an’ don’t be afraid,” Mrs. Gale called out.

“I jest want to say a word,” repeated Hetty.”Can’t I stay here, nohow?It don’t seem as if I could go to Mis’ Radway’s. I ain’t nothin’ again’ her. I s’pose she’s a good woman, but she’s used to havin’ her own way, and I’ve been livin’ all my life with them that was, an’ I’ve had to fight to keep a footin’ on the earth, an’ now I’m gittin’ too old for’t. If I can jest stay here in the meetin’-house, I won’t ask for nothin’ any better. I sha’n’t need much to keep me, I wa’n’t never a hefty eater; an’ I’ll keep the meetin’-house jest as clean as I know how. An’ I’ll make some more of them wool flowers. I’ll make a wreath to go the whole length of the gallery, if I can git wool ‘nough. Won’t you let me stay?I ain’t complainin’, but I’ve always had a dretful hard time; seems as if now I might take a little comfort the last of it, if I could stay here. I can’t go to Mis’ Radway’s nohow.”Hetty covered her face with her hands; her words ended in a weak wail.

Mrs. Gale’s voice rang out clear and strong and irrepressible.”Of course you can stay in the meetin’-house,” said she; “I should laugh if you couldn’t. Don’t you worry another mite about it. You sha’n’t go one step to Mis’ Radway’s; you couldn’t live a day with her. You can stay jest where you are; you’ve kept the meetin’-house enough sight cleaner than I’ve ever seen it. Don’t you worry another mite, Hetty.”

Mrs. Gale stood majestically, and looked defiantly around; tears were in her eyes. Another woman edged up to her.”Why couldn’t she have that little room side of the pulpit, where the minister hangs his hat?” she whispered.”He could hang it somewhere else.”

“Course she could,” responded Mrs. Gale, with alacrity, “jest as well as not. The minister can have a hook in the entry for his hat. She can have her stove an’ her bed in there, an’ be jest as comfortable as can be. I should laugh if she couldn’t. Don’t you worry, Hetty.”

The crowd gradually dispersed, sending out stragglers down the hill until it was all gone. Mrs. Gale waited until the last, sitting in the buggy in state. When her husband gathered up the reins, she called back to Hetty: “Don’t you worry one mite more about it, Hetty. I’m comin’ up to see you in the mornin’!”