Their preacher’s explanation of the manner in which every woman came to be possessed of just so many devils appeared to them of little importance.  What they objected to was the fundamental doctrine of his sermon, which was based on his assertion that the Bible declared every woman had seven devils.  They were not willing to believe that the Bible said any such thing.  Some of them went so far as to state it was their opinion that Uncle Pete had got this fool notion from some of the lawyers at the court-house when he was on a jury a month or so before.  It was quite noticeable that, although Sunday afternoon had scarcely begun, the majority of the women of the congregation called their minister Uncle Pete.  This was very strong evidence of a sudden decline in his popularity.

Some of the more vigorous-minded women, not seeing their minister among the other people in the clearing in front of the log church, went to look for him, but he was not to be found.  His wife had ordered him to be home early, and soon after the congregation had been dismissed he departed by a short cut through the woods.  That afternoon an irate committee, composed principally of women, but including also a few men who had expressed disbelief in the new doctrine, arrived at the cabin of their preacher, but found there only his wife, cross-grained old Aunt Rebecca.  She informed them that her husband was not at home.

“He’s done ‘gaged hisse’f,” she said, “ter cut an’ haul wood fur Kunnel Martin ober on Little Mount’n fur de whole ob nex’ week.  It’s fourteen or thirteen mile’ from h’yar, an’ ef he’d started ter-morrer mawnin’, he’d los’ a’mos’ a whole day, ’Sides dat, I done tole him dat ef he git dar ter-night he’d have his supper frowed in.  Wot you all want wid him?  Gwine to pay him fur preachin’?”

Any such intention as this was instantaneously denied, and Aunt Rebecca was informed of the subject upon which her visitors had come to have a very plain talk with her husband.

Strange to say, the announcement of the new and startling dogma had apparently no disturbing effect upon Aunt Rebecca.  On the contrary, the old woman seemed rather to enjoy the news.

“Reckin he oughter know all ’bout dat,” she said.  “He’s done had three wives, an’ he ain’t got rid o’ dis one yit.”

Judging from her chuckles and waggings of the head when she made this remark, it might be imagined that Aunt Rebecca was rather proud of the fact that her husband thought her capable of exhibiting a different kind of diabolism every day in the week.

The leader of the indignant church members was Susan Henry, a mulatto woman of a very independent turn of mind.  She prided herself that she never worked in anybody’s house but her own, and this immunity from outside service gave her a certain pre-eminence among her sisters.  Not only did Susan share the general resentment with which the startling statement of old Peter had been received, but she felt that its