“But the nation,” sez Miss Henzy, in a skareful voice.  “This nation must keep up its glorious reputation before the other countries of the world.  How will it look to ’em to have our Goverment permit such Sunday desecration?  This is a national affair, and we should not be willin’ to have our glorious nation do anything to lower itself in the eyes of the assembled and envious world.”

Sez Arville, “If our nation can countenance such doin’s as I have spoke of, the man-killin’ and brute-makin’, all day Sundays, and not only permit it, but go into pardnership with it, and take part of the pay—­if it can do this Sundays, year after year, without bein’ ashamed before the other nations, I guess it will stand it to have the Fair open.”

“But,” says Miss Bobbet, “even if it is better for the youth of the country, and I d’no but it will be, it will have a bad look to the other nations, as Sister Henzy sez—­it will look bad.”

Says Arville, “That is what Miss Balcomb said about her Ned when she wouldn’t let him play games to home; she said she didn’t care so much about it herself, but thought the neighbors would blame her; and Ned got to goin’ away from home for amusement, and is now a low gambler and loafer.  I wonder whether she would ruther have kep her boy safe, or made the neighbors easy in their minds.

[Illustration:  “She wouldn’t let her Ned play games at home.”]

“And now the neighbors talk as bad agin when they see him a-reelin’ by.  She might have known folks would talk anyway—­if they can’t run folks for doin’ things they will run ’em for not doin’ ’em—­they’ll talk every time.”

“Yes, and don’t you forgit it,” sez Bub Lum.

But nobody minded Bub, and Miss Cork begun agin on another tact.

“See the Sabbath labor it will cause, the great expenditure of strength and labor, to have all them stupendious buildin’s open on the Sabbath.  The onseemly and deafnin’ noise and clatter of the machinery, and the toil of the men that it will take to run and take care of all the departments, and the labor of the poor men who will have to carry guests back and forth all day.”

“I d’no,” sez Arville, “whether it will take so much more work or not; it is most of it run by water-power and electricity, and water keeps on a-runnin’ all day Sunday as well as week days.

“Your mill-dam don’t stop, Miss Cork, because it is Sunday.”

Miss Cork’s house stands right by the dam, and you can’t hear yourself speak there hardly, so it wuz what you might expect, to have her object specially to noise.

Miss Cork kinder tosted her head and drawed down her upper lip in a real contemptious way, and Arvilly went on and resoomed: 

“And electricity keeps on somewhere a-actin’ and behavin’; it don’t stop Sundays.  I have seen worse thunder-storms Sundays, it does seem to me, than I ever see week days.  And when old Mom Nater sets such a show a-goin’ Sundays, you have got to tend it, whether you think it is wicked or not.