"No, indeed! Papers—essays on—on—" Mrs. Tweedie tried to reduce her language to Mrs. Stout's mental level in vain.
"Oh, how stoopid I am!" Mrs. Stout interrupted, thereby unconsciously rescuing Mrs. Tweedie from her difficulty, "I understand now. I s'pose she'll try to tell us a lot about religion, and—"
"Pardon me," said Mrs. Tweedie, quickly, "I think not. Would it be wise to discuss religion at our meetings? I am sure that the other sex never tolerate it in their organizations."
"I s'pose you mean the men?" queried Mrs. Stout.
"I do."
"Well, that's true enough, I guess, but it ain't because they don't think it's wise. It's because men don't naturally hanker after religion. There's my husband, a good 'nough man, but I can't get him to go to meetin' to save me, though he will go fishin' spite of all I can say or do."
"Really!" gasped Mrs. Flint. "Does he really fish on the Sabbath?"
"He certainly does," replied Mrs. Stout, "jest as reg'lar as he eats his vi't'ls."
Mrs. Tweedie and Mrs. Flint were horribly shocked, and to their cultured minds perhaps "vi't'ls" was quite as shocking as Sabbath fishing.
"And what else are we goin' to do besides havin' papers read?" continued Mrs. Stout.