Humor had never been known to them. There is no humor in the all-day buzz of the cotton factory; and fun and the fight of life for daily bread do not sleep in the same crib.
The Hillites tittered and giggled.
“Maw,” whispered Miss Butts, “look at Archie B.”
Mrs. Butts hastily reached over the bench and yanked Archie B. down. His whiskers were confiscated and in a moment he was on his knees and deeply devotional, while the young Hillites nudged each other, and giggled and the young Cottontowners stared and wondered, and looked to see when Archie B. would be hung up by the thumbs.
The Bishop was reading the afternoon chapter when the animal in Archie B. broke out in another spot. The chapter was where Zacharias climbed into a sycamore tree to see his passing Lord. There was a rattling of the stove pipe in one corner.
“Maw,” whispered Miss Butts, “Jes' look at Archie B.—he's climbin' the stove pipe like Zacharias did the sycamo'.”
Horror again swept over Cottontown, while the Hillites cackled aloud. The Elder settled it by calmly laying aside his spectacles and starting down the pulpit steps. But Archie B. guessed his purpose and before he had reached the last step he was sitting demurely by the side of his pious brother, intently engaged in reading the New Testament.
Without his glasses, the Elder never knew one twin from the other, but presuming that the studious one was Ozzie B., he seized the other by the ear, pulled him to the open window and pitched him out on the grass.
It was Ozzie B. of course, and Archie B. turned cautiously around to the Hillites behind, after the Elder had gone hack to his chapter, and whispered:
“Venture pee-wee under the bridge—bam—bam—bam.”