"'Why, Timothy,' says his wife, helpless, 'it's all warm there now, an' we don't know what else. We thought we'd carry up their supper to 'em—'
"'Supper,' says Timothy, 'in the house o' the Lord?'
"Then Mis' Toplady spunks up some.
"'Why, yes,' she says; 'I'm goin' to milk the Jersey an' take up the two pails.'
"Timothy waves his barked arm in the air.
"'Never!' s'e. 'Never. We elders'll never consent to that, not in this world!'
"At that we all stood around sort o' pinned to the air. This hadn't occurred to nobody. But his wife was back at him, rill crispy.
"'Timothy Toplady,' s'she, 'they use churches for horspitals an' refuges,' she says.
"'They do,' says Timothy, solemn, 'they do, in necessity, an' war, an' siege. But here's the whole o' Friendship Village to take these children in, an' it's sacrilege to use the house o' God for any purpose whatever while it's waitin' its dedication. It's stealin', he says, 'from the Lord Most High.'
"I never see anybody more het up. We all tried to tell him. Nobody in Friendship has a warm spare room in winter, without it's the Proudfits, an' they was in Europe an' their house locked. Mebbe six of us, we counted up afterwards, could 'a' took in two children to sleep in a cold room, or one child to sleep with some one o' the family. But as Abel said, where was the time to canvass round? An' what could we do with the other little things? But Timothy wouldn't listen to nothin'.