Contending Forces

door, and even the pastor was not allowed to enter, being told that the dining-room had been engaged for an hour by a private party. At eight o’clock a message was brought to her by a lad stationed at the outside entrance to the vestry, and Mrs. Robinson immediately hurried to the door to receive a sleigh-load of young white ladies and gentlemen who had come from among the wealthy people of the city, for whom Mrs. Robinson was a faithful servant, to help her triumph over her enemies. With head thrown back and held very high, and satisfaction beaming from her countenance, the good sister marched in at the head of the company like a successful warrior on his return from victory. The assembled company made way, gazing with awe upon so many representatives of wealth and influence. Then they were lost within the sacred precincts of the dining-room, into which Mrs. Robinson ushered them. The pastor was sent for presently, and attended by the most prominent trustee on the Board, he waited upon the guests who had so honored his flock. During the interview which ensued the door was closed to the gaze of the inquisitive crowd, but after half an hour the good man came forth with the guests and proceeded to show them the points of interest in the fair. A few minutes before nine they took their departure, seemingly well pleased with what they had seen.

“Well, Sis’ Davis,” said one of the brothers when the door closed upon the visitors and the company felt at liberty to enjoy itself after its own fashion, “well, sister, that ruther gits ahead of you. Sis’ Robberson’s got you dead sure this time.”

He laughed with a good-natured chuckle which was meant to be very aggravating.

“Beats who? me?” snorted Mrs. Davis, as she turned upon the questioner with a stony stare. “White folks don’t scare Ophelia Davis. I’se seed ’em befo’ in my life, an’ I’ve eat at the table wif ’em, that’s mo’. Didn’t hev to hev the do’ shet on me to keep me out the dining-room ’cause they was feered the black’d rub off. I think too much o’ my white people to trot ’em up here to this one-cen’ ’fair.”

“No use, Sis’ Davis, we’s got yer,” laughed another member who had just come up. “Robberson’s smart.”

“Smart!” cried the irate woman, now thoroughly angry. “You-alls havin’ yer hallelujah meetin’ too soon. Don’ holler ’tell yer knows what yer hollerin’ ’bout. I ain’t beat tell nine o’clock sharp, when the polls is closed.”

“Five minutes is all you’s got, anyhow. Can’t change much in five minutes,” laughed another.

Just at this moment a messenger boy made his way from the door and was conducted to the judges’ seat. He handed them an envelope which upon being opened was seen to contain two bits of paper.

“Please step this way, Mrs. Davis, and make your mark for value received,” called out one of the judges.

Mrs. Davis was escorted to the table by a curious crowd, anxious to know the meaning of this latest sensation. The judge stood up after she had signed, and said: “Ladies and gentlemen, knowing the interest that you take in all that relates to the two ladies who are rival candidates for the piano, and also for the ten dollars for the largest amount taken at a refreshment table, I beg leave to state that one hundred and fifty dollars have been contributed by Mrs. Mason and Mrs. Molly Mason Farnham, to be used for buying votes in the favor of Mrs. Davis in the contest for the piano, and to swell the receipts at her refreshment tables. As I hold my watch in my hand it is now one minute of the closing hour of the polls. Any more votes?” He paused and looked around. “No more? then I have the honor of informing you that the polls are closed. No more tickets can be bought, and I may as well say right here that Sister Davis will have the most votes; she’ll stand at least five hundred ahead. Now I propose that we give three cheers for Sister Davis.”

And they were given with a will, led by the pastor, who stood upon a chair and swung his bandana handkerchief wildly in the air.

Mrs. Davis was greatly excited. “Sis’ Robberson’s got me, has she? Beat, am I? How ’bout it, honeys, how ’bout it?”

Sister Mary Jane Robinson was carried home sick, in a herdic.

The next night brought a great crowd to see the distribution of the prizes. The fun waxed warmer and warmer as each name was called. When young ’Mandy Jackson was called to receive the diamond pin, her twin brothers turned handsprings in the aisle, and yelled out: “Hi, ’Mandy, yer a peach! We-uns did the bisness fer yer, yer bet.”

Sister Susanna Johnson received the much-coveted silver set, and thought with pride of the handsome sideboard, and made up her mind then and there to give the Stewardess Board such a tea as they had not had for many a day, before another week rolled over her head.

Jim Anderson walked up to the judges’ stand feeling very bashful and with a fearful grin on his face, when his name was called for the gold watch and chain.

“Wet it, Jim! wet it!” cried one of his friends.

“Set ’em up, ol’ man!” roared another, as Jim returned to his seat. “Don’t be ’shamed; do the right thing by the boys.”

Jim Anderson was angry. He was a trustee, and was looked up to by all the young members as an exemplary Christian. Jim made up his mind not to stand it, and he paused on the way to his seat and offered to take the speaker and “set him up” by standing him on his head if he’d only come out where he could get at him, “makin’ a fool o’ him right out in chuch.”

This stopped the fun in that direction, for Jim was a beef-lugger at