Prayer-meeting being but a semi-official
occasion, he wore his second-best coat, and it had followed the
shrinking habit established by its predecessors.
"Now," commanded Mr. Moseley, "place your hand upon my shoulder."
Mr. Meech did so with self-conscious gravity and serious apprehensions
as to the revelations to follow.
"Now," continued Mr. Moseley, "I place my arm about your waist--thus."
"Surely not," objected Mr. Meech, in embarrassment.
But Mr. Moseley was relentless. "I assure you it is true. And the
other hand--" He stopped in grave deliberation. The Methodist brother,
who had been growing more and more overcharged with suppressed
knowledge, could contain himself no longer.
"That's not right at all!" he burst forth irritably. "You don't hook
your arm around like that! You hold the left arm out and saw it up and
down--like this."
He snatched the bewildered Mr. Meech from Mr. Moseley's embrace, and
humming a waltz, stepped briskly about the limited space, to the
consternation of the onlookers, who hastened to tuck their feet under
their chairs.
Mr. Meech, looking as if he were being backed into eternity, stumbled
on the rug and clutched violently at the table-cover. In his downfall
he carried his instructor with him, and a deluge of tracts from the
table above followed.
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