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back for lunch,” said Cynthia. “At least that’s what I heard. Some of them anyway. They think The Ginger Cat’s too expensive, and they don’t want to go into the Bear and Brew since they’re picketing it.”
    “ That’s just good manners,” said Meg.
    “ Well,” said Pete, getting to his feet, “we’d better get this place cleaned up and ready for lunch, then.”
    “ They may be back here earlier than that,” Cynthia said, with a glance to the front windows. “Look outside.”
    In the last thirty seconds, the sun had all but disappeared, the air pressure had dropped noticeably, and the trees were starting to wave their branches in a somewhat alarming fashion.
    “ Lookit my arms,” said Pauli Girl, holding her arm out for inspection. “All the hair’s standing up.”
    “ Weird,” said Noylene.
    “ I’m takin’ my break,” said Wormy, helping himself to a waffle that had been mysteriously left uneaten on a moderately clean plate.
    “ Me, too,” said José. He didn’t make a move for a waffle, but did get up and pour himself a cup of coffee.
    “ I’ll go see how the prayer meeting’s going,” I said.
    “ I’m coming, too,” said Meg. “For a little while, at least.”
    “ Count me in,” said Cynthia.
    Pete gave Cynthia his best puppy-dog look. “I thought maybe you’d help out here,” he said. “Look at this mess.”
    “ Nope,” said Cynthia. “You’re on your own. I’m the mayor.”

    •••

    By the time we’d battled the wind and walked across the park, the vigil was in full swing. Brother Hog was standing on a soapbox—an actual soap box. I don’t know where he got it. I wasn’t sure I’d even seen one before. On the side of the wooden box was the old Ivory Soap logo accompanied by the slogan “99.44/100 % Pure: It Floats.” Brother Hog was perched on top, his comb-over struggling valiantly to remain atop his head. The rest of the crowd, forty or so people, huddled together against the upcoming storm. The giant storm clouds had rolled in, and the rumbling of the thunder was beyond ominous. The flashes of lightning that we saw were still hidden in the folds of the great clouds, but they were frequent and not a little frightening.
    “ I’m not going to stay out here very long,” said Meg.
    “ Me, neither,” I said.
    The Bear and Brew wasn’t open, and no one would even be there for another half-hour or so, but Russ Stafford joined us on the sidewalk behind the faithful gatherers.
    “ I sure hope that referendum passes,” he said. “It’d be good for business.”
    “ I have no problem with it,” I said. “I certainly wouldn’t mind a beer with my pizza on a Sunday afternoon.”
    “ Now you all know why we’re here,” said Brother Hog in a stentorian voice. He hadn’t been preaching at tent revivals all those years for nothing. He had the lungs of a Wagnerian tenor.
    “ We don’t need to be serving any liquor on the Lord’s Day. That day is set aside for the worship of God in His Holiness. Now, we can’t do nothin’ about how people choose to spend that day. Many will go to sporting events. Many will choose their own relaxation over the worship of God Almighty. Can’t do nothin’ about that. But we can do something about this, and what we can do, we should do.”
    “ Amen, brother,” came a voice from the crowd.
    “ So, let’s pray that God will intervene in this election and that His will be done.”
    The wind had finally gotten hold of the end of Brother Hog’s hair, and it was unwinding at a rapid pace. He didn’t see it until it came floating by his face on its second revolution, at which point he grabbed the end and stuffed it down his shirt. Most people didn’t notice or didn’t care. They had their own well-being to worry about.
    “ Let us pray,” yelled Brother Hog, over the wind. A huge clap of thunder made everyone jump. It was close.
    “ Dear God, all powerful and ever living King of the Universe…”
    We felt the first