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over some beets when raised voices at the next stall caught her attention.
    â€œI won’t accept this,” a man with a long grey beard said to the woman who was tending the stall. “This is bad money. I should know, I work at a bank.”
    The woman was red-faced. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know there was anything wrong with it.”
    â€œA likely story,” the man huffed, and when the woman offered him coins instead, he grabbed them and stuffed them in his pocket. “Should call a constable,” he muttered as he marched away.
    Thaddeus walked over to the stall. “We ended up with some forged notes as well,” he said. “The bank says there’s a lot of it around.”
    â€œJust what we need when nobody knows what’s happening with our money anyway,” the woman said, and then she looked at Thaddeus a little more closely. “You’re the preacher! From the camp meeting. The one who’s going head to head with the Baptist tomorrow.”
    â€œYes, that’s correct,” Thaddeus said. “Will we see you there?”
    Martha could see that he was pleased.
    â€œWouldn’t miss it for the world,” the woman said. “I’m leaving the market early today just to make sure I get home in plenty of time to get gussied up before we head for Cold Springs. I’m looking forward to it. The whole neighbourhood’s going, you know — even the ones who aren’t Methodist or Baptist.”
    â€œYou never know,” Thaddeus said, “maybe they will be by the time the meeting is over.”
    This was met with a deep chuckle. “Well, now I know who I’m putting my money on.”
    The exchange seemed to put Thaddeus in a good mood for the rest of the day, helped not a little, Martha hoped, by the success of her blueberry pie.

III
    The next day dawned warm and fair, a promising forecast for a full attendance at the Great Baptism Debate, as Thaddeus had come to think of it. The entire Small family, not unexpectedly, was eager to attend the meeting, even though it was a six-mile drive to the hall at Cold Springs.
    â€œI know James is only assisting,” Mr. Small said, “but we’d all like to hear him. I’ll hitch up the wagon so we can take all of us. Do you think young Martha would like to come along as well?”
    Thaddeus appreciated the offer. He knew Martha would love to “come along,” as Mr. Small put it, but better yet, the Smalls could also bring her home again, leaving Thaddeus free to travel west after the meeting.
    When Mr. Small pulled the wagon up in front of the manse, Thaddeus was surprised to see that James had tethered his horse to the back of the wagon, and when he had handed Martha in, he clambered up to claim a place beside her on one of the hay bales Mr. Small had laid out for seats. Thaddeus could see that Martha was less than pleased with this arrangement. She kept inching away from Small, and initiating conversation with one or another of his brothers.
    It was still very early when they left Cobourg, but the sun wasn’t far up in the sky before its effects were felt, and the women removed their shawls and wraps. As Thaddeus trotted alongside the lumbering hay wagon, he reflected that his choice of Cold Springs as the site for the debate had been a wise one. Their route was far west of the route the railway was taking and they were unlikely to experience any delays from the construction. Not that anyone would be working on a Sunday, of course, but any of the roads in the vicinity of the railway were rough and chewed up from the constant heavy traffic. They would still hit a number of bumpy sections on the way to Cold Springs, but the weather had been so hot and dry that the road had compacted into a surface as hard as granite. They should make good time.
    They did, and not just because of the reasonable condition of the road. At each steep incline, the Small boys jumped out