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diff --git a/25171-h/25171-h.htm b/25171-h/25171-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bdf6737 --- /dev/null +++ b/25171-h/25171-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6524 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Uncalled, by Paul Laurence Dunbar</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + + h1,h2,h3 {text-align: center; + clear: both; + } + h1.second {padding-top: 2em;} + h2 {padding: 1.5em;} + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + background-color: #000; + color: #333;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + td {padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;} + table.contents {text-align: center; border: dashed 1px #4F7661; margin-top: 2em;} + table.ad1 td {padding-top: 0.5em; padding-bottom:0.5em; padding-left:0; padding-right:0;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + a {color: #4F7661;} + a:visited {color: #CAB773;} + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: silver; + } + + .tp {padding: 3em;} /* title page */ + .tpfooter {padding-top: 5em;} + .lg {font-size: 125%; text-align: center;} /* front matter font sizes */ + .med {font-size: 85%; text-align: center;} + .sm {font-size: 75%; text-align: center;} + .copy1 {padding: 2em;} + .copy2 {padding: 2em;} + .dedication {font-size: 105%; padding: 2em;} + .end {font-size: x-large; text-align:center; padding: 2em;} + + .letter {font-size: 85%; margin: 2%;} + + ul {list-style-type: none;} + ul.nomarg {padding-left: 0; + margin-left: 0;} + + .adblock {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; + margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em; + width: 25em;} + .adheader1 {font-size:160%; text-align:center;} + .adheader2 {font-size:120%; text-align:center;} + .adfooter1 {font-size:115%; font-weight: 500; text-align:center;} + .adfooter2 {font-weight: 600; text-align:center;} + .adtitle {font-size:110%; text-align:center; margin-top: 3%; margin-bottom: 1%;} + .revhd {font-variant: small-caps; text-align:center;} + .adsm {font-size: 80%;} + .btb {border-top: solid 2px; border-bottom: solid 2px; width: 200px; + margin: auto;} + + .tr {padding: .5em; + text-align: center; border: dashed 1px #4F7661; + margin: 1em 5% 1em 5%; font-size: 80%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + em {font-style: italic;} + cite {font-style: italic;} + span:lang(la) {font-style: italic;} + + .dropcap {float:left; + font-size:50px; + line-height:35px; + padding-top:1px;} + .undrop {float:left; + font-size:15px; + line-height:15px; + } + + ins.correction {text-decoration:none; + border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .figtp {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 4em;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Uncalled, by Paul Laurence Dunbar</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Uncalled</p> +<p> A Novel</p> +<p>Author: Paul Laurence Dunbar</p> +<p>Release Date: April 25, 2008 [eBook #25171]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNCALLED***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by S. Drawehn, Suzanne Shell,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 453px;"> +<img src="images/cover1a.jpg" width="453" height="700" alt="" title="Cover" /> +</div> + +<div class="tp"> +<h1>The Uncalled<br /><br /> + +A Novel</h1> + +<div class="figtp" style="width: 45px;"> +<img src="images/tpdeco.png" width="40" height="26" alt="decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="lg">By PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR<br /> + +<span class="med"><i>Author of "Lyrics of Lowly Life"</i></span></p> + +<div class="tpfooter"> +<p class="sm">New York<br /> +International Association of Newspapers and Authors<br /> +1901</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="copy1"> +<p class="med"><i>Copyright, 1898</i><br /> + +<span class="smcap">By Paul Laurence Dunbar</span><br /> +<br /> +<i>Copyright, 1898</i><br /> + +<span class="smcap">By Dodd, Mead and Company</span></p> +</div> + +<div class="copy2"> +<p class="sm">NORTH RIVER BINDERY CO.<br /> +PRINTERS AND BINDERS<br /> +NEW YORK<br /></p> +</div> + +<div class="dedication"> +<p class="center">Dedicated<br /> + +TO MY WIFE</p> +</div> + +<div class="contents"> +<table class="contents" cellspacing="4" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#Page_1">Chapter I</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Page_11">Chapter II</a></td> +<td><a href="#Page_20">Chapter III</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Page_32">Chapter IV</a></td> +<td><a href="#Page_44">Chapter V</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Page_55">Chapter VI</a></td> +<td><a href="#Page_71">Chapter VII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Page_88">Chapter VIII</a></td> +<td><a href="#Page_105">Chapter IX</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Page_124">Chapter X</a></td> +<td><a href="#Page_142">Chapter XI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Page_160">Chapter XII</a></td> +<td><a href="#Page_175">Chapter XIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Page_191">Chapter XIV</a></td> +<td><a href="#Page_209">Chapter XV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Page_224">Chapter XVI</a></td> +<td><a href="#Page_241">Chapter XVII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#Transcribers_Note">Transcriber's Note</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p><!-- Page 1 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h1 class="second">THE UNCALLED</h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 45px;"> +<br /> +<img src="images/chap1deco.png" width="30" height="35" alt="decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="smcap">t</span> was about six o'clock of a winter's morning. In the eastern sky faint +streaks of grey had come and were succeeded by flashes of red, +crimson-cloaked heralds of the coming day. It had snowed the day before, +but a warm wind had sprung up during the night, and the snow had +partially melted, leaving the earth showing through in ugly patches of +yellow clay and sooty mud. Half despoiled of their white mantle, though +with enough of it left to stand out in bold contrast to the bare places, +the houses loomed up, black, dripping, and hideous. Every once in a +while the wind caught the water as it trickled from the eaves, and sent +it flying abroad in a chill unsparkling spray. The morning came in, +cold, damp, and dismal.</p> + +<p>At the end of a short, dirty street in the<!-- Page 2 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> meanest part of the small +Ohio town of Dexter stood a house more sagging and dilapidated in +appearance than its disreputable fellows. From the foundation the walls +converged to the roof, which seemed to hold its place less by virtue of +nails and rafters than by faith. The whole aspect of the dwelling, if +dwelling it could be called, was as if, conscious of its own meanness, +it was shrinking away from its neighbours and into itself. A sickly +light gleamed from one of the windows. As the dawn came into the sky, a +woman came to the door and looked out. She was a slim woman, and her +straggling, dusty-coloured hair hung about an unpleasant sallow face. +She shaded her eyes with her hand, as if the faint light could hurt +those cold, steel-grey orbs. "It 's mornin'," she said to those within. +"I 'll have to be goin' along to git my man's breakfast: he goes to work +at six o'clock, and I 'ain't got a thing cooked in the house fur him. +Some o' the rest o' you 'll have to stay an' lay her out." She went back +in and closed the door behind her.</p> + +<p>"La, Mis' Warren, you ain't a-goin' a'ready? Why, there 's everything to +be done here yit: Margar't 's to be laid out, an'<!-- Page 3 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> this house has to be +put into some kind of order before the undertaker comes."</p> + +<p>"I should like to know what else I 'm a-goin' to do, Mis' Austin. +Charity begins at home. My man 's got to go to work, an' he 's got to +have his breakfast: there 's cares fur the livin' as well as fur the +dead, I say, an' I don't believe in tryin' to be so good to them that 's +gone that you furgit them that 's with you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Austin pinched up her shrivelled face a bit more as she replied, +"Well, somebody ought to stay. I know I can't, fur I 've got a ter'ble +big washin' waitin' fur me at home, an' it 's been two nights sence I +'ve had any sleep to speak of, watchin' here. I 'm purty near broke +down."</p> + +<p>"That 's jest what I 've been a-sayin'," repeated Mrs. Warren. "There 's +cares fur the livin' as well as fur the dead; you 'd ought to take care +o' yoreself: first thing you know you 'll be flat o' yore own back."</p> + +<p>A few other women joined their voices in the general protest against +staying. It was for all the world as if they had been anxious to see the +poor woman out of the world, and, now that they knew her to be gone, had +no further concern for her. All had some<!-- Page 4 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>thing to do, either husbands to +get off to work or labours of their own to perform.</p> + +<p>A little woman with a weak voice finally changed the current of talk by +saying, "Well, I guess I kin stay: there 's some cold things at home +that my man kin git, an' the childern 'll git off to school by +themselves. They 'll all understand."</p> + +<p>"That 's right, Melissy Davis," said a hard-faced woman who had gone on +about some work she was doing, without taking any notice of the +clamorous deserters, "an' I 'll stay with you. I guess I 've got about +as much work to do as any of you," she added, casting a cold glance at +the women who were now wrapped up and ready to depart, "an' I was n't so +much of a friend of Margar't's as some of you, neither, but on an +occasion like this I know what dooty is." And Miss Hester Prime closed +her lips in a very decided fashion.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, some folks is so well off in money an' time that they kin +afford to be liberal with a pore creature like Margar't, even ef they +did n't have nothin' to do with her before she died."</p> + +<p>Miss Prime's face grew sterner as she replied, "Margar't Brent was n't +my kind<!-- Page 5 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> durin' life, an' that I make no bones o' sayin' here an' now; +but when she got down on the bed of affliction I done what I could fur +her along with the best of you; an' you, Mandy Warren, that 's seen me +here day in an' day out, ought to be the last one to deny that. +Furthermore, I did n't advise her to leave her husband, as some people +did, but I did put in a word an' help her to work so 's to try to keep +her straight afterwards, though it ain't fur me to be a-braggin' about +what I done, even to offset them that did n't do nothin'."</p> + +<p>This parting shot told, and Mrs. Warren flared up like a wax light. "It +'s a wonder yore old tracts an' the help you give her did n't keep her +sober sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Ef I could n't keep her sober, I was n't one o' them that set an' took +part with her when she was gittin' drunk."</p> + +<p>"'Sh! 'sh!" broke in Mrs. Davis: "ef I was you two I would n't go on +that way. Margar't 's dead an' gone now, an' what 's past is past. Pore +soul, she had a hard enough time almost to drive her to destruction; but +it 's all over now, an' we ought to put her away as peaceful as +possible."</p> + +<p>The women who had all been in such a<!-- Page 6 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> hurry had waited at the prospect +of an altercation, but, seeing it about to blow over, they bethought +themselves of their neglected homes and husbands, and passed out behind +the still irate Mrs. Warren, who paused long enough in earshot to say, +"I hope that spiteful old maid 'll have her hands full."</p> + +<p>The scene within the room which the women had just left was anything but +an inviting one. The place was miserably dirty. Margaret had never been +a particularly neat housewife, even in her well days. The old rag carpet +which disfigured the floor was worn into shreds and blotched with +grease, for the chamber was cooking- and dining- as well as sleeping-room. A stove, red with rust, struggled to +send forth some heat. The oily black kerosene lamp showed a sickly +yellow flame through the grimy chimney.</p> + +<p>On a pallet in one corner lay a child sleeping. On the bed, covered with +a dingy sheet, lay the stark form out of which the miserable life had so +lately passed.</p> + +<p>The women opened the blinds, blew out the light, and began performing +the necessary duties for the dead.</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, let her body go clean before her Maker," said Miss Hester +Prime, severely.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 7 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p><p>"Don't be too hard on the pore soul, Miss Hester," returned Mrs. Davis. +"She had a hard time of it. I knowed Margar't when she was n't so low +down as in her last days."</p> + +<p>"She ought n't never to 'a' left her husband."</p> + +<p>"Oh, ef you 'd 'a' knowed him as I did, Miss Hester, you would n't never +say that. He was a brute: sich beatin's as he used to give her when he +was in liquor you never heerd tell of."</p> + +<p>"That was hard, but as long as he was a husband he was a protection to +her name."</p> + +<p>"True enough. Protection is a good dish, but a beatin's a purty bitter +sauce to take with it."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what 's ever become of Brent."</p> + +<p>"Lord knows. No one 'ain't heerd hide ner hair o' him sence he went away +from town. People thought that he was a-hangin' around tryin' to git a +chance to kill Mag after she got her divorce from him, but all at once +he packed off without sayin' a word to anybody. I guess he's drunk +himself to death by this time."</p> + +<p>When they had finished with Margaret, the women set to work to clean up +the house.<!-- Page 8 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> The city physician who had attended the dead woman in her +last hours had reported the case for county burial, and the undertaker +was momentarily expected.</p> + +<p>"We 'll have to git the child up an' git his pallet out of the way, so +the floor kin be swept."</p> + +<p>"A body hates to wake the pore little motherless dear."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, after all, the child is better off without her example."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Hester, perhaps; but a mother, after all, is a mother."</p> + +<p>"Even sich a one as this?"</p> + +<p>"Even sich a one as this."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Davis bent over the child, and was about to lift him, when he +stirred, opened his eyes, and sat up of his own accord. He appeared +about five years of age. He might have been a handsome child, but +hardship and poor feeding had taken away his infantile plumpness, and he +looked old and haggard, even beneath the grime on his face. The kindly +woman lifted him up and began to dress him.</p> + +<p>"I want my mamma," said the child.</p> + +<p>Neither of the women answered: there was something tugging at their +heart-strings that killed speech.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 9 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>Finally the little woman said, "I don't know ef we did right to let him +sleep through it all, but then it was sich a horrible death."</p> + +<p>When she had finished dressing the child, she led him to the bed and +showed him his mother's face. He touched it with his little grimy +finger, and then, as if, young as he was, the realization of his +bereavement had fully come to him, he burst into tears.</p> + +<p>Miss Hester turned her face away, but Mrs. Davis did not try to conceal +her tears. She took the boy up in her arms and comforted him the best +she could.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, Freddie," she said; "don't cry; mamma's—restin'. Ef you +don't care, Miss Prime, I 'll take him over home an' give him some +breakfast, an' leave him with my oldest girl, Sophy. She kin stay out o' +school to-day. I 'll bring you back a cup o' tea, too; that is, ef you +ain't afeared—"</p> + +<p>"Afeared o' what?" exclaimed Miss Prime, turning on her.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, Miss Hester, bein' left alone—ah—some people air +funny about—"</p> + +<p>"I 'm no fool, Melissy Davis. Take the child an' go on."</p> + +<p>Miss Hester was glad of the chance to be<!-- Page 10 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> sharp. It covered the weakness +to which she had almost given way at sight of the child's grief. She +bustled on about her work when Mrs. Davis was gone, but her brow was +knit into a wrinkle of deep thought. "A mother is a mother, after all," +she mused aloud, "even sich a one."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 11 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">F</span><span class="smcap">or</span> haste, for unadulterated despatch, commend me to the county burying. +The body politic is busy and has no time to waste on an inert human +body. It does its duty to its own interest and to the pauper dead when +the body is dropped with all celerity into the ground. The county is +philosophical: it says, "Poor devil, the world was unkind to him: he 'll +be glad to get out of it: we 'll be doing him a favour to put him at the +earliest moment out of sight and sound and feeling of the things that +wounded him. Then, too, the quicker the cheaper, and that will make it +easier on the taxpayers." This latter is so comforting! So the order is +written, the funeral is rushed through, and the county goes home to its +dinner, feeling well satisfied with itself,—so potent are the +consolations of philosophy at so many hundreds per year.</p> + +<p>To this general order poor Margaret's funeral proved no exception. The +morning after her decease she was shrouded and laid<!-- Page 12 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> in her cheap pine +coffin to await those last services which, in a provincial town, are the +meed of saint and sinner alike. The room in which she lay was very +clean,—unnaturally so,—from the attention of Miss Prime. Clean muslin +curtains had been put up at the windows, and the one cracked mirror +which the house possessed had been covered with white cloth. The +lace-like carpet had been taken off the floor, and the boards had been +scrubbed white. The little stove in the corner, now cold, was no longer +red with rust. In a tumbler on a little table at Margaret's head stood +the only floral offering that gave a touch of tenderness to the grim +scene,—a bunch of home-grown scarlet and white geraniums. Some woman +had robbed her wintered room of this bit of brightness for the memory of +the dead. The perfume of the flowers mingled heavily with the faint +odour which pervades the chamber of death,—an odour that is like the +reminiscence of sorrow.</p> + +<p>Like a spirit of order, with solemn face and quiet tread, Miss Hester +moved about the room, placing one thing here, another there, but ever +doing or changing something, all with maidenly neatness. What a +childish<!-- Page 13 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> fancy this is of humanity's, tiptoeing and whispering in the +presence of death, as if one by an incautious word or a hasty step might +wake the sleeper from such deep repose!</p> + +<p>The service had been set for two o'clock in the afternoon. One or two +women had already come in to "sit," but by half-past one the general +congregation began to arrive and to take their places. They were mostly +women. The hour of the day was partially responsible for this; but then +men do not go to funerals anyway, if they can help it. They do not +revel, like their sisters, in the exquisite pleasure of sorrow. Most of +the women had known pain and loss themselves, and came with ready +sympathy, willing, nay, anxious to be moved to tears. Some of them came +dragging by one hand children, dressed stiffly, uncomfortably, and +ludicrously,—a medley of soiled ribbons, big collars, wide bows, and +very short knickerbockers. The youngsters were mostly curious and +ill-mannered, and ever and anon one had to be slapped by its mother into +snivelling decorum. Mrs. Davis came in with one of her own children and +leading the dead woman's boy by the hand. At this a buzz of whispered +conversation began.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 14 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p><p>"Pore little dear," said one, as she settled the bow more securely +under her own boy's sailor collar,—"pore little dear, he 's all alone +in the world."</p> + +<p>"I never did see in all my life sich a young child look so sad," said +another.</p> + +<p>"H'm!" put in a third; "in this world pore motherless childern has +plenty o' reason to look sad, I tell you."</p> + +<p>She brushed the tears off the cheek of her little son whom she had +slapped a moment before. She was tender now.</p> + +<p>One woman bent down and whispered into her child's ear as she pointed +with one cotton-gloved finger, "See, Johnny, see little Freddie, there; +he 'ain't got no mother no more. Pore little Freddie! ain't you sorry +fur him?" The child nodded, and gazed with open-eyed wonder at "little +Freddie" as if he were of a new species.</p> + +<p>The curtains, stirred by the blast through the loose windows, flapped +dismally, and the people drew their wraps about them, for the fireless +room was cold. Steadily, insistently, the hive-like drone of +conversation murmured on.</p> + +<p>"I wonder who 's a-goin' to preach the funeral," asked one.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 15 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, Mr. Simpson, of the Methodist Church, of course: she used to go to +that church years ago, you know, before she backslid."</p> + +<p>"That 's jest what I 've allus said about people that falls from grace. +You know the last state o' that man is worse than the first."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that 's true enough."</p> + +<p>"It 's a-puttin' yore hand to the ploughshare an' then turnin' back."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what the preacher 'll have to say fur her. It 's a mighty hard +case to preach about."</p> + +<p>"I 'm wonderin' too what he 'll say, an' where he 'll preach her."</p> + +<p>"Well, it 's hard to tell. You know the Methodists believe that there 's +'salvation to be found between the stirrup an' the ground.'"</p> + +<p>"It 's a mighty comfortin' doctern, too."</p> + +<p>"An' then they do say that she left some dyin' testimony; though I +'ain't never heerd tell the straight of it."</p> + +<p>"He can't preach her into heaven, o' course, after her life. Leastways +it don't hardly seem like it would be right an' proper."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't think he kin preach her<!-- Page 16 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> into hell, neither. After a +woman has gone through all that pore Margar't has, it seems to me that +the Lord ought to give her some consideration, even if men don't."</p> + +<p>"I do declare, Seely Matthews, with yore free thinkin' an' free +speakin', you 're put' nigh a infidel."</p> + +<p>"No, I ain't no infidel, neither, but I ain't one o' them that sings, +'When all thy mercies, O my God,' and thinks o' the Lord as if He was a +great big cruel man."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't neither; but—"</p> + +<p>"'Sh! 'sh!"</p> + +<p>The woman's declaration of principle was cut short by the entrance of +the minister, the Rev. Mr. Simpson. He was a tall, gaunt man, in a coat +of rusty black. His hair, of an indeterminate colour, was slightly mixed +with grey. A pair of bright grey eyes looked out from underneath bushy +eyebrows. His lips were close set. His bony hands were large and +ungainly. The Rev. Mr. Simpson had been a carpenter before he was +"called." He went immediately to the stand where lay the Bible and +hymn-book. He was followed by a man who had entered with him,—a man +with soft eyes and a kindly face. He was as tall as the pastor,<!-- Page 17 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> and +slender, but without the other's gauntness. He was evidently a church +official of some standing.</p> + +<p>With strange inappropriateness, the preacher selected and gave out the +hymn:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sister, thou wast mild and lovely,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Gentle as the summer's breeze.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>With some misgivings, it was carried through in the wavering treble of +the women and the straggling bass of the few men: then the kindly-faced +man, whom the preacher addressed as "Brother Hodges," knelt and offered +prayer. The supplication was very tender and childlike. Even by the +light of faith he did not seek to penetrate the veil of divine +intention, nor did he throw his javelin of prayer straight against the +Deity's armour of eternal reserve. He left all to God, as a child lays +its burden at its father's feet, and many eyes were moist as the people +rose from their knees.</p> + +<p>The sermon was a noisy and rather inconsequential effort. The preacher +had little to say, but he roared that little out in a harsh, unmusical +voice accompanied by much slapping of his hands and pounding of the +table. Towards the end he lowered his<!-- Page 18 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> voice and began to play upon the +feelings of his willing hearers, and when he had won his meed of sobs +and tears, when he had sufficiently probed old wounds and made them +bleed afresh, when he had conjured up dead sorrows from the grave, when +he had obscured the sun of heavenly hope with the vapours of earthly +grief, he sat down, satisfied.</p> + +<p>The people went forward, some curiously, some with sympathy, to look +their last on the miserable dead. Mrs. Davis led the weeping child +forward and held him up for a last gaze on his mother's face. The poor +geraniums were wiped and laid by the dead hands, and then the undertaker +glided in like a stealthy, black-garmented ghost. He screwed the +pine-top down, and the coffin was borne out to the hearse. He clucked to +his horses, and, with Brother Hodges and the preacher in front, and Mrs. +Davis, Miss Prime, and the motherless boy behind, the little funeral +train moved down the street towards the graveyard, a common but pathetic +spectacle.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Warren had remained behind to attend to the house. She watched the +short procession out of sight. "I guess Margar't<!-- Page 19 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> did n't have no linen +worth havin'," she said to herself, "but I 'll jest look." And look she +did, but without success. In disappointment and disgust she went out and +took the streamer of dusty black and dingy white crape from the door +where it had fluttered, and, bringing it in, laid it on the empty +trestles, that the undertaker might find it when he came for them. She +took the cloth off the mirror, and then, with one searching look around +to see that she had missed nothing worth taking, she went out, closing +and locking the door behind her.</p> + +<p>"I guess I 'm as much entitled to anything Mag had as any one else," +said Mrs. Warren.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 20 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">B</span><span class="smcap">y</span> common consent, and without the formality of publication or +proclamation, the women had agreed to meet on the day after the funeral +for the purpose of discussing what was best to be done with the boy +Fred. From the moment that Mrs. Davis had taken charge of him, he had +shown a love for her and confidence in her care that had thoroughly +touched that good woman's heart. She would have liked nothing better +than to keep him herself. But there were already five hungry little +Davises, and any avoidable addition to the family was out of the +question. To be sure, in the course of time there were two more added to +the number, but that was unavoidable, and is neither here nor there. The +good woman sat looking at the boy the night after his mother had been +laid away. He sat upon the floor among her own children, playing in the +happy forgetfulness of extreme youth. But to the mother's keen eye there +was still<!-- Page 21 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> a vague sadness in his bearing. Involuntarily, the scene and +conditions were changed, and, instead of poor Margaret, she herself had +passed away and was lying out there in a new-made grave in bleak and +dreary Woodland. She thought how her own bairns would be as motherless +and forlorn as the child before her, and yet not quite, either, for they +had a father who loved them in his own quiet undemonstrative way. This +should have consoled her in the sorrows she had conjured up, but, like a +woman, she thought of the father helpless and lonely when she had gone, +with the children huddled cheerlessly about him, and a veil of tears +came between her and the youngsters on the floor. With a great rush of +tenderness, she went and picked the motherless boy up and laid his head +on her breast.</p> + +<p>"Pore Freddie," she said, "I wish you could stay here all the time and +play with the other little ones."</p> + +<p>The child looked up at her with wondering eyes. "I kin stay till mamma +comes back," he answered.</p> + +<p>"But, Freddie dear, mamma won't come back any more. She 's"—the woman +hesitated—"she 's in heaven."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 22 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>"I want my mamma to come back," moaned the child. "I don't want her to +stay in heaven."</p> + +<p>"But you must n't cry, Freddie; an', some day, you kin go an' see +mamma."</p> + +<p>The child's curiosity got the better of his grief. He asked, "Is heaven +far, Mis' Davis?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, awful far," she answered. But she was wrong. Heaven is not +far from the warm heart and tender hands of a good woman.</p> + +<p>The child's head drooped, and he drowsed in her arms.</p> + +<p>"Put him to bed, Melissy,—pore little fellow," said her husband in +husky tones. He had been listening and watching them around the edge of +his paper. The child slept on, while the woman undressed him and laid +him in the bed.</p> + +<p>On the morrow the women dropped in one by one, until a half-dozen or +more were there, to plan the boy's future. They were all poor, and most +of them had families of their own. But all hoped that there might be +some plan devised whereby Margaret's boy might find a refuge without +going to the orphans' asylum, an institution which is the<!-- Page 23 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> detestation +of women. Mrs. Davis, in expressing her feelings, expressed those of all +the others: "I hate so to think of the pore little feller goin' to one +o' them childern's homes. The boys goin' around in them there drab +clothes o' theirs allus look like pris'ners to me, an' they ain't much +better off."</p> + +<p>"An' then childern do learn so much weekedness in them places from the +older ones," put in another.</p> + +<p>"Oh, as fur that matter, he 'll learn devilment soon enough anywhere," +snapped Mrs. Warren, "with that owdacious father o' his before him. I +would n't take the child by no means, though his mother an' me was +friends, fur blood 's bound to tell, an' with sich blood as he 's got in +him I don't know what he 'll come to, an' I 'm shore I don't want to be +a-raisin' no gallus-birds."</p> + +<p>The women felt rather relieved that Mrs. Warren so signally washed her +hands of Freddie. That was one danger he had escaped. The woman in +question had, as she said, been a close friend of Margaret's, and, as +such, an aider in her habits of intemperance. It had been apprehended +that her association with the mother might lead her to take the child.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 24 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p><p>"I 'd like to take Freddie myself," Mrs. Davis began again, "but with +my five, an' John out o' work half the time, another mouth to feed an' +another pair o' feet to cover would mean a whole lot. Though I do think +that ef I was dead an' my childern was sent to that miserable orphans' +home, I 'd turn over in my grave."</p> + +<p>"It 's a pity we don't know some good family that 'ain't got no childern +that 'ud take him an' bring him up as their own son," said a little +woman who took <cite>The Hearthside</cite>.</p> + +<p>"Sich people ain't growin' on trees no place about Dexter," Mrs. Warren +sniffed.</p> + +<p>"Well, I 'm sure I 've read of sich things. Ef the child was in a book +it 'ud happen to him, but he ain't. He 's a flesh and blood youngster +an' a-livin' in Dexter."</p> + +<p>"You could n't give us no idee what to do, could you, Mis' Austin?"</p> + +<p>"Lord love you, Mis' Davis, I 've jest been a-settin' here purty nigh +a-thinkin' my head off, but I 'ain't seen a gleam of light yit. You know +how I feel an' jest how glad I 'd be to do something, but then my man +growls about the three we 've got."</p> + +<p>"That 's jest the way with my man," said<!-- Page 25 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> the little woman who took her +ideas of life from the literature in <cite>The Hearthside</cite>. "He allus says +that pore folks ought n't to have so many childern."</p> + +<p>"Well, it 's a blessin' that Margar't did n't have no more, fur goodness +knows it 's hard enough disposin' o' this one."</p> + +<p>Just then a tap came at Mrs. Davis's door, and she opened it to admit +Miss Hester Prime.</p> + +<p>"I 'm ruther late gittin' here," said the new-comer, "but I 've been +a-neglectin' my work so in the last couple o' days that I 've had a +power of it to do to-day to ketch up."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we 're so glad you 've come!" said one of the women. "Mebbe you kin +help us out of our fix. We 're in sich a fix about little Freddie."</p> + +<p>"We don't want to send the pore little dear to the childern's home," +broke in another.</p> + +<p>"It 's sich an awful place fur young childern—"</p> + +<p>"An' they do look so pitiful—"</p> + +<p>"An' learn so much weekedness."</p> + +<p>And, as is the manner of women in council, they all began talking at +once, pouring into the new-comer's ears all the suggestions<!-- Page 26 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> and +objections, hopes and fears, that had been made or urged during their +conference.</p> + +<p>To it all Miss Hester listened, and there was a soft glow on her face +the while; but then she had been walking, which may account for the +flush. The child, all unconscious that his destiny was being settled, +was playing with two of the little Davises at the other end of the room. +The three days of good food, good treatment, and pleasant surroundings +had told on him, and he looked less forlorn and more like the child that +he was. He was clean. His brown eyes were sparkling with amusement, and +his brown hair was brushed up into the damp "roach" so dear to a woman's +heart. He was, thus, a far less forbidding sight than on the morning of +his mother's death, when, dingy and haggard, he rose from his dirty +pallet. As she listened to the varied remarks of her associates, Miss +Hester allowed her eyes to wander to the child's face, and for a moment +a tenderer expression grew about her lips, but in an instant it was +gone, and, as if she had been near committing herself to folly, she made +amends by drawing her countenance into more than its usually severe +lines.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Warren, who was always ready with<!-- Page 27 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> a stab, and who had not +forgotten her encounter of two days ago, spoke up with a little +malicious laugh. "Miss Hester 'ain't got no family: mebbe she might take +the child. 'Pears like she ought to be fond o' childern."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Davis immediately came to the rescue. "We don't expect no sich +thing of Miss Hester. She 's never been around childern, an' don't know +nothin' about takin' keer o' them; an' boys air hard to manage, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I should think Miss Hester could manage 'most anything," was the +sneering rejoinder.</p> + +<p>The women were aghast at such insolence. They did n't know what the +effect might be on Miss Prime. They looked at her in alarm. Her cold +grey eye impaled Mrs. Warren for an instant only, and then, paying no +more attention to her, she said quietly, "I was thinkin' this whole +matter over while I was finishin' up my work to come here, an', says I +to myself, 'Now there 's Melissy Davis,—she 's the very one that 'ud be +a mother to that child,' says I, 'an' she 'd bring him up right as a +child should be brought up.' I don't know no more<!-- Page 28 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> mannerly, +nice-appearin' childern in this neighbourhood, or the whole town, fur +that matter, than Melissy's—'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Hester!" faltered Mrs. Davis.</p> + +<p>But Miss Prime went on, unheeding the interruption. "Thinks I, 'Melissy +'s got a houseful already, an' she can't take another.' Then you comes +into my mind, Mis' Austin, an' says I, 'La me! she 's got three herself, +an' is young yit; she 'll have her hands full to look after her own +family.' Well, I thought of you all, an' some of you had families, an' +some of you had to go out fur day's work; an' then there 's some +people's hands I would n't want to see the child fall into." (This with +an annihilating glance in Mrs. Warren's direction.) "You know what the +Bible says about the sins of the father; well, that child needs proper +raisin': so in this way the Lord showed it to me that it was my dooty to +take up the burden myself."</p> + +<p>First there was an absolute silence of utter astonishment, and then, +"Oh, Miss Hester!" broke from a full chorus of voices.</p> + +<p>"You don't reelly mean it, Miss Hester?" said Mrs. Davis.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 29 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p><p>"I do that; but I want you all to understand that it ain't a matter of +pleasure or desire with me; it 's dooty. Ef I see a chance to save a +soul from perdition an' don't take it, I am responsible, myself, to the +Lord for that soul."</p> + +<p>The women were almost too astounded to speak, Mrs. Warren not less than +the rest of them. She had made her suggestion in derision, and here it +was being acted upon in sober earnest. She was entirely routed.</p> + +<p>"Now, Melissy, ef there ain't no one that disagrees with me, you might +as well pack up what few things the child has, an' I 'll take him +along."</p> + +<p>No one objected, and the few things were packed up. "Come, Freddie," +said Mrs. Davis tremulously, "get on yore hat." The child obeyed. "You +'re a-goin' to be Miss Hester's little boy now. You must be good."</p> + +<p>Miss Prime held out her hand to him, but the child drew back and held to +his protectress's skirt. A hurt expression came into the spinster's +face. It was as if the great sacrifice she was making was being +belittled and rejected by a child. Mrs. Warren laughed openly.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 30 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p><p>"Come, Freddie, be nice now, dear; go with Miss Hester."</p> + +<p>"I want to stay with you," cried the child.</p> + +<p>"Pore little dear!" chorussed the women.</p> + +<p>"But Mis' Davis can't keep the little boy; now he must go with Miss +Prime, an' sometimes he kin come an' see Mis' Davis an' play with John +an' Harriet. Won't that be nice?"</p> + +<p>"I want to stay with you."</p> + +<p>"Come, Frederick," said Miss Prime.</p> + +<p>"Go now, like a good boy," repeated Mrs. Davis. "Here 's a copper fur +you; take it in yore little hand,—that 's a man. Now kiss me good-bye. +Kiss John an' Harriet."</p> + +<p>The child, seeing that he must go, had given up resistance, and, doing +as he was bidden, took Miss Prime's hand, sobbingly. Some of us do not +learn so soon to bow to the inevitable.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, ladies. I must git back to my work," said Miss Hester.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, good-bye, Miss Hester," came the echo.</p> + +<p>The moment the door closed behind her and her charge, there was a volley +of remarks:</p> + +<p><!-- Page 31 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, I do hope she 'll be good to him."</p> + +<p>"I wonder how she 'll manage him."</p> + +<p>"Pore child, he did n't want to go at all."</p> + +<p>"Who 'd have thought it of Miss Hester?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I could have kept him myself," said Mrs. Davis, tearfully. "It +hurt my heart to see him cling to me so."</p> + +<p>"Never you mind, Melissy Davis; you 've done yore whole dooty as well as +you could."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Warren rose and put her shawl over her head preparatory to going. +"As fur my part," she said, "I 'd 'a' ruther seen that child in the +childern's home, devilment or no devilment, than where he is. He won't +dare to breathe from this hour on."</p> + +<p>The women were silent for a moment, and then Mrs. Davis said, "Well, +Miss Hester 's well-meanin'."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 32 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span><span class="smcap">t</span> the top of the mean street on which Margaret's house was situated, +and looking down upon its meaner neighbours in much the same way that +its mistress looked upon the denizens of the street, stood Miss Prime's +cottage. It was not on the mean street,—it would have disdained to +be,—but sat exactly facing it in prim watchfulness over the unsavoury +thoroughfare which ran at right angles. The cottage was one and a half +stories in height, and the upper half-story had two windows in front +that looked out like a pair of accusing eyes. It was painted a dull lead +colour. In summer the front yard was filled with flowers, hollyhocks, +bachelor's-buttons, sweet-william, and a dozen other varieties of +blooms. But they were planted with such exactness and straightness that +the poor flowers looked cramped and artificial and stiff as a party of +angular ladies dressed in bombazine. Here was no riot nor abandon in +growth. Every<!-- Page 33 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>thing had its place, and stayed therein or was plucked up.</p> + +<p>"I jest can't abide to see flowers growin' every which way," Miss Prime +used to remark, "fur all the world like a neighbourhood with different +people's children traipsin' through everybody else's house. Everything +in order, is my motto."</p> + +<p>Miss Hester had nearly arrived at her fortieth mile-stone; and she +effected the paradox of looking both younger and older than her age. +Younger, because she had always taken excellent care of herself. Her +form had still much of the roundness of youth, and her step was +sprightly and firm. She looked older than her age, because of the strong +lines in her face, the determined set of her lips, and the general air +of knowledge and self-sufficiency which pervaded her whole being. +Throughout her life she had sacrificed everything to duty, whether it +was the yearning of her own heart or the feelings of those who loved +her. In the world about her she saw so much of froth and frivolity that +she tried to balance matters by being especially staid and stern +herself. She did not consider that in the seesaw of life it takes more +than one person to toss up<!-- Page 34 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> the weight of the world's wickedness. Her +existence was governed by rigid rules, from which she never departed.</p> + +<p>It is hard to explain just what Miss Hester's position was among the +denizens of the poorer quarter. She was liked and disliked, admired and +feared. She would descend upon her victims with unasked counsel and +undesired tracts. Her voice was a trumpet of scathing invective against +their shiftlessness, their untidiness, and their immorality, but her +hand was as a horn of plenty in straitened times, and her presence in +sickness was a comfort. She made no pretence to being good-hearted; in +fact, she resented the term as applied to herself. It was all duty with +her.</p> + +<p>Up through the now dismantled garden to the prim cottage she led the boy +Fred. The child had not spoken a word since he had left the house of his +friend. His little heart seemed to be suddenly chilled within him. Miss +Hester had been equally silent. Her manner was constrained and +embarrassed. She had, indeed, tried to find some words of soothing and +encouragement to say to the child, such as she had heard Melissa Davis +use; but she could not. They were not a<!-- Page 35 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> part of her life's vocabulary. +Several times she had essayed to speak, but the sentences that formed in +her mind seemed so absurd and awkward that she felt them better unsaid.</p> + +<p>It is true that every natural woman has the maternal instinct, but +unless she has felt the soft face of a babe at her breast and looked +down into its eyes as it drew its life from her life, she can know +nothing of that freemasonry of womanhood which, by some secret means too +deep and subtle for the knowledge of outsiders, wins the love of +childhood. It is not so with men, because the childish mind does not +demand so much of them, even though they be fathers. To be convinced, +look about you and see how many more bachelors than maids are favourites +with children.</p> + +<p>Once within the house, Miss Hester was at an entire loss as to what to +do with her charge. She placed him in a chair, where he sat +disconsolately. She went to the bookshelves and laid her hand upon +"Pilgrim's Progress;" then she reflected that Freddie was just five +years old, and she allowed a smile to pass over her face. But her +perplexity instantly chased the expression away.<!-- Page 36 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> "How on airth am I +a-goin' to do any work?" she asked herself. "I 'm shore I can't set down +an' tell that child stories all the time, as I 've heerd tell o' folks +doin'. What shall I do with him?" She had had a vague idea that the time +of children was taken up in some way. She knew, of course, that they had +to be washed and dressed, that they had to eat three times a day, and +after all to sleep; but what was to be done with them in the mean time?</p> + +<p>"Oh," sighed the poor woman, "if he was only old enough to go to +school!" The wish was not entirely unmotherly, as motherhood goes in +these days, for it is not an unusual thing for mothers to send their +babes off to kindergarten as soon as they begin to babble, in order to +be relieved of the responsibility of their care. But neither wishes nor +hopes availed. It was a living, present situation with which Miss Hester +had to grapple. Suddenly she bethought herself that children like +pictures, and she secured from the shelf a copy of the "Bible +Looking-Glass." This she opened and spread out on the child's knees. He +glanced at it a moment or two, and then began to turn the leaves, his +eyes riveted on the engravings.<!-- Page 37 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> Miss Hester congratulated herself, and +slipped out to work. The thought came to her, of course, that the +novelty of "Bible Looking-Glasses" could n't remain for ever, but she +put the idea by in scorn. "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." +The book was good while it lasted. It entertained the child and gave him +valuable moral lessons. This was the woman's point of view. To Fred +there was no suggestion of moral lessons. It was merely a lot of very +fine pictures, and when Miss Prime had gone he relaxed some of his +disconsolate stiffness and entered into the contemplation of them with +childish zest. His guardian, however, did not abandon her vigilance, and +in a few minutes she peeped through the door from the kitchen, where she +was working, to see how her charge got on. The sight which met her eyes +made her nearly drop the cup which she held in her hand and with which +she had been measuring out flour for a cup-cake. With the book spread +out before him, Freddie was lying flat on his stomach on the floor, with +his little heels contentedly kicking the air. His attitude was the +expression of the acme of childish satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Miss Prime's idea of floors was that they<!-- Page 38 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> were to be walked on, +scrubbed, measured, and carpeted; she did not remember in all the extent +of her experience to have seen one used as a reading-desk before. But +she withdrew without a word: the child was quiet, and that was much.</p> + +<p>About this time, any one observing the cottage would have seen an +old-fashioned phaeton, to which a plump old nag was hitched, driven up +to the door and halted, and a man alight and enter at the gate. If the +observer had been at Margaret's funeral, he would instantly have +recognised the man as the Rev. Mr. Simpson's assistant, Mr. Hodges. The +man walked deliberately around to the kitchen, and, tapping at the door, +opened it without ceremony and went in, calling out, "Miss Hester, Miss +Hester, I 'm a-runnin' right in on you."</p> + +<p>"I do declare, 'Liphalet Hodges, you do beat all fur droppin' in on a +body at unexpected times."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess you 're right. My comin' 's a good deal like the second +comin' o' the Son o' man 'll be. I guess you 're right."</p> + +<p>To Miss Prime, Eliphalet Hodges was always unexpected, although he had +been<!-- Page 39 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> dropping in this way before her mother and father died, twenty +years gone.</p> + +<p>"Well, I 'low, 'Liphalet, that you 've heerd the news."</p> + +<p>"There ain't no grass grows under the feet of the talkers in this town, +I tell you."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! a body can't turn aroun' without settin' a whole forest of +tongues a-waggin' every which way."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, Miss Hester, we got to 'low that to yore sex. The women folks +must talk."</p> + +<p>"My sex! It ain't my sex only: I know plenty o' men in this town who air +bigger gossips 'n the women. I 'll warrant you did n't git this piece o' +news from no woman."</p> + +<p>"Well, mebbe I did n't, but I ca'c'late there wa'n't no men there to git +it fust hand."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I 'll be bound some o' the women had to go an' tell a man the fust +thing: some women can't git along without the men."</p> + +<p>"An' then, ag'in, some of 'em kin, Miss Hester; some of 'em kin."</p> + +<p>"You 'd jest as well start out an' say what you want to say without +a-beatin' about the bush. I know, jest as well as I know I 'm<!-- Page 40 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> a-livin', +that you 've come to tell me that I was a fool fur takin' that child. +'Liphalet, don't pertend: I know it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Miss Hester; I would n't dast do nothin' like that; you know, +'He that calleth his brother a fool is in danger o' hell fire,' an' I +'low the Lord don't make it no easier when it happens to be a sister. +No, Miss Hester, you know yore own business best, an' you 've got along +this fur without bein' guided by people. I guess you 'll git through; +but a child, Miss Hester, don't you think that it 's a leetle bit +resky?"</p> + +<p>"Resky? I don't see why. The child ain't a-goin' to eat me or burn the +house down."</p> + +<p>"No, no,—none o' that,—I don't mean that at all; but then, you see, +you 'ain't never had no—that is—you 'ain't had much experunce in the +bringin' up o' childern, specially boys."</p> + +<p>"Much! I 'ain't had none. But I 've been brought up."</p> + +<p>"That 's true, that 's true, an' a mighty good job yore mother made of +it, too. I don't know of no spryer or stirrin'er woman around here at +yore age."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 41 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p><p>"At my age! 'Liphalet, you do talk as ef I was about fifty."</p> + +<p>"Well, ef I do, I ain't a sayin' what I want to say, so I 'd better +hush. Where is the little fellow?"</p> + +<p>For answer, Miss Prime pushed the door open and bade him peep. Freddie +was still upon the floor, absorbed in his book. The man's face lighted +up: he pulled the door to long enough to say, "I tell you, Miss Hester, +that boy 's a-goin' to make a great reader or a speaker or somethin'. +Jest look how wrapped up he is in that book."</p> + +<p>"Well, I do hope an' pray to goodness that he 'll make somethin' better +than his father ever made."</p> + +<p>"Ef he don't under yore trainin', it 'll be because there ain't nothin' +in him.—Come here, Freddie," called Hodges, pushing the door open, and +holding out his hand with a smile. The child got up from the floor and +came and put his hand in the outstretched one.</p> + +<p>"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Miss Hester. "I tried my level best to git +that child to make up with me, an' he would n't."</p> + +<p>"It's jest like I say, Miss Hester: you 'ain't never had no experunce in +raisin' childern."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 42 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p><p>"An' how many have you ever raised, 'Liphalet?"</p> + +<p>The bachelor acknowledged defeat by a sheepish smile, and turned again +to the child. "You want to go a-ridin' in my buggy, Freddie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said the child, unhesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"All right; Uncle 'Liph 'll take him out fur a while. Git his hat an' +wrap him up, Miss Hester, so Jack Frost can't ketch him."</p> + +<p>The man stood smiling down into the child's face: the boy, smiling back, +tightened his grasp on the big hand. They were friends from that moment, +Eliphalet Hodges and Fred.</p> + +<p>They went out to the old phaeton, with Miss Prime's parting injunction +ringing after them, "Don't keep that child out in the cold too long, +'Liphalet, an' bring him back here croupy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, now, don't you trouble yoreself, Miss Hester: me an' Freddie air +a-goin' to git along all right. We ain't a-goin' to freeze, air we, +Freddie, boy? Ah, not by a long sight; not ef Uncle 'Liph knows +hisself."</p> + +<p>All the time the genial man was talking, he was tucking the lap-robe +snugly about<!-- Page 43 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> the child and making him comfortable. Then he clucked to +the old mare, and they rattled away.</p> + +<p>There was a far-away look in Miss Prime's eyes as she watched them till +they turned the corner and were out of sight. "I never did see sich a +man as 'Liphalet Hodges. Why, a body 'd think that he 'd been married +an' raised a whole houseful o' childern. He's worse 'n a old hen. An' it +'s marvellous the way Frederick took to him. Everybody calls the child +Freddie. I must learn to call him that: it will make him feel more +home-like, though it does sound foolish."</p> + +<p>She went on with her work, but it was interrupted every now and then by +strange fits of abstraction and revery, an unusual thing for this +bustling and practical spinster. But then there are few of us but have +had our hopes and dreams, and it would be unfair to think that Miss +Hester was an exception. For once she had broken through her own +discipline, and in her own kitchen was spending precious moments in +dreams, and all because a man and a child had rattled away in a rickety +buggy.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 44 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p><span class="undrop">"</span> +<span class="dropcap">G</span><span class="smcap">oodness</span> gracious, Mis' Smith," exclaimed Mrs. Martin, rushing +excitedly into the house of her next-door neighbour, "you 'd ought to +seen what I seen jest now."</p> + +<p>"Do tell, Mis' Martin! What on airth was it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I 'm shore you 'd never guess in the wide, wide world."</p> + +<p>"An' I 'm jest as shore that I ain't a-goin' to pester my head tryin' +to: so go on an' tell me what it was."</p> + +<p>"Lawsy me! what next 'll happen, an' what does things mean, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you. Fur my part, I 'ain't heerd what 'things' air yit." +Mrs. Smith was getting angry.</p> + +<p>"My! Mis' Smith, don't git so impatient. Give me time to git my breath: +it 'll be enough, when I do tell you, to take away yore breath, jest +like it did mine."</p> + +<p>"Sallie Martin, you do beat all fur keepin' a body on the hooks."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 45 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p><p>"T ain't my fault, Mis' Smith. I declare I 'm too astonished to speak. +You know I was a-standin' in my window, not a-thinkin' nor expectin' +nothin', jest like any person would, you know—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; go on."</p> + +<p>"I was jest a-lookin' down the street, careless, when who should I see +drive up to Miss Prime's door, an' hitch his hoss an' go in, but Brother +'Liphalet Hodges!"</p> + +<p>"Well, sakes alive, Sallie Martin, I hope you ain't a-considerin' that +strange. Why, you could 'a' seen that very same sight any time these +fifteen years."</p> + +<p>"But wait a minute till I tell you. I ain't done yit, by no means. The +strange part 'ain't come. I thought I 'd jest wait at the window and see +how long Brother Hodges would stay: not that it was any o' my bus'ness, +of course, or that I wanted to be a spyin' on anybody, but sorter +fur—fur cur'osity, you know."</p> + +<p>"Cert'n'y," said Mrs. Smith, feelingly. She could sympathise with such a +sentiment.</p> + +<p>"Well, after a while he come out a-smilin' as pleasant as a basket o' +chips; an' I like to fell through the winder, fur he was a-leadin' by +the hand—who do you suppose?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 46 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p><p>"I 'ain't got a mortal idea who," said Mrs. Smith, "unless it was Miss +Hester, an' they 're married at last."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, 't wa'n't her. It was that little Brent boy that his mother +died the other day."</p> + +<p>"Sallie Martin, what air you a-tellin' me?"</p> + +<p>"It 's the gospel truth, Melviny Smith, as shore as I 'm a-settin' here. +Now what does it mean?"</p> + +<p>"The good Lord only knows. Leadin' that little Brent boy? Ef it was n't +you a-settin' there tellin' me this, Mis' Martin, I would n't believe +it. You don't suppose Hodges has took him to raise, do you?"</p> + +<p>"How in the name of mercy is he goin' to raise any child, when there +ain't no women folks about his house 'ceptin' old Marier, an' she so +blind an' rheumaticky that she kin sca'cely git about?"</p> + +<p>"Well, what 's he a-doin' with the child, then?"</p> + +<p>"That 's jest what I 'm a-goin' to find out. I 'm a-goin' down to Miss +Prime's. Len' me yore shawl, Melviny."</p> + +<p>"You ain't never goin' to dare to ask her, air you?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 47 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p><p>"You jest trust me to find things out without givin' myself away. I +won't never let her know what I want right out, but I 'll talk it out o' +her."</p> + +<p>"What a woman you air, Sallie Martin!" said Mrs. Smith, admiringly. "But +do hurry back an' tell me what she says: I 'm jest dyin' to know."</p> + +<p>"I 'll be back in little or no time, because I can't stay, nohow."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin threw the borrowed shawl over her head and set off down the +street. She and her friend were not dwellers on the mean street, and so +they could pretend to so nearly an equal social footing with Miss Prime +as to admit of an occasional neighbourly call.</p> + +<p>Through the window Miss Prime saw her visitor approaching, and a grim +smile curved the corners of her mouth. "Comin' fur news," muttered the +spinster. "She 'll git all she wants before she goes." But there was no +trace of suspicion in her manner as she opened the door at Mrs. Martin's +rap.</p> + +<p>"Hey oh, Miss Hester, busy as usual, I see."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. People that try to do their dooty 'ain't got much time fur +rest in this world."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 48 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p><p>"No, indeed; it's dig, dig, dig, and work, work, work."</p> + +<p>"Take off yore shawl an' set down, Sallie. It 's a wonder you don't take +yore death o' cold or git plum full o' neuralgy, a-runnin' around in +this weather with nothin' but a shawl over yore head."</p> + +<p>"La, Miss Hester, they say that worthless people 's hard to kill. It +ain't allus true, though, fur there was poor Margar't Brent, she was n't +worth much, but my! she went out like a match."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but matches don't go out until their time ef they 're held down +right; an' it 's jest so with people."</p> + +<p>"That 's true enough, Miss Hester. Was you to Margar't's funeral?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I went."</p> + +<p>"Did you go out to the cimetery?"</p> + +<p>"Oomph huh."</p> + +<p>"Did she look natural?"</p> + +<p>"Jest as natural as one could expect after a hard life an' a hard +death."</p> + +<p>"Pore Margar't!" Mrs. Martin sighed. There was a long and embarrassed +silence. Miss Prime's lips were compressed, and she seemed more +aggressively busy than usual. She bustled about as if every minute were<!-- Page 49 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +her last one. She brushed off tables, set chairs to rights, and tried +the golden-brown cup-cake with a straw to see if it were done. Her +visitor positively writhed with curiosity and discomfiture. Finally she +began again. "Margar't only had one child, did n't she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that was all."</p> + +<p>"Pore little lamb. Motherless childern has a hard time of it."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, most of 'em do."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what 's become of the child, Miss Hester?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do, Sallie Martin, an' you do too, or you would n't be a-settin' +there beatin' about the bush, askin' me all these questions."</p> + +<p>This sudden outburst gave Mrs. Martin quite a turn, but she exclaimed, +"I declare to goodness, Miss Hester, I 'ain't heerd a livin' thing about +it, only—"</p> + +<p>She checked herself, but her relentless hostess caught at the word and +demanded, "Only what, Mis' Martin?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I seen Brother 'Liphalet Hodges takin' him away from here in his +buggy—"</p> + +<p>"An' so you come down to see what was what, eh, so 's you could be the +first to tell the neighbourhood?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Miss Hester, you know that I<!-- Page 50 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> ain't one o' them that talks, but I +do feel sich an interest in the pore motherless child, an' when I seen +Brother Hodges a-takin' him away, I thought perhaps he was a-goin' to +take him to raise."</p> + +<p>"Well, Brother Hodges ain't a-goin' to take him to raise."</p> + +<p>"Mercy sakes! Miss Hester, don't git mad, but who is?"</p> + +<p>"I am, that 's who."</p> + +<p>"Miss Prime, what air you a-sayin'? You shorely don't mean it. What kin +you do with a child?"</p> + +<p>"I kin train him up in the way he ought to go, an' keep him out o' other +people's houses an' the street."</p> + +<p>"Well, o' course, that 's somethin'," said Mrs. Martin, weakly.</p> + +<p>"Somethin'? Why, it 's everything."</p> + +<p>The visitor had now gotten the information for which she was looking, +and was anxious to be gone. She was absolutely bursting with her news.</p> + +<p>"Well, I must be goin'," she said, replacing her shawl and standing in +embarrassed indecision. "I only run in fur a minute. I hope you 'ain't +got no hard feelin's at my inquisitiveness."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 51 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>"Not a bit of it. You wanted to know, an' you come and asked, that 's +all."</p> + +<p>"I hope you 'll git along all right with the child."</p> + +<p>"I sha' n't stop at hopin'. I shall take the matter to the Lord in +prayer."</p> + +<p>"Yes, He knows best. Good-bye, Miss Hester."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Sallie; come in ag'in." The invitation sounded a little bit +sarcastic, and once more the grim smile played about Miss Prime's mouth.</p> + +<p>"I 'low," she observed to herself, as she took the cake from the oven +for the last time, tried it, and set it on the table,—"I 'low that I +did give Sallie Martin one turn. I never did see sich a woman fur pryin' +into other folks' business."</p> + +<p>Swift are the wings of gossip, and swift were the feet of Mrs. Sallie +Martin as she hurried back to tell the news to her impatient friend, who +listened speechless with enjoyment and astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Who would 'a' thought you could 'a' talked it out o' her so?" she +gasped.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I led her right along tell she told me everything," said Mrs. +Martin, with a complacency which, remembering her reception, she was far +from feeling.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 52 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p><p>Shortly after her departure, and while, no doubt, reinforced by Mrs. +Smith, she was still watching at the window, 'Liphalet Hodges drove +leisurely up to the door again.</p> + +<p>"Well, Freddie," he said, as he helped the child to alight, "we 've had +a great time together, we have, an' we ain't frozen, neither: I told +Miss Prime that she need n't be afeared. Don't drop yore jumpin'-jack, +now, an' be keerful an' don't git yore hands on yore apron, 'cause they +'re kind o' sticky. Miss Hester 'u'd take our heads off ef we come back +dirty."</p> + +<p>The child's arms were full of toys,—a jumping-jack, a climbing monkey, +a popgun, and the etceteras of childish amusement,—and his pockets and +cheeks bulged with candy.</p> + +<p>"La, 'Liphalet," exclaimed Miss Prime, when she saw them, "what on airth +have you been a-buyin' that child—jumpin'-jacks an' sich things? +They ain't a bit o' good, 'ceptin' to litter up a house an' put +lightness in childern's minds. Freddie, what 's that on yore apron? +Goodness me! an' look at them hands—candy! 'Liphalet Hodges, I did +give you credit fur better jedgment than this. Candy is the cause o' +more aches an'<!-- Page 53 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> pains than poison; an' some of it 's reelly +<ins class="correction" title="original reads 'colored', but the rest of the +novel uses 'ou' spellings">coloured</ins> with ars'nic. How do you expect a +child to grow up healthy an' with sound teeth when you feed him on +candy?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Miss Hester, now, now, now. I don't want to be a-interferin' with +yore bus'ness; but it 's jest like I said before, an' I will stick to +it, you 'ain't never had no experunce in raisin' children. They can't +git along jest on meat an' bread an' jam: they need +candy—an'—ah—candy—an' sich things." Mr. Hodges ended lamely, +looking rather guiltily at the boy's bulging pockets. "A little bit +ain't a-goin' to hurt no child."</p> + +<p>"'Liphalet, I 've got a dooty to perform towards this motherless child, +an' I ain't a-goin' to let no foolish notions keep me from performin' +it."</p> + +<p>"Miss Hester, I 'm a-tryin' to follow Him that was a father to the +fatherless an' a husband to the widow,—strange, that was made only to +the widow,—an' I 've got somethin' of a idee o' dooty myself. You may +think I 'm purty presumptuous, but I 've took a notion into my head to +kind o' help along a-raisin' Freddie. I ain't a-goin' to question yore +authority, or nothin', but I thought mebbe you 'd len' me the child once +in a<!-- Page 54 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> while to kind o' lighten up that old lonesome place o' mine: I +know that Freddie won't object."</p> + +<p>"Oh, 'Liphalet, do go 'long: I scarcely know whether you air a man or a +child, sometimes."</p> + +<p>"There 's One that says, 'Except you become as a little child'—"</p> + +<p>"'Liphalet, will you go 'long home?"</p> + +<p>"I 'spect I 'd better be gittin' along.—Good-bye, Freddie; be a good +boy, an' some day I 'll take you up to my house an' let you ride old +Bess around.—Good-bye, Miss Hester." And as he passed out to his buggy +he whistled tenderly something that was whistled when he was a boy.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 55 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> life of one boy is much like that of another. They all have their +joys and their griefs, their triumphs and their failures, their loves +and their hates, their friends and their foes, much as men have them in +that maturer life of which the days of youth are an epitome. It would be +rather an uninteresting task, and an entirely thankless one, to follow +in detail the career of Frederick Brent as he grew from childhood to +youth. But in order to understand certain traits that developed in his +character, it will be necessary to note some, at least, of the +circumstances that influenced his early life.</p> + +<p>While Miss Prime grew to care for him in her own unemotional way, she +had her own notions of how a boy should be trained, and those notions +seemed to embody the repression of every natural impulse. She reasoned +thus: "Human beings are by nature evil: evil must be crushed: <span lang="la">ergo</span>, +everything natural must be crushed." In<!-- Page 56 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> pursuance of this principle, +she followed out a deliberate course of restriction, which, had it not +been for the combating influence of Eliphalet Hodges, would have dwarfed +the mental powers of the boy and cramped his soul beyond endurance. When +he came of an age to play marbles, he was forbidden to play, because it +was, to Miss Hester's mind, a species of gambling. Swimming was too +dangerous to be for a moment considered. Fishing, without necessity, was +wanton cruelty. Flying kites was foolishness and a waste of time.</p> + +<p>The boy had shown an aptitude at his lessons that had created in his +guardian's mind some ambition for him, and she held him down to his +books with rigid assiduity. He was naturally studious, but the feeling +that he was being driven made his tasks repellent, although he performed +them without outward sign of rebellion, while he fumed within.</p> + +<p>His greatest relaxations were his trips to and from his old friend +Hodges. If Miss Prime crushed him, this gentle soul comforted him and +smoothed out his ruffled feelings. It was this influence that kept him +from despair. Away from his guardian, he was as<!-- Page 57 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> if a chain that galled +his flesh had been removed. And yet he could not hate Miss Hester, for +it was constantly impressed upon him that all was being done for his +good, and the word "duty" was burned like a fiery cross upon his heart +and brain.</p> + +<p>There is a bit of the pagan in every natural boy, and to give him too +much to reverence taxes his powers until they are worn and impotent by +the time he reaches manhood. Under Miss Hester's tutelage too many +things became sacred to Fred Brent. It was wicked to cough in church, as +it was a sacrilege to play with a hymn-book. His training was the +apotheosis of the non-essential. But, after all, there is no rebel like +Nature. She is an iconoclast.</p> + +<p>When he was less than ten years old, an incident occurred that will in a +measure indicate the manner of his treatment. Miss Prime's prescription +for making a good boy was two parts punishment, two parts admonition, +and six parts prayer. Accordingly, as the watchful and sympathetic +neighbours said, "she an' that pore child fairly lived in church."</p> + +<p>It was one class-meeting night, and, as usual, the boy and his guardian +were sitting<!-- Page 58 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> side by side at church. It was the habit of some of the +congregation to bring their outside controversies into the class-room +under the guise of testimonies or exhortations, and there to air their +views where their opponents could not answer them. One such was Daniel +Hastings. The trait had so developed in him that whenever he rose to +speak, the question ran around, "I wonder who Dan'l 's a-goin' to rake +over the coals now." On this day he had been having a tilt with his +old-time enemy, Thomas Donaldson, over the advent into Dexter of a young +homœopathic doctor. With characteristic stubbornness, Dan'l had held +that there was no good in any but the old-school medical men, and he +sneered at the idea of anybody's being cured with sugar, as he +contemptuously termed the pellets and powders affected by the new +school. Thomas, who was considered something of a wit and who sustained +his reputation by the perpetration of certain time-worn puns, had +replied that other hogs were sugar-cured, and why not Dan'l? This had +turned the laugh on Hastings, and he went home from the corner grocery, +where the men were congregated, in high dudgeon.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 59 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p><p>Still smarting with the memory of his defeat, when he rose to speak +that evening, he cast a glance full of unfriendly significance at his +opponent and launched into a fiery exhortation on true religion. "Some +folks' religion," he said, "is like sugar, all sweetness and no power; +but I want my religion like I want my medicine: I want it strong, an' I +want it bitter, so 's I 'll know I 've got it." In Fred Brent the sense +of humour had not been entirely crushed, and the expression was too much +for his gravity. He bowed his head and covered his mouth with his hand. +He made no sound, but there were three pairs of eyes that saw the +movement,—Miss Prime's, Eliphalet Hodges', and the Rev. Mr. Simpson's. +Miss Prime's gaze was horrified, Mr. Simpson's stern; but in the eye of +Mr. Hodges there was a most ungodly twinkle.</p> + +<p>When Dan'l Hastings had finished his exhortation—which was in reality +an arraignment of Thomas Donaldson's medical heresies—and sat down, the +Rev. Mr. Simpson arose, and, bending an accusing glance upon the +shrinking boy, began: "I perceive on the part of some of the younger +members of the congregation a disposition towards<!-- Page 60 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> levity. The house of +God is not the place to find amusement. I never see young people +deriding their elders without thinking of the awful lesson taught by the +Lord's judgment upon those wicked youths whom the she-bears devoured. I +never see a child laughing in church without trembling in spirit for his +future. Some of the men whom I have seen in prison, condemned to death +or a life of confinement, have begun their careers just in this way, +showing disrespect for their elders and for the church. Beware, young +people, who think you are smart and laugh and titter in the sanctuary; +there is a prison waiting for you, there is a hell yawning for you. +Behold, there is death in the pot!"</p> + +<p>With a terrible look at the boy, Mr. Simpson sat down. There was much +craning of necks and gazing about, but few in the church would have +known to whom the pastor's remarks were addressed had not Miss Prime, at +their conclusion, sighed in an injured way, and, rising with set lips, +led the culprit out, as a criminal is led to the scaffold. How the boy +suffered as, with flaming face, he walked down the aisle to the door, +the cynosure of all eyes! He saw in the<!-- Page 61 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> faces about him the accusation +of having done a terrible thing, something unheard of and more wicked +than he could understand. He felt revolted, child as he was, at the +religion that made so much of his fault. Inwardly, he vowed that he +would never "get religion" or go into a church when he was big enough to +have his own way.</p> + +<p>They had not gone far when a step approached them from behind, and +Eliphalet Hodges joined them. Miss Prime turned tragically at his +greeting, and broke out, "Don't reproach me 'Liphalet; it ain't no +trainin' o' mine that 's perduced a child that laughs at old foks in the +Lord's house."</p> + +<p>"I ain't a-goin' to reproach you, Miss Hester, never you fear; I ain't +a-goin' to say a word ag'in' yore trainin'; but I jest thought I 'd ask +you not to be too hard on Freddie. You know that Dan'l is kind o' tryin' +sometimes even to the gravity of older people; an' childern will be +childern; they 'ain't got the sense, nor—nor—the deceit to keep a +smooth face when they 're a-laughin' all in their innards."</p> + +<p>Miss Prime turned upon him in righteous wrath. "'Liphalet," she +exclaimed, "I think it 's enough fur this child to struggle<!-- Page 62 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> ag'inst +natural sin, without encouragin' him by makin' excuses fur him."</p> + +<p>"It ain't my intention nor my desire to set a bad example before nobody, +especially the young lambs of the flock, but I ain't a-goin' to blame +Freddie fur doin' what many another of us wanted to do."</p> + +<p>"'Deed an' double, that is fine talk fur you, 'Liphalet Hodges! you a +trustee of the church, an' been a class-leader, a-holdin' up fur sich +onregenerate carryin's-on."</p> + +<p>"I ain't a-holdin' up fur nothin', Miss Hester, 'ceptin' nature an' the +very could n't-help-it-ness o' the thing altogether. I ain't a boy no +more, by a good many years, but there 's times when I 've set under +Dan'l Hastings's testimonies jest mortally cramped to laugh; an' ef it +'s so with a man, how will it be with a pore innercent child? I ain't +a-excusin' natural sin in nobody. It wa'n't so much Freddie's natural +sin as it was Dan'l's natural funniness." And there was something very +like a chuckle in 'Liphalet's throat.</p> + +<p>"'Liphalet, the devil 's been puttin' fleas into yore ear, but I ain't +a-goin' to let you argy me out o' none o' my settled convictions, +although the Old Man 's put plenty<!-- Page 63 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> of argyment into yore head. That 's +his way o' capturin' a soul.—Walk on ahead, Frederick, an' don't be +list'nin'. I 'll 'tend to yore case later on."</p> + +<p>"It 's funny to me, Miss Hester, how it is that Christians know so much +more about the devil's ways than they do about the Lord's. They 're +allus a-sayin', 'the Lord moves in a mysterious way,' but they kin allus +put their finger on the devil."</p> + +<p>"'Liphalet Hodges, that 's a slur!"</p> + +<p>"I ain't a-meanin' it as no slur, Miss Hester; but most Christians do +seem to have a powerful fondness for the devil. I notice that they 're +allus admirin' his work an' praisin' up his sharpness, an' they 'd be +monstrous disappointed ef he did n't git as many souls as they expect."</p> + +<p>"Well, after all the years that I 've been a-workin' in the church an' +a-tryin' to let my light so shine before the world, I did n't think that +you 'd be the one to throw out hints about my Christianity. But we all +have our burdens to bear, an' I 'm a-goin' to bear mine the best I kin, +an' do my dooty, whatever comes of it." And Miss Hester gave another +sigh of injured rectitude.</p> + +<p>"I see, Miss Hester, that you 're jest<!-- Page 64 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> bent an' bound not to see what I +mean, so I might as well go home."</p> + +<p>"I think my mind ain't givin' way yit, an' I believe that I do +understand plain words; but I ain't a-bearin' you no grudge. You 've +spoke yore mind, an' it 's all right."</p> + +<p>"But I hope there ain't no hard feelin's, after all these years."</p> + +<p>"Oh, 'Liphalet, it ain't a part of even my pore weak religion to bear +hard feelin's towards no one, no matter how they treat me. I 'm jest +tryin' to bear my cross an' suffer fur the Lord's sake."</p> + +<p>"But I hope I ain't a-givin' you no cross to bear. I 'ain't never +doubted yore goodness or yore Christianity: I only thought that mebbe +yore methods, yore methods—"</p> + +<p>Miss Prime's lips were drawn into a line. She divided that line to say, +"I know what the Scriptures say: 'If thy right hand offend thee'—"</p> + +<p>"Hester, Hester!" he cried, stretching out his hands to her.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Brother Hodges. I must go in." She turned and left him +standing at the gate with a hurt look in his face.</p> + +<p>On going into the house, Miss Hester did not immediately 'tend to Fred, +as she<!-- Page 65 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> had promised. Instead, she left him and went into her own room +where she remained awhile. When she came out, her lips were no less set, +but her eyes were red. It is hardly to be supposed that she had been +indulging in that solace of woman's woes, a good cry.</p> + +<p>"Take off yore jacket, Freddie," she said, calmly, taking down a switch +from over the clothes-press. "I 'm a-goin' to whip you; but, remember, I +ain't a-punishin' you because I 'm mad. It 's fur the purpose of +instruction. It 's fur yore own good."</p> + +<p>Fred received his dressing-down without a whimper. He was too angry to +cry. This Miss Prime took as a mark of especial depravity. In fact, the +boy had been unable to discover any difference between an instructive +and a vindictive whipping. It was perfectly clear in his guardian's +mind, no doubt, but a cherry switch knows no such distinctions.</p> + +<p>This incident only prepared Fred Brent for a further infraction of his +guardian's rules the next day. One of Miss Prime's strictest orders had +to do with fighting. Whatever the boys did to Fred, he was never to +resent it. He must come to her,<!-- Page 66 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> and she would go to the boy's mother. +What an order to give a boy with muscles and fists and Nature strong +within him! But, save for the telling, it had been obeyed, although it +is hard to feel one's self an unwilling coward, a prig, and the +laughingstock of one's fellows. But when, on the day after his unjust +punishment, and while still stung by the sense of wrong, one of the +petty schoolboy tyrants began to taunt him, he turned upon the young +scamp and thrashed him soundly. His tormentor was not more hurt than +surprised. Like most of his class, he was a tattler. The matter got to +the teacher's ears, and that night Fred carried home an ominous-looking +note. In his heart he believed that it meant another application of +cherry switch, either instructive or vindictive, but he did not care. He +had done the natural thing, and Nature rewards us for obeying her laws +by making us happy or stoical. He had gone up in the estimation of his +schoolfellows, even the thrashed one, and he felt a reckless joy. He +would welcome a whipping. It would bring him back memories of what he +had given Billy Tompkins. "Would n't Miss Hester be surprised,"<!-- Page 67 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> he +thought, "if I should laugh out while she is whipping me?" And he +laughed at the very thought. He was full of pleasure at himself. He had +satisfied the impulse within him for once, and it made him happy.</p> + +<p>Miss Prime read the ominous note, and looked at her charge thoughtfully. +Fred glanced expectantly in the direction of the top of the +clothes-press. But she only said, "Go out an' git in yore kindlin', +Freddie; git yore chores done, an' then come in to supper." Her voice +was menacingly quiet. The boy had learned to read the signs of her face +too well to think that he was to get off so easily as this. Evidently, +he would "get it" after supper, or Miss Prime had some new, refined mode +of punishment in store for him. But what was it? He cudgelled his brain +in vain, as he finished his chores, and at table he could hardly eat for +wondering. But he might have spared himself his pains, for he learned +all too soon.</p> + +<p>Immediately after supper he was bidden to put on his cap and come along. +Miss Prime took him by the hand. "I 'm a-goin' to take you," she said, +"to beg Willie<!-- Page 68 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> Tompkins's pardon fur the way you did him."</p> + +<p>Did the woman know what it meant to the boy? She could not, or her heart +would have turned against the cruelty. Fred was aghast. Beg his pardon! +A whipping was a thousand times better: indeed, it would be a mercy. He +began to protest, but was speedily silenced. The enforced silence, +however, did not cool his anger. He had done what other boys did. He had +acted in the only way that it seemed a boy could act under the +circumstances, and he had expected to be punished as his fellows were; +but this—this was awful. He clinched his hands until the nails dug into +the palms. His face was as pale as death. He sweated with the consuming +fire of impotent rage. He wished that he might run away somewhere where +he could hide and tear things and swear. For a moment only he +entertained the thought, and then a look into the determined face of the +woman at his side drove the thought away. To his childish eyes, +distorted by resentment, she was an implacable and relentless monster +who would follow him with punishment anywhere he might go.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 69 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p><p>And now they were at Billy Tompkins's door. They had passed through, +and he found himself saying mechanically the words which Miss Prime put +into his mouth, while his tormentor grinned from beside his mother's +chair. Then, after a few words between the women, in which he heard from +Mrs. Tompkins the mysterious words, "Oh, I don't blame you, Miss Hester; +I know that blood will tell," they passed out, and the grinning face of +Billy Tompkins was the last thing that Fred saw. It followed him home. +The hot tears fell from his eyes, but they did not quench the flames +that were consuming him. There is nothing so terrible as the just anger +of a child,—terrible in its very powerlessness. Polyphemus is a giant, +though the mountain hold him down.</p> + +<p>Next morning, when Fred went to school, Billy Tompkins with a crowd of +boys about was waiting to deride him; but at sight of his face they +stopped. He walked straight up to his enemy and began striking him with +all his might.</p> + +<p>"She made me beg your pardon, did she?" he gasped between the blows; +"well, you take that for it, and that." The boys<!-- Page 70 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> had fallen back, and +Billy was attempting to defend himself.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe she 'll make me do it again to-night. If she does, I 'll give you +some more o' this to-morrow, and every time I have to beg your pardon. +Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>The boys cheered lustily, and Billy Tompkins, completely whipped and +ashamed, slunk away.</p> + +<p>That night no report of the fight went home. Fred Brent held the master +hand.</p> + +<p>In life it is sometimes God and sometimes the devil that comes to the +aid of oppressed humanity. From the means, it is often hard to tell +whose handiwork are the results.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 71 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">C</span><span class="smcap">ynics</span> and fools laugh at calf-love. Youth, which is wiser, treats it +more seriously. When the boy begins to think of a girl, instead of +girls, he displays the first budding signs of a real growing manhood. +The first passion may be but the enthusiasm of discovery. Sometimes it +is not. At times it dies, as fleeting enthusiasms do. Again it lives, +and becomes a blessing, a curse, or a memory. Who shall say that the +first half-sweet pang that strikes a boy's heart in the presence of the +dear first girl is any less strong, intoxicating, and real to him than +that which prompts him to take the full-grown woman to wife? With +factitious sincerity we quote, "The boy is father to the man," and then +refuse to believe that the qualities, emotions, and passions of the man +are inherited from this same boy,—are just the growth, the development, +of what was embryonic in him.</p> + +<p>Nothing is more serious, more pleasant, and more diverting withal, than +a boy's<!-- Page 72 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> brooding or exultation—one is the complement of the +other—over his first girl. As, to a great extent, a man is moulded by +the woman he marries, so to no less a degree is a boy's character turned +and shaped by the girl he adores. Either he descends to her level, or +she draws him up, unconsciously, perhaps, to her own plane. Girls are +missionaries who convert boys. Boys are mostly heathens. When a boy has +a girl, he remembers to put on his cuffs and collars, and he does n't +put his necktie into his pocket on the way to school.</p> + +<p>In a boy's life, the having of a girl is the setting up of an ideal. It +is the new element, the higher something which abashes the unabashed, +and makes John, who caused Henry's nose to bleed, tremble when little +Mary stamps her foot. It is like an atheist's finding God, the sudden +recognition of a higher and purer force against which all that he knows +is powerless. Why does n't John bully Mary? It would be infinitely +easier than his former exploit with Henry. But he does n't. He blushes +in her presence, brings her the best apples, out of which heretofore he +has enjoined the boys not to "take a hog-bite," and, even though the<!-- Page 73 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +parental garden grow none, comes by flowers for her in some way, queer +boyish bouquets where dandelions press shoulders with spring-beauties, +daffodils, and roses,—strange democracy of flowerdom. He feels older +and stronger.</p> + +<p>In Fred's case the object of adoration was no less a person than +Elizabeth Simpson, the minister's daughter. From early childhood they +had seen and known each other at school, and between them had sprung up +a warm childish friendship, apparently because their ways home lay along +the same route. In such companionship the years sped; but Fred was a +diffident boy, and he was seventeen and Elizabeth near the same before +he began to feel those promptings which made him blushingly offer to +carry her book for her as far as he went. She had hesitated, refused, +and then assented, as is the manner of her sex and years. It had become +a settled thing for them to walk home together, he bearing her burdens, +and doing for her any other little service that occurred to his boyish +sense of gallantry.</p> + +<p>Without will of his own, and without returning the favour, he had grown +in the Rev. Mr. Simpson's esteem. This was due<!-- Page 74 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> mostly to his guardian's +excellent work. In spite of his rebellion, training and environment had +brought him greatly under her control, and when she began to admonish +him about his lost condition spiritually she had been able to awaken a +sort of superstitious anxiety in the boy's breast. When Miss Prime +perceived that this had been accomplished, she went forthwith to her +pastor and unburdened her heart.</p> + +<p>"Brother Simpson," said she, "I feel that the Lord has appointed me an +instrument in His hands for bringin' a soul into the kingdom." The +minister put the tips of his fingers together and sighed piously and +encouragingly. "I have been labourin' with Freddie in the sperrit of +Christian industry, an' I believe that I have finally brought him to a +realisin' sense of his sinfulness."</p> + +<p>"H'm-m," said the minister. "Bless the Lord for this evidence of the +activity of His people. Go on, sister."</p> + +<p>"Freddie has at last come to the conclusion that hell is his lot unless +he flees unto the mountain and seeks salvation."</p> + +<p>"Bless the Lord for this."</p> + +<p>"Now, Brother Simpson, I have done my part as fur as the Lord has showed +me, ex<!-- Page 75 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>cept to ask you to come and wrastle with that boy."</p> + +<p>"Let not thy heart be troubled, Sister Prime, for I will come as you ask +me, and I will wrastle with that boy as Jacob did of old with the +angel."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Brother Simpson, I knowed you 'd come. I know jest how you feel +about pore wanderin' souls, an' I 'm so glad to have yore strong arm and +yore wisdom a-helpin' me."</p> + +<p>"I hope, my sister, that the Lord may smile upon my poor labours, and +permit us to snatch this boy as a brand from eternal burning."</p> + +<p>"We shall have to labour in the sperrit, Brother Simpson."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and with the understanding of the truth in our hearts and minds."</p> + +<p>"I 'm shore I feel mighty uplifted by comin' here to-day. Do come up to +dinner Sunday, dear Brother Simpson, after preachin'."</p> + +<p>"I will come, Sister Prime, I will come. I know by experience the worth +of the table which the Lord provides for you, and then at the same +season I may be able to sound this sinful boy as to his spiritual state +and to<!-- Page 76 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> drop some seed into the ground which the Lord has mercifully +prepared for our harvest. Good-bye, sister, good-bye. I shall not +forget, Sunday after preaching."</p> + +<p>In accordance with his promise, the Rev. Mr. Simpson began to labour +with Fred, with the result of driving him into a condition of dogged +revolt, which only Miss Prime's persistence finally overcame. When +revival time came round, as, sure as death it must come, Fred regularly +went to the mourners' bench, mourned his few days until he had worked +himself into the proper state, and then, somewhat too coldly, it is +true, for his anxious guardian, "got religion."</p> + +<p>On the visit next after this which Mr. Simpson paid to Miss Prime, he +took occasion to say, "Ah, my sister, I am so glad that you pointed me +to that lost lamb of the house of Israel, and I am thanking the Maker +every day that He blessed my efforts to bring the straying one into the +fold. Ah, there is more joy over the one lamb that is found than over +the ninety and nine that went not astray!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Simpson's parishioner acquiesced, but she had some doubts in her +mind as to whose efforts the Lord had blessed. She felt a<!-- Page 77 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> little bit +selfish. She wanted to be the author of everything good that came to +Fred. But she did not argue with Mr. Simpson. There are some concessions +which one must make to one's pastor.</p> + +<p>From this time on the preacher was Fred's friend, and plied him with +good advice in the usual friendly way; but the boy bore it well, for +Elizabeth smiled on him, and what boy would not bear a father's tongue +for a girl's eyes?</p> + +<p>The girl was like her mother, dark and slender and gentle. She had none +of her father's bigness or bumptiousness. Her eyes were large and of a +shade that was neither black nor brown. Her hair was very decidedly +black. Her face was small, and round with the plumpness of youth, but +one instinctively felt, in looking at it, that its lines might easily +fall into thinness, even pitifulness, at the first touch of woman's +sorrow. She was not, nor did she look to be, a strong girl. But her very +weakness was the source of secret delight to the boy, for it made him +feel her dependence on him. When they were together and some girlish +fear made her cling to his arm, his heart swelled with pride and a +something else that<!-- Page 78 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> he could not understand and could not have +described. Had any one told him that he was going through the +half-sweet, half-painful, timid, but gallant first stages of love, he +would have resented the imputation with blushes. His whole training +would have made him think of such a thing with terror. He had learned +never to speak of girls at home, for any reference to them by him was +sure to bring forth from Miss Prime an instant and strong rebuke.</p> + +<p>"Freddie," was the exclamation that gave his first unsuspecting remarks +pause, "you 're a-gittin' too fresh: you 'd better be a-mindin' of yore +studies, instead o' thinkin' about girls. Girls ain't a-goin' to make +you pass yore examination, an', besides, you 're a-gettin' mannish; fur +boys o' yore age to be a-talkin' about girls is mannish, do you hear, +sir? You 're a-beginnin' to feel yore keepin' too strong. Don't let me +hear no more sich talk out o' you."</p> + +<p>There never was a manly boy in the world whom the word "mannish," when +applied to him, did not crush. It is a horrid word, nasty and full of +ugly import. Fred was subdued by it, and so kept silence about his +female friends. Happy is the boy who<!-- Page 79 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> dares at home to pour out his +heart about the girls he knows and likes, and thrice unhappy he who +through mistaken zeal on the part of misguided parents is compelled to +keep his thoughts in his heart and brood upon his little aproned +companions as upon a secret sin. Two things are thereby engendered, +stealth and unhealth. If Fred escaped certain youthful pitfalls, it was +because he was so repressed that he had learned to hide himself from +himself, his thoughts from the mind that produced them.</p> + +<p>He was a boy strong and full of blood. The very discipline that had +given a gloomy cast to his mind had given strength and fortitude to his +body. He was austere, because austerity was all that he had ever known +or had a chance of knowing; but too often austerity is but the dam that +holds back the flood of potential passion. Not to know the power which +rages behind the barricade is to leave the structure weak for a hapless +day when, carrying all before it, the flood shall break its bonds and in +its fury ruin fair field and smiling mead. It was well for Fred Brent +that the awakening came when it did.</p> + +<p>In the first days of June, when examina<!-- Page 80 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>tions are over, the annual +exhibition done, and the graduating class has marched away proud in the +possession of its diplomas, the minds of all concerned turn naturally +towards the old institution, the school picnic. On this occasion parents +join the teachers and pupils for a summer day's outing in the woods. +Great are the preparations for the festal day, and great the rejoicings +thereon. For these few brief hours old men and women lay aside their +cares and their dignity and become boys and girls again. Those who have +known sorrow—and who has not?—take to themselves a day of +forgetfulness. Great baskets are loaded to overflowing with the viands +dear to the picnicker's palate,—sandwiches whose corpulence would make +their sickly brothers of the railway restaurant wither with envy, pies +and pickles, cheese and crackers, cakes and jams galore. Old horses +that, save for this day, know only the market-cart or the Sunday chaise, +are hitched up to bear out the merry loads. Old waggons, whose wheels +have known no other decoration than the mud and clay of rutty roads, are +festooned gaily with cedar wreaths, oak leaves, or the gaudy +tissue-paper rosettes, and creak joyfully on their<!-- Page 81 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> mission of lightness +and mirth. On foot, by horse, in waggon or cart, the crowds seek some +neighbouring grove, and there the day is given over to laughter, mirth, +and song. The children roll and tumble on the sward in the intoxication +of "swing-turn" and "ring-around-a-rosy." The young women, with many +blushes and shy glances, steal off to quiet nooks with their imploring +swains. Some of the elders, anxious to prove that they have not yet lost +all their youth and agility, indulge, rather awkwardly perhaps, in the +exhausting amusement of the jumping-rope. A few of the more staid walk +apart in conversation with some favourite pastor who does not decline to +take part in the innocent pleasures and crack ponderous jokes for the +edification of his followers. Perhaps some of the more daring are +engaged in one of the numerous singing plays, such as "Oh, la, Miss +Brown," or "Swing Candy, Two and Two," but these are generally frowned +upon: they are too much like dancing, and time has been when some too +adventurous church-member has been "churched" for engaging in one.</p> + +<p>In such a merrymaking was the community which surrounded the high school +at<!-- Page 82 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> Dexter engaged when the incident occurred which opened Fred's eyes +to his own state. Both he and Elizabeth had been in the prize ranks that +year, and their friends had turned out in full and made much of them. +Even Eliphalet Hodges was there, with old Bess festooned as gaily as the +other horses, and both Miss Prime and Mr. Simpson were in evidence. The +afternoon of the day was somewhat advanced, the dinner had been long +over, and the weariness of the people had cast something of a quietus +over the hilarity of their sports. They were sitting about in groups, +chatting and laughing, while the tireless children were scurrying about +in games of "tag," "catcher," and "hide-and-seek."</p> + +<p>The grove where the festivities were being held was on a hill-side which +sloped gently to the bank of a small, narrow stream, usually dry in +summer; but now, still feeling the force of the spring freshets, and +swollen by the rain of the day before, it was rushing along at a rapid +rate. A fence divided the picnic-ground proper from the sharper slope of +the rivulet's bank. This fence the young people had been warned not to +pass, and so no danger was apprehended on ac<!-- Page 83 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>count of the stream's +overflowing condition. But the youngsters at Dexter were no more +obedient than others of their age elsewhere. So when a scream arose from +several childish voices at the lower part of the hill, everybody knew +that some child had been disobeying, and, pell-mell, the picnickers +rushed in the direction of the branch.</p> + +<p>When they reached the nearest point from which they could see the +stream, a terrifying sight met their eyes. A girl was struggling in the +shallow but swift water. She had evidently stepped on the sloping bank +and fallen in. Her young companions were running alongside the rivulet, +stretching out their hands helplessly to her, but the current was too +strong, and, try as she would, she could not keep her feet. A cry of +grief and despair went up from the girls on the bank, as she made one +final effort and then fell and was carried down by the current.</p> + +<p>Men were leaping the fence now, but a boy who had seen the whole thing +from a neighbouring hillock was before them. Fred Brent came leaping +down the hill like a young gazelle. He had seen who the unfortunate girl +was,—Elizabeth,—and he<!-- Page 84 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> had but one desire in his heart, to save her. +He reached the bank twenty yards ahead of any one else, and plunged into +the water just in front of her, for she was catching and slipping, +clinging and losing hold, but floating surely to her death. He struggled +up stream, reached and caught her by the dress. The water tugged at him +and tried to throw him over, but he stemmed it, and, lifting her up in +his arms, fought his way manfully to the bank. Up this he faltered, +slipping and sliding in the wet clay, and weak with his struggle against +the strong current. But his face was burning and his blood tingling as +he held the girl close to him till he gave her unconscious form into her +father's arms.</p> + +<p>For the moment all was confusion, as was natural when a preacher's +daughter was so nearly drowned. The crowd clustered around and gave much +advice and some restoratives. Some unregenerate, with many apologies and +explanations concerning his possession, produced a flask, and part of +the whisky was forced down the girl's throat, while her hands and face +and feet were chafed. She opened her eyes at last, and a fervent "Thank +God!" burst from her father's lips and called forth a shower of Amens.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 85 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p><p>"I allus carry a little somethin' along, in case of emergencies," +explained the owner of the flask as he returned it to his pocket, with a +not altogether happy look at its depleted contents.</p> + +<p>As soon as Fred saw that Elizabeth was safe, he struck away for home, +unobserved, and without waiting to hear what the crowd were saying. He +heard people calling his name kindly and admiringly, but it only gave +wings to the feet that took him away from them. If he had thrown the +girl in instead of bringing her out, he could not have fled more swiftly +or determinedly away from the eyes of people. Tired and footsore, +drenched to the skin and chilled through, he finally reached home. He +was trembling, he was crying, but he did not know it, and had he known, +he could not have told why. He did not change his clothes, but crouched +down in a corner and hid his face in his hands. He dreaded seeing any +one or hearing any person speak his name. He felt painfully conscious of +a new self, which he thought must be apparent to other eyes.</p> + +<p>The accident of the afternoon had cast a gloom over the merrymakings, +and, the picnic breaking up abruptly, sent the people<!-- Page 86 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> scurrying home, +so that Miss Prime was at the house not far behind her charge.</p> + +<p>"Freddie," she called to him as she entered the house, "Freddie, where +air you?" And then she found him. She led him out of the corner and +looked him over with a scrutinising eye. "Freddie Brent," she said +solemnly, "you 've jest ruined yore suit." He was glad. He wanted to be +scolded. "But," she went on, "I don't care ef you have." And here she +broke down. "You 're a-goin' to have another one, fur you 're a right +smart boy, that 's all I 've got to say." For a moment he wanted to lay +his head on her breast and give vent to the sob which was choking him. +But he had been taught neither tenderness nor confidence, so he choked +back the sob, though his throat felt dry and hot and strained. He stood +silent and embarrassed until Miss Prime recovered herself and continued: +"But la, child, you 'll take yore death o' cold. Git out o' them wet +things an' git into bed, while I make you some hot tea. Fur the life o' +me, I never did see sich carryin's-on."</p> + +<p>The boy was not sorry to obey. He was glad to be alone. He drank the +warm tea and tried to go to sleep, but he could<!-- Page 87 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> not. His mind was on +fire. His heart seemed as if it would burst from his bosom. Something +new had come to him. He began to understand, and blushed because he did +understand. It was less discovery than revelation. His forehead was hot. +His temples were throbbing. It was well that Miss Prime did not discover +it: she would have given him horehound to cure—thought!</p> + +<p>From the moment that the boy held the form of the girl to his heart he +was changed, and she was changed to him. They could never be the same to +each other again. Manhood had come to him in a single instant, and he +saw in her womanhood. He began for the first time to really know +himself, and it frightened him and made him ashamed.</p> + +<p>He drew the covers over his head and lay awake, startled, surprised at +what he knew himself and mankind to be.</p> + +<p>To Fred Brent the awakening had come,—early, if we would be prudish; +not too early, if we would be truthful.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 88 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="smcap">f</span> Fred Brent had needed anything to increase his consciousness of the +new feeling that had come to him, he could not have done better to get +it than by going to see Eliphalet Hodges next day. His war of thought +had gone on all night, and when he rose in the morning he thought that +he looked guilty, and he was afraid that Miss Prime would notice it and +read his secret. He wanted rest. He wanted to be secure from any one who +would even suspect what was in his heart. But he wanted to see and to +talk to some one. Who better, then, than his old friend?</p> + +<p>So he finished his morning's chores and slipped away. He would not pass +by Elizabeth's house, but went by alleys and lanes until he reached his +destination. The house looked rather silent and deserted, and Mr. +Hodges' old assistant did not seem to be working in the garden as usual. +But after some search the boy found his old friend smoking upon the back +porch.<!-- Page 89 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> There was a cloud upon the usually bright features, and the old +man took his pipe from his mouth with a disconsolate sigh as the boy +came in sight.</p> + +<p>"I 'm mighty glad you 've come, Freddie," said he, in a sad voice. "I +'ve been a-wantin' to talk to you all the mornin'. Set down on the side +o' the porch, or git a chair out o' the house, ef you 'd ruther."</p> + +<p>The boy sat down, wondering what could be the matter with his friend, +and what he could have to say to him. Surely it must be something +serious, for the whole tone and manner of his companion indicated +something of import. The next remark startled him into sudden suspicion.</p> + +<p>"There 's lots o' things made me think o' lots of other things in the +last couple o' days. You 've grown up kind o' quick like, Freddie, so +that a body 'ain't hardly noticed it, but that ain't no matter. You 're +up or purty nigh it, an' you can understand and appreciate lots o' the +things that you used to could n't."</p> + +<p>Fred sat still, with mystery and embarrassment written on his face. He +wanted to hear more, but he was almost afraid to listen further.</p> + +<p>"I 'ain't watched you so close, mebbe, as<!-- Page 90 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> I 'd ought to 'a' done, but +when I seen you yistiddy evenin' holdin' that little girl in yore arms I +said to myself, I said, ''Liphalet Hodges, Freddie ain't a child no +more; he 's growed up.'" The boy's face was scarlet. Now he was sure +that the thoughts of his heart had been surprised, and that this best of +friends thought of him as "fresh," "mannish," or even wicked. He could +not bear the thought of it; again the tears rose in his eyes, usually so +free from such evidences of weakness. But the old man went on slowly in +a low, half-reminiscent tone, without looking at his auditor to see what +effect his words had had. "Well, that was one of the things that set me +thinkin'; an' then there was another." He cleared his throat and pulled +hard at his pipe; something made him blink,—dust, or smoke, or tears, +perhaps. "Freddie," he half sobbed out, "old Bess is dead. Pore old Bess +died last night o' colic. I 'm afeared the drive to the picnic was too +much fur her."</p> + +<p>"Old Bess dead!" cried the boy, grieved and at the same time relieved. +"Who would have thought it? Poor old girl! It seems like losing one of +the family."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 91 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p><p>"She was one of the family," said the old man brokenly. "She was more +faithful than most human beings." The two stood sadly musing, the boy as +sad as the man. "Old Bess" was the horse that had taken him for his +first ride, that winter morning years before, when the heart of the +child was as cold as the day. Eliphalet Hodges had warmed the little +heart, and, in the years that followed, man, child, and horse had grown +nearer to each other in a queer but sympathetic companionship.</p> + +<p>Then, as if recalling his mind from painful reflections, the elder man +spoke again. "But it ain't no use a-worryin' over what can't be helped. +We was both fond o' old Bess, an' I know you feel as bad about losin' +her as I do. But I 'm a-goin' to give her a decent burial, sich as a +Christian ought to have; fur, while the old mare was n't no perfessor, +she lived the life, an' that 's more 'n most perfessors do. Yes, sir, I +'m a-goin' to have her buried: no glue-man fur me. I reckon you 're +a-wantin' to know how old Bess dyin' an' yore a-savin' 'Lizabeth could +run into each other in my mind; but they did. Fur, as I see you standin' +there a-holdin' the little girl, it come to me sudden<!-- Page 92 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> like, 'Freddie 's +grown now, an' he 'll be havin' a girl of his own purty soon, ef he +'ain't got one now. Mebbe it 'll be 'Lizabeth.'" The old man paused for +a moment; his eyes rested on the boy's fiery face. "Tut, tut," he +resumed, "you ain't ashamed, air you? Well, what air you a-gittin' so +red fur? Havin' a girl ain't nothin' to be ashamed of, or skeered about +neither. Most people have girls one time or another, an' I don't know of +nothin' that 'll make a boy or a young man go straighter than to know +that his girl's eyes air upon him. Don't be ashamed at all."</p> + +<p>Fred still blushed, but he felt better, and his face lightened over the +kindly words.</p> + +<p>"I did n't finish tellin' you, though, what I started on. I got to +thinkin' yesterday about my young days, when I had a girl, an' how I +used to ride back an' forth on the pore old horse right into this town +to see her; an' as I drove home from the picnic I talked to the old nag +about it, an' she whisked her tail an' laid back her ears, jest like she +remembered it all. It was on old Bess that I rode away from my girl's +house after her first 'no' to me, an' it seemed then that the animal +sympathised with me, fur she drooped<!-- Page 93 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> along an' held down her head jest +like I was a-doin'. Many a time after that we rode off that way +together, fur the girl was set in her ways, an' though she confessed to +a hankerin' fur me, she wanted to be independent. I think her father put +the idee into her head, fur he was a hard man, an' she was his all, his +wife bein' dead. After a while we stopped talkin' about the matter, an' +I jest went an' come as a friend. I only popped the question once more, +an' that was when her father died an' she was left all alone.</p> + +<p>"It was a summer day, warm an' cheerful like this, only it was evenin', +an' we was a-settin' out on her front garden walk. She was a-knittin', +an' I was a-whippin' the groun' with a switch that I had brought along +to touch Bess up with now an' then. I had hitched her out front, an' she +kep' a-turnin' her eyes over the fence as ef she was as anxious as I +was, an' that was mighty anxious. Fin'ly I got the question out, an' the +girl went all red in a minute: she had been jest a purty pink before. +Her knittin' fell in her lap. Fust she started to answer, then she +stopped an' her eyes filled up. I seen she was a-weak'nin', so I thought +I 'd push the matter. 'Come,' says I, gentle like, an'<!-- Page 94 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> edgin' near up +to her, 'give me my answer. I been waitin' a long time fur a yes.' With +that she grabbed knittin', apron, an' all, an' put 'em to her eyes an' +rushed into the house. I knowed she 'd gone in to have a good cry an' +settle her nerves, fur that 's the way all women-folks does: so I knowed +it was no use to bother her until it was done. So I walks out to the +fence, an', throwin' an arm over old Bess's back, I told her all about +it, jest as I 'm a-tellin' you, she a-lookin' at me with her big meltin' +eyes an' whinnyin' soft like.</p> + +<p>"After a little while the girl come out. She was herself ag'in, but +there was a look in her face that turned my heart stone-cold. Her voice +sounded kind o' sharp as she said, ''Liphalet, I 've been a-thinkin' +over what you said. I 'm only a woman, an' I come purty near bein' a +weak one; but I 'm all right now. I don't mind tellin' you that ef I was +ever goin' to marry, you 'd be my choice, but I ain't a-goin' to have my +father's sperrit a-thinkin' that I took advantage of his death to marry +you. Good-bye, 'Liphalet.' She held out her hand to me, an' I took it. +'Come an' see me sometimes,' she said. I could n't answer, so I went out +and<!-- Page 95 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> got on old Bess an' we jogged away. It was an awful disappointment, +but I thought I would wait an' let my girl come aroun', fur sometimes +they do,—in fact mostly; but she has never give me a sign to make me +think that she has. That was twenty years ago, an' I 've been waitin' +faithful ever sence. But it seems like she was different from most +women, an' 'specially good on holdin' out. People that was babies then +have growed up an' married. An' now the old companion that has been with +me through all this waitin' has left me. I know what it means. It means +that I 'm old, that years have been wasted, that chances have been lost. +But you have taught me my lesson, Bess. Dear old Bess, even in yore last +hours you did me a service, an' you, Freddie, you have given me the +stren'th that I had twenty years ago, an' I 'm a-goin' to try to save +what remains of my life. I never felt how alone I was until now." He was +greatly agitated. He rose and grasped the boy's arm. "Come, Freddie," he +said; "come on. I 'm a-goin' ag'in to ask Miss Prime to be my wife."</p> + +<p>"Miss Prime!" exclaimed Fred, aghast.</p> + +<p>"Miss Prime was my sweetheart, Freddie, thirty years ago, jest like +'Lizabeth is yor'n now. Come along."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 96 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p><p>The two set out, Hodges stepping with impatient alacrity, and the boy +too astounded to speak.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful morning at the end of June. The sense of spring's +reviving influence had not yet given way to the full languor and +sensuousness of summer. The wind was soft and warm and fragrant. The air +was full of the song of birds and the low droning of early bees. The +river that flowed between the green hills and down through Dexter was +like a pane of wrinkled glass, letting light and joy even into the +regions below. Over the streets and meadows and hills lay a half haze, +like a veil over the too dazzling beauty of an Eastern princess. The hum +of business—for in the passing years Dexter had grown busy—the roar of +traffic in the streets, all melted into a confused and intoxicating +murmur as the pedestrians passed into the residence portion of the town +to the cottage where Miss Prime still lived. The garden was as prim as +ever, the walks as straight and well kept. The inevitable white curtains +were fluttering freshly from the window, over which a huge matrimony +vine drooped lazily and rung its pink and white bells to invite the +passing bees.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 97 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>Eliphalet paused at the gate and heaved a deep sigh. So much depended +upon the issue of his present visit. The stream of his life had been +flowing so smoothly before. Now if its tranquillity were disturbed it +never could be stilled again. Did he dare to risk so much upon so +hazardous a chance? Were it not better to go back home, back to his old +habits and his old ease, without knowing his fate? That would at least +leave him the pleasure of speculating. He might delude himself with the +hope that some day—He faltered. His hand was on the gate, but his face +was turned back towards the way he had come. Should he enter, or should +he go back? Fate decided for him, for at this juncture the door opened, +and Miss Hester appeared in the doorway and called out, "Do come in, +'Liphalet. What air you a-standin' out there so long a-studyin' about, +fur all the world like a bashful boy?"</p> + +<p>The shot told. He was a bashful boy again, going fearfully, tremblingly, +lovingly, to see the girl of his heart; but there was no old Bess to +whinny encouragement to him from over the little fence. If he blushed, +even the scrutinising eyes of Miss<!-- Page 98 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> Prime did not see it, for the bronze +laid on his face by summers and winters of exposure; but he felt the hot +blood rush up to his face and neck, and the perspiration breaking out on +his brow. He paused long enough to mop his face, and then, saying to +Fred, in a low tone, "You stay in the garden, my boy, until it 's all +over," he opened the gate and entered in the manner of one who leads a +forlorn hope through forest aisles where an ambush is suspected. The +door closed behind him. Interested, excited, wondering and fearing, +doubting and hoping, Fred remained in the garden. There were but two +thoughts in his head, and they were so new and large that his poor boy's +cranium had room for no more. They ran in this wise: "Miss Prime is +Uncle 'Liphalet's girl, and Elizabeth is mine."</p> + +<p>Within, Miss Prime was talking on in her usual decided fashion, while +the man sat upon the edge of his chair and wondered how he could break +in upon the stream of her talk and say what was in his heart. At last +the lady exclaimed, "I do declare, 'Liphalet, what kin be the matter +with you? You 'ain't said ten words sence you 've been<!-- Page 99 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> a-settin' there. +I hope you 'ain't talked yoreself entirely out with Fred. It does beat +all how you an' that boy seem to grow thicker an' thicker every day. One +'ud think fur all the world that you told him all yore secrets, an' was +afeared he 'd tell 'em, by the way you stick by him; an' he 's jest as +bad about you. It 's amazin'."</p> + +<p>"Freddie 's a wonderful good boy, an' he 's smart, too. They ain't none +of 'em a-goin' to throw dust in his eyes in the race of life."</p> + +<p>"I 'm shore I 've tried to do my dooty by him the very best I could, an' +ef he does amount to anything in this world it 'll be through hard +labour an' mighty careful watchin'." Miss Hester gave a sigh that was +meant to be full of solemnity, but that positively reeked with +self-satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"But as you say, 'Liphalet," she went on, "Fred ain't the worst boy in +the world, nor the dumbest neither, ef I do say it myself. I ain't +a-sayin', mind you, that he 's anything so great or wonderful; but I 've +got to thinkin' that there 's somethin' in him besides original sin, an' +I should feel that the Lord had been mighty favourin' to me ef I could +manage to draw it out. The<!-- Page 100 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> fact of it is, 'Liphalet, I 've took a +notion in my head about Fred, an' I 'm a-goin' to tell you what it is. I +'ve decided to make a preacher out o' him."</p> + +<p>"H'm—ah—well, Miss Hester, don't you think you 'd better let the Lord +do that?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, 'Liphalet! you 'ain't got no insight at all. I believe in +people a-doin' their part an' not a-shovin' everything off on the Lord. +The shiftless don't want nothin' better than to say that they will leave +the Lord to take care o' things, an' then fold their arms an' set down +an' let things go to the devil. Remember, Brother Hodges, I don't mean +that in a perfane way. But then, because God made the sunlight an' the +rain, it ain't no sign that we should n't prune the vine."</p> + +<p>Miss Hester's face had flushed up with the animation of her talk, and +her eyes were sparkling with excitement.</p> + +<p>Eliphalet looked at her, and his heart leaped. He felt that the time had +come to speak.</p> + +<p>"Miss Hester," he began, and the hat in his hand went round and round +nervously.</p> + +<p>"'Liphalet, fur goodness' sake do lay<!-- Page 101 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> yore hat on the table. You 'll +ruin the band of it, an' you make me as nervous as a cat."</p> + +<p>He felt a little dampened after this, but he laid down the offending hat +and began again. "I 've been thinkin' some myself, Miss Hester, an' it +'s been about you."</p> + +<p>"About me? La, 'Liphalet, what have you been a-thinkin' now?" The "now" +sounded as if his thoughts were usually rather irresponsible.</p> + +<p>"It was about you an'—an'—old Bess."</p> + +<p>"About me an' old Bess! Bless my soul, man, will you stop beatin' about +the bush an' tell me what on airth I 've got to do with yore horse?"</p> + +<p>"Old Bess is dead, Miss Hester; died last night o' colic."</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought there was somethin' the matter with you. I 'm mighty +sorry to hear about the poor old creatur; but she 'd served you a long +while."</p> + +<p>"That 's jest what set me a-thinkin': she has served me a long while, +an' now she 's dead. Do you know what that means, Miss Hester? It means +that we 're a-gittin' old, you an' me. Do you know when I got old Bess? +It was nigh thirty years<!-- Page 102 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> ago: I used to ride her up to this door an' +tie her to that tree out there: it was a saplin' then. An' now she 's +dead."</p> + +<p>The man's voice trembled, and his listener was strangely silent.</p> + +<p>"You know on what errands the old horse used to bring me," he went on, +"but it was n't to be,—then. Hester," he rose, went over to her, and +looked down into her half-averted face, which went red and pale by +turns,—"Hester, 'ain't we wasted time enough?"</p> + +<p>There was a long pause before she lifted her face: he stood watching her +with the light of a great eagerness in his eyes. At last she spoke. +There was a catch in her voice; it was softer than usual.</p> + +<p>"'Liphalet," she began, "I 'm right glad you remember those days. I +'ain't never furgot 'em myself. It 's true you 've been a good, loyal +friend to me, an' I thank you fur it, but, after all these years—"</p> + +<p>He broke in upon her with something like youthful impetuosity. "After +all these years," he exclaimed, "an endurin' love ought to be rewarded. +Hester, I ain't a-goin' to take 'no' fur an answer. I 've got lots o' +years o' life in me yet,—we both<!-- Page 103 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> have,—an' I ain't a-goin' on with an +empty home an' an empty heart no longer."</p> + +<p>"'Liphalet, you ain't a young man no more, an' I ain't a young woman, +an' the Lord—"</p> + +<p>"I don't care ef I ain't; an' I don't believe in shovin' everything off +on the Lord."</p> + +<p>"'Liphalet!" It was a reproach.</p> + +<p>"Hester!" This was love. He put his arm around her and kissed her. "You +'re a-goin' to say yes, ain't you? You ain't a-goin' to send me away +miserable? You 're a-dyin' to say yes, but you 're a-tryin' to force +yoreself not to. Don't." He lifted her face as a young lover might, and +looked down into her eyes. "Is it yes?"</p> + +<p>"Well, 'Liphalet it 'pears like you 're jest so pesterin' that I 've got +to say yes. Yes, then." And she returned the quiet but jubilant kiss +that he laid upon her lips.</p> + +<p>"After all these years," he said. "Sorrow may last fur a night, but joy +cometh in the mornin'. It was a long night, but, thank the Lord, mornin' +'s broke." Then, rising, he went to the door and called joyously, +"Freddie, come on in: it 's all over."</p> + +<p>"'Liphalet, did that boy know what you was a-goin' to say?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 104 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, o' course he did."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my! oh, my! Well, I 've got a good mind to take it all back. Oh, +my!" And when Fred came in, for the first time in her life Miss Prime +was abashed and confused in his presence.</p> + +<p>But Eliphalet had no thought of shame. He took her by the hand and said, +"Freddie, Miss Hester's consented at last: after thirty years, she 's +a-goin' to marry me."</p> + +<p>But Miss Hester broke in, "'Liphalet, don't be a-puttin' notions in that +boy's head. You go 'way, Fred, right away."</p> + +<p>Fred went out, but he felt bolder. He went past Elizabeth's house +whistling. He did n't care. He wondered if he would have to wait thirty +years for her. He hoped not.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 105 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">S</span><span class="smcap">o</span> great has been our absorption in the careers of Fred Brent, Miss +Prime, and Eliphalet Hodges that we have sadly neglected some of the +characters whose acquaintance we made at the beginning of our story. But +nature and Time have been kinder,—or more cruel, if you will. They have +neither passed over nor neglected them. They have combined with trouble +and hard work to kill one of Fred's earliest friends. Melissa Davis is +no more, and the oldest girl, Sophy, supplements her day's work of +saleswoman in a dry-goods store by getting supper in the evening and +making the younger Davises step around. Mrs. Warren, the sometime friend +of Margaret Brent and enemy of Miss Prime, has moved farther out, into +the suburbs, for Dexter has suburbs now, and boasts electric cars and +amusement parks. Time has done much for the town. Its streets are paved, +and the mean street that bore the tumble-down Brent cottage<!-- Page 106 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> and its +fellows has been built up and grown respectable. It and the street where +Miss Prime's cottage frowned down have settled away into a quiet +residential portion of the town, while around to the east, south, and +west, and on both sides of the little river that divides the city, roars +and surges the traffic of a characteristic middle-West town. Half-way up +the hill, where the few aristocrats of the place formerly lived in +almost royal luxuriance and seclusion, a busy sewing-machine factory has +forced its way, and with its numerous chimneys and stacks literally +smoked the occupants out; at their very gates it sits like the commander +of a besieging army, and about it cluster the cottages of the workmen, +in military regularity. Little and neat and trim, they flock there like +the commander's obedient host, and such they are, for the sight of them +offends the eyes of wealth. So, what with the smoke, and what with the +proximity of the poorer classes, wealth capitulates, evacuates, and, +with robes discreetly held aside, passes by to another quarter, and a +new district is born where poverty dare not penetrate. Seated on a hill, +where, as is their inclination, they may look down, literally and +figuratively, upon the<!-- Page 107 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> hurrying town, they are complacent again, and +the new-comers to the town, the new-rich magnates and the half-rich +strugglers who would be counted on the higher level, move up and swell +their numbers at Dexter View.</p> + +<p>Amid all this change, two alone of those we know remain unaltered and +unalterable, true to their traditions. Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Martin, the +two ancient gossips, still live side by side, spying and commenting on +all that falls within their ken, much as they did on that day when +'Liphalet Hodges took Fred Brent for his first drive behind old Bess. +Their windows still open out in the same old way, whence they can watch +the happenings of the street. If there has been any change in them at +all, it is that they have grown more absorbed and more keen in following +and dissecting their neighbours' affairs.</p> + +<p>It is to these two worthies, then, that we wish to reintroduce the +reader on an early autumn evening some three months after the events +narrated in the last chapter.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin went to her back fence, which was the nearest point of +communication between her and her neighbour. "Mis' Smith," she called, +and her confederate came hurrying to the door, thimble on and a bit<!-- Page 108 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> of +sewing clutched precariously in her apron, just as she had caught it up +when the significant call brought her to the back door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you 're busy as usual, I see," said Mrs. Martin.</p> + +<p>"It ain't nothin' partic'ler, only a bit o' bastin' that I was doin'."</p> + +<p>"You ain't a-workin' on the machine, then, so you might bring your +sewin' over and take a cup o' tea with me."</p> + +<p>"La! now that 's so kind o' you, Mis' Martin. I was jest thinkin' how +good a cup o' tea would taste, but I did n't want to stop to make it. I +'ll be over in a minute, jest as soon as I see if my front door is +locked." And she disappeared within the house, while Mrs. Martin +returned to her own sitting-room.</p> + +<p>The invited knew very well what the invitation to tea meant. She knew +that some fresh piece of news was to be related and discussed. The +beverage of which she was invited to partake was but a pretext, but +neither the one nor the other admitted as much. Each understood +perfectly, as by a tacit agreement, and each tried to deceive herself +and the other as to motives and objects.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 109 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p><p>There is some subtle tie between tea-drinking and gossip. It is over +their dainty cups that women dissect us men and damn their sisters. Some +of the quality of the lemon they take in their tea gets into their +tongues. Tea is to talk what dew is to a plant, a gentle nourishing +influence, which gives to its product much of its own quality. There are +two acids in the tea which cultured women take. There is only one in the +beverage brewed by commonplace people. But that is enough.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin had taken her tray into the sitting-room, where a slight +fire was burning in the prim "parlour cook," on which the hot water was +striving to keep its quality when Mrs. Smith came in.</p> + +<p>"La, Mis' Martin, you do manage to have everything so cosy. I 'm shore a +little fire in a settin'-room don't feel bad these days."</p> + +<p>"I jest thought I 'd have to have a fire," replied Mrs. Martin, "fur I +was feelin' right down chilly, though goodness knows a person does burn +enough coal in winter, without throwin' it away in these early fall +days."</p> + +<p>"Well, the Lord 's put it here fur our comfort, an' I think we 're +a-doin' His will<!-- Page 110 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> when we make use o' the good things He gives us."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but Mis' Smith, there 's too many people that goes about the world +thinkin' that they know jest what the Lord's will is; but I have my +doubts about 'em, though, mind you, I ain't a-mentionin' no names: 'no +name, no blame.'" Mrs. Martin pressed her lips and shook her head, a +combination of gestures that was eloquent with meaning. It was too much +for her companion. Her curiosity got the better of her caution.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" she exclaimed. "What is it <em>now</em>?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothin' of any consequence at all. It ain't fur me to be a-judgin' +my neighbours or a-talkin' about 'em. I jest thought I 'd have you over +to tea, you 're sich good company."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Smith was so impatient that she had forgotten her sewing and it lay +neglected in her lap, but in no other way did she again betray her +anxiety. She knew that there was something new to be told and that it +would be told all in good time. But when gossip has become a fine art it +must be conducted with dignity and precision.</p> + +<p>"Let me see, I believe you take two<!-- Page 111 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> lumps o' sugar an' no milk." Mrs. +Martin knew perfectly what her friend took. "I don't know how this tea +is. I got it from the new grocery over at the corner." She tasted it +deliberately. "It might 'a' drawed a little more." Slowly she stirred it +round and round, and then, as if she had drawn the truth from the depths +of her cup, she observed, "This is a queer world, Mis' Smith."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Smith sighed a sigh that was appreciative and questioning at once. +"It is indeed," she echoed; "I 'm always a-sayin' to myself what a +mighty cur'us world this is."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever got any tea from that new grocery-man?" asked her +companion, with tantalising irrelevance.</p> + +<p>"No: I hain't never even been in there."</p> + +<p>"Well, this here 's middlin' good; don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it 's more than middlin', it 's downright good. I think I must go +into that grocery some time, myself."</p> + +<p>"I was in there to-day, and met Mis' Murphy: she says there 's great +goin'-ons up at Miss Prime's—I never shall be able to call her Mis' +Hodges."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 112 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>"You don't tell me! She and Brother 'Liphalet 'ain't had a fallin' out +already, have they? Though what more could you expect?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, indeed. It ain't no fallin' out, nothin' o' the kind."</p> + +<p>"Well, what then? What has Miss Hester—I mean Mis' Hodges been doin' +now? Where will that woman stop? What 's she done?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see,—do have another cup of tea, an' help yoreself to that +bread an' butter,—you see, Freddie Brent has finished at the high +school, an' they 've been wonderin' what to make him."</p> + +<p>"Well, what air they a-goin' to make him? His father was a good +stone-mason, when he was anything."</p> + +<p>"Humph! you don't suppose Miss Hester 's been sendin' a boy to school to +learn Latin and Greek an' algebry an' sich, to be a stone-mason, do you? +Huh uh! Said I to myself, as soon as I see her sendin' him from the +common school to high school, says I, 'She 's got big notions in her +head.' Oh, no; the father's trade was not good enough fur her boy: so +thinks Mis' 'Liphalet Hodges."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 113 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p><p>"Well, what on airth is she goin' to make out of him, then?"</p> + +<p>"Please pass me that sugar: thank you. You know Mr. Daniels offered him +a place as clerk in the same store where Sophy Davis is. It was mighty +kind o' Mr. Daniels, I think, to offer him the job."</p> + +<p>"Well, did n't he take it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, partly he did an' partly he did n't, ef you can understand that."</p> + +<p>"Sally Martin, what do you mean? A body has to fairly pick a thing out +o' you."</p> + +<p>"I mean that she told Mr. Daniels he might work fur him half of every +day."</p> + +<p>"Half a day! An' what 's he goin' to do the other half?"</p> + +<p>"He 's a-goin' to the Bible Seminary the other half-day. She 's a-goin' +to make a preacher out o' him."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin had slowly and tortuously worked up to her climax, and she +shot forth the last sentence with a jubilant ring. She had well +calculated its effects. Sitting back in her chair, she supped her tea +complacently as she contemplated her companion's astonishment. Mrs. +Smith had completely collapsed into her seat, folded her arms, and +closed her eyes. "Laws a massy!" she<!-- Page 114 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> exclaimed. "What next? Old Tom, +drunken Tom, swearin' an' ravin' Tom Brent's boy a preacher!" Then +suddenly she opened her eyes and sat up very erect and alert as she +broke forth, "Sally Martin, what air you a-tellin' me? It ain't +possible. It 's ag'in' nature. A panther's cub ain't a-goin' to be a +lamb. It 's downright wicked, that 's what I say."</p> + +<p>"An' so says I to Mis' Murphy, them same identical words; says I, 'Mis' +Murphy, it 's downright wicked. It 's a-shamin' of the Lord's holy +callin' o' the ministry.'"</p> + +<p>"An' does the young scamp pertend to 'a' had a call?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed: he was mighty opposed to it, and so was her husband; but +that woman was so set she would n't agree to nothin' else. He don't +pertend to 'a' heerd no call, 'ceptin' Miss Hester's, an' that was a +command. I know it 's all true, fur Mis' Murphy, while she was n't jest +a-listenin', lives next door and heerd it all."</p> + +<p>And so the two women fell to discussing the question, as they had heard +it, pro and con. It was all true, as these gossips had it, that Miss +Hester had put into execution her half-expressed determination to make +a<!-- Page 115 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> preacher of Fred. He had heard nothing of it until the day when he +rushed in elated over the kindly offer of a place in Mr. Daniels's +store. Then his guardian had firmly told him of her plan, and there was +a scene.</p> + +<p>"You kin jest tell Mr. Daniels that you kin work for him half a day +every day, an' that you 're a-goin' to put in the rest of your time at +the Bible Seminary. I 've made all the arrangements."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want to be a preacher," the boy had retorted, with some +heat. "I 'd a good deal rather learn business, and some day start out +for myself."</p> + +<p>"It ain't what some of us wants to do in this life; it 's what the Lord +appoints us to; an' it 's wicked fur you to rebel."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how you can know so much what the Lord means for me to do. +I should think He would give His messages to those who are to do the +work."</p> + +<p>"That 's right, Freddie Brent, sass me, sass me. That 's what I 've +struggled all the best days of my life to raise you fur."</p> + +<p>"I 'm not sassing you, but—"</p> + +<p>"Don't you think, Hester," broke in her husband, "that mebbe there 's +some truth in what Freddie says? Don't you think the<!-- Page 116 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> Lord kind o' +whispers what He wants people to do in their own ears? Mebbe it was n't +never intended fur Freddie to be a preacher: there 's other ways o' +doin' good besides a-talkin' from the pulpit."</p> + +<p>"I 'd be bound fur you, 'Liphalet: it 's a shame, you a-goin' ag'in' me, +after all I 've done to make Freddie material fit for the Lord's use. +Jest think what you 'll have to answer fur, a-helpin' this unruly boy to +shirk his dooty."</p> + +<p>"I ain't a-goin' ag'in' you, Hester. You 're my wife, an' I 'low 'at +your jedgment 's purty sound on most things. I ain't a-goin' ag'in' you +at all, but—but—I was jest a-wonderin'."</p> + +<p>The old man brought out the last words slowly, meditatively. He was +"jest a-wonderin'." His wife, though, never wondered.</p> + +<p>"Mind you," she went on, "I say to you, Freddie, and to yore uncle +'Liphalet too, ef he upholds you, that it ain't me you 're a-rebellin' +against. It 's yore dooty an' the will o' God that you 're a-fightin'. +It 's easy enough to rebel against man; but do you know what you 're +a-doin' when you set yourself up against the Almighty? Do you want to do +that?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 117 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p><p>"Yes," came the boy's answer like a flash. He was stung and irritated +into revolt, and a torrent of words poured from his lips unrestrained. +"I 'm tired of doing right. I 'm tired of being good. I 'm tired of +obeying God—"</p> + +<p>"Freddie!" But over the dam the water was flowing with irresistible +force. The horror of his guardian's face and the terrible reproach in +her voice could not check the boy.</p> + +<p>"Everything," he continued, "that I have ever wanted to do since I can +remember has been bad, or against my duty, or displeasing to God. Why +does He frown on everything I want to do? Why do we always have to be +killing our wishes on account of duty? I don't believe it. I hate duty. +I hate obedience. I hate everything, and I won't obey—"</p> + +<p>"Freddie, be keerful: don't say anything that 'll hurt after yore mad +spell 's over. Don't blaspheme the Lord A'mighty."</p> + +<p>'Liphalet Hodges' voice was cool and tender and persuasive. He laid his +hand on the boy's shoulder, while his wife sat there motionless, white +and rigid with horror.</p> + +<p>The old man's words and his gentle touch had a wonderful effect on the +boy; they<!-- Page 118 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> checked his impassioned outburst; but his pent-up heart was +too full. He burst into tears and rushed headlong from the house.</p> + +<p>For a time he walked aimlessly on, his mind in a tumult of rage. Then he +began to come to himself. He saw the people as they passed him. He had +eyes again for the street, and he wondered where he was going. He felt +an overwhelming desire to talk to some one and to get sympathy, +consolation, and perhaps support. But whither should he turn? If +'Liphalet Hodges had been at the old house, his steps would naturally +have bent in that direction; but this refuge was no longer his. Then his +mind began going over the people whom he knew, and no name so stuck in +his fancy as that of Elizabeth. It was a hard struggle. He was bashful. +Any other time he would not have done it, but now his great need created +in him an intense desperation that made him bold. He turned and retraced +his steps toward the Simpson house.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth was leaning over the gate. The autumn evening was cool: she +had a thin shawl about her shoulders. She was humming a song as Fred +came up. His own agitation made her seem irritatingly calm.<!-- Page 119 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> She opened +the gate and made room for him at her side.</p> + +<p>"You seem dreadfully warm," she said, "and here I was getting ready to +go in because it is so cool."</p> + +<p>"I 've been walking very fast," he answered, hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you 'd better go in, so as not to take cold?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't care if I do take cold." The speech sounded rude. Elizabeth +looked at him in surprise.</p> + +<p>"What 's the matter with you?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I 'm mad; that 's what 's the matter."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fred, you should n't get mad: you know it 's wrong."</p> + +<p>He put up his hand as if she had struck him. "Wrong! wrong! It seems I +can't hear anything else but that word. Everything is wrong. Don't say +any more about it. I don't want to hear the word again."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth did not know what to make of his words, so she said nothing, +and for a while they stood in strained silence. After a while he said, +"Aunt Hester wants me to be a preacher."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad to hear that," she returned. "I think you 'll make a good +one."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 120 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p><p>"You too!" he exclaimed, resentfully. "Why should I make a good one? +Why need I be one at all?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, because you 're smart, and then you 've always been good."</p> + +<p>The young man was suddenly filled with disdain. His anger returned. He +felt how utterly out of accord he was with every one else. "Don't you +think there is anything else required besides being 'smart' and 'good'?" +He himself would have blushed at the tone in which he said this, could +he have recognised it. "I 'm smart because I happened to pass all my +examinations. I got through the high school at eighteen: nearly everyone +does the same. I 'm good because I have never had a chance to be bad: I +have never been out of Aunt Hester's sight long enough. Anybody could be +good that way."</p> + +<p>"But then older people know what is best for us, Fred."</p> + +<p>"Why should they? They don't know what 's beating inside of us away down +here." The boy struck his breast fiercely. "I don't believe they do know +half the time what is best, and I don't believe that God intends them to +know."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 121 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p><p>"I would n't talk about it, if I were you. I must go in. Won't you come +in with me?"</p> + +<p>"Not to-night," he replied. "I must be off."</p> + +<p>"But papa might give you some advice."</p> + +<p>"I 've had too much of it now. What I want is room to breathe in once."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you."</p> + +<p>"I know you don't; nobody does, or tries to. Go in, Lizzie," he said +more calmly. "I don't want you to catch cold, even if I do. Good-night." +And he turned away.</p> + +<p>The girl stood for a moment looking after him; her eye was moist. Then +she pouted, "Fred 's real cross to-night," and went in.</p> + +<p>It is one of the glaring sarcasms of life to see with what complacency a +shallow woman skims the surface of tragedy and thinks that she has +sounded the depths.</p> + +<p>Fred continued his walk towards home. He was thinking. It ran in him +that Elizabeth was a good deal of a fool; and then he felt horrified +with himself for thinking it. It did not occur to him that the hard +conditions through which he had come had made him mentally and +spiritually older than the girl. He was thinking of his position,<!-- Page 122 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> how +perfectly alone he stood. Most of the people whom he knew would see only +blind obstinacy in his refusal to be a minister. But were one's +inclinations nothing? Was there really nothing in the "call" to preach? +So he pondered as he walked, and more and more the hopelessness of his +predicament became revealed to him. All his life had been moulded by +this one woman's hands. Would not revolt now say to the world, "I am +grown now; I do not need this woman who has toiled. I can disobey her +with impunity; I will do so."</p> + +<p>He went home, and before going in leaned his head long upon the gate and +thought. A listless calm had succeeded his storm of passion. He went in +and to bed.</p> + +<p>At breakfast he seemed almost cheerful, while Mr. Hodges was subdued. +His wife had taken refuge in an attitude of injured silence.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Hester," said the young man, apparently without effort, "I was +wrong yesterday; I am sorry. I will do whatever you say, even to being a +preacher." Something came up in his throat and choked him as he saw a +brightness come into the face and eyes of his beloved "Uncle 'Liph," but +it<!-- Page 123 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> grew hard and bitter there as Mrs. Hodges replied, "Well, I 'm glad +the Lord has showed you the errors of your way an' brought you around to +a sense o' your dooty to Him an' to me."</p> + +<p>Poor, blind, conceited humanity! Interpreters of God, indeed! We reduce +the Deity to vulgar fractions. We place our own little ambitions and +inclinations before a shrine, and label them "divine messages." We set +up our Delphian tripod, and we are the priest and oracles. We despise +the plans of Nature's Ruler and substitute our own. With our short sight +we affect to take a comprehensive view of eternity. Our horizon is the +universe. We spy on the Divine and try to surprise His secrets, or to +sneak into His confidence by stealth. We make God the eternal a puppet. +We measure infinity with a foot-rule.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 124 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">W</span><span class="smcap">hen</span> Fate is fighting with all her might against a human soul, the +greatest victory that the soul can win is to reconcile itself to the +unpleasant, which is never quite so unpleasant afterwards. Upon this +principle Frederick Brent acted instinctively. What with work and study +and contact with his fellow-students, he found the seminary not so bad a +place, after all. Indeed, he began to take a sort of pleasure in his +pursuits. The spirit of healthy competition in the school whetted his +mind and made him forgetful of many annoyances from without. When some +fellow-salesman at the store gibed at him for being a parson, it hurt +him; but the wound was healed and he was compensated when in debate he +triumphed over the crack speaker of his class. It was a part of his +training to do earnestly and thoroughly what he had to do, even though +it was distasteful, and it was not long before he was spoken of as one +of the most promising members of the school.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 125 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p><p>Notwithstanding its steady growth toward citydom, Dexter retained many +of the traditions of its earlier and smaller days. Among them was that +of making the church the centre of its social and public life. For this +reason the young student came in for much attention on account of his +standing in the religious college. Another cause which elicited the +praise and congratulations of his friends was his extreme youth. That +community which could send out a "boy preacher" always deemed itself +particularly favoured by Providence. Dexter was no exception, and it had +already begun to bestow the appellation upon young Brent, much to his +disgust. He knew the species and detested it. It was mostly composed of +ignorant and hypocritical young prigs, in whom their friends had seemed +to see some especial merit and had forthwith hoisted them into a +position that was as foolish as it was distasteful. They were hailed as +youthful prodigies and exploited around the country like a patent +medicine or a side-show. What is remarkable at eighteen is not so +striking at twenty-eight. So when their extreme youth was no longer a +cause for surprise, the boy preachers<!-- Page 126 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> settled down into every-day +dulness, with nothing except the memory of a flimsy fame to compensate +the congregations they bored.</p> + +<p>Against this Frederick Brent fought with all his strength. He refused +invitation after invitation to "talk" or "exhort," on the plea that he +wished to be fully prepared for his work before entering upon it.</p> + +<p>But his success at school militated against him, for the fame of his +oratorical powers was gradually but surely leaking out. The faculty +recognised and commended it, so he could not hope long to hide behind +his plea, although he dreaded the day when it would no longer serve his +purpose.</p> + +<p>Some of the "older heads" accused him of an unwarranted fear, of +cowardice even, and an attempt to shirk his evident duty. The truth of +it was that these same people wanted to hear him and then attack his +manner or his doctrine. They could not, would not forget that he was the +son of old Tom Brent, the drunkard, and of the terrible, the unspeakable +Margaret, his wife. They could not forget that he was born and lived the +first years of his life on the "mean" street, when it was a mean +street;<!-- Page 127 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> and when any obstinate old fossil was told of the youth's +promise, he would shake his head, as who should say, "What good can come +out of that Nazareth?"</p> + +<p>But the young man went his way and heeded them not. He knew what they +were saying. He knew what they were thinking, even when they held his +hand and smiled upon him, and it filled him with a spirit of distrust +and resentment, though it put him bravely on his mettle. While he was a +man, and in the main manly, sometimes he was roused to an anger almost +childish; then, although he did not want to be a preacher at all, he +wished and even prayed to become a great one, just to convince the old +fools who shook their heads over him. To his ears had crept, as such +tales will creep, some of the stories of his parents' lives, and, while +he pitied his mother, there was a great fierceness in his heart against +his father.</p> + +<p>But as in the old days when Miss Prime's discipline would have turned +all within him to hardness and bitterness Eliphalet Hodges stood between +him and despair, so now in this crucial time Elizabeth was a softening +influence in his life.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 128 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p><p>As the days came and went, he had continued to go to see her ever since +the night when he had stood with her at the gate and felt the bitterness +of her lack of sympathy; but all that had passed now, and unconsciously +they had grown nearer to each other. There had been a tacit +understanding between them until just a few weeks before. It was on a +warm spring evening: he had just passed through her gate and started +towards the house, when the opening chords of the piano struck on his +ear through the opened window and arrested him. Elizabeth had a pleasant +little voice, with a good deal of natural pathos in it. As the +minister's daughter, the scope of her songs was properly, according to +Dexter, rather limited, but that evening she was singing softly to +herself a love-song. The words were these:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If Death should claim me for her own to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And softly I should falter from your side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, tell me, loved one, would my memory stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And would my image in your heart abide?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or should I be as some forgotten dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That lives its little space, then fades entire?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should Time send o'er you its relentless stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To cool your heart, and quench for aye love's fire?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<!-- Page 129 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span><span class="i0">I would not for the world, love, give you pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or ever compass what would cause you grief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh, how well I know that tears are vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But love is sweet, my dear, and life is brief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, if some day before you I should go<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beyond the sound and sight of song and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T would give my spirit stronger wings to know<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That you remembered still and wept for me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She was alone in the room. The song was hardly finished when Brent +stepped through the window and laid his hand over hers where they rested +on the keys.</p> + +<p>"Why do you sing like that, Elizabeth?" he said, tremulously.</p> + +<p>She blushed and lowered her eyes beneath his gaze, as if she already +knew the words that were on his lips, or feared that her soul lay too +bare before him.</p> + +<p>"Why do you think of death?" he asked again, imprisoning her hands.</p> + +<p>"It was only my mood," she faltered. "I was thinking, and I thought of +the song, and I just sang it."</p> + +<p>"Were you thinking of any one in particular, Lizzie?"</p> + +<p>Her head drooped lower until her face was hidden, but she did not +answer. A strange boldness had come to him. He went on: "I listened as +you were singing,<!-- Page 130 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> and it seemed as if every word was meant for me, +Lizzie. It may sound foolish, but I—I love you. Won't you look at me +and tell me that I am right in thinking you love me?" She half raised +her face to his and murmured one word. In it were volumes; he bent down +and kissed her. It was the first time he had ever kissed a girl. He did +it almost fearfully. It was a kiss in which reverence struggled with +passion.</p> + +<p>"You are to be my little sweetheart now, and I am to be in your thoughts +hereafter when you sing; only we don't want any more such songs as this +one. I don't want to 'remember still and weep for you,' I want to have +you always by me and work for you. Won't you let me?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth found her tongue for a moment only, but that was enough for +her lover. A happy light gleamed in his eyes: his face glowed. He was +transfigured. Love does so much for a man.</p> + +<p>From that time forward, when he was harassed by cares and trouble, he +sought out Elizabeth, and, even though he could seldom tell her all that +was in his heart, he found relief in her presence. He did not often<!-- Page 131 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +speak of his trials to her, for, in spite of his love for her, he felt +that she could not understand; but the pleasure he found in her company +put sweetness into his life and made his burdens easier to bear.</p> + +<p>Only once had a little shadow come between them, and the fact that so +little a thing could have made a shadow shows in what a narrow, +constrained atmosphere the two young people lived. Young Brent still had +his half-day position in the store, and when the employees of a rival +establishment challenged Daniels's clerks to a game of baseball, he was +duly chosen as one of the men to uphold the honour of their house upon +the diamond.</p> + +<p>The young man was not fossilised. He had strength and the capacity for +enjoyment, so he accepted without a thought of wrong. The Saturday came, +the game was played. Fred Brent took part, and thereby brought a +hornets' nest about his ears. It would scarcely have been so bad, but +the young man entered the game with all the zest and earnestness of his +intense nature, and several times by brilliant playing saved his side +from defeat. In consequence, his name was in the mouth of every one who +had seen or<!-- Page 132 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> heard of the contest. He was going home that evening, +feeling pleased and satisfied with himself, when he thought he would +drop in a moment on the way and see Elizabeth. He had hardly got into +the house before he saw from her manner that something was wrong, and he +wondered what it could be. He soon learned. It is only praise that is +slow.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fred," said the girl, reproachfully, "is it true that you have been +playing baseball?"</p> + +<p>"Baseball, yes; what of it? What are you looking so horrified about?"</p> + +<p>"Did you think it was right for you, in your position, to play?"</p> + +<p>"If I had thought it was wrong I assuredly should not have played," the +young man returned.</p> + +<p>"Everybody is talking about it, and father says he thinks you have +disgraced your calling."</p> + +<p>"Disgraced my calling by playing an innocent game?"</p> + +<p>"But father thinks it is a shame for a man who is preparing to do such +work as yours to have people talking about him as a mere ball-player."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 133 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p><p>The blood mounted in hot surges to the young man's face. He felt like +saying, "Your father be hanged," but he controlled his anger, and said, +quietly, "Elizabeth, don't you ever think for yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I do, Fred, but I have been brought up to respect what my +elders think and say."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think that they, as well as we, can be narrow and mistaken?"</p> + +<p>"It is not for me to judge them. My part is to obey."</p> + +<p>"You have learned an excellent lesson," he returned, bitterly. "That is +just the thing: 'obey, obey.' Well, I will. I will be a stick, a dolt. I +will be as unlike what God intended me to be as possible. I will be just +what your father and Aunt Hester and you want me to be. I will let them +think for me and save my soul. I am too much an imbecile to attempt to +work out my own salvation. No, Elizabeth, I will not play ball any more. +I can imagine the horrified commotion it caused among the angels when +they looked down and saw me pitching. When I get back to school I shall +look up the four Gospels' views on ball-playing."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 134 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p><p>"Fred, I don't like you when you talk that way."</p> + +<p>"I won't do that any more, either." He rose abruptly. "Good-bye, +Elizabeth. I am off." He was afraid to stay, lest more bitter words +should come to his lips.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Fred," she said. "I hope you understand."</p> + +<p>The young man wondered as he walked homeward if the girl he had chosen +was not a little bit prim. Then he thought of her father, and said to +himself, even as people would have said of himself, "How can she help +it, with such a father?"</p> + +<p>All his brightness had been dashed. He was irritated because the thing +was so small, so utterly absurd. It was like the sting of a miserable +little insect,—just enough to smart, and not enough to need a strong +remedy. The news of the game had also preceded him home, and his +guardian's opinion of the propriety of his action did not tend to soothe +his mind. Mrs. Hodges forcibly expressed herself as follows: "I put +baseball-playin' right down with dancin' and sich like. It ain't no +fittin' occupation for any one that 's a-goin' into the ministry. It 's +idleness, to begin with; it 's a-wastin'<!-- Page 135 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> the precious time that 's been +given us for a better use. A young man that 's goin' to minister to +people's souls ought to be consecrated to the work before he begins it. +Who ever heerd tell of Jesus playin' baseball?"</p> + +<p>Among a certain class of debaters such an argument is always supposed to +be clinching, unanswerable, final. But Mr. Hodges raised his voice in +protest. "I ain't a-goin' to keep still no longer. I don't believe the +boy 's done a bit o' harm. There 's lots of things the Lord did n't do +that He did n't forbid human bein's to do. We ain't none of us divine, +but you mark my words, Freddie, an' I say it right here so 's yore aunt +Hester can hear me too, you mark my words: ef you never do nothin' worse +than what you 've been a-doin' to-day, it 'll be mighty easy for you to +read yore title clear to mansions in the skies."</p> + +<p>"Omph huh, 'Liphalet, there ain't nothin' so easy as talkin' when Satin +'s a-promptin' you."</p> + +<p>"There you go, Hester, there you go ag'in, a-pattin' the devil on the +back. I 'low the Old Boy must be tickled to death with all the +compliments Christian people give him."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 136 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p><p>"A body 'd about as well be complimentin' the devil as to be +a-countenancin' his works, as you air."</p> + +<p>The old man stopped with a piece half-way to his mouth. "Now jest listen +at that! Hester Prime, ain't you ashamed of yoreself? Me a-countenancin' +wrong! Sayin' that to me, an' me ol' enough to be—to be—well, I 'm +your husband, anyway."</p> + +<p>In times of excitement he was apt to forget this fact for the instant +and give his wife her maiden name, as if all that was sharp in her +belonged to that prenuptial period. But this storm relieved the +atmosphere of its tension. Mrs. Hodges felt better for having spoken her +mind, and Mr. Hodges for having answered, while the young man was +relieved by the championship of his elder, and so the storm blew over. +It was several days before Brent saw Elizabeth again; but, thanks to +favouring winds, the sky had also cleared in that direction.</p> + +<p>It was through such petty calms and storms that Fred passed the days and +weeks of his first year at the seminary. Some of them were small +annoyances, to be sure, but he felt them deeply, and the sting of them +rankled. It is not to be supposed, because<!-- Page 137 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> there was no specific +outburst, that he was entirely at rest. Vesuvius had slumbered long +before Pompeii's direful day. His mind was often in revolt, but he kept +it to himself or confided it to only one friend. This friend was a +fellow-student at the seminary, a man older than Fred by some years. He +had first begun a literary career, but had renounced it for the +ministry. Even to him Fred would not commit himself until, near the end +of the year, Taylor declared his intention of now renouncing the study +of theology for his old pursuits. Then Brent's longing to be free +likewise drew his story from his lips.</p> + +<p>Taylor listened to him with the air of one who had been through it all +and could sympathise. Then he surprised his friend by saying, "Don't be +a fool, Brent. It 's all very nice and easy to talk about striking out +for one's self, and all that. I 've been through it all myself. My +advice to you is, stay here, go through the academic discipline, and be +a parson. Get into a rut if you will, for some ruts are safe. When we +are buried deep, they keep us from toppling over. This may be a sort of +weak philosophy I am trying to teach you, but it is the happiest.<!-- Page 138 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> If I +can save any man from self-delusion, I want to do it. I 'll tell you +why. When I was at school some fool put it into my head that I could +write. I hardly know how it came about. I began scribbling of my own +accord and for my own amusement. Sometimes I showed the things to my +friend, who was a fool: he bade me keep on, saying that I had talent. I +did n't believe it at first. But when a fellow keeps dinging at another +with one remark, after a while he grows to believe it, especially when +it is pleasant. It is vastly easy to believe what we want to believe. So +I came to think that I could write, and my soul was fired with the +ambition to make a name for myself in literature. When I should have +been turning Virgil into English for class-room, I was turning out more +or less deformed verse of my own, or rapt in the contemplation of some +plot for story or play. But somehow I got through school without a +decided flunk. In the mean time some of my lines had found their way +into print, and the little cheques I received for them had set my head +buzzing with dreams of wealth to be made by my pen. If we could only +pass the pitfalls of that dreaming age of youth, most of us would get<!-- Page 139 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +along fairly well in this matter-of-fact old world. But we are likely to +follow blindly the leadings of our dreams until we run our heads smack +into a corner-post of reality. Then we awaken, but in most cases too +late.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to say that my father had the good sense to discourage my +aspirations. He wanted me to take a profession. But, elated by the +applause of my friends, I scorned the idea. What, mew my talents up in a +courtroom or a hospital? Never! It makes me sick when I look back upon +it and see what a fool I was. I settled down at home and began writing. +Lots of things came back from periodicals to which I sent them; but I +had been told that this was the common lot of all writers, and I plodded +on. A few things sold, just enough to keep my hopes in a state of +unstable equilibrium.</p> + +<p>"Well, it 's no use to tell you how I went on in that way for four +years, clinging and losing hold, standing and slipping, seeing the prize +recede just as I seemed to grasp it. Then came the awakening. I saw that +it would have been better just to go on and do the conventional thing. I +found this out too late, and I came here to try to remedy it, but I +can't. No one can. You get your<!-- Page 140 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> mind into a condition where the +ordinary routine of study is an impossibility, and you cannot go back +and take up the train you have laid, so you keep struggling on wasting +your energy, hoping against hope. Then suddenly you find out that you +are and can be only third- or at best second-rate. God, +what a discovery it is! How you try to fight it off until the last +moment! But it comes upon you surely and crushingly, and, cut, bruised, +wounded, you slip away from the face of the world. If you are a brave +man, you say boldly to yourself, 'I will eke out an existence in some +humble way,' and you go away to a life of longing and regret. If you are +a coward, you either leap over the parapets of life to hell, or go +creeping back and fall at the feet of the thing that has damned you, +willing to be third-rate, anything; for you are stung with the poison +that never leaves your blood. So it has been with me: even when I found +that I must choose a calling, I chose the one that gave me most time to +nurse the serpent that had stung me."</p> + +<p>Taylor ceased speaking, and looked a little ashamed of his vehemence.</p> + +<p>"This is your story," said Brent; "but<!-- Page 141 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> men differ and conditions +differ. I will accept all the misery, all the pain and defeat you have +suffered, to be free to choose my own course."</p> + +<p>Taylor threw up his hands with a deprecatory gesture. "There," he said; +"it is always so. I might as well have talked to the wind."</p> + +<p>So the fitful calms and Elizabeth's love had not cured Frederick Brent's +heart of its one eating disease, the desire for freedom.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 142 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="smcap">t</span> was not until early in Brent's second year at the Bible Seminary that +he was compelled to go through the ordeal he so much dreaded, that of +filling a city pulpit. The Dexterites had been wont to complain that +since the advent among them of the theological school their churches had +been turned into recitation-rooms for the raw students; but of "old Tom +Brent's boy," as they still called him, they could never make this +complaint. So, as humanity loves to grumble, the congregations began to +find fault because he did not do as his fellows did.</p> + +<p>The rumours of his prowess in the class-room and his eloquence in the +society hall had not abated, and the curiosity of his fellow-townsmen +had been whetted to a point where endurance was no longer possible. +Indeed, it is open to question whether it was not by connivance of the +minister himself, backed by his trustees on<!-- Page 143 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> one side and the college +authorities on the other, that Brent was finally deputed to supply the +place of the Rev. Mr. Simpson, who was affected by an indisposition, +fancied, pretended, or otherwise.</p> + +<p>The news struck the young man like a thunderbolt, albeit he had been +expecting it. He attempted to make his usual excuse, but the kindly old +professor who had notified him smiled into his face, and, patting his +shoulder, said, "It 's no use, Brent. I 'd go and make the best of it; +they 're bound to have you. I understand your diffidence in the matter, +and, knowing how well you stand in class, it does credit to your +modesty."</p> + +<p>The old man passed on. He said he understood, but in his heart the young +student standing there helpless, hopeless, knew that he did not +understand, that he could not. Only he himself could perceive it in all +the trying horror of its details. Only he himself knew fully or could +know what the event involved,—that when he arose to preach, to +nine-tenths of the congregation he would not be Frederick Brent, +student, but "old Tom Brent's boy." He recoiled from the thought.</p> + +<p>Many a fireside saint has said, "Why did<!-- Page 144 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> not Savonarola tempt the hot +ploughshares? God would not have let them burn him." Faith is a +beautiful thing. But Savonarola had the ploughshares at his feet. The +children of Israel stepped into the Red Sea before the waters parted, +but then Moses was with them, and, what was more, Pharaoh was behind +them.</p> + +<p>At home, the intelligence of what Brent was to do was received in +different manner by Mrs. Hodges and her husband. The good lady launched +immediately into a lecture on the duty that was placed in his hands; but +Eliphalet was silent as they sat at the table. He said nothing until +after supper was over, and then he whispered to his young friend as he +started to his room, "I know jest how you feel, Freddie. It seems that I +ought n't to call you that now; but I 'low you 'll allus be 'Freddie' to +me."</p> + +<p>"Don't ever call me anything else, if you please, Uncle 'Liph," said the +young man, pressing Eliphalet's hand.</p> + +<p>"I think I kin understand you better than most people," Mr. Hodges went +on; "an' I know it ain't no easy task that you 've got before you."</p> + +<p>"You 've always understood me better<!-- Page 145 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> than any one, and—and I wish you +knew what it has meant to me, and that I could thank you somehow."</p> + +<p>"'Sh, my boy. It 's thanks enough to hear them words from you. Now you +jest calm yoreself, an' when Sunday comes—I don't know as I 'd ought to +say it this way, but I mean it all in a Christian sperrit—when Sunday +comes, Freddie, my boy, you jest go in an' give 'em fits."</p> + +<p>The two parted with another pressure of the hand, and it must be +confessed that the old man looked a little bit sheepish when his wife +hoped he had been giving Fred good advice.</p> + +<p>"You don't reckon, Hester, that I 'd give him any other kind, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Not intentionally, 'Liphalet; but when it comes to advice, there 's +p'ints o' view." Mrs. Hodges seemed suspicious of her husband's +capabilities as an adviser.</p> + +<p>"There 's some times when people 'd a good deal ruther have sympathy +than advice."</p> + +<p>"An' I reckon, 'cordin' to yore way o' thinkin' this is one o' them. +Well, I intend to try to do my dooty in this matter, as I 've tried to +do it all along."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 146 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p><p>"Hester, yore dooty 'll kill you yit. It 's a wonder you don't git +tired a-lookin' it in the face."</p> + +<p>"I ain't a-goin' to <ins class="correction" title="original reads: skirk">shirk</ins> it, +jest to live in pleasure an' ease."</p> + +<p>"No need o' shirkin', Hester, no need o' shirkin'; but they 's some +people that would n't be content without rowin' down stream."</p> + +<p>"An' then, mind you, 'Liphalet, I ain't a-exchangin' words with you, fur +that 's idleness, but there 's others, that would n't row up stream, but +'ud wait an' hope fur a wind to push 'em." These impersonalities were as +near "spatting" as Mr. and Mrs. Hodges ever got.</p> + +<p>Through all the community that clustered about Mr. Simpson's church and +drew its thoughts, ideas, and subjects of gossip therefrom, ran like +wildfire the news that at last they were to have a chance to judge of +young Brent's merits for themselves. It caused a stir among old and +young, and in the days preceding the memorable Sunday little else was +talked of.</p> + +<p>When it reached the ears of old Dan'l Hastings, who limped around now +upon two canes, but was as acrimonious as ever,<!-- Page 147 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> he exclaimed, tapping +the ground with one of his sticks for emphasis, "What! that young Brent +preachin' in our church, in our minister's pulpit! It 's a shame,—an' +he the born son of old Tom Brent, that all the town knows was the worst +sinner hereabouts. I ain't a-goin' to go; I ain't a-goin' to go."</p> + +<p>"Don't you be afeared to go, Dan'l: there ain't no danger that his +docterns air a-goin' to be as strong as his father's whisky," said his +old enemy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it 's fur the likes o' you, Thomas Donaldson, to be a-talkin' o' +docterns an' whisky in the same breath. You never did have no +reverence," said the old man, testily.</p> + +<p>"An' yet, Dan'l, I 've found docterns an' whisky give out by the same +breath."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hastings did not think it necessary to notice this remark. He went +on with his tirade against the prospective "supply:" "Why can't Elder +Simpson preach hisself, I 'd like to know, instead o' puttin' up that +young upstart to talk to his betters? Why, I mind the time that that boy +had to be took out o' church by the hand fur laffin' at me,—at <em>me</em>, +mind you," the old man repeated,<!-- Page 148 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> shaking his stick; "laffin' at me when +I was expoundin' the word."</p> + +<p>"That 's ter'ble, Dan'l; fur, as fur as I kin ricollec', when you 're +a-expoundin' the word it ain't no laffin' matter."</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Thomas Donaldson, the world 's a-goin' down hill fast: but +I ain't a-goin' to help it along. I ain't a-goin' to hear that Brent boy +preach."</p> + +<p>This declaration, however, did not prevent the venerable Dan'l from +being early in his seat on the following Sunday morning, sternly, +uncompromisingly critical.</p> + +<p>As might have been expected, the church was crowded. Friends, enemies, +and the merely curious filled the seats and blocked the aisles. The +chapel had been greatly enlarged to accommodate its growing +congregation, but on this day it was totally inadequate to hold the +people who flocked to its doors.</p> + +<p>The Rev. Mr. Simpson was so far recovered from his indisposition as to +be able to be present and assist at the service. Elizabeth was there, +looking proud and happy and anxious. Mrs. Hodges was in her accustomed +place on the ladies' side of the pulpit. She had put new strings to her +bonnet in honour of the occasion. Her face wore a<!-- Page 149 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> look of great +severity. An unregenerate wag in the back part of the church pointed her +out to his companions and remarked that she looked as if she 'd spank +the preacher if he did n't do well. "Poor fellow, if he sees that face +he 'll break down, sure." Opposite, in the "amen corner," the +countenance of the good Eliphalet was a study in changing expressions. +It was alternately possessed by fear, doubt, anxiety, and exultation.</p> + +<p>Sophy Davis sat in a front seat, spick and span in a new dress, which +might have been made for the occasion. People said that she was making +eyes at her young fellow-salesman, though she was older than he. Mrs. +Martin and her friend whispered together a little farther back.</p> + +<p>A short time before the service began, Brent entered by a side door near +the pulpit and ascended to his place. His entrance caused a marked +sensation. His appearance was impressive. The youthful face was white +and almost rigid in its lines. "Scared to death," was the mental note of +a good many who saw him. But his step was firm. As Elizabeth looked at +him, she felt proud that such a man loved her. He was not handsome. His +features were irregular, but his<!-- Page 150 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> eyes were clear and fearless. If a +certain cowardice had held him back from this ordeal, it was surely not +because he trembled for himself. The life he had lived and the battles +he had fought had given a compression to his lips that corrected a +natural tendency to weakness in his mouth. His head was set squarely on +his broad shoulders. He was above medium height, but not loosely framed. +He looked the embodiment of strength.</p> + +<p>"He ain't a bit like his father," said some one.</p> + +<p>"He 's like his father was in his best days," replied another.</p> + +<p>"He don't look like he 's over-pleased with the business. They say he +did n't want to come."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess it 's purty resky work gittin' up to speak before all +these people that 's knowed him all his life, an' know where an' what he +come from."</p> + +<p>"They say, too, that he 's some pumpkins out at the college."</p> + +<p>"I 'ain't much faith in these school-made preachers; but we' ll soon see +what he kin do in the pulpit. We 've heerd preachers, an' we kin +compare."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 151 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p><p>"That 's so: we 've heerd some preachers in our day. He must toe the +mark. He may be all right at college, but he 's in a pulpit now that has +held preachers fur shore. A pebble 's all right among pebbles, but it +looks mighty small 'longside o' boulders. He 's preachin' before people +now. Why, Brother Simpson himself never would 'a' got a special +dispensation to hold the church all these years, ef it had n't been fur +the people backin' him up an' Conference was afraid they 'd leave the +connection."</p> + +<p>"Well, ef this boy is anything, Lord only knows where he gets it, fur +everybody knows—"</p> + +<p>"'Sh!"</p> + +<p>The buzz which had attended the young speaker's entrance subsided as Mr. +Simpson rose and gave out the hymn. That finished, he ran his eyes over +the front seats of the assembly and then said, "Brother Hastings, lead +us in prayer."</p> + +<p>The old man paused for an instant as if surprised, and then got slowly +to his knees. It was a strange selection, but we have seen that this +particular parson was capable of doing strange things. In the course of +a supplication of some fifteen minutes' dura<!-- Page 152 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>tion, Brother Hastings +managed to vent his spleen upon the people and to pay the Lord a few +clumsy compliments. During the usual special blessing which is asked +upon the preacher of the hour, he prayed, "O Lord, let not the rarin' +horses of his youth run away with Thy chariot of eternal truth. Lord, +cool his head and warm his heart and settle him firm. Grant that he may +fully realise where he 's a-standin' at, an' who he 's a-speakin' to. Do +Thou not let <em>him</em> speak, but speak through him, that Thy gospel may be +preached to-day as Thy prophets of old preached it."</p> + +<p>Throughout the prayer, but one thought was running through Frederick +Brent's mind, and his heart was crying in its anguish, "Oh, my God, my +God, why do they hound me so?"</p> + +<p>It is a terrible thing, this first effort before the home people, +especially when home has not been kind.</p> + +<p>When he arose to meet the people's eyes, his face was haggard and he +felt weak. But unflinchingly he swept his eyes over the crowd, and that +instant's glance brought before him all the panorama of the past years. +There before him was the sneaking<!-- Page 153 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> Billy Tompkins, now grown to the +maturity of being called "Bill." Then there was Dan'l Hastings. Oh, that +night, years ago, when he had been marched up the aisle with crimson +face! In one brief second he lived it all over again, the shame, the +disgrace, the misery of it. There, severe, critical, expectant, sat his +guardian, the master-hand who had manipulated all the machinery of his +life. All this passed through his mind in a flash, as he stood there +facing the people. His face changed. The haggard look passed away. His +eyes kindled, his cheeks mantled. Even in the pulpit, even in the house +of God, about to speak His word, the blood sped hotly through his veins, +and anger burned at his heart. But he crushed down his feelings for the +moment, and began in a clear ringing voice, "Judge not, that ye be not +judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged, and with +what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again." The lesson he +drew from the words was God's recognition of the fallibility of human +judgment, and the self-condemnation brought about by ignoring the +prohibition in the text. By an effort, he spoke deliberately<!-- Page 154 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> at first, +but the fire in his heart came out more and more in his words as he +progressed. "Blinded by our own prejudices," he said, "circumscribed by +our own ignorance, we dare to set ourselves up as censors of our +fellow-men. Unable to see the whole chain of life which God has forged, +we take a single link and say that it is faulty. Too narrow to see His +broad plan, we take a patch of it and say, 'This is not good.' There is +One who works even through evil that good may come, but we take the sin +of our brother, and, without seeing or knowing what went before it or +shall come after, condemn him. What false, blind, petty judges we are! +You women who are condemning your fallen sisters, you men who are +execrating your sinful brothers, if Christ to-day were to command, 'Let +him who is without sin cast the first stone,' look into your own hearts +and answer me, how many of you would dare to lift a hand? How many of +you have taken the beam out of your own eye before attempting to pluck +the mote out of your brother's? O ye pharisaical ones, who stand in the +public places and thank God that you are not as other men, beware, +beware. The condemna<!-- Page 155 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>tion that surely and inevitably shall fall upon you +is not the judgment of Jesus Christ. It is not the sentence of the +Father. It is your own self-condemnation, without charity, without +forbearance, without love; 'for with what judgment ye judge ye shall be +judged.'</p> + +<p>"Stand by the wayside if you will. Draw aside your skirts in the +vainglory of self-righteousness from the passing multitude. Say to each +other, if you will, 'This woman is a sinner: this man is a criminal.' +Close your eyes against their acts of repentance, harden your hearts +against their pleas for forgiveness, withhold mercy and pardon and +charity; but I tell you of One who has exalted charity into the highest +and best of virtues. I bring you the message of One whose judgment is +tempered by divine love. He is seeing you. He is hearing you. Over the +parapets of high heaven the gentle Father leans waiting to take into His +soul any breath of human love or charity which floats up to Him from +this sin-parched world. What have you done to merit His approval? Have +you been kind, or have you been hard? Have you been gentle, or have you +been harsh? Have you been charitable, or have you hunted out all the<!-- Page 156 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +evil and closed your eyes to all the good? You have forgotten, O ye of +little faith, you have forgotten, you without charity in your hearts, +and you who claim to follow Christ and yet have no love for your +fellows,—you have forgotten that God is a God of wrath as well as of +love; that Christ hath anger as well as pity; that He who holds the +hyssop of divine mercy holds also the scourge of divine indignation. You +have forgotten that the lash you so love to wield over your brother's +back shall be laid upon your own by Him who whipped the money-changers +from His temple. Listen! The day shall come when the condemnation you +are accumulating against yourselves shall overwhelm you. Stop trying to +steal the prerogative of heaven. Judge not. God only is just!"</p> + +<p>The silence throughout the sermon was intense. During the closing words +which have been quoted, it was like a presence in the chapel. The voice +of the preacher rang out like a clarion. His eyes looked before him as +if he saw into the future. His hand was uplifted as if he would call +down upon them the very judgment which he predicted.</p> + +<p>Without more words he sat down. No<!-- Page 157 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> one moved or spoke for an instant. +Dan'l Hastings let his cane fall upon the floor. It echoed through the +silent place with a crash. Some of the women started and half cried out; +but the spell was now partly broken. Mr. Simpson suddenly remembered to +pray, and the gossips forgot to whisper when their heads were bowed. +There were some pale faces in the crowd, and some which the galling of +tears had made red. There was in the atmosphere something of the same +tense silence that follows a terrific thunder-clap. And so the service +ended, and the people filed out of church silent still. Some few +remained behind to shake the preacher's hand, but as soon as the +benediction was over he hurried out the side door, and, before any one +could intercept him, was on his way home. But he left a willing +substitute. Mrs. Hodges accepted all his congratulations with complacent +condescension.</p> + +<p>"Dan'l," said Thomas Donaldson, as he helped the old man down the church +steps, "I was mistaken about the docterns an' the whisky. It was +stronger an' better, because it was the pure stuff."</p> + +<p>"I 'ain't got a word to say," said Dan'l,<!-- Page 158 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> "'ceptin' that a good deal of +it was jest sass." But he kept mumbling to himself as he hobbled along, +"Jedge not, fur you 're a-pilin' up sentences on yoreself. I never +thought of it that way before; no, I never."</p> + +<p>Brent did not come out of his room to dinner that afternoon. Mrs. Hodges +was for calling him, but the old man objected. "No, Hester," he said, +"Freddie jest wants to be let alone. He 's a-feelin' now."</p> + +<p>"But, 'Liphalet, he ought to know how nice people talked about his +sermon. I tell you that was my kind o' doctern. It 's wonderful how a +child will learn."</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding his belief that his young friend wanted to be left +alone, the old man slipped into his room later on with a cup of tea. The +young man sat before the table, his head buried in his hands. Eliphalet +set the cup and saucer down and turned to go, but he paused at the door +and said, "Thank the Lord fur the way you give it to 'em, Freddie. It +was worth a dollar." He would have hurried out, but the young man sprang +up and seized his hand, exclaiming, "It was wrong, Uncle 'Liph, it was +wrong of me. I saw them sitting about me like jackals waiting for<!-- Page 159 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> their +prey; I remembered all that I had been and all that I was; I knew what +they were thinking, and I was angry, angry. God forgive me! That sermon +was preached from as hot a heart as ever did murder."</p> + +<p>The old man stroked the young one's hair as he would a child's. "Never +mind," he said. "It don't matter what you felt. That 's between you an' +Him. I only know what you said, an' that 's all I care about. Did n't +you speak about the Lord a-whippin' the money-changers from the temple? +Ain't lots o' them worse than the money-changers? Was n't Christ divine? +Ain't you human? Would a body expect you to feel less'n He did? Huh! +jest don't you worry; remember that you did n't hit a head that was n't +in striking distance." And the old man pressed the boy back into his +chair and slipped out.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 160 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">B</span><span class="smcap">eside</span> an absolute refusal again to supply, Brent made no sign of the +rebellion which was in him, and his second year slipped quickly and +uneventfully away. He went to and from his duties silent and +self-contained. He did not confide in Mr. Hodges, because his guardian +seemed to grow more and more jealous of their friendship. He could not +confide in Elizabeth, on account of a growing conviction that she did +not fully sympathise with him. But his real feelings may be gathered +from a letter which he wrote to his friend Taylor some two months after +the events recorded in the last chapter.</p> + +<div class="letter"><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Taylor</span>," it ran, "time and again I have told myself that I +would write you a line, keeping you in touch, as I promised, with +my progress. Many times have I thought of our last talk together, +and still I think as I thought then—that, in spite of all your +disadvantages and your defeats, you have the best of it. When you +fail, it is your own failure, and you bear down<!-- Page 161 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> with you only your +own hopes and struggles and ideals. If I fail, there falls with me +all the framework of pride and anxiety that has so long pushed me +forward and held me up. For my own failure I should not sorrow: my +concern would be for the one who has so carefully shaped me after a +pattern of her own. However else one may feel, one must be fair to +the ambitions of others, even though one is the mere material that +is heated and beaten into form on the anvil of another's will. But +I am ripe for revolt. The devil is in me,—a restrained, quiet, +well-appearing devil, but all the more terrible for that.</p> + +<p>"I have at last supplied one of the pulpits here, that of my own +church. The Rev. Mr. Simpson was afflicted with a convenient and +adaptable indisposition which would not allow him to preach, and I +was deputed to fill his place. I knew what a trial it would be, and +had carefully written out my sermon, but I am afraid I did not +adhere very strictly to the manuscript. I think I lost my head. I +know I lost my temper. But the sermon was a nine days' wonder, and +I have had to refuse a dozen subsequent offers to supply. It is all +very sordid and sickening and theatrical. The good old Lowry tried +to show me that it was my duty and for my good, but I have set my +foot down not to supply again, and so they let me alone now.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that that one sermon forged a chain which holds me +in a position that I hate.<!-- Page 162 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> It is a public declaration that I am or +mean to be a preacher, and I must either adhere to it or break +desperately away. Do you know, I feel myself to be an arrant +coward. If I had half the strength that you have, I should have +been out of it long ago; but the habit of obedience grows strong +upon a man.</p> + +<p>"There is but one crowning act to be added to this drama of deceit +and infamy,—my ordination. I know how all the other fellows are +looking forward to it, and how, according to all the prescribed +canons, I should view the momentous day; but I am I. Have you ever +had one of those dreams where a huge octopus approaches you slowly +but certainly, enfolding you in his arms and twining his horrid +tentacles about your helpless form? What an agony of dread you +feel! You try to move or cry out, but you cannot, and the arms +begin to embrace you and draw you towards the great body. Just so I +feel about the day of the ceremony that shall take me into the body +of which I was never destined to be a member.</p> + +<p>"Are you living in a garret? Are you subsisting on a crust? Happy, +happy fellow! But, thank God, the ordination does not take place +until next year, and perhaps in that time I may find some means of +escape. If I do not, I know that I shall have your sympathy; but +don't express it. Ever sincerely yours, <span class="smcap">Brent.</span>" </p></div> + +<p><!-- Page 163 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p><p>But the year was passing, and nothing happened to release him. He found +himself being pushed forward at the next term with unusual rapidity, but +he did not mind it; the work rather gave him relief from more unpleasant +thoughts. He went at it with eagerness and mastered it with ease. His +fellow-students looked on him with envy, but he went on his way +unheeding and worked for the very love of being active, until one day he +understood.</p> + +<p>It was nearing the end of the term when a fellow-student remarked to +him, "Well, Brent, it is n't every man that could have done it, but you +'ll get your reward in a month or so now."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Brent. "Done what?"</p> + +<p>"Now don't be modest," rejoined the other; "I am really glad to see you +do it. I have no envy."</p> + +<p>"Really, Barker, I don't understand you."</p> + +<p>"Why, I mean you are finishing two years in one."</p> + +<p>"Oh, pshaw! it will hardly amount to that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, you will get in with the senior class men."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 164 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p><p>"Get in with the senior class!"</p> + +<p>"It will be kind of nice, a year before your time, to be standing in the +way of any appointive plums that may happen to fall; and then you don't +have to go miles away from home before you can be made a full-fledged +shepherd. Well, here is my hand on it anyway."</p> + +<p>Brent took the proffered hand in an almost dazed condition. It had all +suddenly flashed across his mind, the reason for his haste and his added +work. What a blind fool he had been!</p> + +<p>The Church Conference met at Dexter that year, and they had hurried him +through in order that he might be ready for ordination thereat.</p> + +<p>Alleging illness as an excuse, he did not appear at recitation that day. +The shock had come too suddenly for him. Was he thus to be entrapped? +Could he do nothing? He felt that ordination would bind him for ever to +the distasteful work. He had only a month in which to prevent it. He +would do it. From that day he tried to fall gradually back in his work; +but it was too late; the good record which he had unwittingly piled up +carried him through, <span lang="la">nolens volens</span>.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 165 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><p>The week before Conference met, Frederick Brent, residing at Dexter, by +special request of the faculty, was presented as a candidate for +ordination. Even his enemies in the community said, "Surely there is +something in that boy."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hester Hodges was delighted. She presented him with his ordination +suit, and altogether displayed a pride and pleasure that almost +reconciled the young man to his fate. In the days immediately preceding +the event she was almost tender with him, and if he had been strong +enough to make a resolve inimical to her hopes, the disappointment which +he knew failure would bring to her would have greatly weakened it.</p> + +<p>Now, Conference is a great event in the circles of that sect of which +Cory Chapel was a star congregation, and the town where it convenes, or +"sets," as the popular phrase goes, is an honoured place. It takes upon +itself an air of unusual bustle. There is a great deal of +house-cleaning, hanging of curtains, and laying of carpets, just prior +to the time. People from the rural parts about come into town and settle +for the week. Ministers and lay delegates from all the churches in the +district, comprising perhaps<!-- Page 166 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> half of a large State or parts of two, +come and are quartered upon the local members of the connection. For two +weeks beforehand the general question that passes from one housewife to +another is, "How many and whom are you going to take?" Many are the +heartburnings and jealousies aroused by the disposition of some popular +preacher whom a dozen members of the flock desire to entertain, while +the less distinguished visitors must bide their time and be stuck in +when and where they may. The "big guns" of the Church are all present, +and all the "little guns" are scattered about them, popping and snapping +every time a "big gun" booms.</p> + +<p>But of all the days of commotion and excitement, the climax is +ordination day, when candidates for the ministry, college students, and +local preachers are examined and either rejected or admitted to the +company of the elect. It is common on that day for some old dignitary of +the church, seldom a less person than the president of the Conference +himself, to preach the sermon. Then, if the fatted calf is not killed, +at least the fatted fowls are, and feasting and rejoicing rule the +occasion.</p> + +<p>This ordination day was no exception. A<!-- Page 167 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> class of ten stood up before +the examining committee and answered the questions put to them. Among +them stood Frederick Brent. He wished, he tried, to fail in his answers +and be rejected, even though it meant disgrace; but, try as he would, he +could not. Force of habit was too strong for him; or was it that some +unseen and relentless power was carrying him on and on against his will? +He clinched his hands; the beads of perspiration broke out on his brow; +but ever as the essential questions came to him his tongue seemed to +move of its own volition, without command from the brain, and the +murmurs of approval told him that he was answering aright. Never did man +struggle harder for brilliant success than this one for ignominious +failure. Then some whisper in his consciousness told him that it was +over. He felt the laying of hands upon his head. He heard the old +minister saying, "Behold, even from the lowliest God taketh His +workers," and he felt a flash of resentment, but it was only momentary. +He was benumbed. Something seemed to be saying in his mind, "Will the +old fool never have done?" But it did not appear to be himself. It was +afar off and apart from him.<!-- Page 168 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> The next he knew, a wet cheek was laid +against his own. It was Aunt Hester. She was crying and holding his +hand. Afterwards people were shaking hands with him and offering their +congratulations; but he answered them in a helpless, mechanical way, as +he had answered the questions.</p> + +<p>He sat through the sermon and heard it not. But some interest revived in +him as the appointments were being read. He heard the president say, "It +gives me pain to announce the resignation of one who has so long served +in the Master's vineyard, but our dear brother Simpson has decided that +he is too old for active work, and has asked to be retired. While we do +this with pain and sorrow for the loss—though we do not wholly lose +him—of so able a man, we feel that we cannot do better than appoint as +his successor in this charge the young man whom you have all seen so +brilliantly enter into the ranks of consecrated workers, the Rev. +Frederick Brent."</p> + +<p>A murmur of approval went round the assembly, and a few open "amens" +broke forth as the unctuous old ecclesiastic sat down. It sounded to the +ears of the young preacher like the breaking of waves on a far-off<!-- Page 169 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +shore; and then the meaning of all that had happened sifted through his +benumbed intellect, and he strove to rise. He would refuse to act. He +would protest. He would tell them that he did not want to preach. But +something held him down. He could not rise. The light went blue and +green and purple before him. The church, with its sea of faces, spun +round and round; his head fell forward.</p> + +<p>"He has fainted," said some one.</p> + +<p>"The excitement has been too much for him."</p> + +<p>"Poor young man, he has been studying too hard, working for this."</p> + +<p>They carried him out and took him home, and one of the elders offered a +special prayer for his speedy recovery, and that, being recovered, he +might bear his new responsibilities with becoming meekness.</p> + +<p>When the young minister came to himself, he was lying on the bed in his +own room, and Mrs. Hodges, Eliphalet, and a doctor were bending over +him.</p> + +<p>"He 's coming round all right now," said the medical man. "You won't +need me any longer." And he departed.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 170 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p><p>"How are you now, Fred?" asked Mrs. Hodges.</p> + +<p>The young man closed his eyes again and did not answer. He had awakened +to a full realisation of his position, and a dull misery lay at his +heart. He wished that he could die then and there, for death seemed the +only escape from his bondage. He was bound, irrevocably bound.</p> + +<p>"Poor child," Mrs. Hodges went on, "it was awful tryin' on his nerves. +Joy is worse 'n sorrow, sometimes; an' then he 'd been workin' so hard. +I 'd never 'a' believed he could do it, ef Brother Simpson had n't stuck +up fur it."</p> + +<p>"She knew it, then," thought Fred. "It was all planned."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you 'd better talk, Hester," said her husband, in a low +voice. He had seen a spasm pass over the face of the prostrate youth.</p> + +<p>"Well, I 'll go out an' see about the dinner. Some o' the folks I 've +invited will be comin' in purty soon, an' others 'll be droppin' in to +inquire how he is. I do hope he 'll be well enough to come to the table: +it won't seem hardly like an ordination dinner without the principal +person. Jes' set<!-- Page 171 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> by him, 'Liphalet, an' give him them drops the doctor +left."</p> + +<p>As soon as he heard the door close behind her, Brent opened his eyes and +suddenly laid his hand on the old man's shoulder. "You won't let anybody +see me, Uncle 'Liph? you won't let them come in here?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, my boy, not ef you don't want 'em," said the old man.</p> + +<p>"I shall have to think it all over before I see any one. I am not quite +clear yet."</p> + +<p>"I 'low it was unexpected."</p> + +<p>"Did you know, Uncle 'Liph?" he asked, fixing his eyes upon his old +friend's face.</p> + +<p>"I know'd they was a-plannin' somethin', but I never could find out +what, or I would have told you."</p> + +<p>A look of relief passed over Brent's face. Just then Mrs. Hodges opened +the door. "Here 's Elizabeth to see him," she said.</p> + +<p>"'Sh," said the old man with great ostentation; and tiptoeing over to +the door he partly drew it to, putting his head outside to whisper, "He +is too weak; it ain't best fur him to see nobody now."</p> + +<p>He closed the door and returned to his seat. "It was 'Lizabeth," he +said. "Was I right?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 172 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p><p>For answer the patient arose from the bed and walked weakly over to his +side.</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, tut, Freddie," said Eliphalet, hesitating over the name. "You +'d better lay down now; you ain't any too strong yet."</p> + +<p>The young man leaned heavily on his chair, and looked into his friend's +eyes: "If God had given me such a man as you as a father, or even as a +guardian, I would not have been damned," he said.</p> + +<p>"'Sh, 'sh, my boy. Don't say that. You 're goin' to be all right; you +'re—you 're—" Eliphalet's eyes were moist, and his voice choked here. +Rising, he suddenly threw his arms around Fred's neck, crying, "You are +my son. God has give you to me to nurse in the time of your trial."</p> + +<p>The young man returned the embrace; and so Mrs. Hodges found them when +she opened the door softly and peered in. She closed it noiselessly and +withdrew.</p> + +<p>"Well, I never!" she said. There was a questioning wonder in her face.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to make of them two," she added; "they could n't have +been lovin'er ef they had been father and son."</p> + +<p>After a while the guests began to arrive for the dinner. Many were the +inquiries<!-- Page 173 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> and calls for the new minister, but to them all Eliphalet +made the same answer: "He ain't well enough to see folks."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hodges herself did her best to bring him out, or to get him to let +some of the guests in, but he would not. Finally her patience gave way, +and she exclaimed, "Well, now, Frederick Brent, you must know that you +air the pastor of a church, an' you 've got to make some sacrifices for +people's sake. Ef you kin possibly git up,—an' I know you kin,—you +ought to come out an' show yoreself for a little while, anyhow. You 've +got some responsibilities now."</p> + +<p>"I did n't ask for them," he answered, coldly. There was a set look +about his lips. "Neither will I come out or see any one. If I am old +enough to be the pastor of a church, I am old enough to know my will and +have it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hodges was startled at the speech. She felt vaguely that there was +a new element in the boy's character since morning. He was on the +instant a man. It was as if clay had suddenly hardened in the potter's +hands. She could no longer mould or ply him. In that moment she +recognised the fact.<!-- Page 174 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>The dinner was all that could be expected, and her visitors enjoyed it, +in spite of the absence of the guest of honour, but for the hostess it +was a dismal failure. After wielding the sceptre for years, it had been +suddenly snatched from her hand; and she felt lost and helpless, +deprived of her power.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 175 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span><span class="smcap">s</span> Brent thought of the long struggle before him, he began to wish that +there might be something organically wrong with him which the shock +would irritate into fatal illness. But even while he thought this he +sneered at himself for the weakness. A weakness self-confessed holds the +possibility of strength. So in a few days he rallied and took up the +burden of his life again. As before he had found relief in study, now he +stilled his pains and misgivings by a strict attention to the work which +his place involved.</p> + +<p>His was not an easy position for a young man. He had to go through the +ordeal of pastoral visits. He had to condole with old ladies who thought +a preacher had nothing else to do than to listen to the recital of their +ailments. He had to pray with poor and stricken families whose +conditions reminded him strongly of what his own must have been. He had +to speak words of<!-- Page 176 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> serious admonition to girls nearly his own age, who +thought it great fun and giggled in his face. All this must he do, nor +must he slight a single convention. No rules of conduct are so rigid as +are those of a provincial town. He who ministers to the people must +learn their prejudices and be adroit enough not to offend them or strong +enough to break them down. It was a great load to lay on the shoulders +of so young a man. But habit is everything, and he soon fell into the +ways of his office. Writing to Taylor, he said, "I am fairly harnessed +now, and at work, and, although the pulling is somewhat hard, I know my +way. It is wonderful how soon a man falls into the cant of his position +and learns to dole out the cut-and-dried phrases of ministerial talk +like a sort of spiritual phonograph. I must confess, though, that I am +rather good friends with the children who come to my Sunday-school. My +own experiences as a child are so fresh in my memory that I rather +sympathise with the little fellows, and do all I can to relieve the +half-scared stiffness with which they conduct themselves in church and +the Sunday-school room.</p> + +<p>"I wonder why it is we make church<!-- Page 177 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> such a place of terror to the young +ones. No wonder they quit coming as soon as they can choose.</p> + +<p>"I shock Miss Simpson, who teaches a mixed class, terribly, by my +freedom with the pupils. She says that she can't do anything with her +charges any more; but I notice that her class and the school are +growing. I 've been at it for several weeks now, and, like a promising +baby, I am beginning to take an interest in things.</p> + +<p>"If I got on with the old children of my flock as well as I do with the +young ones, I should have nothing to complain of; but I don't. They know +as little as the youngsters, and are a deal more unruly. They are +continually comparing me with their old pastor, and it is needless to +say that I suffer by the comparison. The ex-pastor himself burdens me +with advice. I shall tell him some day that he has resigned. But I am +growing diplomatic, and have several reasons for not wishing to offend +him. For all which 'shop' pray forgive me."</p> + +<p>One of the reasons for not wishing to offend the Rev. Mr. Simpson of +which Brent wrote was, as may be readily inferred, his engagement to +Elizabeth. It had not<!-- Page 178 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> yet officially become public property, but few of +Dexter's observant and forecasting people who saw them together doubted +for a moment that it would be a match. Indeed, some spiteful people in +the community, who looked on from the outside, said that "Mr. Simpson +never thought of resigning until he saw that he could keep the place in +the family." But of course they were Baptists who said this, or +Episcopalians, or Presbyterians,—some such unregenerate lot.</p> + +<p>Contrary to the adage, the course of love between the young people did +run smooth. The young minister had not disagreed with the older one, so +Elizabeth had not disagreed with him, because she did not have to take +sides. She was active in the Sunday-school and among the young people's +societies, and Brent thought that she would make an ideal minister's +wife. Every Sunday, after church, they walked home together, and +sometimes he would stop at the house for a meal. They had agreed that at +the end of his first pastoral year they would be married; and both +parent and guardian smiled on the prospective union.</p> + +<p>As his beloved young friend seemed to<!-- Page 179 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> grow more settled and contented, +Eliphalet Hodges waxed more buoyant in the joy of his hale old age, and +his wife, all her ambitions satisfied, grew more primly genial every +day.</p> + +<p>Brent found his congregation increasing, and heard himself spoken of as +a popular preacher. Under these circumstances, it would seem that there +was nothing to be desired to make him happy. But he was not so, though +he kept an unruffled countenance. He felt the repression that his +position put upon him. He prayed that with time it might pass off, but +this prayer was not answered. There were times when, within his secret +closet, the contemplation of the dead level of his life, as it spread +out before him, drove him almost to madness.</p> + +<p>The bitterness in his heart against his father had not abated one jot, +and whenever these spasms of discontent would seize him he was wont to +tell himself, "I am fighting old Tom Brent now, and I must conquer him."</p> + +<p>Thus nearly a year passed away, and he was beginning to think of asking +Elizabeth to name the day. He had his eye upon a pretty little nest of a +house, sufficiently<!-- Page 180 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> remote from her father's, and he was looking +forward to settling quietly down in a home of his own.</p> + +<p>It was about this time that, as he sat alone one evening in the little +chamber which was his study and bedroom in one, Mr. Simpson entered and +opened conversation with him.</p> + +<p>For some time a rumour which did violence to the good name of Sophy +Davis had been filtering through the community. But it had only +filtered, until the girl's disappearance a day or two before had allowed +the gossips to talk openly, and great was the talk. The young minister +had looked on and listened in silence. He had always known and liked +Sophy, and if what the gossips said of her was true, he pitied the girl.</p> + +<p>On this particular evening it was plain that Mr. Simpson had come to +talk about the affair. After some preliminary remarks, he said, "You +have a great chance, dear Brother Brent, for giving the devil in this +particular part of the moral vineyard a hard blow."</p> + +<p>"I don't clearly see why now, more than before," returned Brent.</p> + +<p>"Because you are furnished with a living example of the fruits of evil: +don't you see?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 181 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p><p>"If there is such an example furnished, the people will see it for +themselves, and I should be doing a thankless task to point it out to +them. I would rather show people the beauty of good than the ugliness of +evil."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that 's the milk-and-water new style of preaching."</p> + +<p>"Well, we all have our opinions, to be sure, but I think it rather a +good style." Brent was provokingly nonchalant, and his attitude +irritated the elder man.</p> + +<p>"We won't discuss that: we will be practical. I came to advise you to +hold Sophy Davis up in church next Sunday as a fearful example of +evil-doing. You need n't mention any names, but you can make it strong +and plain enough."</p> + +<p>Brent flushed angrily. "Are there not enough texts in here," he asked, +laying his hand upon the Bible, "that I can cite and apply, without +holding up a poor weak mortal to the curiosity, scorn, and derision of +her equally weak fellows?"</p> + +<p>"But it is your duty as a Christian and a preacher of the gospel to use +this warning."</p> + +<p>"I do not need to kick a falling girl to find examples to warn people +from sin; and<!-- Page 182 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> as for duty, I think that each man best knows his own."</p> + +<p>"Then you are n't going to do it?"</p> + +<p>"No," the young man burst forth. "I am a preacher of the gospel, not a +clerical gossip!"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that I am a gossip?"</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of you."</p> + +<p>"Let me preach for you, Sunday."</p> + +<p>"I will not do that either. I will not let my pulpit be debased by +anything which I consider so low as this business."</p> + +<p>"You will not take advice, then?"</p> + +<p>"Not such as that."</p> + +<p>"Be careful, Frederick Brent. I gave you that pulpit, and I can take it +away,—I that know who you are and what you come from."</p> + +<p>"The whole town knows what you know, so I do not care for that. As for +taking my pulpit from me, you may do that when you please. You put it +upon me by force, and by force you may take it; but while I am pastor +there I shall use my discretion in all matters of this kind."</p> + +<p>"Sophy 's been mighty quiet in her devilment. She does n't accuse +anybody. Maybe you 've got more than one reason for shielding her."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 183 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p><p>Brent looked into the man's eyes and read his meaning; then he arose +abruptly and opened the door.</p> + +<p>"I 'm not accusing—"</p> + +<p>"Go," said the young man hoarsely. His face was white, and his teeth +were hard set.</p> + +<p>"You 'll learn some respect for your elders yet, if—"</p> + +<p>"Go!" Brent repeated, and he took a step towards his visitor. Mr. +Simpson looked startled for a moment, but he glanced back into the young +man's face and then passed hurriedly out of the room.</p> + +<p>Brent let two words slip between his clenched teeth: "The hound!"</p> + +<p>No one knew what had passed between the young pastor and Mr. Simpson, +but many mutterings and head-shakings of the latter indicated that all +was not right. No one knew? Perhaps that is hardly correct, for on +Sunday, the sermon over, when Brent looked to find Elizabeth in her +usual place whence they walked home together, she was gone. He bit his +lip and passed on alone, but it rankled within him that she had so +easily believed ill of him.</p> + +<p>But he had not seen the last of the Rev. Mr. Simpson's work. It was the +right of five<!-- Page 184 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> members of the congregation to call a church-meeting, and +when he returned for service in the evening he found upon the pulpit the +written request for such an assembly to be held on Tuesday night. +Heading the list of members was the name of the former pastor, although +this was not needed to tell the young man that it was his work. In anger +he gave out the notice and went on with his duties.</p> + +<p>"Somethin' must 'a' riled you to-night, Fred," said Eliphalet when +church was out. "You give 'em a mighty stirrin' touch o' fire. It +'minded me o' that old supply sermon." Brent smiled mirthlessly. He knew +that the same feelings had inspired both efforts.</p> + +<p>On Tuesday evening he was early at church, and in the chair, as was the +pastor's place. Early as he was, he did not much precede Mr. Simpson, +who came in, followed by a coterie of his choicest spirits.</p> + +<p>When the assembly had been duly called to order, Brent asked, "Will some +one now please state the object of this meeting?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Simpson arose.</p> + +<p>"Brothers and sisters," he said, "the object of this meeting is a very +simple one.<!-- Page 185 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> From the time that I began to preach in this church, +twenty-five years ago, we had purity and cleanness in the pulpit and in +the pew."</p> + +<p>Brent's eyes were flashing. Eliphalet Hodges, who had thought that the +extra session was for some routine business, pricked up his ears.</p> + +<p>Simpson proceeded: "One in this flock has lately gone astray: she has +fallen into evil ways—"</p> + +<p>"Brother Simpson," interrupted Brent, his face drawn and hard with +anger, "will you state the object of this meeting?"</p> + +<p>"If the pastor is not afraid to wait, he will see that that is what I am +doing."</p> + +<p>"Then you are bringing into the church matters that have no business +here."</p> + +<p>"We shall see about that. We intend to investigate and see why you +refused to hold up as a warning one of the sinners of this connection. +We propose to ask whom you were shielding—a sinner in the pew, or a +sinner in the pulpit as well. We propose—"</p> + +<p>"Stop!" The young man's voice broke out like the report of a rifle. +"Stop, I say, or, as God sees me, here in His temple, at His very altar, +I will do you violence. I speak to you not as your pastor, but as a<!-- Page 186 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +man: not as an accused man, for you dare not accuse me."</p> + +<p>The church was in a commotion. In all its long history, such a scene had +never before been enacted within the sacred walls. The men sat +speechless; the women shrank far down into their seats. Only those two +men, the young and the old, stood glaring into each other's faces.</p> + +<p>"Remember, brethren," said someone, recovering himself, "that this is +the house of God, and that you are preachers of the gospel."</p> + +<p>"I do remember that it is God's house, and for that reason I will not +let it be disgraced by scandal that would stain the lowest abode of +vice. I do remember that I am a preacher, and for that reason I will not +see the gospel made vindictive,—a scourge to whip down a poor girl, who +may have sinned,—I know not,—but who, if she did, has an advocate with +God. Once before in this place have I told you my opinion of your +charity and your love. Once before have I branded you as mockeries of +the idea of Christianity. Now I say to you, you are hypocrites. You are +like carrion birds who soar high up in the ether for a while and then<!-- Page 187 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +swoop down to revel in filth and rottenness. The stench of death is +sweet to you. Putridity is dear to you. As for you who have done this +work, you need pity. Your own soul must be reeking with secret foulness +to be so basely suspicious. Your own eyes must have cast unholy glances +to so soon accuse the eyes of others. As for the thing which you, mine +enemy, have intimated here to-night, as pastor of this church I scorn to +make defence. But as a man I say, give such words as those breath again, +and I will forget your age and only remember your infamy. I see the +heads of some about me here wagging, some that knew my father. I hear +their muffled whispers, and I know what they are saying. I know what is +in their hearts. You are saying that it is the old Tom Brent in me +showing itself at last. Yes, it has smouldered in me long, and I am +glad. I think better of that spirit because it was waked into life to +resent meanness. I would rather be the most roistering drunkard that +ever reeled down these streets than call myself a Christian and carouse +over the dead characters of my fellows.</p> + +<p>"To-night I feel for the first time that I am myself. I give you back +gladly what you<!-- Page 188 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> have given me. I am no longer your pastor. We are well +quit. Even while I have preached to you, I have seen in your hearts your +scorn and your distrust, and I have hated you in secret. But I throw off +the cloak. I remove the disguise. Here I stand stripped of everything +save the fact that I am a man; and I despise you openly. Yes, old Tom, +drunken Tom Brent's son despises you. Go home. Go home. There may be +work for your stench-loving nostrils there."</p> + +<p>He stood like an avenging spirit, pointing towards the door, and the +people who had sat there breathless through it all rose quietly and +slipped out. Simpson joined them and melted into the crowd. They were +awed and hushed.</p> + +<p>Only Mrs. Hodges, white as death, and her husband, bowed with grief, +remained. A silent party, they walked home together. Not until they were +in the house did the woman break down, and then she burst into a storm +of passionate weeping as if the pent-up tears of all her stoical life +were flowing at once.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fred, Fred," she cried between her sobs, "I see it all now. I was +wrong. I<!-- Page 189 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> was wrong. But I did it all fur the best. The Lord knows I did +it fur the best."</p> + +<p>"I know you did, Aunt Hester, but I wish you could have seen sooner, +before the bitterness of death had come into my life." He felt strangely +hard and cold. Her grief did not affect him then.</p> + +<p>"Don't take on so, Hester," said the old man, but the woman continued to +rock herself to and fro and moan, "I did it fur the best, I did it fur +the best." The old man took her in his arms, and after a while she grew +more calm, only her sobs breaking the silence.</p> + +<p>"I shall go away to-morrow," said Brent. "I am going out into the world +for myself. I 've been a disgrace to every one connected with me."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that about yoreself, Fred; I ain't a-goin' to hear it," said +Eliphalet. "You 've jest acted as any right-thinkin' man would 'a' +acted. It would n't 'a' been right fur you to 'a' struck Brother +Simpson, but I 'm nearer his age, an' my hands itched to git a hold o' +him." The old man looked menacing, and his fist involuntarily clenched.</p> + +<p>"'Liphalet," said his wife, "I 've been a-meddlin' with the business o' +Providence,<!-- Page 190 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +an' I 've got my jest <ins class="correction" title="original reads: deserts">desserts</ins>. I thought I knowed +jest what He wanted me to do, an' I was more ignorant than a child. +Furgive me ef you kin, Fred, my boy. I was tryin' to make a good man o' +you."</p> + +<p>"There 's nothing for me to forgive, Aunt Hester. I 'm sorry I 've +spoiled your plans."</p> + +<p>"I 'm glad, fur mebbe God 'll have a chance now to work His own plans. +But pore little 'Lizabeth!"</p> + +<p>Brent's heart hurt him as he heard the familiar name, and he turned +abruptly and went to his room. Once there, he had it out with himself. +"But," he told himself, "if I had the emergency to meet again, I should +do the same thing."</p> + +<p>The next morning's mail brought him a little packet in which lay the +ring he had given Elizabeth to plight their troth.</p> + +<p>"I thank you for this," he said. "It makes my way easier."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 191 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> story of the altercation between the young minister and a part of +his congregation was well bruited about the town, and all united in +placing the fault heavily on the young man's shoulders. As for him, he +did not care. He was wild with the enjoyment of his new-found freedom. +Only now and again, as he sat at the table the morning after, and looked +into the sad faces of Eliphalet and his guardian, did he feel any sorrow +at the turn matters had taken.</p> + +<p>In regard to Elizabeth, he felt only relief. It was as if a half-defined +idea in his mind had been suddenly realised. For some time he had +believed her unable either to understand him or to sympathise with his +motives. He had begun to doubt the depth of his own feeling for her. +Then had come her treatment of him last Sunday, and somehow, while he +knew it was at her father's behest, he could not help despising her +weakness.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 192 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p><p>He had spent much of the night before in packing his few effects, and +all was now ready for his departure as they sat at breakfast. Mrs. +Hodges was unusually silent, and her haggard face and swollen eyes told +how she had passed the night. All in a single hour she had seen the work +of the best part of her life made as naught, and she was bowed with +grief and defeat. Frederick Brent's career had really been her dream. +She had scarcely admitted, even to herself, how deeply his success +affected her own happiness. She cared for him in much the same way that +a sculptor loves his statue. Her attitude was that of one who says, +"Look upon this work; is it not fair? I made it myself." It was as much +her pride as it was her love that was hurt, because her love had been +created by her pride. She had been prepared to say, exultingly, "Look +where he came from, and look where he is;" and now his defection +deprived her for ever of that sweet privilege. People had questioned her +ability to train up a boy rightly, and she had wished to refute their +imputations, by making that boy the wonder of the community and their +spiritual leader; and just as she had deemed her<!-- Page 193 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> work safely done, lo, +it had come toppling about her ears. Even if the fall had come sooner, +she would have felt it less. It was the more terrible because so +unexpected, for she had laid aside all her fears and misgivings and felt +secure in her achievement.</p> + +<p>"You ain't a-eatin' nothin', Hester," said her husband, anxiously. "I +hope you ain't a-feelin' bad this mornin'." He had heard her sobbing all +night long, and the strength and endurance of her grief frightened him +and made him uneasy, for she had always been so stoical. "Had n't you +better try an' eat one o' them buckwheat cakes? Put lots o' butter an' +molasses on it; they 're mighty good."</p> + +<p>"Ef they 're so good, why don't you eat yoreself? You been foolin' with +a half a one for the last ten minutes." Indeed, the old man's food did +seem to stick in his throat, and once in a while a mist would come up +before his eyes. He too had had his dreams, and one of them was of many +a happy evening spent with his beloved boy, who should be near him, a +joy and comfort in the evening of his life; and now he was going away.</p> + +<p>The old man took a deep gulp at his coffee<!-- Page 194 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> to hide his emotion. It +burned his mouth and gave reason for the moisture in his eye when he +looked up at Fred.</p> + +<p>"What train air you goin' to take, Fred?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I think I 'll catch that eight-fifty flier. It 's the best I can get, +you know, and vestibuled through, too."</p> + +<p>"You have jest finally made up yore mind to go, have you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing could turn me from it now, Uncle 'Liph."</p> + +<p>"It seems like a shame. You 'ain't got nothin' to do down in +Cincinnaty."</p> + +<p>"I 'll find something before long. I am going to spend the first few +days just in getting used to being free." The next moment he was sorry +that he had said it, for he saw his guardian's eyes fill.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Frederick," she said, with some return to her old asperity, +"I am sorry that I 've made your life so hard that you think that you +have been a slave. I am sorry that my home has been so onpleasant that +you 're so powerful glad to git away from it, even to go into a strange +city full of wickedness an' sin."</p> + +<p>"I did n't mean it that way, Aunt Hester.<!-- Page 195 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> You 've been as good as you +could be to me. You have done your duty by me, if any one ever could."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am mighty glad you realise that, so 's ef you go away an' fall +into sinful ways you can't lay none of it to my bringin'-up."</p> + +<p>"I feel somehow as if I would like to have a go with sin some time, to +see what it is like."</p> + +<p>"Well, I lay you 'll be satisfied before you 've been in Cincinnaty +long, for ef there ever was livin' hells on airth, it 's them big +cities."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have got faith to believe that Fred ain't a-goin' to do nothin' +wrong," said Eliphalet.</p> + +<p>"Nobody don't know what nobody 's a-goin' to do under temptation sich as +is layin' in wait fur young men in the city, but I 'm shore I 've done +my best to train you right, even ef I have made some mistakes in my poor +weak way an' manner."</p> + +<p>"If I do fall into sinful ways, Aunt Hester, I shall never blame you or +your training for it."</p> + +<p>"But you ain't a-goin' to do it, Fred; you ain't a-goin' to fall into no +evil ways."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 196 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p><p>"I don't know, Uncle 'Liph. I never felt my weakness more than I do +now."</p> + +<p>"Then that very feelin' will be yore stren'th, my boy. Keep on feelin' +that way."</p> + +<p>"It 'll not be a stren'th in Cincinnaty, not by no means. There is too +many snares an' pitfalls there to entrap the weak," Mrs. Hodges +insisted.</p> + +<p>It is one of the defects of the provincial mind that it can never see +any good in a great city. It concludes that, as many people are wicked, +where large numbers of human beings are gathered together there must be +a much greater amount of evil than in a smaller place. It overlooks the +equally obvious reasoning that, as some people are good, in the larger +mass there must be also a larger amount of goodness. It seems a source +of complacent satisfaction to many to sit in contemplation of the fact +of the extreme wickedness of the world. They are like children who +delight in a "bluggy" story,—who gloat over murder and rapine.</p> + +<p>Brent, however, was in no wise daunted by the picture of evil which his +guardian painted for him, and as soon as breakfast was over he got his +things in hand ready to<!-- Page 197 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> start. Buoyant as he was with his new freedom, +this was a hard moment for him. Despite the severity of his youthful +treatment in Dexter, the place held all the tender recollections he had, +and the room where he stood was the scene of some memories that now +flooded his mind and choked his utterance when he strove to say +good-bye. He had thought that he should do it with such a fine grace. He +would prove such a strong man. But he found his eyes suffused with +tears, as he held his old guardian's hand, for, in spite of all, she had +done the best for him that she knew, and she had taken a hard, +uncompromising pride in him.</p> + +<p>"I hope you 'll git along all right, Frederick," she faltered forth +tearfully. "Keep out of bad company, an' let us hear from you whenever +you can. The Lord knows I 've tried to do my dooty by you."</p> + +<p>Poor Eliphalet tried to say something as he shook the young man's hand, +but he broke down and wept like a child. The boy could not realise what +a deal of sunshine he was taking out of the old man's life.</p> + +<p>"I 'll write to you as soon as I am settled," he told them, and with a +husky fare<!-- Page 198 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>well hurried away from the painful scene. At the gate the old +couple stood and watched him go swinging down the street towards the +station. Then they went into the house, and sat long in silence in the +room he had so lately left. The breakfast-table, with all that was on +it, was left standing unnoticed and neglected, a thing unprecedented in +Mrs. Hodges' orderly household.</p> + +<p>Finally her husband broke the silence. "It 'pears as if we had jest +buried some one and come home from the funeral."</p> + +<p>"An' that 's jest what we have done, ef we only knowed it, 'Liphalet. We +'ve buried the last of the Fred Brent we knowed an' raised. Even ef we +ever see him ag'in, he 'll never be the same to us. He 'll have new +friends to think of an' new notions in his head."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, Hester; don't say that. I can't stand it. He is never +goin' to furgit you an' me, an' it hurts me to hear you talk like that."</p> + +<p>"It don't soun' none too pleasant fur me, 'Liphalet, but I 've learned +to face the truth, an' that 's the truth ef it ever was told."</p> + +<p>"Well, mebbe it 's fur the best, then. It 'll draw us closer together +and make us<!-- Page 199 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> more to each other as we journey down to the end. It 's our +evenin', Hester, an' we must expect some chilly winds 'long towards +night, but I guess He knows best." He reached over and took his wife's +hand tenderly in his, and so they sat on sadly, but gathering peace in +the silence and the sympathy, until far into the morning.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the eight-fifty "flier" was speeding through the beautiful +Ohio Valley, bearing the young minister away from the town of his birth. +Out of sight of the grief of his friends, he had regained all his usual +stolid self-possession, though his mind often went back to the little +cottage at Dexter where the two old people sat, and he may be forgiven +if his memory lingered longer over the image of the man than of the +woman. He remembered with a thrill at his heart what Eliphalet Hodges +had been to him in the dark days of his youth, and he confessed to +himself with a half shame that his greatest regret was in leaving him.</p> + +<p>The feeling with which he had bidden his guardian good-bye was one not +of regret at his own loss, but of pity for her distress. To Elizabeth +his mind only turned for a moment to dismiss her with a mild con<!-- Page 200 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>tempt. +Something hard that had always been in his nature seemed to have +suddenly manifested itself.</p> + +<p>"It is so much better this way," he said, "for if the awakening had come +later we should have been miserable together." And then his thoughts +went forward to the new scenes towards which he was speeding.</p> + +<p>He had never been to Cincinnati. Indeed, except on picnic days, he had +scarcely ever been outside of Dexter. But Cincinnati was the great city +of his State, the one towards which adventurous youth turned its steps +when real life was to be begun. He dreaded and yet longed to be there, +and his heart was in a turmoil of conflicting emotion as he watched the +landscape flit by.</p> + +<p>It was a clear August day. Nature was trembling and fainting in the +ecstasies of sensuous heat. Beside the railway the trenches which in +spring were gurgling brooks were now dry and brown, and the reeds which +had bent forward to kiss the water now leaned over from very weakness, +dusty and sickly. The fields were ripening to the harvest. There was in +the air the smell of fresh-cut hay. The corn-stalks stood like a host +armed with brazen swords to resist<!-- Page 201 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> the onslaught of that other force +whose weapon was the corn-knife. Farther on, between the trees, the much +depleted river sparkled in the sun and wound its way, now near, now away +from the road, a glittering dragon in an enchanted wood.</p> + +<p>Such scenes as these occupied the young man's mind, until, amid the +shouts of brake-men, the vociferous solicitations of the baggage-man, +and a general air of bustle and preparation, the train thundered into +the Grand Central Station. Something seized Brent's heart like a great +compressing hand. He was frightened for an instant, and then he was +whirled out with the rest of the crowd, up the platform, through the +thronged waiting-room, into the street.</p> + +<p>Then the cries of the eager men outside of "Cab, sir? cab, sir?" "Let me +take your baggage," and "Which way, sir?" bewildered him. He did the +thing which every provincial does: he went to a policeman and inquired +of him where he might find a respectable boarding-house. The policeman +did not know, but informed him that there were plenty of hotels farther +up. With something like disgust, Brent wondered if all the hotels were +like those he<!-- Page 202 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> saw at the station, where the guests had to go through +the bar-room to reach their chambers. He shuddered at it; so strong is +the influence of habit. But he did not wish to go to a hotel: so, +carrying his two valises, he trudged on, though the hot sun of the +mid-afternoon beat mercilessly down upon him. He kept looking into the +faces of people who passed him, in the hope that he might see in one +encouragement to ask for the information he so much wanted; but one and +all they hurried by without even so much as a glance at the dusty +traveller. Had one of them looked at him, he would merely have said, +mentally, "Some country bumpkin come in to see the sights of town and be +buncoed."</p> + +<p>There is no loneliness like the loneliness of the unknown man in a +crowd. A feeling of desolation took hold upon Brent, so he turned down a +side-street in order to be more out of the main line of business. It was +a fairly respectable quarter; children were playing about the pavements +and in the gutters, while others with pails and pitchers were going to +and from the corner saloon, where their vessels were filled with foaming +beer. Brent wondered at the cruelty of<!-- Page 203 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> parents who thus put their +children in the way of temptation, and looked to see if the little ones +were not bowed with shame; but they all strode stolidly on, with what he +deemed an unaccountable indifference to their own degradation. He passed +one place where the people were drinking in the front yard, and saw a +mother holding a glass of beer to her little one's lips. He could now +understand the attitude of the children, but the fact, nevertheless, +surprised and sickened him.</p> + +<p>Finally, the sign "Boarding Here" caught his eye. He went into the yard +and knocked at the door. A plump German girl opened it, and, to his +question as to accommodation, replied that she would see her mistress. +He was ushered into a little parlour that boasted some shabby attempts +at finery, and was soon joined by a woman whom he took to be the "lady +of the house."</p> + +<p>Yes, Mrs. Jones took boarders. Would he want room and board? Terms five +dollars per week. Had he work in the city? No? Well, from gentlemen who +were out of work she always had her money in advance. But would he see +his room first?</p> + +<p><!-- Page 204 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p><p>Wondering much at Mrs. Jones's strange business arrangement, Brent +allowed her to conduct him to a room on the second floor, which looked +out on the noisy street. It was not a palatial place by any means, but +was not uncomfortable save for the heat, which might be expected +anywhere on such a day. He was tired and wanted rest, so he engaged the +place and paid the woman then and there.</p> + +<p>"You just come off the train, I see. Will you have luncheon at once, +Mr.—?"</p> + +<p>"Brent," said he. "Yes, I will have some luncheon, if you please."</p> + +<p>"Do you take beer with your luncheon?"</p> + +<p>"No-o," he said, hesitating; and yet why should he not take beer? +Everybody else did, even the children. Then he blushed as he thought of +what his aunt Hester would think of his even hesitating over the +question. She would have shot out a "no" as if it were an insult to be +asked. So without beer he ate his luncheon and lay down to rest for the +afternoon. When one has travelled little, even a short journey is +fatiguing.</p> + +<p>In the evening Brent met some of the other boarders at supper; there +were not many. They were principally clerks in shops<!-- Page 205 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> or +under-bookkeepers. One genial young fellow struck up a conversation with +Fred, and became quite friendly during the evening.</p> + +<p>"I guess you will go out to the 'Zoo' to-morrow, won't you? That is +about the first place that visitors usually strike for when they come +here."</p> + +<p>"I thought of getting a general idea of the city first, so that I could +go round better before going farther out."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you won't have any trouble in getting around. Just ask folks, and +they will direct you anywhere."</p> + +<p>"But everybody seems to be in a hurry; and by the time I open my mouth +to ask them, they have passed me."</p> + +<p>The young clerk, Mr. Perkins by name, thought this was a great joke and +laughed long and loudly at it.</p> + +<p>"I wish to gracious I could go around with you. I have been so busy ever +since I have been here that I have never seen any of the show sights +myself. But I tell you what I will do: I can steer you around some on +Thursday night. That is my night off, and then I will show you some +sights that are sights." The young man chuckled as he got his hat and +prepared to return to the<!-- Page 206 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> shop. Brent thanked him in a way that sounded +heavy and stilted even to his own ears after the other's light +pleasantry.</p> + +<p>"And another thing," said Perkins, "we will go to see the baseball game +on Sunday, Clevelands and the Reds,—great game, you know." It was well +that Mr. Perkins was half-way out of the door before he finished his +sentence, for there was no telling what effect upon him the flush which +mounted to Brent's face and the horror in his eyes would have had.</p> + +<p>Go to a baseball game on Sunday! What would his people think of such a +thing? How would he himself feel there,—he, notwithstanding his +renunciation of office, a minister of the gospel? He hastened to his +room, where he could be alone and think. The city indeed was full of +temptations to the young! And yet he knew he would be ashamed to tell +his convictions to Perkins, or to explain his horror at the proposition. +Again there came to him, as there had come many times before, the +realisation that he was out of accord with his fellows. He was not in +step with the procession. He had been warped away from the parallel of +every-day, ordinary humanity. In order to still<!-- Page 207 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> the tumult in his +breast, he took his hat and wandered out upon the street. He wanted to +see people, to come into contact with them and so rub off some of the +strangeness in which their characters appeared to him.</p> + +<p>The streets were all alight and alive with bustle. Here a fakir with +loud voice and market-place eloquence was vending his shoddy wares; +there a drunkard reeled or was kicked from the door of a saloon, whose +noiselessly swinging portals closed for an instant only to be reopened +to admit another victim, who ere long would be treated likewise. A +quartet of young negroes were singing on the pavement in front of a +house as he passed and catching the few pennies and nickels that were +flung to them from the door. A young girl smiled and beckoned to him +from a window, and another who passed laughed saucily up into his face +and cried, "Ah, there!" Everywhere was the inevitable pail flashing to +and fro. Sickened, disgusted, thrown back upon himself, Brent turned his +steps homeward again. Was this the humanity he wanted to know? Was this +the evil which he wanted to have a go with? Was Aunt Hester, after all, +in the right, and was her way the best? His heart<!-- Page 208 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> was torn by a +multitude of conflicting emotions. He had wondered, in one of his +rebellious moods, if, when he was perfectly untrammelled, he would ever +pray; but on this night of nights, before he went wearily to bed, he +remained long upon his knees.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 209 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">B</span><span class="smcap">rent</span> found himself in a most peculiar situation. He had hated the +severe discipline of his youth, and had finally rebelled against it and +renounced its results as far as they went materially. This he had +thought to mean his emancipation. But when the hour to assert his +freedom had come, he found that the long years of rigid training had +bound his volition with iron bands. He was wrapped in a mantle of habit +which he was ashamed to display and yet could not shake off. The +pendulum never stops its swing in the middle of the arc. So he would +have gone to the other extreme and revelled in the pleasures whose very +breath had been forbidden to his youth; but he found his sensibilities +revolting from everything that did not accord with the old Puritan code +by which they had been trained. He knew himself to be full of +capabilities for evil, but it seemed as if some power greater than his +held him<!-- Page 210 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> back. It was Frederick Brent who looked on sin abstractly, but +its presence in the concrete was seen through the eyes of Mrs. Hester +Hodges. It could hardly be called the decree of conscience, because so +instantaneous was the rejection of evil that there was really no time +for reference to the internal monitor. The very restriction which he had +complained of he was now putting upon himself. The very yoke whose +burden he hated he was placing about his own neck. He had run away from +the sound of "right" and "duty," but had not escaped their power. He +felt galled, humiliated, and angry with himself, because he had long +seen the futility of blind indignation against the unseen force which +impelled him forward in a hated path.</p> + +<p>One thing that distressed him was a haunting fear of the sights which +Perkins would show him on the morrow's night. He had seen enough for +himself to conjecture of what nature they would be. He did not want to +see more, and yet how could he avoid it? He might plead illness, but +that would be a lie; and then there would be other nights to follow, so +it would only be a postponement of what must ulti<!-- Page 211 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>mately take place or +be boldly rejected. Once he decided to explain his feelings on the +subject, but in his mind's eye he saw the half-pitying sneer on the face +of the worldly young cityite, and he quailed before it.</p> + +<p>Why not go? Could what he saw hurt him? Was he so great a coward that he +dared not come into the way of temptation? We do not know the strength +of a shield until it has been tried in battle. Metal does not ring true +or false until it is struck. He would go. He would see with his own eyes +for the purpose of information. He would have his boasted bout with sin. +After this highly valorous conclusion he fell asleep.</p> + +<p>The next morning found him wavering again, but he put all his troubled +thoughts away and spent the day in sight-seeing. He came in at night +tired and feeling strange and lonesome. "Whom the gods wish to destroy, +they first make mad," we used to say; but all that is changed now, and +whom the devil wishes to get, he first makes lonesome. Then the victim +is up to anything.</p> + +<p>Brent had finished his supper when Perkins came in, but he brightened at +the<!-- Page 212 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> young clerk's cheery salute, "Hello, there! ready to go, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Been ready all day," he replied, with a laugh. "It 's been pretty +slow."</p> + +<p>"'Ain't made much out, then, seeing the sights of this little village of +ours? Well, we 'll do better to-night, if the people don't see that +black tie of yours and take you for a preacher getting facts for a +crusade."</p> + +<p>Brent blushed and bit his lip, but he only said, "I 'll go up and change +it while you 're finishing your supper."</p> + +<p>"Guess you 'd better, or some one will be asking you for a sermon." +Perkins laughed good-naturedly, but he did not know how his words went +home to his companion's sensitive feelings. He thought that his haste in +leaving the room and his evident confusion were only the evidence of a +greenhorn's embarrassment under raillery. He really had no idea that his +comrade's tie was the badge of his despised calling.</p> + +<p>Brent was down again in a few minutes, a grey cravat having superseded +the offending black. But even now, as he compared himself with his +guide, he appeared sombre and ascetic. His black Prince Albert coat +showed up gloomy and oppressive against<!-- Page 213 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> young Perkins's natty drab +cutaway relieved by a dashing red tie. From head to foot the little +clerk was light and dapper; and as they moved along the crowded streets +the preacher felt much as a conscious omnibus would feel beside a +pneumatic-tired sulky.</p> + +<p>"You can talk all you want to about your Chicago," Perkins was rattling +on, "but you can bet your life Cincinnati 's the greatest town in the +West. Chicago 's nothing but a big overgrown country town. Everything +looks new and flimsy there to a fellow, but here you get something that +'s solid. Chicago 's pretty swift, too, but there ain't no flies on us, +either, when it comes to the go."</p> + +<p>Brent thought with dismay how much his companion knew, and felt a +passing bitterness that he, though older, had seen none of these things.</p> + +<p>"Ever been in Chicago?" asked Perkins; "but of course you have n't." +This was uttered in such a tone of conviction that the minister thought +his greenness must be very apparent.</p> + +<p>"I 've never been around much of anywhere," he said. "I 've been hard at +work all my life."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 214 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p><p>"Eh, that so? You don't look like you 'd done much hard work. What do +you do?"</p> + +<p>"I—I—ah—write," was the confused answer.</p> + +<p>Perkins, fortunately, did not notice the confusion. "Oh, ho!" he said: +"do you go in for newspaper work?"</p> + +<p>"No, not for newspapers."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you 're an author, a regular out-and-outer. Well, don't you know, I +thought you were somehow different from most fellows I 've met. I never +could see how you authors could stay away in small towns, where you +hardly ever see any one, and write about people as you do; but I suppose +you get your people from books."</p> + +<p>"No, not entirely," replied Brent, letting the mistake go. "There are +plenty of interesting characters in a small town. Its life is just what +the life of a larger city is, only the scale is smaller."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you 're on a search for characters, you 'll see some to-night +that 'll be worth putting in your note-book. We 'll stop here first."</p> + +<p>The place before which they had stopped was surrounded by a high +vine-covered lat<!-- Page 215 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>tice fence: over the entrance flamed forth in letters +set with gas-lights the words "Meyer's Beer-Garden and Variety Hall. +Welcome." He could hear the sound of music within,—a miserable +orchestra, and a woman singing in a high strident voice. People were +passing in and out of the place. He hesitated, and then, shaking +himself, as if to shake off his scruples, turned towards the entrance. +As he reached the door, a man who was standing beside it thrust a paper +into his hand. He saw others refuse to take it as they passed. It was +only the announcement of a temperance meeting at a neighbouring hall. He +raised his eyes to find the gaze of the man riveted upon him.</p> + +<p>"Don't you go in there, young man," he said. "You don't look like you +was used to this life. Come away. Remember, it 's the first step—"</p> + +<p>"Chuck him," said Perkins's voice at his elbow. But something in the +man's face held him. A happy thought struck him. He turned to his +companion and said, in a low voice, "I think I 've found a character +here already. Will you excuse me for a while?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 216 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p><p>"Certainly. Business before pleasure. Pump him all you can, and then +come in. You 'll find me at one of the tables on the farther side." +Perkins passed on.</p> + +<p>"You won't go in, my young friend?" said the temperance man.</p> + +<p>"What is it to you whether I go in or stay out?" asked Brent, in a tone +of assumed carelessness.</p> + +<p>"I want to keep every man I kin from walkin' the path that I walked and +sufferin' as I suffer." He was seized with a fit of coughing. His face +was old and very thin, and his hands, even in that hot air, were blue as +with cold. "I wisht you 'd go to our meetin' to-night. We 've got a +powerful speaker there, that 'll show you the evils of drink better 'n I +kin."</p> + +<p>"Where is this great meeting?" Brent tried to put a sneer into his +voice, but an unaccountable tremor ruined its effect.</p> + +<p>He was duly directed to the hall. "I may come around," he said, +carelessly, and sauntered off, leaving the man coughing beside the door +of the beer-garden. "Given all of his life to the devil," he mused, +"drunk himself to death, and now seeking to steal into heaven by giving +away a few tracts in<!-- Page 217 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> his last worthless moments." He had forgotten all +about Perkins.</p> + +<p>He strolled about for a while, and then, actuated by curiosity, sought +out the hall where the meeting was being held. It was a rude place, in a +poor neighbourhood. The meeting-room was up two flights of dingy, +rickety stairs. Hither Brent found his way. His acquaintance of the +street was there before him and sitting far to the front among those +whom, by their position, the young man took to be the speakers of the +evening. The room was half full of the motleyest crew that it had ever +been his ill fortune to set eyes on. The flaring light of two lard-oil +torches brought out the peculiarities of the queer crowd in fantastic +prominence. There was everywhere an odour of work, but it did not hang +chiefly about the men. The women were mostly little weazen-faced +creatures, whom labour and ill treatment had rendered inexpressibly +hideous. The men were chiefly of the reformed. The bleared eyes and +bloated faces of some showed that their reformation must have been of +very recent occurrence, while a certain unsteadiness in the conduct of +others showed that with them the process had not taken place at all.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 218 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p><p>It was late, and a stuffy little man with a wheezy voice and a very red +nose was holding forth on the evils of intemperance, very much to his +own satisfaction evidently, and unmistakably to the weariness of his +audience. Brent was glad when he sat down. Then there followed +experiences from women whose husbands had been drunkards and from +husbands whose wives had been similarly afflicted. It was all thoroughly +uninteresting and commonplace.</p> + +<p>The young man had closed his eyes, and, suppressing a yawn, had just +determined to go home, when he was roused by a new stir in the meeting, +and the voice of the wheezy man saying "And now, brothers, we are to +have a great treat: we are to hear the story of the California Pilgrim, +told by himself. Bless the Lord for his testimony! Go on, my brother." +Brent opened his eyes and took in the scene. Beside the chairman stood +the emaciated form of his chance acquaintance. It was the man's face, +now seen in the clearer light, that struck him. It was thin, very thin, +and of a deathly pallor. The long grey hair fell in a tumbled mass above +the large hollow eyes. The cheek-bones stood up prominently, and<!-- Page 219 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> seemed +almost bursting through the skin. His whole countenance was full of the +terrible, hopeless tragedy of a ruined life. He began to speak.</p> + +<p>"I' ll have to be very brief, brothers and sisters, as I have n't much +breath to spare. But I will tell you my life simply, in order to warn +any that may be in the same way to change their course. Twenty years ago +I was a hard-workin' man in this State. I got along fairly, an' had +enough to live on an' keep my wife an' baby decent. Of course I took my +dram like the other workmen, an' it never hurt me. But some men can't +stand what others kin, an' the habit commenced to grow on me. I took a +spree, now an' then, an' then went back to work, fur I was a good hand, +an' could always git somethin' to do. After a while I got so unsteady +that nobody would have me. From then on it was the old story. I got +discouraged, an' drunk all the more. Three years after I begun, my home +was a wreck, an' I had ill-treated my wife until she was no better than +I was; then she got a divorce from me, an' I left the town. I wandered +from place to place, sometimes workin', always drinkin'; sometimes +ridin' on trains,<!-- Page 220 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> sometimes trampin' by the roadside. Fin'lly I drifted +out to Californy, an' there I spent most o' my time until, a year ago, I +come to see myself what a miserable bein' I was. It was through one of +your Bands of Hope. From then I pulled myself up; but it was too late. I +had ruined my health. I started for my old home, talkin' and tellin' my +story by the way. I want to get back there an' jest let the people know +that I 've repented, an' then I can die in peace. I want to see ef my +wife an' child—" Here a great fit of coughing seized him again, and he +was forced to sit down.</p> + +<p>Brent had listened breathlessly to every word: a terrible fear was +clutching at his heart. When the man sat down, he heard the voice of the +chairman saying, "Now let us all contribute what we can to help the +brother on his journey; he has n't far to go. Come forward and lay your +contributions on the table here, now. Some one sing. Now who 's going to +help Brother Brent?"</p> + +<p>The young man heard the name. He grasped the seat in front of him for +support. He seized his hat, staggered to his feet, and stumbled blindly +out of the room and down the stairs.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 221 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p><p>"Drunk" said some one as he passed.</p> + +<p>He rushed into the street, crying within himself, "My God! my God!" He +hurried through the crowds, thrusting the people right and left and +unheeding the curses that followed him. He reached home and groped up to +his room.</p> + +<p>"Awful!" murmured Mrs. Jones. "He seemed such a good young man; but he +'s been out with Mr. Perkins, and men will be men."</p> + +<p>Once in his room, it seemed that he would go mad. Back and forth he +paced the floor, clenching his hands and smiting his head. He wanted to +cry out. He felt the impulse to beat his head against the wall. "My God! +my God! It was my father," he cried, "going back home. What shall I do?" +There was yet no pity in his heart for the man whom he now knew to be +his parent. His only thought was of the bitterness that parent's folly +had caused. "Oh, why could he not have died away from home, without +going back there to revive all the old memories? Why must he go back +there just at this troublous time to distress those who have loved me +and help those who hate me to drag my name in the dust?<!-- Page 222 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> He has chosen +his own way, and it has ever been apart from me. He has neglected and +forgotten me. Now why does he seek me out, after a life spent among +strangers? I do not want him. I will not see him again. I shall never go +home. I have seen him, I have heard him talk. I have stood near him and +talked with him, and just when I am leaving it all behind me, all my +past of sorrow and degradation, he comes and lays a hand upon me, and I +am more the son of Tom Brent to-night than ever before. Is it Fate, God, +or the devil that pursues me so?"</p> + +<p>His passion was spending itself. When he was more calm he thought, "He +will go home with a religious testimony on his lips, he will die happy, +and the man who has spent all his days in drunkenness, killed his wife, +and damned his son will be preached through the gates of glory on the +strength of a few words of familiar cant." There came into his mind a +great contempt for the system which taught or preached so absurd and +unfair a doctrine. "I wish I could go to the other side of the world," +he said, "and live among heathens who know no such dreams. I, Frederick +Brent, son of Tom Brent, tem<!-- Page 223 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>perance advocate, sometime drunkard and +wife-beater." There was terrible, scorching irony in the thought. There +was a pitiless hatred in his heart for his father's very name.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he went on, "that Uncle 'Liph"—he said the name +tenderly—"has my letter now and will be writing to me to come home and +hear my father's dying words, and receive perhaps his dying +blessing,—his dying blessing! But I will not go; I will not go back." +Anger, mingled with shame at his origin and a greater shame at himself, +flamed within him. "He did not care for the helpless son sixteen years +ago: let him die without the sight of the son now. His life has cursed +my life, his name has blasted my name, his blood has polluted my blood. +Let him die as he lived—without me."</p> + +<p>He dropped into a chair and struck the table with his clenched fists.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones came to the door to ask him not to make so much noise. He +buried his face in his hands, and sat there thinking, thinking, until +morning.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 224 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">N</span><span class="smcap">ext</span> morning when Brent went down to breakfast he was as a man who had +passed through an illness. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was pale, +his step was nervous and weak.</p> + +<p>"Just what I expected," muttered Mrs. Jones. "He was in a beastly +condition last night. I shall speak to Mr. Perkins about it. He had no +right to take and get him in such a state."</p> + +<p>She was more incensed than ever when the gay young clerk came in looking +perfectly fresh. "He 's used to it," she told herself, "and it does n't +tell on him, but it 's nearly killed that poor young man."</p> + +<p>"Hullo there, Brent," said Perkins. "You chucked me for good last night. +Did you lose your way, or was your 'character' too interesting?"</p> + +<p>"Character too interesting," was the laconic reply.</p> + +<p>"And I 'll bet you 've been awake all night studying it out."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 225 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p><p>"You are entirely right there," said Brent, smiling bitterly. "I have +n't slept a wink all night: I 've been studying out that character."</p> + +<p>"I thought you looked like it. You ought to take some rest to-day."</p> + +<p>"I can't. I 've got to put in my time on the same subject."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones pursed her lips and bustled among the teacups. The idea of +their laughing over their escapades right before her face and thinking +that she did not understand! She made the mental observation that all +men were natural born liars, and most guilty when they appeared to be +most innocent. "Character," indeed! Did they think to blind her to the +true situation of things? Oh, astute woman!</p> + +<p>"Strange fellow," said Perkins to his spoon, when, after a slight +breakfast, Brent had left the table.</p> + +<p>"There 's others that are just as strange, only they think they 're +sharper," quoth Mrs. Jones, with a knowing look.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you," returned her boarder, turning his attention +from his spoon to the lady's face.</p> + +<p>"There 's none so blind as those who don't want to see."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 226 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p><p>"Again I say, I don't understand you, Mrs. Jones."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Perkins, it 's no use trying to fool me. I know men. In my +younger days I was married to a man."</p> + +<p>"Strange contingency! But still it casts no light on your previous +remarks."</p> + +<p>"You 've got very innocent eyes, I must say, Mr. Perkins."</p> + +<p>"The eyes, madam, are the windows of the soul," Perkins quoted, with +mock gravity.</p> + +<p>"Well, if the eyes are the soul's windows, there are some people who +always keep their windows curtained."</p> + +<p>"But I must deny any such questionable performance on my part. I have +not the shrewdness to veil my soul from the scrutiny of so keen an +observer as yourself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, flattery is n't going to do your cause one mite of good, Mr. +Perkins. I 'm not going to scold, but next time you get him in such a +state I wish you 'd bring him home yourself, and not let him come +tearing in here like a madman, scaring a body half to death."</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly explain yourself? What condition? And who is 'him'?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 227 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, of course you don't know."</p> + +<p>"I do not."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me that you were n't out with Mr. Brent last night +before he came home?"</p> + +<p>"I assuredly was not with him after the first quarter of an hour."</p> + +<p>"Well, it 's hard to believe that he got that way by himself."</p> + +<p>"That way! Why, he left me at the door of Meyer's beer-garden to talk to +a temperance crank who he thought was a character."</p> + +<p>"Well, no temperance character sent him rushing and stumbling in here as +he did last night. 'Character,' indeed! It was at the bottom of a pail +of beer or something worse."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't think he was 'loaded.' He 's an author, and I guess his eye +got to rolling in a fine frenzy, and he had to hurry home to keep it +from rolling out of his head into the street."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Perkins, this is no subject for fun. I have seen what I have seen, +and it was a most disgraceful spectacle. I take your word for it that +you were not with Mr. Brent, but you need not try to go further and +defend him."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 228 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p><p>"I 'm not trying to defend him at all; it 's really none of my +business." And Perkins went off to work, a little bit angry and a good +deal more bewildered. "I thought he was a 'jay,'" he remarked.</p> + +<p>To Brent the day was a miserable one. He did not leave his room, but +spent the slow hours pacing back and forth in absorbed thought, +interrupted now and then by vain attempts to read. His mind was in a +state of despairing apprehension. It needed no prophetic sense to tell +him what would happen. It was only a question of how long a time would +elapse before he might expect to receive word from Dexter summoning him +home. It all depended upon whether or not the "California Pilgrim" got +money enough last night for exploiting his disgraceful history to finish +the last stage of the journey.</p> + +<p>What disgusted the young man so intensely was that his father, after +having led the life he had, should make capital out of relating it. +Would not a quiet repentance, if it were real, have been quite +sufficient? He very much distrusted the sincerity of motive that made a +man hold himself up as an example of reformed depravity, when the<!-- Page 229 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> hope +of gain was behind it all. The very charity which he had preached so +fiercely to his congregation he could not extend to his own father. +Indeed, it appeared to him (although this may have been a trick of his +distorted imagination) that the "Pilgrim" had seemed to take a sort of +pleasure in the record of his past, as though it were excellent to be +bad, in order to have the pleasure of conversion. His lip involuntarily +curled when he thought of conversion. He was disgusted with all men and +principles. One man offends, and a whole system suffers. He felt a +peculiar self-consciousness, a self-glorification in his own misery. +Placing the accumulated morality of his own life against the full-grown +evil of his father's, it angered him to think that by the intervention +of a seemingly slight quantity the results were made equal.</p> + +<p>"What is the use of it all," he asked himself, "my struggle, involuntary +though it was, my self-abnegation, my rigidity, when what little +character I have built up is overshadowed by my father's past? Why +should I have worked so hard and long for those rewards, real or +fancied, the favour of God and the respect of men, when he, after<!-- Page 230 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> a +career of outrageous dissipation, by a simple act or claim of repentance +wins the Deity's smile and is received into the arms of people with +gushing favour, while I am looked upon as the natural recipient of all +his evil? Of course they tell us that there is more joy over the one +lamb that is found than over the ninety and nine that went not astray; +it puts rather a high premium on straying." He laughed bitterly. "With +what I have behind me, is it worth being decent for the sake of decency? +After all, is the game worth the candle?"</p> + +<p>He took up a little book which many times that morning he had been +attempting to read. It was an edition of Matthew Arnold's poems, and one +of the stanzas was marked. It was in "Mycerinus."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, wherefore cheat our youth, if thus it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of one short joy, one lust, one pleasant dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stringing vain words of powers we cannot see,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Blind divinations of a will supreme?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost labour! when the circumambient gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But holds, if gods, gods careless of our doom!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He laid the book down with a sigh. It seemed to fit his case.</p> + +<p>It was not until the next morning, however, that his anticipations were +realised,<!-- Page 231 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> and the telegraph messenger stopped at his door. The telegram +was signed Eliphalet Hodges, and merely said, "Come at once. You are +needed."</p> + +<p>"Needed"! What could they "need" of him? "Wanted" would have been a +better word,—"wanted" by the man who for sixteen years had forgotten +that he had a son. He had already decided that he would not go, and was +for the moment sorry that he had stayed where the telegram could reach +him and stir his mind again into turmoil; but the struggle had already +recommenced. Maybe his father was burdening his good old friends, and it +was they who "needed" him. Then it was his duty to go, but not for his +father's sake. He would not even see his father. No, not that! He could +not see him.</p> + +<p>It ended by his getting his things together and taking the next train. +He was going, he told himself, to the relief of his guardian and his +friend, and not because his father—his father!—wanted him. Did he +deceive himself? Were there not, at the bottom of it all, the natural +promptings of so close a relationship which not even cruelty, neglect, +and degradation could wholly stifle?</p> + +<p><!-- Page 232 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p><p>He saw none of the scenes that had charmed his heart on the outward +journey a few days before; for now his sight was either far ahead or +entirely inward. When he reached Dexter, it was as if years had passed +since he left its smoky little station. Things did not look familiar to +him as he went up the old street, because he saw them with new eyes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hodges must have been watching for him, for he opened the door +before he reached it.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Freddie," he said in a low voice, tiptoeing back to his chair. +"I 've got great news fur you."</p> + +<p>"You need n't tell me what it is," said Brent. "I know that my father is +here."</p> + +<p>Eliphalet started up. "Who told you?" he said; "some blockhead, I 'll be +bound, who did n't break it to you gently as I would 'a' done. Actu'lly +the people in this here town—"</p> + +<p>"Don't blame the people, Uncle 'Liph," said the young man, smiling in +spite of himself. "I found it out for myself before I arrived; and, I +assure you, it was n't gently broken to me either." To the old man's +look of bewildered amazement, Brent replied with the story of his +meeting with his father.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 233 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p><p>"It 's the good Lord's doin's," said Eliphalet, reverently.</p> + +<p>"I don't know just whose doing it is, but it is an awful accusation to +put on the Lord. I 've still got enough respect for Him not to believe +that."</p> + +<p>"Freddie," exclaimed the old man, horror-stricken, "you ain't a-gettin' +irreverent, you ain't a-beginnin' to doubt, air you? Don't do it. I know +jest what you 've had to bear all along, an' I know what you 're +a-bearin' now, but you ain't the only one that has their crosses. I 'm +a-bearin' my own, an' it ain't light neither. You don't know what it is, +my boy, when you feel that somethin' precious is all your own, to have a +real owner come in an' snatch it away from you. While I thought yore +father was dead, you seemed like my own son; but now it 'pears like I +'ain't got no kind o' right to you an' it 's kind o' hard, Freddie, it +'s kind o' hard, after all these years. I know how a mother feels when +she loses her baby, but when it 's a grown son that 's lost, one that +she 's jest been pilin' up love fur, it 's—it 's—" The old man paused, +overcome by his emotions.</p> + +<p>"I am as much—no, more than ever<!-- Page 234 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> your son, Uncle 'Liph. No one shall +ever come between us; no, not even the man I should call father."</p> + +<p>"He is yore father, Freddie. It 's jest like I told Hester. She was fur +sendin' him along." In spite of himself, a pang shot through Brent's +heart at this. "But I said, 'No, no, Hester, he 's Fred's father an' we +must take him in, fur our boy's sake.'"</p> + +<p>"Not for my sake, not for my sake!" broke out the young man.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, fur our Master's sake. We took him in. He was mighty low +down. It seemed like the Lord had jest spared him to git here. Hester 's +with him now, an'—an'—kin you stand to hear it?—the doctor says he 's +only got a little while to live."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can stand it," Brent replied, with unconscious irony. The +devotion and the goodness of the old man had softened him as thought, +struggle, and prayer had failed to do.</p> + +<p>"Will you go in now?" asked Eliphalet. "He wants to see you: he can't +die in peace without."</p> + +<p>The breath came hard between his teeth as Brent replied, "I said I would +n't see him. I came because I thought you needed me."</p> + +<p>"He 's yore father, Freddie, an' he 's peni<!-- Page 235 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>tent. All of us pore mortals +need a good deal o' furgivin', an' it does n't matter ef one of us needs +a little more or a little less than another: it puts us all on the same +level. Remember yore sermon about charity, an'—an' jedge not. You +'ain't seen all o' His plan. Come on." And, taking the young man by the +hand, he led him into the room that had been his own. Hester rose as he +entered, and shook hands with him, and then she and her husband silently +passed out.</p> + +<p>The sufferer lay upon the bed, his eyes closed and his face as white as +the pillows on which he reclined. Disease had fattened on the hollow +cheeks and wasted chest. One weak hand picked aimlessly at the coverlet, +and the laboured breath caught and faltered as if already the hand of +Death was at his throat.</p> + +<p>The young man stood by the bed, trembling in every limb, his lips now as +white as the ashen face before him. He was cold, but the perspiration +stood in beads on his brow as he stood gazing upon the face of his +father. Something like pity stirred him for a moment, but a vision of +his own life came up before him, and his heart grew hard again. Here was +the man who had wronged him irremediably.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 236 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>Finally the dying man stirred uneasily, muttering, "I dreamed that he +had come."</p> + +<p>"I am here." Brent's voice sounded strange to him.</p> + +<p>The eyes opened, and the sufferer gazed at him. "Are you—"</p> + +<p>"I am your son."</p> + +<p>"You—why, I—saw you—"</p> + +<p>"You saw me in Cincinnati at the door of a beer-garden." He felt as if +he had struck the man before him with a lash.</p> + +<p>"Did—you—go in?"</p> + +<p>"No: I went to your temperance meeting."</p> + +<p>The elder Brent did not hear the ill-concealed bitterness in his son's +voice. "Thank God," he said. "You heard—my—story, an'—it leaves +me—less—to tell. Something—made me speak—to you that—night. Come +nearer. Will—you—shake hands with—me?"</p> + +<p>Fred reached over and took the clammy hand in his own.</p> + +<p>"I have—had—a pore life," the now fast weakening man went on; "an' I +have—done wrong—by—you, but I—have—repented. Will you forgive me?"</p> + +<p>Something came up into Brent's heart and burned there like a flame.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 237 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p><p>"You have ruined my life," he answered, "and left me a heritage of +shame and evil."</p> + +<p>"I know it—God help me—I know it; but won't—you—forgive me, my son? +I—want to—call you—that—just once." He pressed his hand closer.</p> + +<p>Could he forgive him? Could he forget all that he had suffered and would +yet suffer on this man's account? Then the words and the manner of old +Eliphalet came to him, and he said, in a softened voice, "I forgive you, +father." He hesitated long over the name.</p> + +<p>"Thank God for—for—the name—an'—forgiveness." He carried his son's +hand to his lips, "I sha' n't be—alive—long—now,—an' my—death—will +set—people—to talkin'. They will—bring—up the—past. I—don't want +you—to—stay an' have—to bear—it. I don't want to—bring any more +on—you than I have—already. Go—away, as—soon as I am dead."</p> + +<p>"I cannot leave my friends to bear my burdens."</p> + +<p>"They will not speak—of them—as they—will speak of—you, +my—poor—boy. You—are—old—Tom Brent's<!-- Page 238 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>—son. I—wish I could +take—my name—an' all—it means—along—with—me. +But—promise—me—you—will—go. Promise—"</p> + +<p>"I will go if you so wish it."</p> + +<p>"Thank—you. An'—now—good-bye. I—can't talk—any—more. I don't +dare—to advise—you—after—all—you—know—of me; but do—right—do +right."</p> + +<p>The hand relaxed and the eyelids closed. Brent thought that he was dead, +and prompted by some impulse, bent down and kissed his father's +brow,—his father, after all. A smile flitted over the pale face, but +the eyes did not open. But he did not die then. Fred called Mrs. Hodges +and left her with his father while he sat with Eliphalet. It was not +until the next morning, when the air was full of sunlight, the song of +birds, and the chime of church bells, that old Tom Brent's weary spirit +passed out on its search for God. He had not spoken after his talk with +his son.</p> + +<p>There were heavy hearts about his bed, but there were no tears, no +sorrow for his death,—only regret for the manner of his life.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hodges and Eliphalet agreed that<!-- Page 239 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> the dead man had been right in +wishing his son to go away, and, after doing what he could to lighten +their load, he again stood on the threshold, leaving his old sad home. +Mrs. Hodges bade him good-bye at the door, and went back. She was too +bowed to seem hard any more, or even to pretend it. But Eliphalet +followed him to the gate. The two stood holding each other's hands and +gazing into each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>"I know you 're a-goin' to do right without me a-tellin' you to," said +the old man, chokingly. "That 's all I want of you. Even ef you don't +preach, you kin live an' work fur Him."</p> + +<p>"I shall do all the good I can, Uncle 'Liph, but I shall do it in the +name of poor humanity until I come nearer to Him. I am dazed and +confused now, and want the truth."</p> + +<p>"Go on, my boy; you 're safe. You 've got the truth now, only you don't +know it; fur they 's One that says, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto +one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.'"</p> + +<p>Another hearty hand-shake, and the young man was gone.</p> + +<p>As Fred went down the street, some one<!-- Page 240 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> accosted him and said, "I hear +yore father 's home."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he 's home," said Fred.</p> + +<p>Tom Brent was buried on Tuesday morning. The Rev. Mr. Simpson, who, in +spite of his age, had been prevailed upon to resume charge of his +church, preached the sermon. He spoke feelingly of the "dear departed +brother, who, though late, had found acceptance with the Lord," and he +ended with a prayer—which was a shot—for the "departed's misguided +son, who had rejected his Master's call and was now wandering over the +earth in rebellion and sin." It was well that he did not see the face of +Eliphalet Hodges then.</p> + +<p>Dan'l Hastings nodded over the sermon. In the back part of the church, +Mrs. Martin and Mrs. Smith whispered together and gaped at the two old +mourners, and wondered where the boy was. They had "heerd he was in +town."</p> + +<p>Bill Tompkins brought Elizabeth to the funeral.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 241 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="smcap">n</span> another town than Dexter the events narrated in the last chapter +would have proved a nine days' wonder, gained their meed of golden +gossip, and then given way to some newer sensation. But not so here. +This little town was not so prolific in startling episodes that she +could afford to let such a one pass with anything less than the fullest +comment. The sudden return of Tom Brent, his changed life, and his death +were talked of for many a day. The narrative of his life was yet to be a +stock camp-meeting sermon story, and the next generation of Dexterites +was destined to hear of him. He became a part of the town's municipal +history.</p> + +<p>Fred's disappearance elicited no less remark. Speculations as to his +whereabouts and his movements were rife. The storm of gossip which was +going on around them was not lost on Eliphalet Hodges and his<!-- Page 242 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> wife. +But, save when some too adventurous inquirer called down upon himself +Mrs. Hodges' crushing rebuke or the old man's mild resentment, they went +their ways silent and uncommunicative.</p> + +<p>They had heard from the young man first about two weeks after his +departure. He had simply told them that he had got a place in the office +of a packing establishment. Furthermore, he had begged that they let his +former fellow-townsmen know nothing of his doings or of his whereabouts, +and the two old people had religiously respected his wishes. Perhaps +there was some reluctance on the part of Mrs. Hodges, for after the +first letter she said, "It does seem like a sin an' a shame, 'Liphalet, +that we can't tell these here people how nice Fred 's a-doin', so 's to +let 'em know that he don't need none o' their help. It jest makes my +tongue fairly itch when I see Mis' Smith an' that bosom crony o' her'n, +Sallie Martin, a-nosin' around tryin' to see what they kin find out."</p> + +<p>"It is amazin' pesterin', Hester. I 'm su'prised at how I feel about it +myself, fur I never was no hand to want to gossip; but when I hear old +Dan'l Hastings, that can't<!-- Page 243 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> move out o' his cheer fur the +rheumatiz,—when I hear him a-sayin' that he reckoned that Fred was +a-goin' to the dogs, I felt jest like up an' tellin' him how things +was."</p> + +<p>"Why on airth did n't you? Ef I 'd 'a' been there, I 'd—"</p> + +<p>"But you know what Freddie's letter said. I kept still on that account; +but I tell you I looked at Dan'l." From his pocket the old man took the +missive worn with many readings, and gazed at it fondly. "Yes," he +repeated, "I looked at Dan'l hard. I felt jest like up an' tellin' him."</p> + +<p>"Well, no wonder. I 'm <ins class="correction" title="original reads: afeard">afeared</ins> I 'd 'a' clean furgot Freddie's wishes +an' told him everything. To think of old Dan'l Hastings, as old he is, +a-gossipin' about other people's business! Sakes alive! he needs every +breath he 's got now fur his prayers,—as all of us pore mortals do +now," added Mrs. Hodges, as she let her eyes fall upon her own wrinkled +hands.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we 're old, Hester, you an' I; but I 'm mighty glad o' the faith I +'ve been a-storin' up, fur it 's purty considerable of a help now."</p> + +<p>"Of course, 'Liphalet, faith is a great comfort, but it 's a greater one +to know that<!-- Page 244 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> you 've allus tried to do yore dooty the very best you +could; not a-sayin' that you 'ain't tried."</p> + +<p>"Most of us tries, Hester, even Dan'l."</p> + +<p>"I ain't a-goin' to talk about Dan'l Hastings. He 's jest naturally +spiteful an' crabbed. I declare, I don't see how he 's a-goin' to +squeeze into the kingdom."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind that, Hester. God ain't a-goin' to ask you to find a +way."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hodges did not reply. She and her husband seldom disagreed now, +because he seldom contradicted or found fault with her. But if this +dictum of his went unchallenged, it was not so with some later +conclusions at which he arrived on the basis of another of Fred's +letters.</p> + +<p>It was received several months after the settlement of the young man in +Cincinnati, and succeeded a long silence. "You will think," it ran, +"that I have forgotten you; but it is not so. My life has been very full +here of late, it is true, but not so full as to exclude you and good +Aunt Hester. I feel that I am growing. I can take good full breaths +here. I could n't in Dexter: the air was too rarefied by religion."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hodges gasped as her husband read<!-- Page 245 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> this aloud, but there was the +suspicion of a smile about the corners of Eliphalet's mouth.</p> + +<p>"You ask me if I attend any church," the letter went on. "Yes, I do. +When I first left, I thought that I never wanted to see the inside of a +meeting-house again. But there is a young lady in our office who is very +much interested in church work, and somehow she has got me interested +too, and I go to her church every Sunday. It is Congregational."</p> + +<p>"Congregational!" exclaimed Mrs. Hodges. "Congregational! an' he borned +an' raised up in the Methodist faith. It 's the first step."</p> + +<p>"He was n't borned nothin' but jest a pore little outcast sinner, an' as +fur as the denomination goes, I guess that church is about as good as +any other."</p> + +<p>"'Liphalet Hodges, air you a-backslidin' too?"</p> + +<p>"No: I 'm like Freddie; I 'm a-growin'."</p> + +<p>"It 's a purty time of life fur you to be a-talkin' about growin'. You +'re jest like an old tree that has fell in a damp place an' sen's out a +few shoots on the trunk. It thinks it 's a-growin' too, but them shoots<!-- Page 246 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +soon wither, an' the tree rots; that 's what it does."</p> + +<p>"But before it rotted, it growed all that was in it to grow, did n't it. +Well, that 's all anybody kin do, tree or human bein'." He paused for a +moment. "I 'ain't got all my growth yit."</p> + +<p>"You kin git the rest in the garden of the Lord."</p> + +<p>"It ain't good to change soil on some plants too soon. I ain't ready to +be set out." He went on reading:</p> + +<p>"'I 'm not so narrow as I was at home. I don't think so many things are +wrong as I used to. It is good to be like other people sometimes, and +not to feel yoreself apart from all the rest of humanity. I am growing +to act more like the people I meet, and so I am—'" the old man's hand +trembled, and he moved the paper nearer to his eyes—"'I—' What 's this +he says? 'I am learning to dance.'"</p> + +<p>"There!" his wife shot forth triumphantly. "What did I tell you? Going +to a Congregational church an' learnin' to dance, an' he not a year ago +a preacher of the gospel."</p> + +<p>Eliphalet was silent for some time: his<!-- Page 247 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> eyes looked far out into space. +Then he picked up the paper that had fluttered from his hand, and a +smile flitted over his face.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know," he said. "Freddie 's young, an' they 's worse +things in the world than dancin'."</p> + +<p>"You ain't a-upholdin' him in that too, air you? Well, I never! You 'd +uphold that sinful boy ef he committed murder."</p> + +<p>"I ain't a-upholdin' nothin' but what I think is right."</p> + +<p>"Right! 'Liphalet Hodges, what air you a-sayin'?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I mean to say that dancin' is right, but—"</p> + +<p>"There ain't no 'buts' in the Christian religion, 'Liphalet, an' there +ain't no use in yore tryin' to cover up Freddie's faults."</p> + +<p>"I ain't a-tryin' to cover nothin' up from God. But sometimes I git to +thinkin' that mebbe we put a good many more bonds on ourselves than the +Lord ever meant us to carry."</p> + +<p>"Oh, some of us don't struggle under none too heavy burdens. Some of us +have a way of jest slippin' 'em off of our shoulders like a bag of +flour."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 248 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p><p>"Meanin' me. Well, mebbe I have tried to make things jest as easy fur +myself as possible, but I 'ain't never tried to make 'em no harder fur +other people. I like to think of the Master as a good gentle friend, an' +mebbe I 'ain't shifted so many o' the burdens He put on me that He won't +let me in at last."</p> + +<p>"'Liphalet, I did n't say what I said fur no slur ag'in' you. You 're as +good a Christian man as—well, as most."</p> + +<p>"I know you did n't mean no slur, Hester. It was jest yore dooty to say +it. I 've come to realise how strong yore feelin' about dooty is, in the +years we 've been together, an' I would n't want you to be any +different."</p> + +<p>The calm of old age had come to these two. Life's turbulent waters toss +us and threaten to rend our frail bark in pieces. But the swelling of +the tempest only lifts us higher, and finally we reach and rest upon the +Ararat of age, with the swirling floods below us.</p> + +<p>Eliphalet went on with the letter. "He says some more about that little +girl. 'Alice is a very nice and sensible girl. I like her very much. She +helps me to get out of myself and to be happy. I have never known +be<!-- Page 249 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>fore what a good thing it was to be happy,—perhaps because I have +tried so hard to be so. I believe that I have been selfish and +egotistical.' Freddie don't furgit his words," the old man paused to +say. "'I have always thought too much of myself, and not enough of +others. That was the reason that I was not strong enough to live down +the opposition in Dexter. It seems that, after all your kindness to me, +I might have stayed and made you and Aunt Hester happy for the rest of +your days.' Bless that boy! 'But the air stifled me. I could not breathe +in it. Now that I am away, I can look back and see it all—my mistakes +and my shortcomings; for my horizon is broader and I can see clearer. I +have learned to know what pleasure is, and it has been like a stimulant +to me. I have been given a greater chance to love, and it has been like +the breath of life to me. I have come face to face with Christianity +without cant, and I respect it for what it is. Alice understands me and +brings out the best that is in me. I have always thought that it was +good for a young man to have a girl friend.'"</p> + +<p>For an instant, Mrs. Hodges resumed her old manner. A slight wave from +the old<!-- Page 250 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> flood had reached the bark and rocked it. She pursed her lips +and shook her head. "He furgot Elizabeth in a mighty short time."</p> + +<p>"Ef he had n't he 'd ought to be spanked like a child. Elizabeth never +was the kind of a mate fur Freddie, an' there ain't nobody that knows it +better than you yoreself, Hester, an' you know it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hodges did not reply. The wavelet had subsided again.</p> + +<p>"Now jest listen how he ends up. 'I want you and Aunt Hester to come +down and see me when you can. I will send for you in a week or two, if +you will promise to come. Write to me, both of you. Won't you? Your +changed boy, Fred.' Changed, an' I 'm glad of it. He 's more like a +natural boy of his age now than he ever was before. He 's jest like a +young oak saplin'. Before he allus put me in mind o' one o' them +oleander slips that you used to cut off an' hang ag'in' the house in a +bottle o' water so 's they 'd root. We 'll go down, won't we, Hester? We +'ll go down, an' see him."</p> + +<p>"Not me, 'Liphalet. You kin go; but I ain't a-goin' nowhere to be run +over by<!-- Page 251 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> the cars or wrecked or somethin'. Not that I 'm so powerful +afeared of anything like that, fur I do hope I 'm prepared to go +whenever the Master calls; but it ain't fur me to begin a-runnin' around +at my age, after livin' all these years at home. No, indeed. Why, I +could n't sleep in no other bed but my own now. I don't take to no sich +new things."</p> + +<p>And go Mrs. Hodges would not. So Eliphalet was forced to write and +refuse the offered treat. But on a day there came another letter, and he +could no longer refuse to grant the wish of his beloved boy. The missive +was very brief. It said only, "Alice has promised to marry me. Won't you +and Aunt Hester come and see me joined to the dearest girl in the +world?" There was a postscript to it: "I did not love Elizabeth. I know +it now."</p> + +<p>"Hester, I 'm a-goin'." said Eliphalet.</p> + +<p>"Go on, 'Liphalet, go on. I want you to go, but I 'm set in my ways now. +I do hope that girl kin do something besides work in an office. She +ought to be a good housekeeper, an' a good cook, so 's not to kill that +pore child with dyspepsy. I do hope she won't put saleratus in her +biscuits."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 252 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p><p>"I think it 's Freddie's soul that needs feedin.'"</p> + +<p>"His soul 'll go where it don't need feedin', ef his stomach ain't +'tended to right. Ef I went down there, I could give the girl some +points."</p> + +<p>"I don't reckon you 'd better go, Hester. As you say, you're set in yore +ways, an' mebbe her ways 'ud be diff'rent; an' then—then you 'd both +feel it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I suppose she thinks she knows it all, like most young people do."</p> + +<p>"I hope she don't; but I 'm a-goin' down to see her anyhow, an' I 'll +carry yore blessin' along with mine."</p> + +<p>For the next week, great were the preparations for the old man's +departure, and when finally he left the old gate and turned his back on +the little cottage it was as if he were going on a great journey rather +than a trip of less than a hundred miles. It had been a long time since +he had been on a train, and at first he felt a little dubious. But he +was soon at home, for his kindly face drew his fellow-passengers to him, +and he had no lack of pleasant companions on the way.</p> + +<p>Like Fred, the noises of the great station would have bewildered him, +but as he alighted<!-- Page 253 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> and passed through the gate a strong hand was laid +on his shoulder, and his palm was pressing the palm of his beloved son. +The old carpet-bag fell from his hands.</p> + +<p>"Freddie Brent, it ain't you?"</p> + +<p>"It 's I, Uncle 'Liph, and no one else. And I 'm so glad to see you that +I don't know what to do. Give me that bag."</p> + +<p>They started away, the old man chattering like a happy child. He could +not keep from feasting his eyes on the young man's face and form.</p> + +<p>"Well, Freddie, you jest don't look like yoreself. You 're—you 're—"</p> + +<p>"I 'm a man, Uncle 'Liph."</p> + +<p>"I allus knowed you 'd be, my boy. I allus knowed you 'd be. But yore +aunt Hester told me to ask you ef—ef you 'd dropped all yore religion. +She 's mighty disturbed about yore dancin'."</p> + +<p>Brent laughed aloud in pure joy.</p> + +<p>"I knowed you had n't," the old man chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Lost it all? Uncle 'Liph, why, I 've just come to know what religion +is. It 's to get bigger and broader and kinder, and to live and to love +and be happy, so that people around you will be happy."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 254 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p><p>"You 're still a first-rate preacher, Freddie."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, Uncle 'Liph; I 've been to a better school than the Bible +Seminary. I have n't got many religious rules and formulas, but I 'm +trying to live straight and do what is right."</p> + +<p>The old man had paused with tears in his eyes. "I been a-prayin' fur +you," he said.</p> + +<p>"So has Alice," replied the young man, "though I don't see why she needs +to pray. She 's a prayer in herself. She has made me better by letting +me love her. Come up, Uncle 'Liph. I want you to see her before we go on +to my little place."</p> + +<p>They stopped before a quiet cottage, and Fred knocked. In the little +parlour a girl came to them. She was little, not quite up to Fred's +shoulder. His eyes shone as he looked down upon her brown head. There +were lines about her mouth, as if she had known sorrow that had +blossomed into sweetness. The young man took her hand. "Uncle 'Liph," he +said, "this is Alice."</p> + +<p>She came forward with winning frankness, and took the old man's hand in +hers. The tears stood in his eyes again.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 255 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p><p>"This is Alice," he said; "this is Alice." Then his gaze travelled to +Fred's glowing face, and, with a sob in his voice that was all for joy, +he added, "Alice, I 'm glad you're a-livin'."</p> + +<p class="end">THE END </p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="adblock"> +<p class="adheader1"><span class="adsm">VOLUMES BY</span><br /> +Paul Laurence Dunbar</p> + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> <span class="smcap">poet</span> who starts out by being handicapped by excessive praise suffers +from it for a long time. This very thing happened to Paul Laurence +Dunbar, who published some very promising poems. Just because he +happened to be a negro, a vast amount of adulation was heaped upon him. +He showed the right sort of stuff, however, by not having his head +turned and by going to work. Since those first publications he has done +much creditable work both in poetry and in prose. His poetry is of the +very best and his prose work has fine value. He writes genuine dialect, +and he goes in for fine sentiment. Mr. Dunbar's volumes are as follows:</p> + +<p class="center"><b>STORIES:</b></p> + +<ul> +<li><b>THE FANATICS.</b> 12mo, cloth, $1.50.</li> +<li><b>FOLKS FROM DIXIE.</b> 12mo, cloth, illustrated, $1.25.</li> +<li><b>THE UNCALLED.</b> 12mo, cloth, $1.25.</li> +<li><b>THE STRENGTH OF GIDEON.</b> 12mo, cloth, illus., $1.25.</li> +<li><b>THE LOVE OF LANDRY.</b> 12mo, cloth, $1.25.</li> +</ul> + +<p class="center"><b>POEMS:</b></p> + +<ul> +<li><b>LYRICS OF LOWLY LIFE.</b> 16mo, cloth, $1.25.</li> +<li><b>LYRICS OF THE HEARTH-SIDE.</b> 16mo, cloth, $1.25.</li> +<li><b>POEMS OF CABIN AND FIELD.</b> 8vo, cloth, illus., $1.50.</li> +</ul> + +<hr style="width: 20%;" /> + +<p class="adfooter1">DODD, MEAD & COMPANY, <i>Publishers</i><br /> +372 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK</p> +</div> + +<div class="adblock"> +<p class="adheader1"><i>The</i> AUTOBIOGRAPHY <i>of</i><br /> +Mrs. OLIPHANT—1828-1897</p> + +<p class="center"><b>Arranged and Edited by MRS. HARRY COGHILL</b></p> + +<p class="center"><b><i>With two portraits, 8vo, cloth, $3.50</i></b></p> + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="smcap">n</span> the annals of English literature there are undoubtedly greater names +than Mrs. Oliphant's, but surely none that will shine with a tenderer +and purer radiance. Mrs. Oliphant was an indefatigable worker and had +the spirit of true knighthood beating in her womanly bosom. Of her +autobiography the <cite>Philadelphia Ledger</cite> says: "The volume is unique in +interest and a most valuable and helpful story of a noble and honorable +life. Mrs. Coghill has the best equipment as an editor: discretion, +taste, a word of connection wherever needed, no self-consciousness, and +a perfect sympathy with her subject."</p> + +<hr style="width: 20%;" /> + +<p class="adheader1"><i>The</i> VICTORIAN AGE <i>of</i><br /> +ENGLISH LITERATURE</p> + +<p class="center"><b>BY MRS. OLIPHANT</b></p> + +<p class="center"><i>In Two Volumes, 8vo, cloth, $3.00</i><br /> +<i>Also in the Ajax Series, One Volume, 12mo, $1.00</i></p> + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">his</span> is one of the most important of Mrs. Oliphant's works, and by +reason of her long association with the period of which she writes, it +should prove no less authoritative than interesting.</p> + +<hr style="width: 20%;" /> + +<p class="adfooter1">DODD, MEAD & COMPANY, <i>Publishers</i><br /> +372 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK</p> +</div> + +<div class="adblock"> +<p class="adheader2">WORKS BY IAN MACLAREN</p> + +<p class="center"><b>(Rev. John Watson)</b></p> + +<table summary="Works by Ian Maclaren"> +<tr> +<td>BESIDE THE BONNIE BRIAR BUSH. 12mo, cloth,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">$1.25</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The same, with about 75 illustrations from photographs taken +in Drumtochty by Clifton Johnson. 12mo, cloth, gilt top,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">2.00</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>THE DAYS OF AULD LANG SYNE. 12mo, cloth,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">1.25</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The same, with about 75 illustrations from photographs taken +in Drumtochty by Clifton Johnson. 12mo, cloth, gilt top,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">2.00</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. From "Beside the +Bonnie Briar Bush." Illustrated from drawings made by +Frederic C. Gordon. With a new portrait, and an introduction +by the author. 12mo, cloth, gilt edges,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">2.00</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Also in Phenix series.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>KATE CARNEGIE. With 50 illustrations by F. C. Gordon. +12mo, cloth,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">1.50</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>THE UPPER ROOM. 16mo, cloth,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom"><i>net</i>, .50</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Holiday edition, in white and gold, 16mo, boxed,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom"><i>net</i>, .75</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>THE MIND OF THE MASTER. A Discussion of Topics of +Practical Religion. 12mo, cloth,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">1.50</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>THE CURE OF SOULS. Being the Yale Lectures on +Theology. 12mo, cloth,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">1.50</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>THE IAN MACLAREN YEAR BOOK. 12mo, cloth,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">1.25</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>THE POTTER'S WHEEL. 12mo, cloth,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">1.25</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>AFTERWARDS, and Other Stories. 12mo, cloth,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">1.50</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>THE COMPANIONS OF THE SORROWFUL WAY. 16mo, cloth,</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">.75</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>RABBI SAUNDERSON. From "Kate Carnegie." With 12 +illustrations by A. S. Boyd. 16mo, cloth (in Phenix +Series),</td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">.40</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="adfooter2">Dodd, Mead & Company, Publishers<br /> +372 Fifth Avenue, New York</p> +</div> + +<div class="adblock"> +<p class="adheader1">FOUR NOTABLE BOOKS</p> + +<hr style="width: 20%;" /> + +<table class="ad1" summary="Notable Book List"> +<tr><th colspan="2">WANTED: A MATCHMAKER</th></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify">A Christmas Story. By PAUL LEICESTER FORD, author of +"Janice Meredith," "Hon. Peter Stirling," etc. With illustrations +by H. C. Christy, and decorations by Margaret +Armstrong. 8vo, cloth,</td> <td align="right" valign="bottom">$2.00</td></tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2">AS YOU LIKE IT</th></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify">By WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. With five full-page photogravure +illustrations, and numerous drawings and decorations +to accompany the text, by Will H. Low. 8vo, cloth, </td> +<td align="right" valign="bottom">$2.50</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify">Also LARGE PAPER EDITION, limited to 200 copies, beautifully +printed and bound,</td> <td align="right" valign="bottom">$15.00 net</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify"><span class="adsm">Purchasers of this edition will receive an extra set of the illustrations, on +Japan paper, with gold borders, in an envelope. These are very suitable for +framing, and make a beautiful holiday present.</span></td></tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2">WONDERS OF NATURE</th></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify">Described by Great Writers, and profusely illustrated with views +from nature. Edited by ESTHER SINGLETON. 8vo, +cloth,</td> <td align="right" valign="bottom">$2.00</td></tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2">PIPPA PASSES</th></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify">By ROBERT BROWNING. With decorations and illustrations +by Margaret Armstrong. 8vo, cloth,</td> <td align="right" valign="bottom">$1.50</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<p class="adfooter2">DODD, MEAD & COMPANY<br /> +372 Fifth Ave., New York</p> +</div> + +<div class="adblock"> + +<p class="adheader2">NEW JUVENILE LITERATURE</p> + +<table class="ad1" summary="Juvenile Book List"> +<tr><th colspan="2">Martha Finley</th></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify">ELSIE'S YOUNG FOLKS, by Martha Finley, author of the +"Elsie" books. 12mo, cloth,</td> <td align="right" valign="bottom">$1.25</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify"><span class="adsm">It is unnecessary to do more than to announce a new "Elsie" book, for a +multitude of young readers eagerly await the appearance of each new volume +in the series.</span></td></tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2">Harry Thurston Peck</th></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify">THE ADVENTURES OF MABEL (for children of five and six), +by Harry Thurston Peck. New edition. Illustrations by +Melanie Elisabeth Norton. Large 12mo,</td> <td align="right" valign="bottom">$1.00</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify"><span class="adsm">These are simple stories told in such a way as really to interest children of +five and six years of age, and not written over their heads. The author has +told them to his own child, and as they charmed her, it is believed they will +delight other children of her age.</span></td></tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2">Elisabeth W. Champney</th></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify">ANNEKE, A LITTLE DAME OF NEW NETHERLANDS, by +Elizabeth W. Champney, author of the "Witch Winnie" +books. This is volume II in the series of "Dames and +Daughters of Colonial Days." 12mo, cloth,</td> <td align="right" valign="bottom">$1.50</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify"><span class="adsm">Mrs. Champney has projected a series in which the initial volume was +published last autumn. The series gives great promise of interest and instruction +for younger readers.</span></td></tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2">Amanda M. Douglas</th></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify">A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD WASHINGTON, by Amanda M. +Douglas. Uniform with "A Little Girl in Old New York" +and "A Little Girl in Old Boston." 12mo, cloth,</td> <td align="right" valign="bottom">$1.50</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="justify"><span class="adsm">This is a continuation of the "Little Girl" Series which has been so warmly +welcomed.</span></td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="adfooter2">DODD, MEAD & COMPANY, Publishers<br /> +372 Fifth Avenue, Corner 35th Street, New York</p> +</div> + +<div class="adblock"> +<p class="adheader2">THE MASTER CHRISTIAN<br /> +<span class="adsm">By MARIE CORELLI</span></p> + +<p class="adheader2">The Most Talked-of Novel of the Season</p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<table summary="reviews"> +<tr valign="top"> +<td><p class="revhd">It Is Untruthful</p> +<p>"Miss Corelli has libelled the whole Roman curia."—<cite>Dr. William Barry.</cite></p> +</td> + +<td> +<p class="revhd">It Is Truthful</p> +<p>"That every one of her charges is true in substance I have not a shadow +of doubt."—<cite>Dr. Joseph Parker.</cite></p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr valign="top"> +<td><p class="revhd">It Is Not Well Written</p> +<p>"It is a disappointing book. It is brilliant in spots, but as a whole it +is a dismal failure!"—<cite>San Francisco Chronicle.</cite></p> +</td> + +<td> +<p class="revhd">It Is Well Written</p> +<p>"It is written with vigor, strength, and an abandon of fine expression +that carries all before it."—<cite>Philadelphia Item.</cite></p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr valign="top"> +<td><p class="revhd">It Is Not Interesting</p> +<p>"She emits a long-drawn melancholy howl. Six hundred solid pages of +small print, and nothing but words, words, words."—<cite>N. Y. Sun.</cite></p> +</td> + +<td> +<p class="revhd">It Is Interesting</p> +<p>"The story holds the interest from beginning to end. Of all her books, +this is the most interesting and thrilling."—<cite>New York Press.</cite></p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr valign="top"> +<td><p class="revhd">It Is Sacrilegious</p> +<p>"The book is one that jars on the religious sensibilities irrespective +of creed. The religious part of the story is merely +denunciation."—<cite>Chicago Tribune.</cite></p> +</td> + +<td> +<p class="revhd">It Is Not Sacrilegious</p> +<p>"The book is not irreverent."—<cite>Ian Maclaren.</cite></p> +<p>"The book is a bold attack on dogma and the creeds, and pleads +eloquently for the pure love of Christ."—<cite>Chicago Inter Ocean.</cite></p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr valign="top"> +<td><p class="revhd">It Is Immoral</p> +<p>"The book if generally read by the young would be as destructive as the +immoral novel."—<cite>Watertown Herald.</cite></p> +</td> + +<td> +<p class="revhd">It Is Moral</p> +<p>"There are many who will object to the book, but in spite of their +strictures the book will find thousands of sympathizers who will condone +it."—<cite>Boston Journal.</cite></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<div class="btb"> +<p class="center">12mo, cloth, 610 pages, $1.50</p> +</div> + +<p class="adfooter2">DODD, MEAD & CO., Publishers<br /> +New York</p> +</div> + +<div class="adblock"> +<p class="adheader2">NOVELS BY AMELIA E. BARR</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<p class="center">Each 12mo, cloth, 60 cents.</p> + +<ol> +<li>JAN VEDDER'S WIFE.</li> +<li>A DAUGHTER OF FIFE.</li> +<li>THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON. Also 100 illustrations by Th. Hampe. 12mo, cloth, $1.50.</li> +<li>THE SQUIRE OF SANDALSIDE.</li> +<li>A BORDER SHEPHERDESS.</li> +<li>PAUL AND CHRISTINA.</li> +<li>MASTER OF HIS FATE.</li> +<li>REMEMBER THE ALAMO.</li> +<li>THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS.</li> +<li>BETWEEN TWO LOVES.</li> +<li>FEET OF CLAY.</li> +<li>THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL.</li> +<li>FRIEND OLIVIA.</li> +<li>SHE LOVED A SAILOR.</li> +<li>A SISTER TO ESAU.</li> +<li>LOVE FOR AN HOUR IS LOVE FOREVER.</li> +<li>CHRISTOPHER, AND OTHER STORIES.</li> +<li>THE HALLAM SUCCESSION.</li> +<li>THE LOST SILVER OF BRIFFAULT.</li> +<li>CLUNY <span class="smcap">Mac</span>PHERSON.</li> +<li>A SINGER FROM THE SEA.</li> +<li>THE LONE HOUSE.</li> +<li>SCOTTISH SKETCHES.</li> +<li>BERNICIA.</li> +<li>A KNIGHT OF THE NETS.</li> +<li>THE KING'S HIGHWAY.</li> +<li>A ROSE OF A HUNDRED LEAVES. Illustrated.</li> +</ol> + +<p class="center adsm"><i>Other books by Mrs. Barr.</i></p> + +<ul class="nomarg"> +<li>MAIDS, WIVES AND BACHELORS. 16mo, cloth, $1.25</li> +<li>I, THOU, AND THE OTHER ONE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 1.25</li> +<li>THE MAID OF MAIDEN LANE. A sequel to "A Bow of</li> +<li>Orange Ribbon." 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 1.50</li> +<li>SOULS OF PASSAGE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 1.50</li> +</ul> + +<p class="adfooter2">Dodd, Mead & Company, Publishers<br /> +372 Fifth Avenue, New York</p> +</div> + +<div class="adblock"> +<p class="adheader2">FOUR NOTABLE NOVELS</p> + +<p class="center">Of these four Novels over 375,000 copies have been sold</p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="adtitle">The Master Christian</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By Marie Corelli</span></p> + +<p class="center">12mo. Cloth. $1.50.</p> + +<p>"Written with vigor, strength, and often with an abandon of fine +expression that carries all before it. It is a novel to think about and +discuss; to read attentively, and to read again."—<cite>Philadelphia Item.</cite></p> + +<p class="adtitle">Janice Meredith</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By Paul Leicester Ford</span></p> + +<p class="center">12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. $1.50.</p> + +<p>"A book that will make a historian of the novel reader, and a novel +reader of the historian."—<cite>N. Y. Times.</cite></p> + +<p class="adtitle">Resurrection</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By Count Leo Tolstoi</span></p> + +<p class="center">12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. $1.50.</p> + +<p>"Tolstoi shows here all the vigor of his early days. There is the same +pungency of diction, the same picturesque power. Not a person is +introduced without a touch of vigorous individuality.... The characters +seem to start from the canvas."—<cite>The Athenæum.</cite></p> + +<p class="adtitle">Dr. Dale</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By Marion Harland and Albert Payson Terhune</span><br /> +(Mother and Son)</p> + +<p class="center">12mo. Cloth. $1.50.</p> + +<p>"The opportunity for rugged types, for sensational incidents and vivid +contrasts in character and fortune have been seized upon in the +construction of the story, and turned to the advantage of the reader in +a novel vividly realistic and dramatic."—<cite>Philadelphia Public Ledger.</cite></p> + +<p class="adfooter2">Dodd, Mead & Company, Publishers<br /> +372 Fifth Avenue, New York</p> +</div> + +<div class="adblock"> +<p class="center">"A Great Series—And Good"</p> + +<hr style="width: 10%;" /> + +<p class="adheader2">THE BOOKMAN CLASSICS</p> + +<p>The publishers believe that the time has arrived when the public in +America will support a handsomely printed edition of the standard works +in English literature. Starting with this belief, they have completed +their plans for "<span class="smcap">The Bookman Classics</span>," a series destined to embrace the +principal examples of English prose and verse, in pure literature which +have successfully stood the test of time.</p> + +<p>By printing very large editions, the publishers will be able to offer +books that are equal in beauty to many "Editions de Luxe," at a price +only a little higher than the cheaply printed and badly made 12mos now +on the market. The volumes will be typographically all that the +University Press can make them, and will contain ornamental titles, +marginal decorations, especially designed for each book, etc., etc. They +will be printed throughout in two colors, on deckle-edged Mittineague +paper, with frontispiece in color, and will be well and handsomely +bound.</p> + +<p class="center">Size, 12mo. 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