A Modern Idyll | Page 4

in Kansas City! I know I shouldn't!
Why," and she fixed her eyes on his as she spoke, "you must be real
good even to think of such a thing. But then, you won't refuse," she
added, pouting. "No one would," she concluded, with profound
conviction.
"Oh, yes," answered the minister, moving to her and quietly putting
both hands on her waist, while his voice seemed to envelope and enfold
her with melodious tenderness.
"Oh, yes, I shall refuse it, Belle, if you wish me to; refuse it as I should
ten times as great a prize, as I think I should refuse--God forgive
me!--heaven itself, if you were not there to make it beautiful."
While speaking he drew her to him gently; her body yielded to his
touch, and her gaze, as if fascinated, was drawn into his. But when the
flow of words ceased, and he bent to kiss her, the spell seemed to lose
its power over her. In an instant she wound herself out of his arms, and
with startled eyes aslant whispered:
"Hush! he's coming! Don't you hear his step?" As Mr. Letgood went
again towards her with a tenderly reproachful and incredulous "Now,
Belle," she stamped impatiently on the floor while exclaiming in a low,
but angry voice, "Do take care! That's the Deacon's step."
At the same moment her companion heard it too. The sounds were
distinct on the wooden side-walk, and when they ceased at the little
gate four or five yards from the house he knew that she was right.
He pulled himself together, and with a man's untimely persistence
spoke hurriedly:
"I shall wait for your answer till Sunday morning next. Before then you

must have assured me of your love, or I shall go to Chicago--"
Mrs. Hooper's only reply was a contemptuous, flashing look that
succeeded in reducing the importunate clergyman to silence--just in
time--for as the word "Chicago" passed his lips the handle of the door
turned, and Deacon Hooper entered the room.
"Why, how do you do, Mr. Letgood?" said the Deacon cordially. "I'm
glad to see you, sir, as you are too, I'm sartin," he added, turning to his
wife and putting his arms round her waist and his lips to her cheek in
an affectionate caress. "Take a seat, won't you? It's too hot to stand." As
Mrs. Hooper sank down beside him on the sofa and their visitor drew
over a chair, he went on, taking up again the broken thread of his
thought. "No one thinks more of you than Isabelle. She said only last
Sunday there warn't such a preacher as you west of the Mississippi
River. How's that for high, eh?"--And then, still seeking back like a dog
on a lost scent, he added, looking from his wife to the clergyman, as if
recalled to a sense of the actualities of the situation by a certain
constraint in their manner, "But what's that I heard about Chicago?
There ain't nothin' fresh--Is there?"
"Oh," replied Mrs. Hooper, with a look of remonstrance thrown
sideways at her admirer, while with a woman's quick decision she at
once cut the knot, "I guess there is something fresh. Mr. Letgood, just
think of it, has had a 'call' from the Second Baptist Church in Chicago,
and it's ten thousand dollars a year. Now who's right about his preachin'?
And he ain't goin' to accept it. He's goin' to stay right here. At least,"
she added coyly, "he said he'd refuse it--didn't you?"
The Deacon stared from one to the other as Mr. Letgood, with a forced
half-laugh which came from a dry throat, answered: "That would be
going perhaps a little too far. I said," he went on, catching a coldness in
the glance of the brown eyes, "I wished to refuse it. But of course I
shall have to consider the matter thoroughly--and seek for guidance."
"Wall," said the Deacon in amazement, "ef that don't beat everythin'. I
guess nobody would refuse an offer like that. Ten thousand dollars a
year! Ten thousand. Why, that's twice what you're get-tin' here. You

can't refuse that. I know you wouldn't ef you war' a son of mine--as you
might be. Ten thousand. No, sir. An' the Second Baptist Church in
Chicago is the first; it's the best, the richest, the largest. There ain't no
sort of comparison between it and the First. No, sir! There ain't none.
Why, James P. Willis, him as was here and heard you--that's how it
came about, that's how!--he's the senior Deacon of it, an' I guess he can
count dollars with any man this side of New York. Yes, sir, with any
man west of the Alleghany Mountains." The breathless excitement of
the good Deacon changed gradually as he realized that