Wayside Courtships | Page 4

and
Herman went on: "So I told Mott. He said you might work up a society
out there at Cyene."
"Is there a church there?"
"Used to be, but--say, I tell you what you do: you go out with me
to-morrow, and I'll give you the whole history."
The ringing of the bell took them out into the cheerful dining room in a
good-natured scramble. Mrs. Mills put Stacey at one end of the table,
near a young woman who looked like a teacher, and he had full sweep
of the table, which was surrounded by bright and sunny faces. The
station hand was there, and a couple of grocery clerks, and a brakeman
sat at Stacey's right hand. The table was very merry. They called each
other by their Christian names, and there was very obvious courtship on

the part of several young couples.
Stacey escaped from the table as soon as possible, and returned to his
seat beside the fire. He was young enough to enjoy the chatter of the
girls, but his timidity made him glad they paid so little attention to him.
The rain had changed to sleet outside, and hammered at the window
viciously, but the blazing fire and the romping young people set it at
defiance. The landlady came to the door of the dining room, dish and
cloth in hand, to share in each outburst of laughter, and not infrequently
the hired girl peered over her shoulder with a broad smile on her face.
A little later, having finished their work, they both came in and took
active part in the light-hearted fun.
Herman and one of the girls were having a great struggle over some
trifle he had snatched from her hand, and the rest stood about laughing
to see her desperate attempts to recover it. This was a familiar form of
courtship in Kesota, and an evening filled with such romping was
considered a "cracking good time." After the girl, red and disheveled,
had given up, Herman sat down at the organ, and they all sang Moody
and Sankey hymns, negro melodies, and college songs till nine o'clock.
Then Mrs. Mills called, "Come, now, boys and girls," and they all said
good night, like obedient children.
Herman and Wallace went up to their bedroom together.
"Say, Stacey, have you got a policy?" Wallace shook his head. "And
don't want any, I suppose. Well, I just asked you as a matter of form.
You see," he went on, winking at Wallace comically, "nominally I'm an
insurance agent, but practically I'm a 'lamb'--but I get a mouthful o' fur
myself occasionally. What I'm working for is to get on that Wheat
Exchange. That's where you get life! I'd rather be an established broker
in that howling mob than go to Congress."
Suddenly a thought struck him. He rose on his elbow in bed and looked
at Wallace just as he rose from a silent prayer. Catching his eye,
Herman said:
"Say! why didn't you shout? I forgot all about it--I mean your

profession."
Wallace crept into bed beside his communicative bedfellow in silence.
He didn't know how to deal with such spirits.
"Say!" called Herman suddenly, as they were about to go to sleep, "you
ain't got no picnic, old man."
"Why, what do you mean?"
"Wait till you see Cyene Church. Oh, it's a daisy snarl."
"I wish you'd tell me about it."
"Oh, it's quiet now. The calmness of death," said Herman. "Well, you
see, it came this way. The church is made up of Baptists and
Methodists, and the Methodists wanted an organ, because, you
understand, father was the head center, and Mattie is the only girl
among the Methodists who can play. The old man has got a head like a
mule. He can't be switched off, once he makes up his mind. Deacon
Marsden he don't believe in anything above tuning forks, and he's
tighter'n the bark on a bulldog. He stood out like a sore thumb, and dad
wouldn't give an inch.
"You see, they held meetings every other Sunday. So dad worked up
the organ business and got one, and then locked it up when the Baptists
held their services. Well, it went from bad to worse. They didn't speak
as they passed by--that is, the old folks; we young folks didn't care a
continental whether school kept or not. Well, upshot is, the church died
out. The wind blew the horse sheds down, and there they lie--and the
church is standing there empty as an--old boot--and----" He grew too
sleepy to finish.
Suddenly a comical idea roused him again. "Say, Stacey--by Jinks!--are
you a Baptist?"
"Yes."

"Oh, Peter! ain't that lovely?" He chuckled shamelessly, and went off to
sleep without another word.
II.
Herman was still sleeping when