Wayside Courtships | Page 6

it's fun. I don't get a chance to do anything so exciting very often."
Herman clicked his tongue. "Exciting? Well, well!"
"You must remember things are slower here," Mattie explained.
She came to light much younger than Stacey thought her. She was not eighteen, but her supple and splendid figure was fully matured. Her hair hung down her back in a braid, which gave a subtle touch of childishness to her.
"Sis, you're still a-growin'," Herman said, as he put his arm around her waist and looked up at her.
She seemed to realize for the first time that Stacey was a young man, and her eyes fell.
"Well, now, set up the chairs, child," said Mrs. Allen.
When the young teacher returned from his cold spare room off the parlor the family sat waiting for him. They all drew up noisily, and Allen said:
"Ask the blessing, sir?"
Wallace said grace.
As Allen passed the potatoes he continued:
"My son tells me you are a minister of the gospel."
"I have studied for it."
"What denomination?"
"Tut, tut!" warned Herman. "Don't start any theological rabbits to-night, dad. With jaw swelled up you won't be able to hold your own."
"I'm a Baptist," Stacey answered.
The old man's face grew grim. It had been ludicrous before with its swollen jaw. "Baptist?" The old man turned to his son, whose smile angered him. "Didn't you know no more'n to bring a Baptist preacher into this house?"
"There, there, father!" began the wife.
"Be quiet. I'm boss of this shanty."
Herman struck in: "Don't make a show of yourself, old man. Don't mind the old gent, Stacey; he's mumpy to-day, anyhow."
Stacey rose. "I guess I--I'd better not stay--I----"
"Oh, no, no! Sit down, Stacey. It's all right. The old man's a little acid at me. He doesn't mean it."
Stacey got his coat and hat. His heart was swollen with indignation. He felt as if something fine were lost to him, and the cold outside was so desolate now.
Mrs. Allen was in tears; but the old man, having taken his stand, was going to keep it.
Herman lost his temper a little. "Well, dad, you're a little the cussedest Christian I ever knew. Stacey, sit down. Don't you be a fool just because he is----"
Stacey was buttoning his coat with trembling hands, when Martha went up to him.
"Don't go," she said. "Father's sick and cross. He'll be sorry for this to-morrow."
Wallace looked into her frank, kindly eyes and hesitated.
Herman said: "Dad, you are a lovely follower of Christ. You'll apologize for this, or I'll never set foot on your threshold again."
Stacey still hesitated. He was hurt and angry, but being naturally a sweet and gentle nature, he grew sad, and, yielding to the pressure of the girl's hand on his arm, he began to unbutton his overcoat.
She helped him off with it, and hung it back on the nail. She did not show tears, but her face was unwontedly grave.
They sat at the table again, and Herman and Mattie tried to restore something of the brightness which had been lost. Allen sat grimly eating, his chin pushed down like a hog's snout.
After supper, as his father was about retiring to his bedroom, Herman fixed his bright eyes on him, and something very hard and masterful came into his boyish face.
"Old man--you and I haven't had a settlement on this thing yet. I'll see you later."
Allen shrank before his son's look, but shuffled sullenly off without uttering a word.
Herman turned to Wallace. "Stacey, I want to beg your pardon for getting you into this scrape. I didn't suppose the old gentleman would act like that. The older he gets, the more his New Hampshire granite shows. I hope you won't lay it up against me."
Wallace was too conscientious to say he didn't mind it, but he took Herman's hand in a quick clasp.
"Let's have a song," proposed Herman. "Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, to charm a rock, and split a cabbage."
They went into the best room, where a fire was blazing, and Mattie and Herman sang hymns and old-fashioned love songs and college glees wonderfully intermingled. They ended by singing "Lorena," a wailing, supersentimental love song current in war times, and when they looked around there was a lofty look on the face of the young preacher--a look of exaltation, of consecration and resolve.
III.
The next morning, at breakfast, Herman said, as he seized a hot biscuit, "We'll dispense with grace this morning, and till after the war is over." But Wallace blessed his bread in a silent prayer, and Mattie thought it very brave of him to do so.
Herman was full of mockery. "The sun rises just the same, whether it's 'sprinkling' or 'immersion.' It's lucky Nature don't take a hand in these theological contests--she doesn't even referee the scrap. She never seems to care whether you are sparring for points or