Part 18 (1/2)
”Ah'm willin' to take ye ony day, Weeliam. Ah'd like to see the wumman that'd get the upper hand o' me. Jist name yer bet, man.”
”Hoots! toots!” cried Uncle Hughie in his stateliest manner. ”Indeed, it is surely not making a bet on a lady you will be, whatever!”
”I'll tell ye!” cried Spectacle John, his eyes twinkling. ”If you an'
the Dook gets to argifyin', or gets into any difference, an' she gets the best o' the bargain, you'll promise William and all of us here that you'll go back to church and tell the minister you was a darn fool for the way you acted.”
Sandy McQuarry's bristling brows came together, ”Ah'll take ye!” he cried, slapping his knee fiercely. ”Ah'd be a fool onyway, if Ah let a wumman scare me the way you did, John. Ah, ha! Here's his reverence now, comin' to tell ye about Muskoky, very like. Ah'll jist be biddin'
ye a good-evenin'.” He tramped down the steps as the tall form of the minister came into the ring of light.
”Fine night,” remarked each of the company in turn.
”We would jist be talkin' about the play-net Mars a minute ago, indeed,” said Uncle Hughie Cameron, striving to cover Sandy's retreat.
”Yes, yes,” said the minister with a sigh. ”Astronomy's a wonderful subject--wonderful. The more we learn of the Creator's works, the more we wonder at His greatness and goodness.”
”Eh! eh! it will jist be fearsome, indeed!” cried Uncle Hughie. ”How far, now, would you be saying the sun is from us, Silas--ninety--now what would it be?”
”Ninety-five million mile!” declared the astronomer impressively.
”There's a fine day's walk for ye!”
”Ninety-five million!” cried the blacksmith, astounded. ”Are ye sure it's not feet ye mean, Si?” he asked hopefully.
”No--miles,” was the inexorable answer. ”Lord love ye, man! it's a good thing. If she was any nearer she'd burn us all to a frazzle!”
”Eh, now, ain't that a caution!” cried Jake Sawyer, with the air of one who has just had a narrow escape from destruction.
”Astronomy's a orful subject,” continued Silas. ”I sometimes wish I 'adn't meddled with the thing. It makes me feel like nothing--like a worm o' the dust.”
”'When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers,'” quoted the minister, ”'the moon and the stars which Thou hast ordained, what is man, that Thou art mindful of him or the son of man that Thou visitest him?'”
”That's it! that's jist it!” cried Silas. ”The Psalmist knew! 'E must 'a' 'ad a telescope. D'ye think 'e 'ad?”
”Hoots!” cried Uncle Hughie. ”How could the buddie? an' he would be livin' away back in the times when n.o.body even knew”--he added in a loud tone--”that the world was round.” But Spectacle John had disappeared indoors, and the minister added:
”Yes, we have a great many advantages that the Psalmist never had, and the greatest is the knowledge that we need not be afraid. For He became flesh and dwelt among us, you know, Silas.” A reverent silence fell over the little group.
At the farther end of the veranda a door led into the lamp-lit parlor.
It was open, and from it now burst the opening notes of a rousing chorus. In Elmbrook there were fas.h.i.+ons in songs, just as there were in the sopranos' hats. The former varied, not with the season, but with the sentiments of the people. One winter the Methodists held revival meetings for two months in the schoolhouse, and for nearly a year after it was considered very worldly to sing anything but hymns.
The other extreme was reached one fall when Hank Winters came home for a visit from the States, and set all the village singing ”c.o.o.n songs.”
This spring, and during the past winter, the rousing, Salvation Army variety of hymn was greatly in vogue. The opening chorus for the concert was of this kind, a stirring sort of semi-religious song, called ”The King's Highway.” It was with this the chorus now burst forth into tumultuous harmony:
”_Wherever you may be, Whatever you may see, That would lead you into evil, Say you nay, say you nay, Be sure you take no heed, They're trying to mislead; Just keep along the middle Of the King's highway!_”
The verse was no extraordinary feat, but in the chorus the ba.s.s singers had a part calling for marvelous dexterity and tremendous speed. For, while the ladies sang leisurely, ”Just keep along the middle of the King's Highway,” the gentlemen were expected to get over about four times the s.p.a.ce in the same time. They had to repeat the self-same warning a half dozen times, with sundry advices and variations concerning the turning to the right of the King's Highway and the left of the King's Highway, so many, and so complicated, that they arrived at the end gasping for breath. Spectacle John warned the sopranos again and again to go slowly, so as to admit of their overworked followers getting in all their parts about the middle, left and right.