Part 3 (1/2)

”Baby Con.”

When Carol read that letter she cried, and rubbed her face against her husband's shoulder,--regardless of the dollar powder on his black coat.

”A teeny bit for father,” she explained, ”for all his girls are gone.

And a little bit for Fairy, but she has Gene. And quite a lot for Larkie, but she has Jim and Violet.” And then, clasping her arm about his shoulders, which, despite her teasing remonstrance, he allowed to droop a little, she cried exultantly: ”But not one bit for me, for I have you, and Connie is a poor, poverty-stricken, wretched little waif, with nothing in the world worth having, only she doesn't know it yet.”

CHAPTER IV

A WOMAN IN THE CHURCH

And there was a woman in the church.

There always is,--one who stands apart, distinct, different,--in the community but not with it, in the church but not of it.

The woman in David's church was of a languorous, sumptuous type, built on generous proportions, with a ma.s.s of dark hair waving low on her forehead, with dark, straight-gazing, deep-searching eyes, the kind that impel and hold all truanting glances. She was slow in movement, suggesting a beautiful and commendable laziness. In public she talked very little, laughing never, but often smiling,--a curious smile that curved one corner of her lip and drew down the tip of one eye. She had been married, but no one knew anything about her husband. She was a member of the church, attended with most scrupulous regularity, a.s.sisted generously in a financial way, was on good terms with every one, and had not one friend in the congregation. The women were afraid of her. So were the men. But for different reasons.

Those who would ask questions of her, ran directly against the concrete wall of the crooked smile, and turned away abashed, unsatisfied.

Carol was very shy with her. She was not used to the type. There had been women in her father's churches, but they had been of different kinds. Mrs. Waldemar's straight-staring eyes embarra.s.sed her. She listened silently when the other women talked of her, half admiringly, half sneeringly, and she grew more timid. She watched her fascinated in church, on the street, whenever they were thrown together. But one deep look from the dark eyes set her a-flush and rendered her tongue-tied.

Mrs. Waldemar had paid scant attention to David before the advent of Carol, except to follow his movements with her eyes in a way of which he could not remain unconscious. But when Carol came, entered the demon of mischief. Carol was young, Mrs. Waldemar was forty. Carol was lovely, Mrs. Waldemar was only unusual. Carol was frank as the suns.h.i.+ne, Mrs. Waldemar was mysterious. What woman on earth but might wonder if the devoted groom were immune to luring eyes, and if that lovely bride were jealous?

So she talked to him after church. She called him on the telephone for directions in the Bible study she was taking up. She lounged in her hammock as he returned home from pastoral calls, and stopped him for little chats. David was her pastor, she was one of his flock.

But Carol screwed up her face before the mirror and frowned.

”David,” she said to herself, when a glance from her window revealed David leaning over Mrs. Waldemar's hammock half a block away, doubtless in the scriptural act of explaining an intricate pa.s.sage of Revelation to the dark-eyed sheep,--”David is as good as an angel, and as innocent as a baby. Two very good traits of course, but dangerous, tre-men-dous-ly dangerous. Goodness and innocence make men wax in women's hands.” Carol, for all her youth, had acquired considerable shrewdness in her life-time acquaintance with the intricacies of parsonage life.

She looked from her window again. ”There's the--the--the dark-eyed Jezebel.” She glanced fearfully about, to see if David might be near enough to hear the word. What on earth would he think of the manse lady calling one of his sheep a Jezebel? ”Well, David,” she said to herself decidedly, ”G.o.d gave you a wife for some purpose, and I'm slick if I haven't much brains.” And she shook a slender fist at her image in the mirror and went back to setting the table.

David was talkative that evening. ”You haven't seen much of Mrs.

Waldemar, have you, dear? People here don't think much Of her. She is very advanced,--too advanced, of course. But she is very broad, and kind. She is well educated, too, and for one who has had no training, she grasps Bible truths in a most remarkable way. She has never had the proper guidance, that's the worst of it. With a little wise direction she will be a great addition to our church and a big help in many ways.”

Carol lowered her lashes reflectively. She was wondering how much of this ”wise direction” was going to fall to her precious David?

”I imagine our women are a little jealous of her, and that blinds them to her many fine qualities.”

Carol agreed, with a certain lack of enthusiasm, and David continued with evident relish.

”Some of her ideas are dangerous, but when she is shown the weakness of her position she will change. She is not one of that narrow school who holds to a fallacy just because she accepted it in the beginning. The elders objected to her teaching a cla.s.s in Sunday-school because they claimed her opinions would prove menacing to the young and uninformed.

And it is true. She is dangerous company for the young right now. But she is starting out along better lines and I think will be a different woman.”

”Dangerous for the young.” The words repeated themselves in Carol's mind. ”Dangerous for the young.” Carol was young herself. ”Dangerous for the young.”

The next afternoon, Carol arrayed herself in her most girlishly charming gown, and with a smile on her lips, and trepidation in her heart, she marched off to call on her Jezebel. The Jezebel was surprised, no doubt of that. And she was pleased. Every one liked Carol,--even Jezebels. And Mrs. Waldemar was very much alone. However much a woman may revel in the admiration of men, there are times when she craves the confidence of at least one woman. Mrs. Waldemar led Carol up-stairs to a most seductively attractive little sitting-room, and Carol sat at her feet, as it were, for two full hours.

Then she tripped away home, more than ever aware of the wonderful charm of Mrs. Waldemar, but thanking G.o.d she was young.