Part 4 (1/2)

In the excitement no one thought of introductions, while the people seeing their hero driving in the carriage with a young woman, also a stranger, changed their question from, ”Who is he?” to ”Who are they?”

When Denny had regained consciousness, and everything possible for his comfort and for the a.s.sistance of his distracted mother, had been done; and the physician had a.s.sured them that the lad would be as good as ever in a day or two, the men crossed the street to the little white house.

”Well,” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Martha when Dan had been presented, and the incident on the street briefly related, ”I'm mighty glad I cooked them three roosters.”

Dan laughed his big, hearty laugh, ”I'm glad, too,” he said. ”Doctor used to drive me wild out in the woods with tales of your cooking.”

The Doctor could see that Martha was pleased at this by the way she fussed with her ap.r.o.n.

”We always hoped that he would bring you with him on some of his trips,”

continued Dan, ”we all wanted so much to meet you.”

To the Doctor's astonishment, Martha stammered, ”I--maybe I will go some day.” Then her manner underwent a change as if she had suddenly remembered something. ”You'll excuse me now while I put the dinner on,”

she said stiffly. ”Just make yourself to home; preachers always do in this house, even if Doctor don't belong.” She hurried away, and Dan looked at his host with his mother's questioning eyes. The Doctor knew what it was. Dan had felt it even in the house of his dearest friend. It was the preacher Martha had welcomed, welcomed him professionally because he was a preacher. And the Doctor felt again _that_ something that had come between him and the lad.

”Martha doesn't care for fis.h.i.+ng,” he said gently.

Then they went out on the porch, and the old man pointed out to Dan his room across the way--the room that looked out upon the garden and the monument.

”Several of your congregation wanted to have you in their homes,” he explained. ”But I felt--I thought you might like to be--it was near me you see--and handy to the church.” He pointed to the building up the street.

”Yes,” Dan answered, looking at his old friend curiously--such broken speech was not natural to the Doctor--”You are quite right. It was very kind of you; you know how I will like it to be near you.” Then looking at the monument he asked whose it was.

The Doctor hesitated again. Dan faced him waiting for an answer.

”That--oh, that's our statesman. You will need time to fully appreciate that work of art, and what it means to Corinth. It will grow on you. It's been growing on me for several years.”

The young man was about to ask another question regarding the monument, when he paused. The girl who had gone to Denny in the street was coming from the little cottage. As she walked away under the great trees that lined the sidewalk, the two men stood watching her. Dan's question about the monument was forgotten.

”I wonder who she is,” he said in a low voice.

The Doctor recalled the meeting at the depot and chuckled, and just then Martha called to dinner.

And the people on the street corners, at the ladies' bazaar, in the stores, the church booths and in the homes, were talking; talking of the exhibition of the man from Windy Cove, and asking each of his neighbor: ”Who are they?”

CHAPTER V.

HOPE FARWELL'S MINISTRY

”Useful hands they were, made for real service.”

After dinner was over and they had visited awhile, the Doctor introduced Dan to his landlady across the way and, making some trivial excuse about business, left the boy in his room. The fact is that the Doctor wished to be alone. If he could have done it decently, he would have gone off somewhere with his fis.h.i.+ng tackle. As he could not go fis.h.i.+ng, he did the next best thing. He went to his office.

The streets were not so crowded now, for the people were at the ball game, and the Doctor made his way down town without interruption. As he went he tried to think out what it was that had come between him and the boy whom he had known so intimately for so many years. Stopping at the post office, he found a letter in his care addressed to ”Rev. Daniel H.

Matthews.” In his abstraction he was about to hand the letter in at the window with the explanation that he knew no such person, when a voice at his elbow said: ”Is Brother Matthews fully rested from his tiresome journey, Doctor?”

The Doctor's abstraction vanished instantly, he jammed that letter into his pocket and faced the speaker.