Part 44 (1/2)
”He's a great David,” the preacher said as he handed the letter to Phbe. ”I suppose you'll have to read it over and over to Aunt Barbara.”
He looked at the girl as he spoke. Her high color and s.h.i.+ning eyes spoke eloquently of her interest in the letter. ”Ah,” he thought, ”I believe she still _likes Davie best_. I'm sure she does.”
The preacher had been greatly changed by the events of the past year.
He would always be a bit too strict in his views of life, a bit narrow in many things. Nevertheless, he was changed. He was less harsh in his opinions of others since he had seen and heard how thousands who were not of his religious faith had gone forth to lay down their lives that the world might be made a decent place in which to live. He, Phares Eby, preacher, had formerly denounced all that pertained to actors and the theatre, yet tears had coursed down his cheeks as he had read the account of a famous comedian who had given his only son for the cause of freedom and who was going about in the camps and in the trenches bringing cheer to the men. As the preacher read that he confessed to himself that the comedian, familiar as he was with footlights, was doing more good in the world than a dozen Phares Ebys. That one incident swept away some of the prejudice of the preacher. He knew he could never sanction the doings so many people indulge in but he felt at the same time that those same pleasures need not have a d.a.m.ning influence upon all people.
Phbe noted the change in him. She felt like a discoverer of hidden treasure when she heard of the influence he was exerting in behalf of the Red Cross and Liberty Loans. But she was finding hidden treasures in many places those days. Strenuous, busy days they were but they held many revelations of soul beauty.
Every link with Phbe's former life in Philadelphia was broken save the one binding her to Virginia. That friends.h.i.+p was too precious to be shattered. The country girl had written a long letter to the city girl, telling of the decision to give up the music lessons. ”My dear, dear friend,” she wrote frankly, ”you tried to keep me from being hurt, but I wouldn't see. How I must have worried you and how foolish I was! I know better now. I do not regret my winter in the city and I do appreciate all you did for me, but I am happy to be back on the farm again. I'm afraid I tried to be an American Beauty rose when I was meant to be just some ordinary wild flower like the daisy or even the common yarrow. I owe so much to you. We must always be friends.”
One day in late summer Phbe fairly radiated joy as she hurried up the hill and ran down the road to the garden where Mother Bab was gathering larkspur seeds.
”Oh, Mother Bab, I've such good news about Granny Hogendobler and Old Aaron!”
”Come in, tell me!”
”I've been to town and stopped to see Granny. You know Old Aaron and their boy Nason fell out years ago about something the boy said about the flag and was too stubborn to take back.”
”Yes, I know.”
”It was foolishness on the part of the father, of course, for he should have known boys say things they don't mean. Well, the two kept on acting all these years like strangers. The old man grew bitter. Last year when the boys went to Mexico he said that if he had a son instead of a blockhead he'd be sending a boy to do his share down there. It almost killed him to think of his boy sitting back while others went and defended the flag. Well, Granny said yesterday she was in the yard and she heard the gate click. She didn't pay any attention for she knew Old Aaron was in the front yard under the arbor. But then she heard a cry and ran to see, and there was Old Aaron with his arms around a big fellow dressed in a soldier uniform, and when the man turned his head it was Nason! Granny said it was the greatest day in their lives and paid up for all the unhappy days when Old Aaron was cross and said mean things about Nason. Nason had just a day to stay, but they made a day of it. Granny said, 'I-to-goodness, but we had a time! Aaron wanted to kill a chicken, for Nason likes chicken so much, but I knew that Aaron was so excited he'd like as not only cripple the poor thing, so I said I'd kill it while they talked. I made stuffing with onions in, like Nason likes, and I had just baked a snitz pie and I tell you we had a good dinner.
But I bet them two didn't know what they ate, for they were all the time talking about the war and bombs and Gettysburg and France till I didn't know what they meant.'”
”My, I'm glad for Granny and Old Aaron,” Mother Bab said.
”And what do you think!” Phbe went on. ”They are changing the name of Prussian Street, and some are talking of changing the name of the town, but I hope they won't do that.”
”No, it would be strange to have to call it something else after all these years.”
”I think it's a grand joke,” said Phbe, ”that this little town was founded by a German and yet the town is strong American and doing its best to down the Potsdam gang. The people of Lancaster County are loyal to Old Glory and I'm glad I belong here.”
She appreciated her goodly heritage, not with any Pharisaical exultation but with honest grat.i.tude.
”I have learned many things, Mother Bab, and this is one of the big things I've learned lately: to be everlastingly thankful to Providence for setting me down on a farm where I could spend a childhood filled with communications with nature. I never before realized what blessings I've had all the years of my life. Why, I've had chickens to play with and feed, cows and wobbly calves to pet, birds to love and learn about, clear streams to wade in and float daisies on, meadows to play in, hills to run down while the dust went 'spif' under my bare feet. And I've had flowers, thousands of wild flowers, to find and carry home or, if too frail to bear carrying home, like the delicate spring beauty and the bluet, just to look at and admire and turn again to look at as I went out of the woods. My whole childhood has been a wonderful one but I was too blind to see the wonder of it. I see now! But, Mother Bab, I don't see, even yet, that I should wear plain clothes. I've been thinking about it lately. I do believe, though, that the plain way is a good way.
Many people enjoy the simple service of the meeting-house more than they would enjoy a more complex form of wors.h.i.+p. I feel so restful and peaceful when I'm in a meeting-house, so near to the real things, the things that count.”
Mother Bab answered only a mild ”Yes,” but her heart sang as she thought, ”I believe she'll be plain some day, she and David. Perhaps they'll come together. But I'll not worry about them; I know their hearts are right.”
CHAPTER x.x.xV
DAVID'S SHARE
ANOTHER June came with its roses and perfume, but there was no Feast of Roses in Greenwald that June of 1918. Phbe regretted the fact, for she felt that even in a war-racked world, with the multiple duties and anxiety and suffering of many of its people, there should still be time for a service as beautiful and inspiring as the Feast of Roses.
But all thoughts of it or similar omissions were crowded into the background one day when the news came to Mother Bab that David had been wounded in France.