Part 7 (2/2)
”Will you get onto me a-landin' into a mix-up like this?” She continued to study the uncomfortable man at her side. ”I never thought I'd be a-talkin' to one of you guys. What's your name?”
”Douglas.” He spoke shortly.
”Ain't you got no handle to it?”
”If you mean my Christian name, it's John.”
”Well, that sounds like a skypilot, all right. But you don't look like I s'posed they did.”
”Why not?”
”I always s'posed skypilots was old and grouchy-like. You're a'most as good lookin' as our strong man.”
”I done tole him he was too good-lookin' to be an unmarried parson,”
Mandy chuckled, more and more amused at the pastor's discomfort.
”Looks don't play a very important part in my work,” Douglas answered curtly. Mandy's confidential snickers made him doubly anxious to get to a less personal topic.
”Well, they count for a whole lot with us.” She nodded her head decidedly. ”How long you been showin' in this town, anyhow?”
”About a year,” Douglas answered, with something of a sigh.
”A year!” she gasped. ”In a burg like this? You must have an awful lot of laughs in your act to keep 'em a-comin' that long.” She was wise in the ways of professional success.
”Not many, I'm afraid.” He wondered, for the first time, if this might be the reason for his rather indifferent success.
”Do you give them the same stuff, or have you got a rep?”
”A rep?” he repeated in surprise.
”Sure, repertory--different acts--entries, some calls 'em. Uncle Toby's got twenty-seven entries. It makes a heap of difference in the big towns where you have a run.”
”Oh, I understand,” Douglas answered in a tone of relief. ”Well, I try to say something new each Sunday.”
”What kind of spiels do you give 'em?” she inquired with growing interest.
”I try to help my people to get on better terms with themselves and to forget their week-day troubles.” He had never had occasion to define his efforts so minutely.
”Well, that's jes' the same as us,” Polly told him with an air of condescension; ”only circuses draws more people 'an churches.”
”YOURS does seem to be a more popular form of entertainment,” Douglas answered drily. He was beginning to feel that there were many tricks in the entertainment trade which he had not mastered. And, after all, what was his preaching but an effort at entertainment? If he failed to hold his congregation by what he was saying, his listeners grew drowsy, and his sermon fell short of its desired effect. It was true that his position and hers had points of similarity. She was apparently successful; as for himself, he could not be sure. He knew he tried very hard and that sometimes a tired mother or a sad-faced child looked up at him with a smile that made the service seem worth while.
Polly mistook the pastor's revery for envy, and her tender heart was quick to find consolation for him.
”You ain't got all the worst of it,” she said. ”If we tried to play a dump like this for six months, we'd starve to death. You certainly must give 'em a great show,” she added, surveying him with growing interest.
”It doesn't make much difference about the show--” Douglas began, but he was quickly interrupted.
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