Part 17 (1/2)

Polly had been away from the parsonage a month, when the complacency of the village was again upset by the arrival of the ”Great American Circus.”

There were many callers at the parsonage that day, for speculation was now at fever heat about the pastor. ”Would he try to see her? had he forgotten her? and what had he ever found in her?” were a few of the many questions that the women were asking each other. Now, that the cause of their envy was removed, they would gladly have reinstated the pastor as their idol; for, like all truly feminine souls, they could not bear to see a man unhappy without wis.h.i.+ng to comfort him, nor happy unless they were the direct cause of his state. ”How dare any man be happy without me?” has been the cry of each woman since Eve was created to mate with Adam.

Douglas had held himself more and more aloof from the day of Polly's disappearance. He expressed no opinion about the deacons or their recent disapproval of him. He avoided meeting them oftener than duty required; and Strong felt so uncomfortable and tongue-tied in his presence that he, too, was glad to make their talks as few as possible.

Nothing was said about the pastor's plans for the future, or about his continued connection with the church, and the inquisitive sisterhood was on the point of exploding from an over-acc.u.mulation of unanswered questions.

He delivered his sermons conscientiously, called upon his poor, listened to the sorrows, real and fancied, of his paris.h.i.+oners, and shut himself up with his books or walked alone on the hill behind the church.

He had been absent all day, when Mandy looked out on the circus lot for the dozenth time, and saw that the afternoon performance was closing.

It had driven her to desperation to learn that Miss Polly was not in the parade that morning, and to know that the pastor had made no effort to find out about her. For weeks both she and Hasty had hoped that the return of the circus might bring Polly back to them; but now it was nearly night and there had been no word from her. Why didn't she come running in to see them, as Mandy had felt so sure she would? Why had the pastor stayed away on the hills all day?

Unanswered questions were always an abomination to Mandy, so finally she drew a quarter from the knotted gingham rag that held her small wad of savings, and told Hasty ”to go long to de show and find out 'bout Miss Polly.”

She was anxiously waiting for him, when Deacon Strong knocked at the door for the second time that afternoon.

”Is Mr. Douglas back yet?' he asked.

”No, sah, he ain't,” said Mandy, very shortly. She felt that Strong and Elverson had been ”a-tryin' to spy on de parson all day,” and she resented their visits more than she usually did.

”What time are you expectin' him?”

”I don't nebber spec' Ma.s.sa Douglas till I sees him.”

Strong grunted uncivilly, and went down the steps. She saw from the window that he met Elverson in front of the church.

”Dey sure am a-meanin' trouble,” she mumbled.

The band had stopped playing; the last of the audience had straggled down the street. She opened the door and stood on the porch; the house seemed to suffocate her. What was keeping Hasty?

He came at last, but Mandy could tell from his gait that he brought unwelcome news.

”Ain't she dar?”

”She's wid 'em, all right,” said Hasty.

”Yuh seed her?”

”Naw, I didn't done SEED her.”

”What?”

”She want in de show.”

”What you jes' tell me?”

”She's a-trabbelin' wid 'em, Mandy, but she didn't done ride.”

”See heah, Hasty Jones, is dat ere chile sick?”

”I don' rightly know,” said Hasty. ”A great big man, what wored clothes like a gemmen, comed out wid a whip in his hand and says as how he's 'bliged to 'nounce anudder gal in Miss Polly's place. An' den he says as how de udder gal was jes' as good, an' den everybody look disappinted like, an' den out comes de udder gal on a hoss an' do tricks, an' I ain't heard no more 'bout Miss Polly.”