Part 20 (2/2)
”Yes, I know it. She burst into bloom the moment you spoke.”
”Then I'm glad I said it. Some how you always make me feel glad when I've said somethin'. You are the only--only people that ever did that.”
Jim had not spoken. Mrs. Mayfield asked him why he was so silent. ”A man is sometimes most silent when he is afraid of saying too much,” he answered, looking down.
”Mysterious wisdom,” she mused, and this gave Tom his opportunity.
”Well, that's what you like, Auntie. You never did care for anything you could understand.”
”I don't care for impertinence, sir,” and Lou laughed at him: ”There, you got it that time.”
”Ma'm, I have no desire to be mysterious,” said Jim. ”A hay stack in an open field couldn't be plainer than my life up to now, but there comes a time even in the most honest man's life when he feels that he must hide something, and that something is the fact that he does feel.”
”There, auntie,” cried Tom, ”he has given you enough mystery to last you--fifteen minutes.”
”Is it too warm in here?” Margaret inquired, getting up and going toward the door. They told her that it was ”very pleasant,” and she looked around at them as if in her opinion it was getting fairly warm but not quite warm enough.
”Mr. Reverend,” said Mrs. Mayfield, ”I have never known a man like you.
And did you ever have a fight, being a Starbuck?”
”I have seen men fall down.”
”But you never killed anybody, did you--still being a Starbuck?”
”Kill anybody!” Tom cried. ”Why, he's a D. D. not an M. D.”
”Oh, hush, you stock joker. But Mr. Reverend, don't you think it is awfully wrong to fight?”
And gazing into her eyes he said: ”At times, ma'm, it is just as essential as prayer. Now, Peter drew his sword and cut off a man's ear, and Peter stood right up next to Christ.”
”But the Savior told him to put up his sword.”
”Very true, ma'm, but not until after the feller had lost his ear.”
”Law, me!” exclaimed Margaret, standing at the door, ”but you folks air cuttin' up scollops.”
”Mr. Reverend,” Mrs. Mayfield continued, determined to pursue a subject so interesting to herself, ”someone told me of a very heroic thing you did.”
”Why, ma'm, I can't look back an' see that I ever did anything heroic. I have helped many an old woman across the creek; I have helped a man set out his tobacco plants, and I want to tell you that settin' out tobacco is the most fetching work I ever did.”
”But this was something you can't make light of. I am told that when Memphis was stricken with yellow fever you went down there and nursed the sick.”
For a moment he was silent and then he said: ”They needed strong arms down there then. The hospitals were full and the churches empty. It seemed to me like the gospel had got scared and was running to the mountains. The Lord may not have called upon me to preach, but I do believe he called on me to go down there.”
Leaning upon the table she gazed into his face as if she were for the first time in her life contemplating a human mystery. ”You are a n.o.ble man, Mr. Reverend. My faith in man gasped and died, but into it you have blown the sweet breath of a new life. Don't misunderstand me, I--”
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