Part 15 (1/2)

”Well, I 'll go out an' see about the dinner. Some o' the folks I 've invited will be comin' in purty soon, an' others 'll be droppin' in to inquire how he is. I do hope he 'll be well enough to come to the table: it won't seem hardly like an ordination dinner without the princ.i.p.al person. Jes' set by him, 'Liphalet, an' give him them drops the doctor left.”

As soon as he heard the door close behind her, Brent opened his eyes and suddenly laid his hand on the old man's shoulder. ”You won't let anybody see me, Uncle 'Liph? you won't let them come in here?”

”No, no, my boy, not ef you don't want 'em,” said the old man.

”I shall have to think it all over before I see any one. I am not quite clear yet.”

”I 'low it was unexpected.”

”Did you know, Uncle 'Liph?” he asked, fixing his eyes upon his old friend's face.

”I know'd they was a-plannin' somethin', but I never could find out what, or I would have told you.”

A look of relief pa.s.sed over Brent's face. Just then Mrs. Hodges opened the door. ”Here 's Elizabeth to see him,” she said.

”'Sh,” said the old man with great ostentation; and tiptoeing over to the door he partly drew it to, putting his head outside to whisper, ”He is too weak; it ain't best fur him to see n.o.body now.”

He closed the door and returned to his seat. ”It was 'Lizabeth,” he said. ”Was I right?”

For answer the patient arose from the bed and walked weakly over to his side.

”Tut, tut, tut, Freddie,” said Eliphalet, hesitating over the name. ”You 'd better lay down now; you ain't any too strong yet.”

The young man leaned heavily on his chair, and looked into his friend's eyes: ”If G.o.d had given me such a man as you as a father, or even as a guardian, I would not have been d.a.m.ned,” he said.

”'Sh, 'sh, my boy. Don't say that. You 're goin' to be all right; you 're--you 're--” Eliphalet's eyes were moist, and his voice choked here.

Rising, he suddenly threw his arms around Fred's neck, crying, ”You are my son. G.o.d has give you to me to nurse in the time of your trial.”

The young man returned the embrace; and so Mrs. Hodges found them when she opened the door softly and peered in. She closed it noiselessly and withdrew.

”Well, I never!” she said. There was a questioning wonder in her face.

”I don't know what to make of them two,” she added; ”they could n't have been lovin'er ef they had been father and son.”

After a while the guests began to arrive for the dinner. Many were the inquiries and calls for the new minister, but to them all Eliphalet made the same answer: ”He ain't well enough to see folks.”

Mrs. Hodges herself did her best to bring him out, or to get him to let some of the guests in, but he would not. Finally her patience gave way, and she exclaimed, ”Well, now, Frederick Brent, you must know that you air the pastor of a church, an' you 've got to make some sacrifices for people's sake. Ef you kin possibly git up,--an' I know you kin,--you ought to come out an' show yoreself for a little while, anyhow. You 've got some responsibilities now.”

”I did n't ask for them,” he answered, coldly. There was a set look about his lips. ”Neither will I come out or see any one. If I am old enough to be the pastor of a church, I am old enough to know my will and have it.”

Mrs. Hodges was startled at the speech. She felt vaguely that there was a new element in the boy's character since morning. He was on the instant a man. It was as if clay had suddenly hardened in the potter's hands. She could no longer mould or ply him. In that moment she recognised the fact.

The dinner was all that could be expected, and her visitors enjoyed it, in spite of the absence of the guest of honour, but for the hostess it was a dismal failure. After wielding the sceptre for years, it had been suddenly s.n.a.t.c.hed from her hand; and she felt lost and helpless, deprived of her power.

CHAPTER XIII

As Brent thought of the long struggle before him, he began to wish that there might be something organically wrong with him which the shock would irritate into fatal illness. But even while he thought this he sneered at himself for the weakness. A weakness self-confessed holds the possibility of strength. So in a few days he rallied and took up the burden of his life again. As before he had found relief in study, now he stilled his pains and misgivings by a strict attention to the work which his place involved.