Part 11 (1/2)

At last he tilted his chair back and laughed.

”I haven't eaten like that,” he said, ”nor with such enjoyment, since I went tramping up in the Maine woods when I was a youngster.”

Filmer was removing the empty dishes. There was a sense of delicacy about his host that was compelling Drew's notice. He watched him pa.s.sing from kitchen to piazza, and he saw that he was big, strong and handsome, but with a certain weakness, of chin, and a shyness of expression that came and went, marring the general impression.

Filmer's shyness was increasing. Never before in his life had he been brought into close personal contact with ”the cloth” as he termed it, and even this ”swaddling garment” was having a slow-growing hold upon him.

Presently Jock came timidly out, after his last visit to the kitchen, with pipes and a tobacco-box.

”I'm not certain,” he began, ”how your kind takes to tobacco, but if I don't get my evening smoke, I get a bad spell of temper--so, if you don't object--I'll light up.”

”If you'll wait a moment,” Drew returned, ”I'll join you. I always smoke my own pipe--I've got sort of chummy with it--but I'll share your tobacco.”

Filmer grinned, and the cloud pa.s.sed from his face.

”I calculated,” he said, ”that your kind cla.s.sed tobacco with cussing and jags. Light up, kid.”

They were soon lost in the fragrant smoke, the bliss of satisfied appet.i.te, and a peaceful scene. The sun went down, and left the hills and valley in an afterglow of glory. The beauty was so touching that even Filmer succ.u.mbed, shook the ashes from his pipe and delayed refilling. Presently he looked at Drew's face. It had paled from emotion, and shone white in the shadow of the porch.

”You look peaked.” Filmer's words brought the boy back to earth. ”Been through a long siege, maybe?”

”Oh, overstudy and weak lungs!” Drew spoke cheerfully. ”Bad combination, you know, and I didn't pull in as soon as I should have. I crammed for exams. Made them, and then collapsed. I'm all right now, though. All the struggle's over. I've only to reap the reward. There was a big doctor down in New York who told me that the air up here was my one chance. I'm going to take it. A few months here, and a life anywhere else I may choose, he said.

”What do you say to letting me have your room and company--you needn't give any more of the latter than you want to, you know--for a spell?

You'll find me easy to get on with, I fancy, no one has ever complained of me in that way. I don't care what Green Lake is like, I like _this_ better. I like this, way down to the ground. I've gone daffy over the whole thing.” He drew in a long, happy breath. ”What do you say?”

”I'd like to ask, if it ain't too inquisitive,” Jock inquired, ignoring the boy's eagerness, while he put forth his own claims, ”why in thunder a chap like you took to the preaching business? Somehow you look like a feller that might want to enjoy life.”

Drew laughed heartily.

”Why, I mean to enjoy life,” he replied, ”and I chose this profession because I like it. I believe in it. You see, I was born to be a fighter.

If I'd had a big, l.u.s.ty body like yours, I might have been--anything. As it is, I had to choose something where I could fight with other weapons than bone, muscle and bodily endurance. I'm going into the fight of helping men and women in the best way I can, don't you see? I suppose I must sound cheeky and brazen to talk this way, but I'm full of the joy of it all, and I've made the goal, you see, and for all the breakdown I've come out ahead. It's enough to stir one, don't you think?

”The night I graduated, I don't mind telling this to you, I went down on my knees when all the excitement was over and the lights were out, and I said, 'I am here. I've got money; the good G.o.d need not have me on his mind along that line; he can send me where he chooses, to do his work; I'm ready.'

”It was like consecrating myself, you know. Well, when the sickness came, I thought perhaps he didn't want me or my money either; but I came out of the Valley and here I am now, and I tell you--it seems good.”

Filmer folded his arms across his chest, and looked steadily ahead of him.

”Do you know,” he said at length--”and I hope you'll excuse me--I think you're the most comical cuss that ever happened.”

Drew met this frank opinion with the boyish laugh that was having the effect of clearing up all the dull places in Filmer's character. He had never heard that laugh equalled but once, and he rarely went back to that memory--the path was too hard and lonely.

The reserves were down between the two. Without reason or cause, perhaps, they had fallen into a confident liking.

”Have you done much marrying and burying yet?” The question startled Drew, then he recalled the conversation on the Station platform.

”Well, no,” he said, ”practical demonstration comes after graduation generally. I've subst.i.tuted for ministers--preached a Sunday, now and then, you know; but of course, I _can_ perform the marriage ceremony, or read the burial service.”

”You look pretty young,” Jock spoke slowly; he was noting the strange dignity of his guest. Any reference to his profession brought with it this calm a.s.surance that held levity in check; ”but it's this way.

There's a wedding fixed for to-morrer. I've set my heart on it coming off, and there ain't a durned parson to be had, that the girl favours.