Part 28 (1/2)
”Your philosophy may be true, but I don't like it,” Miss Warren protested. ”A woman doesn't generalize.”
”Thy philosophy is only half true, Richard Morton. G.o.d cares for each one of His children, and every one in my house counts for much to me.”
”There's no getting ahead of thee, mother. If we want to talk heresy, Richard Morton, we must go off by ourselves.”
”I think G.o.d showed His love for us in a queer way last night,” said Adah, abruptly.
Both her father and mother looked pained at this speech, and Mrs.
Yocomb said gravely:
”Thee'll see things in the true light some day, I hope. The lightning bolt may have been a message from Heaven to thee.”
”It seems to me that Zillah got more of the message than I did, and she didn't need any,” said the matter-of-fact Adah, ”At any rate I hope Richard Morton may be here if I ever get another message.”
”I shall surely be struck next time,” I laughed, a trifle bitterly; ”for according to Mrs. Yocomb's view I need a message more than any of you.”
It was evident that neither Adah nor I was in a frame of mind that Mrs.
Yocomb could commend.
”As you suggested, Mr. Morton, if some other tramp from New York had been present, what a thrilling narrative you could write for your paper,” Miss Warren began. Seemingly she had had enough of clouds the previous evening, and was bent on clear skies to-night.
She found me incorrigible, however, for I said briefly:
”Oh, no, it would only make an item among the crimes and casualties.”
Undaunted, she replied: ”And such might have been its appropriate place had not the doctor arrived so promptly. The casualty had already occurred, and I'm quite sure you would have finished us all with original remedies if left to yourself.”
”I agree with you, Miss Warren; blunders are worse than crimes, and I've a genius for them.”
”Well, I'm not a genius in any sense of the word. Miss Adah and I look at things as they are. One would think, Mr. Morton, accepting your view of yourself, that you could supply your paper with all the crimes and casualties required, as the result of the genius you claim.”
”Stupid blunders would make stupid reading.”
”Oh, that column in your paper is very interesting, then?”
”Why shouldn't it be? I've never had the bad taste to publish in it anything about myself.”
”I fail to find any logic in that remark. Have you a conscience, Mr.
Morton?”
”The idea of an editor having a conscience! I doubt whether you have ever seen New York, Miss Warren, you are so unsophisticated.”
”Emily, thee shouldn't be afraid of lightning when thee and Richard Morton are so ready to flash back and forth at one another.”
”My words are only heat lightning, very harmless, and Mr. Morton's partake of the aurora in character--they are cool and distant.”
”I hope they are not so mysterious,” I replied.
”Their cause is, quite.”
”I think I understand the cause,” said Mrs. Yocomb as we rose from the table; and she came and took my hand. ”Richard Morton, thee has fever; thy hands are hot and thy temples are throbbing.”