The Eyes 
 
 4r _Ji^ -V Jr
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 MRS. 
 BEATRICE L. SATOAY
 
 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE
 
 Rose knew instinctively that something was amiss.
 
 THE EYES OF THE 
 VILLAGE 
 
 BY 
 ANICE TERHUNE 
 
 FRONTISPIECE BY 
 
 JOHN ELLISON BROWN 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE MACAULAY COMPANY
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1922, 
 BY ANICE TERHUNE 
 
 PRINTED IN THE U S. A,
 
 PS 
 35 ? 
 
 TO MY HUSBAND 
 
 ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE 
 
 Without whose encouragement I should never have 
 dared ask you to read this book 
 
 691326
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I EM II 
 
 II THE BELL ....... 23 
 
 III ROSE TAKES A WALK .... 47 
 
 IV EM "ENTERTAINS COMPANY" ". . 65 
 V "THE YEAR OF JUBILEE Is COME!" 72 
 
 VI ON THE DOCTOR'S LAWN ... 82 
 
 VII Lois BECOMES INTERESTED ... 93 
 
 VIII DINNER AT EM'S 99 
 
 IX Lois WRITES A LETTER . . . . 105 
 
 X EM TAKES FATE INTO HER OWN 
 
 HANDS 118 
 
 XI "OLD ROOT" 129 
 
 XII EVERYBODY'S BUSINESS . . . . 139 
 
 XIII EM SPEAKS HER MIND .... 147 
 
 XIV THE TANGLE 154 
 
 XV DANNY 165 
 
 XVI THE ORDEAL 178 
 
 XVII SUPPER Is KEPT WAITING . . . 187 
 
 XVIII A WEDDING 206 
 
 XIX PHILIP GOES AWAY ..... 231 
 
 XX THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE . . 234 
 
 XXI OLD ROOT MAKES A CALL . .. .. 240 
 
 XXII Lois AND PHILIP . . L . ,.> . 250
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XXIII 
 
 THE DOCTOR MEDDLES . 
 
 PAGE 
 259 
 
 XXIV 
 
 DANNY AGAIN 
 
 . 264 
 
 XXV 
 
 "WHEN THE CAT'S AWAY" 
 
 . 271 
 
 XXVI 
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN ... 
 
 . 280 
 
 XXVII 
 
 STRICKEN ! 
 
 7 OA 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 "UNTO THE HILLS" .... 
 
 3 06 
 
 XXIX 
 
 EM PREACHES A SERMON ., . 
 
 . 308 
 
 XXX 
 
 EM HAS THE LAST WORD . . 
 
 3H
 
 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE
 
 THE 
 EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 EM 
 
 BETWEEN six and seven o'clock on a stormy Feb 
 ruary evening, Em Ufford, spinster, knocked with 
 energetic, bony knuckles at her neighbor's house door; 
 after this concession to manners, she pushed the door 
 wide open, and made her way into the little entry with 
 out waiting for a reply to her knock. 
 
 A swirl of driving snow came with her. 
 
 "Wai, here I am, Mis' Sessions!" she proclaimed. 
 "And no thanks to this man" (indicating with a jerk 
 of the head a forlorn, snow-covered object behind her) 
 "that I ain't snowed under! He would insist on 
 holdin' my umbrella over me, and 'twas so far over, 
 most the time, that it was near upside down! I 
 thought we'd never get here. It's an awful night!" 
 
 Em fixed her great piercing blue eyes on her neigh 
 bor, and emphasized her words by stamping the snow 
 from her big overshoes and beating her shoulders with 
 
 ii
 
 12 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 either mittened hand. "New England Spinster" was 
 written all over her small angular frame and sharp 
 featured, russet face; was coiled in the tight knob of 
 her carroty hair, and rang in the shrill, nasal tones of 
 her voice. 
 
 Casting a withering glance toward her escort, she 
 added scornfully, "As a protector of helpless females, 
 you certainly ain't a success, Charles Reuben!" 
 
 "I couldn't help it, Em!" the man began. 
 
 "There, Charles Reuben, no one's a-doubtin' that 
 you've got a lot of good qualities but you lack the 
 very one that would turn 'em all to account sense!" 
 
 "You would walk so far ahead of me," persisted the 
 man. "Nobody could have kept the umbrella over 
 you!" 
 
 "Never you mind, Charles Reuben, you better keep 
 still when a man begins to defend himself, he ad 
 mits that there's somethin' about him that needs a lot 
 of defendin' ! Just shake out my waterproof while I 
 talk to Mis' Sessions. How is things, Delia? Doctor 
 still out?" 
 
 "Come right here and get warm !" said the doctor's 
 wife, heartily, getting in a word at last, and pulling 
 Miss Ufford into her dining-room where a blazing 
 fire glowed invitingly in a huge stove. "Doctor hasn't 
 gotten back from East Longmeadow yet, but I expect
 
 EM 13 
 
 him any minute, now. Come in, Charles Reuben I" 
 
 "Good evening, folks ! Glad to see you ! The more 
 the merrier!" hailed a voice from within the dining- 
 room. A tall, spare man with large heavy looking spec 
 tacles and an unusually agreeable face, moved his chair 
 to make room near the stove for the latest comers, and 
 then shook hands with them, smiling genially. 
 
 "Much obliged, Deacon," said Charles Reuben, un 
 winding a huge comforter from his neck, and shak 
 ing it out as solemnly as if his life depended on it. 
 
 He was a queer looking, rather small man, with 
 an enormous, bulging, knobby forehead, under which 
 were almost hidden two funny little light gray eyes, in 
 a face that looked as if some one had smashed it in. 
 The whole visage was imbedded in a thatch of black 
 whiskers, evidently dyed. 
 
 "How long before mail time, folks?" queried Em 
 Ufford. Her question included the little circle of 
 neighbors that were gathered, according to time-hon 
 ored custom, around the dining-room stove of the 
 hospitable doctor and his wife. 
 
 Every evening at about this hour there was a meet 
 ing of the sort. In summer the people collected on 
 the lawn; in winter in the dining-room, awaiting the 
 rumble of the stage on its daily passage through the 
 little town to the Post Office.
 
 14 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "The stage is due now!" said Deacon Cone, look 
 ing at his watch. "It's a quarter to seven." 
 
 "I suppose it is plowing through the snow some 
 where the other side of the mountain," Mrs. Ses 
 sions remarked. 
 
 "It's sure to be dretful late, on a night like this," 
 said Em. Then "Charles Reuben Isham stop a- 
 scrapin' your feet if there's one thing on 'arth does 
 set my teeth on edge, it's to have a shiftless man a- 
 scrapin' his feet on my stove or anybody else's!" 
 
 "They're cold," expostulated the owner of the feet 
 in a subdued voice, with a reproachful look at Em. 
 "They're prickin' all over!" 
 
 "Don't be too sure it ain't your conscience!" said 
 Em's sharp voice severely. "Becuz you're a-settin' 
 here by a warm fire, instead o' bein' at home helpin' 
 your sister Experience bring in the wood from the 
 woodshed ! We all know you, Charles Reuben ! Your 
 sister works twenty-four hours a day, while you set 
 around and write jingles, and keep comfortable doin' 
 nothin'! It's surprisin' how well most shiftless peo 
 ple manage to get along!" 
 
 Here there was a general laugh, for Em's sharp 
 tongue and the warm heart behind it, were too well 
 known in South Wilbr'm, for any one to be hurt at 
 what she might say.
 
 EM 15 
 
 "I always speak my mind," she was wont to ex 
 plain, "and if folks don't like it, they'll hev to lump 
 it it's the way God Almighty made me, and He must 
 of done it for some good purpose, for half the time 
 I don't know the words is out, till they is out !" 
 
 Charles Reuben took Em's haranguing cheerfully, 
 albeit he stopped shuffling the offending feet. 
 
 "This is bound to be the breakin' up storm," he 
 said. "It's so late in the season." 
 
 There did not seem to be much promise, however, 
 in the merciless howling of the wind, as it swept 
 around the house, rattling the windows, and causing 
 every one to draw up a little closer to the stove. 
 
 "I b'lieve we was all fools to venture out, a night 
 like this," remarked Em, "but when we only git one 
 mail a day, it does seem a pity to hev to wait till the 
 next mornin' for it, don't it?" 
 
 "It's a perfect shame that we can't have two daily 
 mails!" said Miss Phoebe Bliss, another neighbor, 
 speaking for the first time since Em and Charles 
 Reuben had come in. 
 
 She was a delicate looking sprig of faded gentility, 
 whose once glorious family had bequeathed her noth 
 ing but memories of their former greatness, a por 
 trait or two, some beautiful old laces, and an anemic 
 body.
 
 16 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "Doctor has tried and tried to get us two mails; 
 but there is always some sort of hitch, and nobody 
 else seems to care enough about it to do anything," 
 said Mrs. Sessions. 
 
 "Doctor's almost the only enterprisin' man we've 
 got left in town!" broke out Em. "No offense to you, 
 Mr. Cone and it's a great pity there's no more pub 
 lic spirit I don't know what on arth we're a-comin* 
 to here in South Wilbr'm, if " 
 
 "Please, m'm, I want the doctor!" 
 
 The interruption came in a very small but insistent 
 voice, from the stormy, snowy world beyond the hast 
 ily pushed-open door. "Doctor must come right now, 
 please!" 
 
 Mrs. Sessions jumped up, peered out into the gloom, 
 and drew a tiny, shivering atom of humanity from 
 the doorstep into the house. 
 
 "Why, Danny Warren! You come right into the 
 dining-room and get warm! Doctor had to go to 
 East Longmeadow; but he'll be in any minute, and you 
 can ride back home with him!" 
 
 "Your sister Bessie ain't took worse, is she?" 
 queried Em Ufford, in an inquisitive but not unkindly 
 voice. 
 
 The little boy gazed piteously around, as he was 
 gently pushed into the center of the circle near the
 
 EM 17 
 
 stove, and at Em's thoughtless question, he began: 
 "She she " then with one frightened glance at Em, 
 he burst into a storm of sobs and tears, as the neigh 
 bors exchanged significant looks. Instantly, Em's 
 nut-cracker face softened into remorseful sympathy, as 
 she exclaimed : 
 
 "There, there, never mind. Oh! the poor little 
 lamb ! I never meant to upset him. What an old fool 
 I am and the blessed baby most froze, at that!" 
 
 Meantime, Mrs. Sessions had picked the little fellow 
 up bodily, reaching at the same time for a small round 
 cake from the dining-room table ; and holding boy and 
 cake together, on her lap, she gave the kind of comfort 
 that only a tender woman, with children of her own, 
 knows how to give. 
 
 The visitors talked in low tones, and gradually the 
 sobbing ceased, the curly head fell back, and Danny 
 slept. 
 
 The rhythmical rocking of Mrs. Sessions' chair went 
 on, and the neighbors continued to whisper. 
 
 "It does seem as if some folks might lend their 
 hired man, at such a time on a pinch!" said Em. 
 "Think of a baby like that having to come all this 
 way alone, in such a storm! And in the dark tho' 
 of course 'tain't so dark with the snow, as if 'twas 
 rain, for so much has fallen a' ready, it's like a white
 
 i8 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 carpet. When / was young, neighbors was neighbors 
 and my father's hired man, and yours too, no doubt, 
 would 'a' bin put to the service of the folks next door 
 in time of sickness. They could have had anything 
 else in the house, too, as could be used and no thanks 
 asked. But them Roots! My soul ! Before old Root 
 would stretch a finger to help, Bessie Warren and Rose 
 and Danny into the bargain might fall dead right 
 before their very eyes ! And they not a quarter of a 
 mile away, and the only other people on the mountain 
 except the Polacks and you can't rightly count 
 them, they not bein' more'n half human. They look 
 like animals, and sometimes I think they are 
 just!" 
 
 "The new minister thinks he can save old Root's 
 soul," put in Deacon Cone. "He's been to Church 
 every Sunday this month." 
 
 "Wai, he can't old Root's got no soul to save!" 
 retorted Em. "Of course you can't judge a man by 
 what he says when you step on his corn ; but it's safer 
 to judge him by his daily talk than by his prayers 
 and old Root's daily talk won't go to a hymn tune, by 
 any means." 
 
 Em had hard work to subdue her vehemence to a 
 whisper ; but presently she went on more gently. 
 
 "It does seem hard, don't it, Mis' Sessions, if an-
 
 EM 19 
 
 other Warren has got to go? Doesn't Doctor think 
 there's hope?" 
 
 "Doctor doesn't say much," answered Mrs. Ses 
 sions, smoothing Danny's damp curls. "But he has 
 that look in his eyes whenever he speaks of Bessie 
 the look that he always has when there is some one 
 who is past his help. Do you know, he walks the floor 
 all night, if a patient of his dies I believe he feels 
 as if the whole townful of people were his children!" 
 
 "I wonder what's keeping him now?" asked Phoebe 
 Bliss. "Didn't that quarry-man that got his ribs 
 broken come around all right, Mrs. Sessions?" 
 
 "Yes," said the doctor's wife. "The quarry-man is 
 getting on very well, but the Cooleys have diphtheria; 
 and that's why Doctor is so late !" 
 
 "Of course!" ejaculated Em. "And he won't get 
 one cent from 'em, to pay for his trouble, I s'pose; 
 unless maybe Mr. Cooley builds a hen house for the 
 Doctor next summer, or shingles the barn. If our 
 Doctor had got paid for all the folks he's healed in this 
 town and East Longmeadow, he'd be a rich man, and 
 you'd be wearin' diamonds, Mis' Sessions! Now I 
 don't suppose more'n half South Wilbr'm pays 'im, 
 do they?" 
 
 "There goes the stage at last," broke in Deacon 
 Cone "I think I'll start along for the Post Office."
 
 20 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "Oh, don't go yet, Mr. Cone ! It always takes them 
 at least ten minutes to sort out the mail, and you'll 
 only have to stand around and freeze," urged Mrs. 
 Sessions. 
 
 "And I'll promise not to ask any more inconvenient 
 questions of Mis' Sessions," added Em good-naturedly. 
 "I s'pose that's really what you got up to go for. 
 You're more gentle-minded than I am. I s^pose that 
 comes o' bein' a Deacon. You'd better stay ; Matthias 
 Howlitt ain't got one-4ialf the postal cards read 
 yet." 
 
 "The stage was very, very late to-night; it must 
 be hard going," said Miss Bliss. 
 
 "What do you hear from Lois, Mrs. Sessions?" 
 asked the Deacon. 
 
 At the question, a happy light came into Mrs. Ses 
 sions' eyes, and she answered : 
 
 "Her letters come very regularly every Monday and 
 Thursday night. The dear child is always so faithful ! 
 Her professors think the world of her, and she is 
 always getting some prize or other." 
 
 "Take care praise don't turn her head, Mis' Ses 
 sions," snapped Em Ufford. "You know them that 
 carries their heads too high is apt not to see the preci 
 pice a-comin' till they're a-rollin' down it !" 
 
 Em's warning was not based on the slightest ani-
 
 EM 21 
 
 mosity towards Mrs. Sessions' only daughter, but was 
 voiced simply because she deemed it her duty to warn 
 the mother not to take too much pride in her dearest 
 possession, at that time away from home undergoing 
 (according to Em's vivid imagination) no one knew 
 what dire temptations, in that mysterious and doubtful 
 place called college. 
 
 "There's Doctor now," said Mrs. Sessions, as the 
 sound of sleigh bells grew near, and the Doctor's 
 familiar "Whoa-a!" was heard outside the house. A 
 moment more, and his big frame filled the dining-room 
 doorway. He was the tallest man in South Wilbr'm, 
 and the heaviest; and in his thick winter overcoat and 
 muffler, he looked like a giant. 
 
 His face, always ruddy, and now aglow with the 
 cold, was outlined by thick snow-white whiskers, mus 
 tache, and hair. It was a strong, dignified, keen face. 
 The face of a kind father, who has seen much suffer 
 ing and sorrow, and whose mission is to help. Just 
 now, it was lighted up by a friendly smile of welcome, 
 as he glanced around the little familiar group. 
 
 Then his gaze fell upon Danny Warren, in the act 
 of rubbing a sleepy fist into his baby eyes. Instantly 
 his expression changed. 
 
 "How long has Danny been here?" he asked quickly. 
 
 Eager voices hastened to answer him. Then, turn-
 
 22 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 ing to Danny "Is there any one beside Rose taking 
 care of Bessie to-night?" he asked. 
 
 "No sir," said Danny. "She said would you please 
 hurry?" 
 
 "Delia" speaking to his wife "you'll have to go 
 with me to-night we won't be back till dawn, prob 
 ably. Can you run and put on your bonnet, and leave 
 everything as it is ?" 
 
 "Of course I can, Doctor!" answered his wife, al 
 ready half way up the stairs. 
 
 "Wrap up warmly," her husband called after her. 
 "It's a fearful night!" 
 
 In a very few minutes the three were packed into 
 the sleigh and started on their errand of mercy, while 
 the little knot of sympathetic people, chatting volubly, 
 worked their way through the heavy snow, to the 
 Post Office.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE BELL 
 
 EM UFFOKD, her morning work all "done up," was 
 out shoveling a path down the front walk from her 
 house to the street. 
 
 The house was hers, and the ground around it, and 
 she took a proper pride in having it irreproachably 
 neat and clean, outside, as well as in. 
 
 She had, in her youth, been a dressmaker, going 
 from one house to another, staying long enough in 
 each to "sew up the family," as she put it. 
 
 In those early days, she had acquired naturally the 
 habit of busying herself with other people's affairs; 
 and in her later years of prosperity, the habit could 
 not be dislodged. She was a clever woman, though, 
 and had a good business head, having saved every 
 cent she made; so now, at sixty years of age, her 
 property was unencumbered. She "had enough laid 
 by to bury her with," as she often said, and was con 
 sidered decidedly well-to-do, in the village. 
 
 She was proud of her well-kept home, and did not 
 hesitate to say so; but although, as she worked, this 
 
 33
 
 24 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 morning, she often glanced up at the trim looking 
 house, it was purely an unconscious action, incited, no 
 doubt, by habit; for her thoughts were all with the 
 Warren family. 
 
 Once she looked up, to find Miss Bliss going by, on 
 her way to "the store." 
 
 "Heard anythin' about the Warrens this morning, 
 Phcebe?" Em's sharp, crisp voice rang out. One al 
 ways felt, somehow, that Miss Ufford's voice was worn 
 thin by its proximity to the edge of her long, sharp 
 nose. 
 
 "No," answered Miss Bliss. "I thought I'd stop in 
 at Doctor's and find out, on my way home." 
 
 TOOT Bessie ain't got a chance, I'm a-f eared," with 
 a sigh; "but what could they expect, livin* in that 
 God-forsaken place! Doctor's tried and tried to get 
 'em to seO and come to live down in town ; but 'tisn't 
 any use, they won't budge. 
 
 "Doctor says they'll every one go with consump 
 tion, if they keep right on a-livin* there but some 
 folks can't be taught tin they're in their graves. Live 
 and Tarn, say L But it's die and 1'arn with them! 
 
 "Rosie's grandmother was at the bottom of it She 
 loved the place and wouldn't move hand or foot. 
 When Mr. Warren got the lung trouble an' died of it, 
 Doctor told her the place wasn't healthy. Then when
 
 THE BELL 25 
 
 one after another the whole five, mother an' all, died, 
 he tried his best to move 'em; but all hed to be as 
 Grandma said! It's all right to respect gray hairs, 
 but above all, let's respect our own, say I ! There won't 
 be no more gray hairs in the Warren family, if they 
 don't look out, and now Grandma's gone, and there's 
 just these three left, it does seem as if Hark! 
 There's the church bell! Three four five six 
 seven eight nine ten eleven " (Miss Bliss was 
 silently checking off the strokes on her fingers, while 
 Em counted aloud, as the church bell tolled forth on 
 the clear sunshiny morning air) "twelve " went 
 on Em "thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen. Six 
 teen ! Bessie Warren !" 
 
 The women looked at each other in sudden awe. 
 It is always so, even when death is momentarily ex 
 pected; and the passing of this sweet young soul, just 
 at the threshold of life, seemed particularly hard to 
 understand, on this bright, lovely March morning, with 
 the promise of spring and awakening life in every 
 breath. 
 
 Miss Bliss waited while Em hastily exchanged her 
 woolen hood for her stiff best bonnet, and then the 
 two, hailing a passing wagon for a lift, hurried to 
 the W T arren house, to do everything in their power to 
 lighten the load that had descended on Rose Warren.
 
 26 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 Rose was a pretty, delicate girl of nineteen, and all 
 the village had felt a proprietary right in her welfare, 
 since Danny and she had been left alone to take care of 
 the invalid sister. 
 
 Three days after this, on a brilliant morning, the 
 whole town toiled up the hill to Bessie Warren's 
 funeral. Charles Reuben's prediction as to the "break 
 ing up storm" had proved true. 
 
 The warm sunshine had melted the snow to such an 
 extent that sleighs were no longer available, and the 
 wagon wheels slipped and squashed and splashed in 
 and out of the deep ruts, and dark mud and dingy 
 snow were about evenly divided on the spokes of the 
 wheels. 
 
 Overhead the sky was an intense, cloudless blue; 
 and a few courageous robins were examining the 
 premises, with a view to a future boom in bird real 
 estate. 
 
 The road to the Warrens' took one by the Scantic, 
 part of the way; and, where the ice had broken and 
 floated off, there was an unmistakable, clear spring- 
 brown in the depths of the little river. 
 
 All this helped the town's people to feel that it was 
 worth while to don one's Sunday best, even for a 
 funeral. Of course, the going was undeniably heavy;
 
 THE BELL 27 
 
 but no South Wilbr'mite ever stayed away from a 
 funeral if there was any possible chance of getting 
 there. 
 
 Em Ufford had been offered a ride by Deacon Cone 
 and his wife, and, as usual, was holding forth. 
 
 "Do you know whether Rosie went all the way to 
 the city for her mournin' ? No? She could well afford 
 to, of course; but Rosie's a true New Englander. She 
 can drive a sharp bargain, and she ain't a-goin' to 
 spend a cent if it ain't necessary. Well, it's a wise 
 trait, if she's got to look out for herself, poor thing. 
 Doctor's persuaded her to put her house up for sale, 
 and she and Danny're a-goin' to live down in the town 
 at last, so I heard last night and it's a good thing, 
 too, say I ! Maybe amongst us we kin save two War 
 rens after all ! It's hard to see Bessie's death in the 
 light of a blessin', but it may be, who knows? She was 
 doomed anyway, poor child, and if her takin' off has 
 brought Rose to reason, perhaps it's all for the best. 
 The Lord's ways are strange, but He knows more'n 
 we give Him credit for!" 
 
 By this time the Warren farm was reached, and 
 the sleek, black figure of the undertaker was visible in 
 the front doorway of the house, waving people unr.tu- 
 ously inward, toward the narrow entry, almost entirely 
 filled up with the white bannistered front stairs.
 
 28 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 The little standing-room available was covered with 
 shiny oilcloth, made more cheerless than usual by the 
 proximity of a row of folded-up camp chairs, for late 
 comers. 
 
 The undertaker was imported from East Long- 
 meadow, and felt his importance. He considered that 
 he was indeed giving a treat to the people of South 
 Wilbr'm, by allowing them to witness such well-ap 
 pointed obsequies. 
 
 Inside the "front room," as much of South Wilbr'm 
 as could get in, was assembled, the rest stretching 
 into the "settin' room," dining-room and even 
 kitchen. 
 
 The poor little daughter of the house sat between 
 Dr. and Mrs. Sessions, with Danny on her lap. Her 
 soft eyes were heart-breaking to see, with their deep 
 expression of sadness; but they looked out of a lovely 
 little face, that was brave. And the arm the girl held 
 about her brother was firm, with motherly protection 
 for the only relative she had left on earth. 
 
 There was a gloomy, uncertain light throughout the 
 house, for the window shades were all drawn down, 
 shutting out God's sunshine. 
 
 The room was stone cold. 
 
 As Em stepped into it, her sharp eyes took in every 
 detail. She could have told without another glance,
 
 THE BELL 29 
 
 just who was there, what every woman had on, and 
 how the two forlorn mourners bore themselves. 
 
 "Mis' Cooley's gone and decked herself out in the 
 mournin' veil she had for her first husband !" she whis 
 pered to Mrs. Cone. "I declar' if that don't beat all! 
 And Cooley himself a-havin' to set along by her side 
 and bear it! What'd they come for, anyway, I 
 wonder?" 
 
 For an instant, a tiny, irrepressible spark of amuse 
 ment shown in her prominent blue eyes; then they were 
 decorously dropped. 
 
 "Rose looks like a droopin' flower, don't she?" Em 
 whispered presently, then interrupted herself "For 
 the land's sake!" she shrilled into Mrs. Cone's ear "If 
 thar ain't old Root! Of all snoopin' old skinflints! 
 I feel just like stickin' a bunnet pin into him ! I sh'd 
 think he might 'a' let his wife come, this once! It 
 would 'a' done her some good to get out and see her 
 friends on an occasion like this, poor soul ! But I tell 
 you it does rile me to see him a-settin' there so sancti 
 monious and he too mean to send a message or do one 
 thing to help the mourners the night Bessie died ! He 
 ought to be put out! The Lord'll settle him one of 
 these days, but I wish He'd hurry up about it, for / 
 want to see it done ! 
 
 "There come the singers! I hope they'll put spirit
 
 30 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 into the verses. Rose looks as if she needed sus- 
 tainin' power. I wonder what they've selected? Oh 
 here comes Mr. Eden! Looks real sad, don't he?" 
 Em whispered admiringly. "Kind of overcome! I 
 wonder if it ain't his first funeral? Such a nice, styl 
 ish lookin' young feller! You'd know he come from 
 Boston way! Thar, he's a-takin' out his book!" and 
 this time Em's eyes dropped, not to be raised again till 
 the prayer. 
 
 A' moment after, a young, rather ascetic looking 
 clergyman began the services. He was not very well 
 known in South Wilbr'm, having only recently been 
 called to the Congregational Church; but every one 
 liked him, and he and the doctor had become friends 
 immediately; which stamped his standing among the 
 best people of the town. 
 
 He made a short address which was touching in 
 the extreme, and after the prayer, there was a sub 
 dued chorus of sniffs throughout the room. 
 
 The tension was relieved as soon as his voice ceased, 
 however, by the church choir, who rendered My 
 Thoughts On Awful Subjects Roll in such a way as 
 to hold every one spellbound. 
 
 Jane Bliss (a sister of Phoebe) the soprano, with a 
 voice like a fog-horn, boomed along, utterly oblivious 
 to the fact that the alto and the little white-whiskered
 
 THE BELL 31 
 
 tenor-basso were also trying to claim attention. As 
 Alonzo Day was the only man in the choir, he was 
 allowed the privilege of singing either tenor or bass, at 
 will ; and he never failed to slip proudly from one part 
 to the other, with great agility. 
 
 Miss Calista Beebe, the other member of the trio, 
 had a harmless, dry little voice, not more than half a 
 tone off the key, and she had long years ago given 
 up trying to out-sing the others. 
 
 On this occasion, she also assisted at the "instru 
 ment," and was seen to shudder ostentatiously, when 
 ever Jane Bliss swooped down near her ear, for a 
 closer view of the words in their one hymn book, as it 
 rested on the melodeon in front of her. Jane's voice 
 rose and fell in accordance with the risings and fall 
 ings of her tall, commanding figure, necessitated by 
 her near-sighted eyes. Nothing would ever persuade 
 her to wear glasses while "still a girl" of fifty-one. 
 
 Mrs. Sessions glanced apprehensively at Rose, dur 
 ing this selection, and whispered: "Don't mind, dear! 
 Bessie is beyond it all." 
 
 After this, there was a brief benediction, and then 
 the undertaker invited every one to "view the remains, 
 passing up this side and down the other," (with a de 
 scriptive wave of the arm). 
 
 There was a scraping of chairs, a creaking of boots,
 
 32 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 a swish of best black silks, and the moment for which 
 South Wilbr'm had been waiting, had come. Slowly 
 and decorously they walked up along the left side of 
 the coffin, the women with their hands folded, shoulders 
 raised, and elbows held straight out, according to local 
 custom, and the men with their arms swinging awk 
 wardly and boots creaking at every step, as they 
 tiptoed along, seemingly afraid to bear the whole 
 weight of one foot upon the ground. On they went, 
 eyes down, till they reached the head of the coffin. 
 Then, raising themselves as high as possible on their 
 toes, the better to see, they peered into the casket for a 
 moment or as long as they dared and then, coming 
 down on their heels with a snap, marched quickly 
 down the other side, heads up, eyes fixed on the door. 
 
 To Rose Warren, this ordeal seemed endless. She 
 did not notice the people individually; but each ag 
 gressive squeak seared into her very soul, till her brain 
 refused to act normally any longer and she found 
 herself idly wondering if every one in South Wilbr'm 
 had worn a pair of new shoes that day. 
 
 And still the procession went on. 
 
 When Em's turn came, she was not to be hurried, 
 and the line was kept waiting some time, as she rolled 
 her eager eyes off at the little sixteen-year-old girl, 
 lying there so peacefully. She took in everything, with
 
 THE BELL 33 
 
 a grim satisfaction that it had been so well done, and 
 then walked on. In the hallway she met the doctor, 
 who, holding Danny by the hand, was going out to 
 unhitch his horse. The strain of the last few days 
 had told on him, but he was as cheery and kindly as 
 ever. 
 
 "Em, I want to have a talk with you," he said. 
 ''Suppose you ride down with me, instead of with 
 Mr. Cone? There's lots of room on the front seat, 
 and I'll stow Danny away in the back, between Mrs. 
 Sessions and Rose. Is it a go?" 
 
 Instantly Em accepted; and as they rode down the 
 mountain toward the pretty village lying below them 
 in the sunshine, the doctor, having first assured him 
 self that the three people on the back seat were ab 
 sorbed in their own conversation, turned a serious 
 face toward his seat-mate. 
 
 "Em," he said, "I've got to find a good home for 
 those two waifs back there in fact, I've found it, but 
 I'm not quite sure whether they'll be welcome at first, 
 that is." 
 
 "You don't say, Doctor ! Wa'al, you are a hustler ! 
 I thought the children were a-goin' to stay with you, 
 for the present, till you could look round." 
 
 "So they are," said the doctor. "I want them for a 
 week, anyway; so I can feed them up and get them in
 
 34 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 some kind of shape for a new start in life; but our 
 house would be no place for them, for any length of 
 time. A doctor's house is always in a chaotic state, 
 more or less at least a country doctor's. Our meals 
 are never at the same time, two days running, for Mrs. 
 Sessions will insist on waiting till I come home before 
 eating, no matter what time it may be. Aside from 
 that, our house is, as you know, more or less of a 
 hospital for the whole town. And it really would be 
 no place for two such forlorn little people as Rose and 
 Danny, who need cheering up more than anything else." 
 
 "You're right in that, Doctor, as you are in most 
 everything. Where do you think of placing 'em?" 
 
 "With you, Em." 
 
 "Me! ME! Why what'd I do with 'em? Why, 
 Doctor, I'm an old maid! You can't teach an old 
 maid new tricks, no more'n you can a dog and I 
 know as well as anything, that if Danny Warren 
 tracked up my kitchen floor, I should take a whip to 
 him! Why, 'tain't to be thought of, Doctor! What 
 ever would I do with 'em?" (A pause.) 
 
 "Rose could have that sunny room on the south 
 end," went on Em, ruminating "overlookin' the vil 
 lage, and Danny could have the little store-room next 
 to it, for his I could put all the things that are in 
 it now, up attic. But law! Here I am a-plannin'
 
 THE BELL 35 
 
 when it ain't to be expected of me that I should take 
 'em. No, sir! I won't do it. If the Lord had in 
 tended me to have any children, he would 'a' sent 'em 
 to me before now, and in the reg'lar way! Thar's 
 plenty of poor critters in this town that'd be glad 
 enough for the money, and that needs it; as, thank the 
 Lord I don't! Arid I think it's our duty to hunt 'em 
 up, Dr. Sessions!" 
 
 "This isn't a question of money, as you know well 
 enough, Em; and you're beating about the bush. 
 You're not trying to persuade me, but yourself, that 
 you don't want Rose and Danny. 
 
 "You know," added the doctor in a gently bantering 
 tone, "deep down in your heart, Em, you're tickled to 
 death at the idea of having some young life around 
 your house; and you wouldn't for a moment consider 
 seriously the thought of their going anywhere else, 
 now that your mind your real mind, not the one you 
 show to me is made up. Confess now, would you?" 
 
 "Wa-al you do put things in such a way, Doctor !" 
 cried Em in a flutter. "No wonder you do what you 
 like with the whole of South Wilbr'm! Of course 
 those two dear children have got to have a home, and 
 if you think the Lord's called me, in my old age, to 
 be a mother to the motherless, I ain't afraid I want 
 to do my duty."
 
 36 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 There was a suspicion of tears in Em's voice, as she 
 capitulated in this by no means ungraceful way; but 
 she snapped the tears out of her protruding eyes, and 
 pursed up her nut-cracker mouth until nothing was 
 visible but one hard line ; and her nose and chin almost 
 met, in true Mother Goose fashion. 
 
 "Maybe this is just the very thing I've bin a-waitin' 
 for," she went on presently, "but it does seem such a 
 great change, to one of my set ways ! By turnin' my 
 face away from another's sorrow I might miss my best 
 joy, though, who knows ? I allers have wanted to be 
 friend the sorrowin', and I s'pose now's the time to do 
 it, if ever so ! I don't want to be the kind of friend 
 that's powerful devoted when no one stands in need 
 of help. Them folks allers reminds me of pine trees 
 they offer you their shade in winter, when you don't 
 need it, and in summer when every one's a-swelterin' 
 they're no sort of good on the face of the 'arth. I 
 don't want to be like that, Doctor, and if you think 
 1 could make those two hearts happy, why I'll do my 
 best! I'm I'm willin' to shake hands " she added 
 hesitatingly. 
 
 The doctor grasped her little, bony hand, in his 
 powerful fist. "You are laying up for yourself a 
 crown in Heaven," he said in a low voice. 
 
 "Oh law!" exclaimed Em, obviously embarrassed.
 
 THE BELL 37 
 
 "Crowns and halos ain't in my line!" Then, with a 
 twinkle, "If I thought I sh'd ever get to lookin' like 
 one o' them angels up in the stained glass winders of 
 the South Church in Springfield, I sh'd get right out 
 of the notion of takin' Rose and Danny ! I'm a New 
 Englander, and I want somethin' besides feathers and 
 blue tarleton to cover me. I s'pose it's all accordin' 
 to bringin' up but honest, Doctor don't you think 
 crowns suggest draughts and neuralagy ? Day in an* 
 day out, that is?" 
 
 The Warren farm was two and a half miles "over 
 East," and, to reach the burying ground, (crowded 
 upon the side of one of the loveliest of the hills sur 
 rounding the hamlet of South Wilbr'm) the little 
 cortege, made up of a few family carriages and more 
 farm wagons, wound down into the town from the 
 east, skirting the village green (where the two inter 
 secting streets of South Wilbr'm met and formed a 
 Maltese cross) and crossing the Skantic bridge took 
 the left fork of the south road, to the cemetery. 
 
 Just before they reached the gate, an old man hob 
 bled out of the door of a roadside hut, and halted the 
 procession for a moment, while, his scant hair blow 
 ing in the wind, and with hand uplifted, he stood by 
 the hearse and mumbled a prayer "for the repose o 
 her soul."
 
 38 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 He was Dennis Duffy, one of the patriarchs of the 
 village. Bareheaded he stood, with lowered eyes, 
 crossing himself until the carriages had all passed 
 on. 
 
 "Dennis grows old," Em commented aloud. "I 
 s'pose he's about as old as anybody ever gets to be, 
 ain't he, Doctor?" 
 
 "He's over ninety," answered Dr. Sessions, "and 
 one of the finest old fellows I ever knew. He told me 
 once, that, years ago, when he was very young, he 
 used to drink all the time. It got worse and worse, 
 and his wife worried herself sick over it, till one day 
 when she went to the door to meet him, and saw him 
 come reeling up the road so drunk he could hardly 
 move, she cried out, 'If ever I have another child to 
 inherit that curse, may God strike it dead the day it's 
 born!' And the next and last child they had died 
 when it was an hour old. Dennis has never drunk a 
 drop since." 
 
 "Land sakes!" ejaculated Em, "Ain't that terrible? 
 I don't blame her for bein' out o' patience with Dennis, 
 but I bet she didn't think the Lord would take her up 
 on it!" 
 
 As the doctor's carriage turned the sharp corner 
 into the cemetery gate, following the one hack con 
 taining the bearers, there was a sudden lurch. The
 
 THE BELL 39 
 
 wheels slid on the uncertain snow, and the occupants 
 of the back seat were nearly thrown out. 
 
 Rose, her nerves strained to the breaking point al 
 ready, by the events of the last day or two, gave an 
 involuntary cry, and burst into convulsive sobs as they 
 reached the little plot of ground where lay all of her 
 family except the child who clung so frantically at that 
 moment to her hand. In the midst of her grief she 
 looked up long enough to see that all the men stood 
 bareheaded and, with the thought fulness for others, 
 which had become a second nature from her constant 
 care of the sick, she said tremulously : 
 
 "Please all put your hats on." 
 
 Then as the men looked uncertainly at each other, 
 and no one complied with her request "It's so cold 
 up here in the wind you'll all catch cold. Oh, please 
 do!" 
 
 The second appeal was responded to at once, and 
 Mr. Eden being mercifully short with the service, they 
 were soon once more in the carriages, and were driven 
 rapidly back to town. 
 
 The doctor, according to his usual custom, stopped 
 to give his horse a drink at the watering trough (placed 
 in the center of the Maltese Cross) and here Em dis 
 mounted and made her way to the Post Office to ask 
 for her last night's mail. Em seldom received any
 
 40 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 letters, but her daily paper was as the breath of life 
 to her, and she eagerly devoured every word of news, 
 local, general, political and ecclesiastical. 
 
 The village green was always the center of life, at 
 South Wilbr'm. Flanking it, were the Congregational 
 Church, the Parsonage, and the Hotel. On the fourth 
 side was the General Store and Post Office, popular 
 at all times of day or evening, as a lounging place for 
 loafers, as a meeting place for gossips, a place for 
 general information, and a playground for small boys. 
 It was a long, low building of great antiquity ; though 
 the inside had been remodeled somewhat, to meet the 
 necessities of trade. On one side of the store proper, 
 was the Post Office equipment; on the other side was 
 a long counter filled with very doubtful looking candy 
 mice, cocoanut bars, peppermint sticks, cookies, cakes, 
 etc., all of uncertain age, but dear to the heart of the 
 South Wilbr'm urchin. Overhead hung neckties, rib 
 bons and so on, while on shelves at the back of the 
 room lay bales of dress goods. 
 
 "Wai, Mr. Hewlett, what have you got for me, 
 to-day?" shrilled Em. 
 
 "Thar's your paper, Miss Ufford. That's all you're 
 entitled to!" answered the Postmaster. 
 
 "Are you sure there ain't a letter concealed up your 
 sleeve, Matthias?"
 
 THE BELL 41 
 
 The broad face of Matthias Howlett beamed back 
 at her, archly, for it filled him with joy to have it 
 even hinted that such a depth of villainy might be 
 his. 
 
 "I guess if you're so sot on letters, Miss Ufford, 
 I'll hev to write you one myself, or maybe Charles 
 Reuben might be persuaded if you arst him real 
 kind!" This with a frantic upward roll of the eyes, 
 and an accompanying spasmodic motion of the mouth 
 sideways and downward; supposed to denote extreme 
 wit, in people of Mr. Howlett's walk of life. 
 
 Miss Ufford refused to see anything witty in the 
 Postmaster's allusion to Charles Reuben Isham, how 
 ever for he had been her ardent but unrequited adorer 
 for sixteen years. She endured his weekly call, re 
 garding it as a trial of patience sent directly by the 
 Lord. But, listen to his wooing? "Never!" said Em. 
 Therefore, she withered Mr. Howlett with a look, and 
 retorted in a quick, strident tone, "Seems to me some 
 folks say more'n their prayers, Mr. Howlett. Try 
 partin' your hair in the middle instead of your mouth, 
 for awhile, and see how it works !" 
 
 After relieving her mind, to this extent, she seized 
 her paper and marched out of the Post Office with her 
 head held high. 
 
 As the door slammed behind her, Mr. Howlett
 
 42 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 grinned expansively at her disappearing back, then 
 grinned all around the store at the few loafers leaning 
 on the counter or sitting near the stove all of whom 
 grinned back at him in the same bovine way, as they 
 aimed quids of tobacco at the red glow inside the open 
 stove door. 
 
 "Em don't grow mellerer as she grows old!" sighed 
 Mr. Howlett placidly, as he went back to his work of 
 sorting letters and reading post cards. 
 
 Meanwhile, at the doctor's house, great preparations 
 had been in progress for the reception of the expected 
 guests. South Wilbr'm was renowned for its fine 
 cooks, and Mrs. Sessions easily carried off the palm. 
 She had spent a good part of the day before in baking 
 cookies enough to satisfy ten small boys, and in evolv 
 ing dainties calculated to tempt Rose's slender ap 
 petite. 
 
 The kitchen was the nicest room in the Sessions' 
 house, being possessed of a huge, deep, black fireplace 
 that reached almost entirely across one end of it. This 
 fireplace was a delight to all children; and Lois, as a 
 little girl, had often played in it, to the despair of her 
 mother, who always seized her soot-covered child and 
 dragged her forth at once, to be washed, dried, and 
 again made immaculate. 
 
 The doctor came from fine old revolutionary stock,
 
 THE BELL 43 
 
 and the house was a relic of colonial times, boasting a 
 secret room, where, in olden days, the family used to 
 hide from the Indians. This was now used as a place 
 to keep preserves, dried peppers, etc. The whole house 
 was always scrupulously neat; but all luxuries had 
 long since departed from it, for the two good souls 
 who lived there were saving up every cent to keep their 
 child, Lois, in college. 
 
 Em Ufford came nearer hitting the mark than she 
 knew, when she sent, at a venture, that shaft about 
 half the town's people "not payin* a cent." There 
 were many thoroughly good people in the town, who 
 paid their debts as a matter of course; but there were 
 also many others who did not some because they 
 could not, and others because they would not. To 
 "The Doctor" it was all one if they needed him, he 
 went to them, even when he knew he would get no 
 return except the knowledge of a deed well done. 
 Helping the sick was very closely connected with his 
 religion, and he could not really separate the two. 
 
 In spite of his life of service, he and his wife had, 
 by scrimping, pinching and going shabby, managed to 
 save enough to send their pretty daughter to college 
 and keep her there not as the daughter of poor par 
 ents would be kept, ordinarily, but with every advan 
 tage, every amusement that came up, and all the
 
 44 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 pretty clothes that she desired and took as her just due. 
 Lavish expenditure on her was the one extravagance 
 the mother and father permitted themselves. 
 
 She was their idol, the pride 'of their hearts; and 
 they were never so happy, as when, questioned about 
 her by some sympathetic neighbor, they had an excuse 
 to give themselves full rein in their talk of her tri 
 umphs, educational and social. 
 
 It never occurred to them that there was anything 
 noble in the life of sacrifice they were leading for their 
 one ewe-lamb. A letter telling of a laurel won was 
 surely ample payment for wearing a shabby coat a 
 little longer! 
 
 On Rose Warren's advent to the household, she was 
 given Lois' pretty room the only one in the house 
 that had not been allowed to run to seed, so to speak. 
 Here were snowy dimity curtains, a little white bed, 
 and all the hundred and one pretty things a girl loves; 
 and the room was ever kept ready "In case Lois should^ 
 come home suddenly to surprise us." 
 
 Doctor had brought a big basket of wood upstairs 
 before starting for the Warrens, that morning, and, a 
 very few minutes after Rose's arrival, she was toast 
 ing her feet in front of her "very own fire in her very 
 own room"; as Danny, curled up beside her on the 
 floor, put it.
 
 THE BELL 45 
 
 There was a knock at the door, and Doctor appeared 
 at the threshold, laden with a tall glass full of a mys 
 terious hot drink of which he made Rose take every 
 drop, in spite of her protests. 
 
 "You are so lovely to me!" she murmured tear 
 fully. 
 
 "Lovely!" retorted the doctor. "The loveliness is 
 all on your side, in agreeing to come and help two old 
 fogeys forget that their one child is miles away. You 
 must try to feel that Danny and you belong entirely 
 to us, for this one week will you try?" 
 
 "Yes, Doctor," answered Rose meekly. 
 
 "Then go to bed at once, like a good girl, and stay 
 there all day. You'll find plenty of books to read on 
 the little shelf, if you want them but you won't want 
 them, for I prophesy that after that villainous hot 
 drink I made you take, you'll be curled up sound asleep 
 inside of ten minutes after your head touches the pil 
 low. And mind, you're not to get up again to-day. 
 Mrs. Sessions will come and stay with you, just as 
 soon as you wake up." 
 
 "But what about Danny ?" 
 
 "Danny ? Why Danny's got to drive my horse for 
 me all the way to East Longmeadow and back," an 
 swered Doctor. "Come on, son." 
 
 Danny, his face alight with the heavenly prospect
 
 46 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 of driving the doctor's big, white "Sam," gave his 
 sister a bear-like hug, and trotted happily downstairs 
 at the doctor's heels, his sorrow already forgotten in 
 the joyous prospect ahead of him.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 ROSE TAKES A WALK 
 
 "Boon !" 
 
 "Land sakes alive, Danny Warren ! You pretty near 
 knocked this pan of cake right out o' my hand ! Don't 
 you know no better'n to peek into winders an' scare 
 folks to death on bakin' day?" 
 
 "Where's Rose?" asked Danny, from outside the 
 window. "I want her." 
 
 Rose and Danny had been settled at Miss Ufford's 
 for some weeks, and Em had become Danny's abject 
 and adoring slave, although she never would have 
 admitted it and fondly imagined that she ruled him 
 with a rod of iron. 
 
 "Wai, you can't have her," snapped Em. "She's 
 in the best room, entertainin' the Minister, and they 
 don't either of 'em want a dirty- faced little boy 
 around." 
 
 "But I've brought her some flowers, Aunt Em! 
 The back lot is just full of violets and anemones, 
 and see the bunch I've got !" 
 
 Danny held up a handful of pitifully short-stemmed 
 
 47
 
 48 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 field flowers, already beginning to wilt in his warm 
 little fist, but redolent of spring. 
 
 "Wai, you just tiptoe in here and get your tin cup 
 full of water, and put 'em in that. And then, when 
 Mr. Eden goes, you can give 'em to Rose. I can't 
 leave this cake, to attend to you!" 
 
 "Is my gingerbread-man done, yet?" 
 
 "Yes, your gingerbread-man's done, an' coolin' in 
 the buttery. You just march in there on your tip 
 toes and get him, if you want him, and march right 
 out again and don't you dare come down on your 
 heels, once! If you make my cake fall you shan't have 
 one piece of it do you hear?" 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Em I've eaten his head off," in a 
 thick gingerbready voice. "Can't I please come and 
 kiss you?" 
 
 "Of course you can, you lamb! Now, run right 
 along out of this kitchen on your TIP TOES, / said 
 and don't come botherin' me any more this after 
 noon !" 
 
 Danny obeyed, and Em went peacefully on with 
 her work; but though outwardly calm, she was really 
 much excited, for this was neither the first nor the 
 second time "The Minister" had called, since Rose 
 came to live with Em. He had seen much of the 
 girl during her stay at Dr. Sessions', where he was
 
 ROSE TAKES A WALK 49 
 
 an almost daily visitor, on his way to or from the 
 Post Office. And it seemed that the habit of talking 
 to Rose was a hard one to break. 
 
 Miss Ufford, born absorber and dispenser of news, 
 did not hesitate to tell her friends that there was 
 "somethin' goin' on between Rose and Mr. Eden," 
 but how much that something meant, she had no idea, 
 and Rose never would talk about it. So Em dreamed 
 and made castles in the air, as she worked, and was 
 as happy as any designing mother could have been. 
 
 She had come to love Rose with a real mother's 
 tenderness ; and Mr. Eden was "a man any girl might 
 be proud to catch" was Em's unspoken thought as 
 she took her cake (now safely beyond the "falling"' 
 point) out of the oven. 
 
 And indeed as the minister sat opposite Rose, in 
 Em's "best room," he was truly good to look upon. 
 His six feet and two inches of height were well car 
 ried off by a pair of broad shoulders that had been 
 the pride of his trainer when he was on the college 
 crew; and Rose thought, as she looked at him, that 
 she never had imagined any one could be so alto 
 gether splendid. He had a fine, rather ascetic face, 
 dark as a Spaniard, with remarkably handsome gray 
 eyes which just at this minute were fixed on Rose; 
 with a humorous twinkle.
 
 50 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "I cannot imagine why Em always absents her 
 self, on the most absurd pretenses, whenever you 
 come!" Rose was saying. "If I didn't know that she 
 adores you, I should think that it was just one of the 
 unaccountable dislikes that she takes to new people, 
 new things, new anything." 
 
 "If that is the trouble," said Mr. Eden, "I'm trying 
 to get rid of my 'newness' just as quickly as pos 
 sible. You see it's really all your fault. You won't 
 let me come here oftener than twice a week. And, 
 until I do, Miss Ufford will persist in regarding me 
 as something new and to be avoided! How, may I 
 ask, is my newness to wear off? How am I ever 
 to become old and elect in other words, a part of 
 South Wilbr'm, in her sight, if you insist on holding 
 me off at arm's length to a petty twice a week? I 
 foresee that I shall grow to a ripe old age and come 
 tottering in here with a cane, still regarded by Miss 
 Ufford as 'new,' and therefore obnoxious and just 
 because you won't let me come often enough to get 
 acquainted." 
 
 Rose's dark eyes laughed back at him, and her face 
 broke into pretty dimples, as he brought this forlorn 
 picture before her. 
 
 "You ought to have been a lawyer, not a clergy-
 
 ROSE TAKES A WALK 51 
 
 man/' she answered. "You certainly know how to 
 argue a case." 
 
 "If I could only be sure that the jury were with 
 me?" he hazarded with a look that sent the blood to 
 Rose's cheeks on a sudden, and made her hasten to 
 add: 
 
 "Question ruled out case is adjourned besides, 
 I want to talk about something else. Did you know 
 that Lois Sessions is coming home this evening?" 
 
 "Yes, I met Doctor just starting out to drive to 
 Springfield for her. He was so happy at the thought 
 of having her home again, that he couldn't wait to 
 meet the train at East Longmeadow, he said, but must 
 go the whole ten miles!" 
 
 "Isn't that just like him! He is certainly an 
 angel. I suppose his old buggy lopped down on one 
 side just as usual he's so heavy that I always hold 
 my breath when he gets into that rickety old 'Con 
 cord,' for fear the whole thing will fall in pieces." 
 
 "Tell me about Miss Lois," said Mr. Eden. "Is 
 she really as stunning as every one says?" 
 
 "Why, haven't you seen her? Oh, no, of course 
 not I forgot that you didn't come to South Wilbr'm 
 until January; and her holidays were just over, then. 
 
 "She is my ideal, exactly," went on Rose. "She's
 
 52 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 so tall, and strong and beautiful and she does every 
 thing so well! She is the most popular girl in col 
 lege and " 
 
 "I know the rest. My sister Elizabeth happens to 
 be Dean of her college, you know, and has filled her 
 letters full of Lois Sessions, lately ever since I came 
 here, in fact. Though Elizabeth is so much the elder 
 of the two (she was twenty-four when I was born) 
 they get on awfully well together. She thinks, as 
 you do, that Miss Sessions is a paragon. Of course, 
 she is such a dear friend of my sister, and all that, 
 I shall be as nice to her as I know how; but she's 
 not the type of girl that appeals to me. I don't like 
 tall, athletic paragons. I like little, big-eyed women, 
 who pose as Stern Justice and, by the way, I don't 
 think we quite settled that matter about " 
 
 "Did you two think I was never comin' back?" 
 broke in Em's strident but hospitable tones. "I had 
 to see about my cake, and it turned out so nice I 
 thought I'd let it cool and bring you in some, and some 
 wine. You needn't be one bit afraid of the wine, Mr. 
 Eden, it's only currant, and warranted not to inebriate. 
 I made it myself out of my own currants. Now, do 
 have some !" 
 
 Mr. Eden, thus adjured, took some wine and cake, 
 after first insisting upon pouring out some of the
 
 ROSE TAKES A WALK 53 
 
 former for both Miss Ufford and Rose to Em's great 
 discomfort, for it seemed "so disrespectful to let the 
 Minister wait on a body!" 
 
 Em's "best room" was a triumph of framed mottoes 
 and "worked" footstools, chairbacks and seats, all em 
 broidered by her own hard-working fingers. 
 
 A melodeon (always alluded to in South Wilbr'm 
 as "the instrument") stood between two windows, and 
 wax flowers upheld their heads stiffly under a glass 
 case on the mantel. Above this, hung Em's most cher 
 ished possession, a "beautiful mourning piece" con 
 sisting of a picture of a luxuriant weeping willow tree 
 leaning tenderly over the left side of a very white 
 tombstone; while, on the other side, the tombstone 
 was supported by a slender and drooping lady in deep 
 est black, with a very large white handkerchief held 
 over her eyes. This prevented her identification; 
 but she was, presumably, some dead and gone ances 
 tor of Em's. Such a "mourning piece" would have 
 been the height of elegance in New England, years 
 ago, and nothing would have induced Miss Ufford 
 to part with hers, even now. 
 
 The room was austere in aspect, in spite of its 
 many adornments; but all the windows were open 
 to let in the balmy spring air and sunshine, and Rose 
 herself would have brightened any spot; for, by this
 
 54 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 time, relief from care, good nursing and youth had 
 done their work. 
 
 Miss Ufford gazed at the girl with a critical eye, 
 as the three sat talking together, and felt justly proud 
 of her efforts in the transplanting line : for Rose was 
 now the glowing embodiment of her name, and the 
 white, drooping little figure of a few weeks before was 
 hardly to be recognized in this vivid picture before 
 her. 
 
 "Have you got your Easter sermon ready, Mr. 
 Eden? You know we're all expectin' a lot, of you, 
 to-morrow !" said Em, cocking her head archly in the 
 minister's direction. 
 
 "I've done my best, Miss Ufford. And, truly, one 
 could not help feeling inspired, with the whole coun 
 try so lovely, everywhere one looks. I don't believe 
 there was ever a more beautiful spot than this 
 town." 
 
 "I'm glad you like South Wilbr'm," said Em. 
 "There's no finer place on 'arth, we think, don't we, 
 Rose?" 
 
 Rose assented to this and then said, turning to Mr. 
 Eden: 
 
 "Have you done much walking around the coun 
 try, outside the village?" 
 
 "Quite a lot," he answered. "I walked to North
 
 ROSE TAKES A WALK 55 
 
 Wilbr'm yesterday that's a good tramp, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 "It's six miles straight," put in Em, not giving 
 Rose a chance to answer the question. "It's a pretty 
 road to go on, but I never was partial to North 
 Wilbr'm too full o' rattlesnakes. D'you ever hear 
 the poem about Lieutenant Myrick's son? It begins 
 this way: 
 
 'On Wilbr'm 'mountains there did dwell 
 A likely youth was knozvn full well, 
 Lieutenant Myrick's only son 
 A likely youth nigh twenty-one. 
 i 
 
 On Friday morning he did go 
 Into the 'meadow and did mow 
 A round or two and then did feel 
 A pizen sarpint at his heel!' 
 
 I forget the rest of the poetry, but 'twas all true, any 
 way, for my grandmother merried his great uncle for 
 her third husband; and the story's come right down 
 on both sides of the house. 
 
 "He got bit by a rattlesnake while he was a-mowin', 
 and he zigzagged across the cornfield, tryin' to get 
 home; a-callin' out as he went. They tracked him by 
 the way the cornstalks was matted down. He never 
 got to the house but just laid right down on a rock
 
 56 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 and died, a-callin' out to tell the girl he loved that he 
 loved her still, and should ha'nt her if she ever tried 
 to merry. Some say she come up and tried to save 
 his life by suckin' out the poison, and swallowed it, and 
 died by his side. But the common version is, she went 
 into a decline and died for love I reckon the fear 
 of bein' ha'nted had a good deal to do with it 
 
 "It's all printed in a song book; an' folks used to 
 sing it at Church Socials when I was as young as 
 Rosie here! You can see the rock, any day, if you 
 cross the Myrick lot to the left of the North Wilbr'm 
 road as you rise to the top of the hill. 
 
 "Oh, North Wilbr'm used to be infested with rep 
 tiles I do' no's it is now. But once they was havin' a 
 Baptist immersion in the river. All was a-goin' well, 
 when one of the brothers I ain't afraid to tell who 
 'twas, either old Root he thought he'd be on the 
 safe side and be baptized in all the townships that come 
 his way (and Lord knows it would take a good many 
 baptisms to wash his soul clean). Wai, he'd been 
 a-lookin' on, interested, and, as 'twas his turn, he was 
 called upon to come forth and be baptized. The min 
 ister, all drippin', waded towards the bank, and held 
 out an encouragin' hand to help the brother in. 
 
 "At this, old Root suddenly let out a yell and says, 
 *I shan't go in!'
 
 ROSE TAKES A WALK 57 
 
 " 'Why, Brother !' says the minister, all shocked. 
 'What do I hear?' 
 
 '"I Shan't go in!' 
 
 " 'You amaze me !' cries the parson. 'Do you mean 
 to say the Lord ain't called you?' 
 
 " 'He's called me, sure enough, but I ain't a-goin' !' 
 shouts old Root, a-shovin' back to git out o' reach 
 o' the minister's hand; while the crowd on the bank 
 pushed him nearer an' nearer the edge for there 
 wa'n't one there didn't want to see him get a good 
 duckin' for once in his life. 
 
 " 'Once for all will you come?' shouted the min 
 ister. 
 
 " 'I shan't go in I shan't go in/ whines old Root, 
 once more, now shiverin' from head to foot from 
 fright. 'Paul Langdon killed three water snakes in 
 that thar' very spot where you're a-standin' ' (at that 
 the minister jumps sideways) 'and I shan't go in !' 
 
 "With that he slips under the elbows of the crowd 
 and, 'fore they knows it, he's disappeared a slippery 
 reptile afraid of his kind. 
 
 "I hope I ain't shocked you, Mr. Eden?" concluded 
 Em anxiously, having been so carried away by her 
 story that she had quite forgotten she was talking 1 
 to a clergyman. 
 
 "Do I look it ?" said Mr. Eden, checking his laugh-
 
 58 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 ter long enough to reply, then going off into another 
 peal at the remembrance of the persistent "I shan't 
 go in!" 
 
 "Em has more good stories up her sleeve than any 
 one I know," said Rose. "Think what fun it is to 
 live with her !" 
 
 "How do you like the way the ladies have trimmed 
 the church?" said Em, modestly changing the subject. 
 "Don't you think they done well that is, as far as 
 they've went?" 
 
 "Indeed I do and that reminds me aren't you and 
 Miss Rose going to come and help us put on the fin 
 ishing touches? I promised Mrs. Sessions and Miss 
 Beebe that I'd look in, this evening, with a stepladder, 
 and put up the long festoons that are to go over the 
 windows and I know I'll never be able to get them 
 up evenly without you to tell me when I'm doing 
 wrong !" 
 
 Both Miss Ufford and Rose started to speak at once, 
 but Rose got in ahead, and, with a mischievous look 
 at Em, said : 
 
 "I'll be delighted to come, Mr. Eden, but Miss Uf 
 ford has a pressing engagement at home " 
 
 "Rosie Warren, don't you dare go off and leave 
 me alone with that man again!" Em fairly shouted. 
 "You know he never misses a Saturday night, an'
 
 ROSE TAKES A WALK 59 
 
 'tain't fair for you to desert me when I've stood by 
 you through thick and thin!" 
 
 Rose and Mr. Eden went into shrieks of laughter, 
 while Em glared wildly from one Jo the other and 
 sought in vain for arguments that would persuade 
 Rose to stay and bear half the burden of Charles Reu 
 ben Isham's inevitable Saturday night call. 
 
 "I'm still in the dark, Miss Ufford, as to why you 
 don't come with us," said the minister. "Mr. Isham 
 hasn't said he was coming to-night, has he?" 
 
 "No, he hain't said so in so many words, but he's 
 been a-comin' every Saturday night regular, for sixteen 
 years, an' my New England conscience won't let me 
 go out when I know he's sure to call! Was ever a 
 body so pestered as I am? Now, so long's Rose is 
 here, he don't do nothin' worse than shift from one 
 foot to the other, an' toss his hat round an' round 
 in his hands ; but just the minute he gets settin' alone 
 with me a short spell, he begins a-spoutin' poetry till 
 I declar' it does seem as if I am tried beyond my 
 strength !" 
 
 Here Rose and Mr. Eden laughed again, and Rose 
 with a show of great resignation agreed to stay at 
 home and play gooseberry: but this was not accord 
 ing to Mr. Eden's program at all, and finally, after 
 much pleading, he brought Em to see that the church
 
 60 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 really needed Rose, and that the greens could not 
 be put in place properly without her; and that Miss 
 Ufford's "New England conscience" could not consist 
 ently let her stand in the way of the church's good; 
 so it was arranged that Rose should spend the evening 
 at the church with the other young people, while Em, 
 the light of battle in her eye, prepared to hold the fort 
 at home. 
 
 As Rose and Mr. Eden came out of the church door 
 after the decorating was finished, the minister stopped 
 and gazed up at the starlit sky. 
 
 "It's too beautiful to go home, yet," he said, turn 
 ing to Rose. "Let's take a walk I want to talk to 
 you" 
 
 "I mustn't stay out long," answered the girl as she 
 fell in beside him, "or Aunt Em will worry; she's al 
 ways imagining I'm taking cold or running into some 
 sort of absurd danger, if I'm out five minutes longer 
 than she expects; but it is such a splendiferous night 
 I'll walk over the bridge with you !" 
 
 "Just that much?" Philip objected plaintively. "All 
 right, you nice but stingy girl, I'll try to be thankful 
 for small mercies. I don't believe you like walking 
 with me a bit," he went on, looking down at the very 
 small person beside him. Then he added, wickedly, "I
 
 ROSE TAKES A WALK 61 
 
 know you don't, for you won't even keep step with 
 me!" 
 
 "Well, how is any one to keep step with a great 
 tall, long-legged thing like you?" flashed Rose, with 
 a mischievous little smile that the moon (oldest match 
 maker of us all) caught and held long enough for 
 Philip to see. 
 
 "I don't want 'any one' to keep step with me," the 
 man said softly. "I only want you to!" and with 
 quickened breath he gathered the slender little hand 
 nearest him into his big palm; and still keeping close 
 hold of it he slipped Rose's arm under his own. 
 
 "This is better, isn't it you funny little bit of a 
 big-eyed girl?" he asked, looking down into the face 
 upturned to his. "If if I try to walk less like a 
 giraffe, do you think you can keep step with me? 
 Shorter steps are better anyway," he added, "for we 
 won't come to the bridge quite so soon then." 
 
 But to both of them it seemed that they came to 
 the bridge very soon, indeed. There, by tacit consent, 
 they stopped, and leaned over the low parapet to gaze 
 into the river as it gleamed, clear, and silvery brown, 
 in the shimmering moonlight. 
 
 "It's a dear river," said Rose finally, in a dreamy 
 voice. "I've always loved it. Some rivers are murky 
 and creepy and treacherous looking ; but this is so clear
 
 62 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 and clean and honest, somehow! It's like looking 
 right down into a beautiful heart that has nothing to 
 conceal." 
 
 "No one but you would ever have thought of it," 
 said Philip. "It's because you have that sort of a 
 heart, yourself. Oh, little Rose," he whispered huskily, 
 "you don't know what it has meant to me to find you 
 here! I was so sort of lonely and homesick when I 
 first came, and so afraid I couldn't make good." 
 
 "I know," said Rose. "I knew all the time how 
 hard it must be for you, and yet I knew, too, that 
 you were going to make good." Impulsively she pat 
 ted Philip's arm with her free hand. Whereat, that 
 was also seized and imprisoned. 
 
 "It was you who helped me to succeed, if I have suc 
 ceeded," Philip went on. "Just you ! You taught me 
 really to know all the dear, queer people in this town 
 you told me things about them that helped that 
 I couldn't have found out, myself, in ten years and 
 that made it possible for me to understand and help 
 them." 
 
 "It's just because " 
 
 "It's just because you are you" interrupted Philip, 
 "and I need you very much. Promise to keep on help 
 ing me and promise never to call me Mr. Eden again 
 just 'Philip* and never to go away from South
 
 ROSE TAKES A WALK 63 
 
 Wilbr'm and promise no, I I can't ask you that 
 last promise, for I've no right. I'm not even an or 
 dained minister, yet; but I guess you know how I 
 I feel about you don't you?" 
 
 "Dear Philip," said Rose quietly, though her hand 
 trembled in his, "of course I'll go on helping you, all 
 I can! I'd do that, anyway, without any promise 
 you know that ; but you are not going to need me, or 
 any one, long; for you're going to be a great man; 
 and do big things in the world. I'm as sure of it," 
 the little prophetess went on, "as I am that the moon 
 is shining on that big bowlder over there by the wa 
 ter's edge. But I'm so proud to have you think you 
 need me just as proud as if you really did !" And for 
 the second time that evening the moon surprised her 
 in a smile only this time the smile was not mis 
 chievous. It was very tender and a tiny bit sad. 
 
 "Rose," burst out Philip, "I I have everything in 
 the world to tell you and to ask you and I haven't 
 any right yet " 
 
 "Then don't tell me anything more," Rose mur 
 mured, hesitatingly. "To-night is so perfect. The 
 loveliest Easter Eve I've ever known. Let's keep it 
 just as it is!" Then, speaking more lightly, "Shall we 
 be like Joe Gargery and Pip 'Ever the best of 
 friends'?"
 
 64 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "Ever the best of friends," answered Philip ear 
 nestly, "you little saint!" 
 
 They turned back over the bridge, and hardly spoke 
 during the short walk up the hill to Em's house; but 
 when they reached the door, Philip seemed to find it 
 very hard to leave. 
 
 "Rose " he began. 
 
 "Ever the best of friends. Good-night !" whispered 
 Rose, laughing a little. "Now say it!" 
 
 "Ever the best of friends. Good-night," Philip 
 whispered obediently. 
 
 "Good-night, little Rose," he said softly to the closed 
 door, as he started down the hill
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 EM "ENTERTAINS COMPANY" 
 
 EM'S stay-at-home evening had not been lonely; 
 though moonlight had played far less part in it than 
 in Rose's homeward walk with Philip. 
 
 Promptly at eight o'clock the door bell rang, and 
 in walked Charles Reuben Isham, self-styled "Poet 
 Laureate of South Wilbr'm and Bard of the 
 World." 
 
 No matter what the time of day, Charles Reuben 
 always wore a shiny frock coat; and, balanced jauntily 
 on the extreme right side of his head, a shiny high 
 hat. To-night his fancy light cravat was ornamented 
 by a large horse-shoe scarf-pin; this coquettish touch 
 being added in the hope of pleasing Em. He was 
 pathetic, but he did not know it. 
 
 As Em, kerosene lamp in hand, ushered him into 
 the best room, and then set the lamp on the center 
 table, he flashed a smile made brilliant by two rows 
 of tiny, dazzling, blue- white false teeth. Then, as she 
 composed herself (on the most uncomfortable chair 
 she could find) to listen to the "Pearls of thought"' 
 
 6s
 
 66 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 (as Charles Reuben himself would have styled them) 
 about to issue from between the pearly teeth, he be 
 gan: 
 
 "It's a fine evenin', Em!" 
 
 "You don't say! Now, however could you hev 
 thought of anything so original to speak about? 
 You'll burst your brain, Charles Reuben, if it con 
 tains such great thoughts you'd better take care." 
 
 "Oh, it don't trouble me at all, Em," answered 
 Charles Reuben innocently. "My thoughts run that 
 way, unbeknownst. Wakin' and sleepin' I'm a poet, 
 but most of all, I'm inspired by you why, this very 
 night, as I was a-comin' " 
 
 "Look out " broke in Em. "For the land's sake, 
 Charles Reuben, you nearly upset my best lamp onto 
 the floor! If you must rock so hard, do move the 
 rocker away from the table, or you'll upset the whole 
 thing and I'll have a house a-fire !" 
 
 "I venture to inquire if this house is insured, 
 Em?" 
 
 "Yes, it is insured, but what's that to you, Charles 
 Reuben? If you wa'n't so interested in other people's 
 business, maybe you'd hev time to do a little more 
 of your own, once in a while, an' not set around all 
 day and write them frightful rhymes an' let your poor, 
 hard-workin' sister take care of you an' she a widder
 
 EM "ENTERTAINS COMPANY" 67 
 
 woman and as good as gold! I declar' it's a shame, 
 an' I don't know why I keep on a-lettin' you come here 
 it seems almost a slight to your sister, Experience, 
 me lettin' you keep on comin'; an' we might's well 
 hev an end of it right here an' now!" 
 
 "Oh, Experience, she she likes to have me come 
 here, Em. She's hopin' you'll take a fancy to me one 
 of these days!" Charles Reuben said, pausing with a 
 roguish look. 
 
 "Oh, law, Charles Reuben! You might's well give 
 over that kind o' talk. My independence is too good 
 to throw away. All your talkin' an' hintin' won't help 
 you, for it takes three to make a pair countin' in 
 the minister, and that sum's too complicated for me 
 to attempt first or last. Any fool can get merried, 
 Charles Reuben. It don't take no knack at all. Take 
 my advice and keep out of it. Why, even Adam had 
 his little troubles, I'll warrant and look how much 
 worse off he was after he merried Eve ! They hadn't 
 been merried any time at all, before she began pes- 
 terin' him about settin' a more elaborate table; fruit 
 for breakfast and all that! Next, come her winter 
 wardrobe! He never thought of that when he was 
 a-courtin' her, you may be sure. So be content to stay 
 single, as I am and spend your time a-helpin' Ex 
 perience. She needs you an' I don't, that's sure 1"
 
 68 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "She's very fond of me," the poet answered re 
 proachfully. "And she thinks Charles Reuben Isham 
 oughtn't stoop to do chores or work around the place ! 
 It would break her heart to have me ! She appreciates 
 my poems. And, by the way ah " (drawing a 
 folded piece of foolscap from his pocket) "here is a 
 little thing that formed in my brain as I wandered 
 down this evenin' I stopped in the Post Office and 
 wrote it. I should like to read it to you." 
 
 Em folded her arms and sat bolt upright, with the 
 distant light of a martyr in her protruding eyes and 
 her mouth shut just as tightly as possible. 
 
 "Ahem!" (crossing his knees slowly and with great 
 care) : 
 
 "The eve is fair, the "breezes blow, 
 The Poet is going to see his love, you know. 
 Her eyes are blue and her name is Em, 
 Her lips have roses painted on them" 
 
 (Here Em jumped forward but he calmly explained 
 with a wave of the hand "Figurative roses figura 
 tive roses " and she subsided.) 
 
 "The moon comes up and says to me 
 How can Miss Ufford so hard-hearted be? 
 I know many maidens who proud would be 
 To wed with thee, O Bard so free!
 
 EM "ENTERTAINS COMPANY" 69 
 
 "But her heart so good is all made of stone 
 And rather than marry me she prefers to live alone, 
 While forever must I over the whole world roam, 
 Just because Em Ufford refuses to give me a home! 
 "Signed, Charles Reuben Isham." 
 
 His effusions were always signed orally in this 
 way. 
 
 With a killing look at Em, Charles Reuben folded 
 up the paper and unfolded his legs. Rising, he pre 
 sented the poem to Em, with a deep bow. 
 
 "Am I to add this to my collection?" said Em 
 tartly. 
 
 "If you'd be so obligin'," answered Charles Reu 
 ben, resuming his seat. "My heart is in that poem 
 entwined. Cherish it well if so inclined. 
 
 We're growing older every day 
 
 Take care you don't throw your very last chance away! 
 
 See how easy it comes? I can't talk out o' poetry 
 when basking in the light " 
 
 "Now, Charles Reuben Isham, don't go too far. 
 You're welcome to come here, if it does you any good, 
 an' you're welcome to a chair in my best room and 
 the light of my parlor lamp; but don't you abuse your 
 privileges. The Lord didn't give me a taste for your 
 poetry he give me common sense hard common
 
 70 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 sense, instead and that's a good deal more fillin' in 
 the long run, I'll venture to say. Now I don't intend 
 to listen to any more lines about my 'painted lips,' 
 or hints about my age I'm younger 5 n you are by three 
 years; but aside from the verse makin' an' general 
 shiftlessness, I've no objection to you. So, as long's 
 you're here, just come down to 'arth and talk so plain 
 folks can listen to you comfortably." 
 
 Charles Reuben surreptitiously patted an inside 
 pocket, where lay another poetic effusion, and with 
 deep regret resigned himself to the will of his adored 
 one. He confined his conversation to ordinary topics, 
 for the rest of the evening, albeit he punctuated his 
 remarks with such lovelorn looks that if Miss Ufford 
 had not a "heart all made of stone" she must certainly 
 have been moved to relenting. 
 
 As the clock struck ten, Charles Reuben got up, said 
 good-night, and started for home. This he had done 
 for sixteen years, even as he always made his appear 
 ance at the appointed moment. Apparently, he thought 
 being bullied by Em for two hours every week was the 
 height of bliss; for he always beamed graciously, on 
 the surrounding landscape, all the way home after 
 an evening spent in this way. 
 
 "There's a lampful of good oil wasted," said Em 
 to herself as she blew out the parlor light, "but I
 
 EM "ENTERTAINS COMPANY" 71 
 
 suppose it does the poor critter good to come here 
 once in a while. Painted roses huh!" 
 
 And with that she locked the windows and went 
 upstairs to bed.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 "THE YEAR OF JUBILEE is COME!" 
 
 IT was Easter morning and the sweet-toned church 
 bells were all ringing. There were four of them, for, 
 although a tiny village, South Wilbr'm boasted of four 
 churches : Congregational, Methodist, Baptist, and Ro 
 man Catholic. The townspeople could easily have been 
 welded into one good-sized congregation ; and on Sun 
 day evenings the Protestants combined in a Union 
 Meeting; held alternately in each of the three churches. 
 But for morning service the dividing line of doctrinal 
 teaching was very tightly drawn and each shepherd 
 ministered unto his own flock in his own place of 
 worship. 
 
 The Congregational Church, a quaint old-fashioned 
 building, was the largest of the three, and held the big 
 gest membership roll; although until Mr. Eden came 
 to town the church had been more than half empty, 
 most of the time. He had done much to build up 
 the attendance, even in the few months he had been 
 with the people; for they were judges of good preach- 
 
 72
 
 "THE YEAR OF JUBILEE IS COME!" 73 
 
 ing; and Philip Eden was a sincere, deep-thinking 
 man, with a magnetic personality. 
 
 On this particular morning, he was feeling a trifle 
 nervous; for it was to be his first Easter sermon and 
 he knew how much was expected of him. 
 
 As he sat behind the high old-fashioned pulpit, he 
 watched the entrance of the people from the two doors 
 at the back of the church. A short flight of steps 
 led to the auditorium from the vestibule below, where 
 the bell-ringer stood methodically pulling the long 
 rope; and greeting the incomers, every one, by name. 
 
 In the organ loft the choir were already gathered, 
 and Mrs. Sessions, who was a born musician, was 
 getting all the music possible out of the wheezy old 
 reed-organ. She and the choir often got into heated 
 arguments anent the church music. As it was a case 
 of three to one, Mrs. Sessions was almost invariably 
 a small but select minority regarding the choice of 
 anthems; but she reigned supreme when it came to 
 organ solos. And, this morning, with the softer stops 
 of the organ on, she was playing Mendelssohn's 
 "Spring Song" delightfully. 
 
 It seemed to Mr. Eden that nothing could be love 
 lier than the world about him. The quaint old 
 church, all sweet with spring flowers and Easter dec 
 orations, the mellow church bell, the warm sunshine,
 
 74 
 
 and through the open windows the sight of the eternal 
 
 hills, and the soft blue sky beyond. 
 
 Up the stairs came a steady creak of Sunday boots, 
 as one farmer after another tiptoed to his pew. Every 
 where were Easter bonnets and gay attire, and a gen 
 eral air of expectancy and interest as each new step 
 was heard. 
 
 Em Ufford, in rustling black silk and with white 
 lace at throat and wrists, was in her place, with her 
 two proteges beside her. 
 
 Rose, soft-eyed and gentle, looked as sweet as the 
 big bunch of arbutus she wore ; and many glances were 
 cast her way by admiring South Wilbr'm swains. 
 
 Just in front of the Ufford pew sat benign Deacon 
 Cone, with Mrs. Cone and their large family of sons 
 the latter all home from various parts of the United 
 States for Easter Sunday. 
 
 The Deacon and his wife looked beatifically happy, 
 and the Cone boys created quite a flutter among the 
 feminine portion of the congregation. 
 
 On the opposite side of the church sat Mrs. Cur 
 rier stone deaf ; but who never missed a service. She 
 was quite bald ; but had a curious stubble of gray beard 
 about her chin. She was regarded as a witch by the 
 children because of this, and the fact that she kept 
 twenty cats, and was never known to talk to any one,
 
 "THE YEAR OF JUBILEE IS COME!" 75 
 
 except these cats, now presumably shut up in the 
 house and wailing for her return. 
 
 Danny sat gazing across at her with big, round, 
 rather frightened eyes, and grabbed Rose's arm, as 
 "Mis' Currier," attracted by his stare, turned her per 
 fectly harmless but fierce-looking gaze in his direc 
 tion. 
 
 Behind her was the Sessions pew, still empty, as 
 Mrs. Sessions was at the organ and the doctor was 
 always late. There was much speculation whether 
 Lois would be there, and what she would have on. 
 
 A few seats back of the Sessions pew sat Charles 
 Reuben, in the inevitable frock coat, and with him 
 his sister or rather, there was his sister and with her 
 Charles Reuben; for she it was who paid the pew 
 rent, paid for Charles Reuben's clothes for every 
 thing, in fact, pertaining to either of them. She was 
 a rather pretty, faded little woman of fifty-odd years, 
 much given to big sashes, pale blue bows and other 
 infantine and coquettish styles of dress. As Em once 
 said, "What come out in Charles Reuben as poems, 
 come out in his sister Experience as sash ribbons!" 
 She also carried a palpably affected lisp, and when 
 ever and as long as she spoke, her eyelids kept up 
 a frantic flutter ("like lightning," as Danny had re 
 marked), but every one forgave her her affectations,
 
 76 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 for she was a devoted sister to Charles Reuben, and 
 one of the hardest-working, most capable women in the 
 church. 
 
 She had a brave spirit that had carried her through 
 much trouble. 
 
 As the hands of the clock pointed to half after ten, 
 the bell stopped ringing and Mrs. Sessions played the 
 opening strains of the Doxology. Rising and turn 
 ing their backs on the minister and facing the organ 
 loft, the congregation burst into song. 
 
 Out above the whole assembly soared the fog-horn 
 voice of Jane Bliss, standing in the very center of 
 the choir loft, and flanked on one side by Calista Beebe, 
 on the other by Alonzo Day. 
 
 The congregation did its best, but one might as well 
 try to sing against a cyclone as against Jane Bliss, 
 and at the end of the stanza, people resumed their 
 seats with a sigh of relief. 
 
 In the responsive reading, Deacon Cone's pleasant 
 voice always led the worshipers in answer to Mr. 
 Eden's; while Em Ufford chimed in a close second, 
 and the rest of the congregation followed on as best 
 they could, like a flock of scrambling sheep. Where 
 the verbal ground was particularly rough, there was 
 considerable scattering among some of the slow farm 
 ers from "over East," whose schooling had left much
 
 "THE YEAR OF JUBILEE IS COME!" 77 
 
 to be desired. However, they made up for sliding over 
 the long words they didn't know, by coming in dou 
 bly strong on the short words they did know, and 
 the fervor of the responses remained, as a whole, un- 
 diminished. 
 
 Thus the service progressed according to time- 
 honored custom. 
 
 Mr. Eden was in the midst of the beautiful Easter 
 chapter, the twentieth of John, when, hearing a slight 
 rustle, he glanced up mechanically from the open 
 page. 
 
 Miss Ufford, whose gaze had been fixed on him, 
 followed the direction of his look, and saw that the 
 late comer was Lois Sessions, who, slipping quietly 
 into her father's pew, returned the young minister's 
 accidental glance with frank interest. 
 
 Lois' worst enemy could not have called her less 
 than beautiful. Mrs. Sessions had been a beauty, and 
 was still a fine-looking woman. Lois had her moth 
 er's classic features, with her father's tall, strong body. 
 Her fluffy, golden hair, fair skin and deep brown eyes 
 were never lovelier than on that Easter morning, set 
 off, as they were, by a big black hat. She wore a 
 perfectly plain light-gray suit, the only touch of color 
 besides her flower face being a bunch of crocuses. 
 
 Em whispered to Rose: "She looks quiet enough,
 
 78 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 but I'll bet that tailor suit cost seventy-five dollars, 
 if it cost a cent and I'll bet her father and mother 
 went without new shoes to get it, too !" 
 
 Lois undoubtedly produced a sensation all over the 
 church; but suddenly, attention was diverted into an 
 other channel. People sat bolt upright. Something 
 was happening to the choir. They were in the midst 
 of a nerve-wracking Easter anthem, when the organ 
 gave a groan, shivered down the descending scale, and 
 stopped ! The voices trailed off into nothingness, and 
 their owners turned around to glare at the offending 
 "instrument." 
 
 Mrs. Sessions thumped and pushed with all her 
 might; but no music was forthcoming, and she was 
 forced to give up in despair. 
 
 Any other choir would have been discouraged at 
 such action on the part of the fussy, officious organ; 
 not so this choir! Presently, the clump-clumping of 
 descending feet, shod in country boots, was heard, and 
 simultaneously the rustling of Sunday silks. The 
 choir were coming downstairs, led by the organist! 
 
 With head up, red of face, but undaunted; Easter 
 bonnets shaking with the defiant tread of the owners, 
 they marched along the side aisle, and up to the front 
 of the church, by the pulpit, where stood a piano, for 
 use in Sunday School and Young People's Meetings.
 
 "THE YEAR OF JUBILEE IS COME!" 79 
 
 This, Mrs. Sessions quickly took possession of, gave 
 the word, and the choir once more started off in the 
 race, picking up the thread of their interrupted dis 
 course just where it had broken off in the middle of 
 a phrase ! 
 
 A number of small boys giggled, Danny among 
 them; but the rest of the congregation took the per 
 formance philosophically. They were too used to hav 
 ing the organ go on strike and the choir descend to 
 the ranks, to be greatly excited. 
 
 No one was disappointed in the- sermon. Philip 
 Eden distinguished himself. His address was worthy 
 of an older and far more experienced man. It was 
 a sermon of peace and love and good-will, with an 
 earnest plea to all to profit by the significance of the 
 Resurrection to start afresh in the light of Christ's 
 redeeming love, leaving all sin and darkness be 
 hind. 
 
 There was no one in the church who did not feel 
 the better for that sermon. 
 
 Not until the last singing (during which the con 
 gregation always remained seated) did Mr. Eden trust 
 himself to look at Rose; but when the multitude struck 
 out on Wesley's grand old hymn, "Blow ye the trum 
 pet, blow !" then he looked at her he could not help 
 it! Over the top of her hymn book she looked at
 
 8o THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 him, and in that look time and space were swallowed 
 up, for both of them. All they knew was that many 
 voices, as of angels (theirs among the number, though 
 they were not conscious of it) were singing, "The 
 Year of Jubilee is come the Year of Jubilee is come !" 
 and to them it was all heavenly joy. 
 
 To their dying day, neither of them was to forget 
 that hymn. 
 
 Church over and the benediction pronounced, every 
 one gathered in and around the vestibule for a little 
 neighborly exchange of greeting, before separating 
 until evening worship. Mr. Eden was introduced to 
 Lois by the doctor; who had tiptoed into church when 
 the service was nearly finished, having been detained 
 by a very sick patient "over the mountain." 
 
 As the three stood talking, Em came along and 
 joined them. She always walked home from church 
 with "Doctor's folks," as Rose and Danny stayed to 
 Sunday School. Rose had charge of the infant class, 
 and was properly adored by one and all of her 
 scholars. 
 
 Em and the doctor started on ahead, while Lois, 
 waiting for her mother, stood chatting with Philip. 
 
 In a moment Mrs. Sessions came rushing up to say 
 that the sexton had promised to fix the organ before 
 Sunday School began, and she didn't dare leave him
 
 "THE YEAR OF JUBILEE IS COME!" Ci 
 
 alone "for fear he'd ruin it forever!" So Lois and 
 the young man wandered through the village together 
 toward the Sessions' house, where the minister always 
 took his Sunday dinner.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ON THE DOCTOR'S LAWN 
 
 "IT'S awfully nice really to meet you at last, Miss 
 Sessions; I've heard so much about you from my sis 
 ter," Philip was saying. 
 
 "No doubt she has made me out a paragon," an 
 swered Lois. "Just as she has exalted you to the 
 skies whenever she has spoken of you to me. Now, 
 we've got to make it the business of our lives to find 
 out how wrong she is, I suppose. That's the way peo 
 ple always do when they're brought together with the 
 command, 'Now like one another ' and they invaria 
 bly end by hating each other it never fails!" 
 
 "Miss Sessions ! You frighten me to death ! Don't 
 you suppose that if we try solemnly to forget every 
 word of Elizabeth's flights of eloquence, we can pos 
 sibly live the effects of it down? I'll try if you will 
 here's my hand on it !" 
 
 Lois instantly put out her shapely hand in its long 
 gray glove, and it was swallowed up in the minister's 
 big brown fingers, while with a whimsical little laugh 
 the girl gave her companion an inscrutable look which 
 
 82
 
 ON THE DOCTOR'S LAWN 83 
 
 set him to wondering. He joined in the laugh, how 
 ever, and somehow after that they felt as if they 
 had known each other for years. 
 
 "Tell me, honestly," Lois said, "what do you think 
 of South Wilbr'm and South Wilbr'm people ? Don't 
 give me a politic answer, but a really true one !" 
 
 "My really true answer is that South Wilbr'm is 
 the dearest, quaintest little hamlet I've ever been in 
 and the people are dear and quaint too, and of splen 
 did New England stock, withal !" 
 
 "It is a dear place, in a way, but it's all so deadly 
 slow !" said Lois with a pretty but jather scornful twist 
 of her very expressive eyebrows. "It's all part of a 
 sweet picture, but to live in heavens! I confess 
 frankly that the place and the people bore me to death !" 
 
 Philip was a little surprised, for he genuinely loved 
 the old. town and its good folk ; but his momentary 
 feeling of dismay was utterly lost in the charitable 
 thought that the glamor cast by the girl's happy, busy, 
 college life must, of necessity, make everything else 
 seem dull by comparison, until time should give her 
 the right perspective. 
 
 Lois was not slow to see that she had made a wrong 
 turning, and quickly recovered the ground she had 
 lost by showing a pretty interest in the Minister's 
 church plans and his work among the poor.
 
 8 4 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 At this point, the distant back of the massive doc 
 tor, and that of little, bent Miss Ufford, were seen 
 to turn in at the Sessions' house, and go toward a 
 group of chairs that always stood invitingly on the 
 center of the lawn in pleasant weather, mutely express 
 ing the warm-hearted hospitality of their owners, to all 
 who would profit thereby. 
 
 The doctor ambled along in a large easy manner, 
 while Em hopped quickly up and down by his side, 
 trying to keep pace with him. 
 
 "Did you ever see anything so lovely as Em Uf- 
 ford's walk?" asked Lois. "That's her Sunday 
 walk" 
 
 "Why Sunday, any more than any other day?" 
 asked Eden. 
 
 "I don't know, except that I've noticed it ever since 
 I was a little girl. That extra hitch to the shoulders 
 is brought out and put on with her black silk frock 
 on Sunday morning and, presumably, laid away with 
 it on Sunday night. I never knew any one so con 
 sistently put together as Em. Her thin, sharp nose 
 is just like her thin, sharp voice. Her thin, sharp voice 
 is just like the sharp things she says out of her thin 
 lips. Her thin, sharp chin is just like her thfn, sharp 
 shoulders, and her walk is just like all the rest of
 
 ON THE DOCTOR'S LAWN 85, 
 
 her, even to the way she puts down her thin, sharp 
 feet. I'm always more or less afraid of her, some 
 way. I shall never understand how she came to take 
 Rose Warren and Danny under her wing she's the 
 last person I should suspect of anything of that kind; 
 but I suppose Dad had a hand in it, didn't he? He 
 thinks and breathes for this village, poor Dad!" 
 
 "Yes, your father had a hand in it, but Em had a 
 heart in it, as well; and she has given those two chil 
 dren more mothering than they've had in years. She's. 
 a staunch soul I hope you'll really get to know her 
 some day." 
 
 "Evidently you deem it an honor," said Lois with 
 a sweet laugh that robbed the words of any sarcastic 
 tinge the minister might have fancied lay therein. 
 
 There was something about Lois' laugh that could 
 carry her through anything, for its descending chro 
 matic had such a ring of youth and happiness about 
 it that one could not help loving her for it, whatever 
 she might say or do. 
 
 Her father looked up, on hearing it, and the tender 
 expression with which he invariably regarded his child 
 was mingled with one of pride, as she and Mr. Eden 
 swung easily onto the lawn and up to where Em and 
 the doctor waited.
 
 86 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 Em, for some unaccountable reason, was not over- 
 pleased to see the two young people on such exceed 
 ingly good terms. She remarked: 
 
 "Wai, you certainly do grow an inch or two every 
 time I see you, Lois Sessions! You'll be as tall as 
 the Minister by the time you're thirty!" 
 
 "Tall girls are the fashion now, Em," said Lois 
 calmly, "and really, I'm not a bit sorry, for one can 
 always look down on one's smaller neighbors. That's 
 a comfort, don't you think?" 
 
 "Times are changed, and I suppose you play foot 
 ball and all the things that would of bin a disgrace 
 when we was young wouldn't they, Doctor ?" 
 
 "Yes, they would," assented the doctor, "but on the 
 whole I think the new times are better than the old, 
 though" (with a twinkle in his eye as he glanced at his 
 goddess-like daughter) "it's not to be denied that girls 
 don't get married as early in life as they used to. 
 They're so busy getting higher education that they 
 haven't time for anything else." 
 
 "In my day," said Em, "in my day, the young ladies 
 sat up and worked samplers and done their stents with 
 out any nonsense about higher education !" 
 
 By this time the little circle had grown bigger by 
 the arrival of Charles Reuben (who had espied Em 
 from afar) and his sister; but Em, having become
 
 ON THE DOCTOR'S LAWN 87 
 
 interested in her subject, paid no attention to them 
 and went right on: 
 
 "Girls was girls, then, and was content to be, with 
 out havin' to race all over lots after a ball, or wear 
 short skirts and bloomers. Give me the good old days 
 when women wa'n't so anxious to be prominent out 
 doors but was content to strive in the home an' know 
 somethin' about the house! I don't intend that Rose 
 Warren shall be spoilt by any such new-fangled no 
 tions!" 
 
 "With all due respect to you, Em," said Lois, "if 
 you teach Rose to sit and mope in the house and do 
 'stents' and things, she'll have the joy of sitting there 
 in single blessedness all the days of her natural life, 
 nobody wants to marry a prude, nowadays." 
 
 "I thank my stars that my Rosie ain't the merryin' 
 kind!" retorted Em with a toss of her head and a 
 glance of blue lightning which made Lois feel that 
 perhaps she had let her tongue run away with her. 
 The lightning was aimed ostensibly at Lois; but it 
 took in the whole circle. Eden felt it, and it caused 
 him to redden a little, he could not have told why. The 
 doctor felt it, and instantly knew he was intended to 
 do so because he dared to be the father of Lois. 
 Charles Reuben's sister, poor little Experience Lee, felt 
 it and instantly withered, knowing herself guilty to the
 
 88 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 extent of being decidedly the "merryin' kind" hav 
 ing given her hand and heart to John Lee at the age 
 of sixteen. Charles Reuben felt it both directly and 
 indirectly. Directly, because every one knew he had 
 been trying to marry Em for years, and indirectly, as 
 he feared that Em's words showed an unalterable re 
 solve to stay single. He decided it was time for a 
 radical change of subject, and so, turning to Lois with 
 an elaborate bow, he said: 
 
 "Miss Sessions, knowing the honor to be placed upon 
 this town of South Wilbr'm by the contemplated re 
 turn of one so fair and also young, I have dared to 
 pen and pencil some lines in honor of the occasion, 
 which to the tune of 'Old Hundred' can be sung!" 
 
 Every one sat down at this, not feeling able to bear 
 it standing. Charles Reuben faced the semicircle, with 
 high hat daintily poised over one ear and his knock- 
 kneed legs wide apart. 
 
 "THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN 
 
 I 
 
 "Down Wilbr'm street, the Heroine 
 Wends her sweet steps with joy, we opine! 
 Her father's house door is open wide 
 And if you'll look you'll see her mother (standing} just 
 inside.
 
 ON THE DOCTOR'S LAWN 89 
 
 II 
 
 ''Long years have passed or so it seems, 
 Since Lois Sessions has been here to fulfill our dreams. 
 Her father's hair is white as snow 
 But then it always was since we've known him, you 
 know. 
 
 Ill 
 
 "She's been to college, this fair damsel dear, 
 But we're glad she's home, that she is here! 
 She's a scholar fine, this beautiful young lass, 
 And we hope when the prizes are given out, she'll be\ 
 the first in her class! 
 
 IV 
 
 "Her father's a doctor, the finest {and the only) in town. 
 His equal cannot be found 
 On this or any other ground. 
 
 'Not even when we cannot pay the bill 
 (Of course he knows that whenever we can we will). 
 This is a tender subject to us all 
 Some that I know have been owing him ever since last 
 fall! 
 
 VI 
 
 'But let me not on sad remembrance dwell, 
 Let me instead a welcome give to this girl! 
 She is the pride of her father and mother, 
 Neighbors, college and school!
 
 90 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 May she ever be happy and successful and keep th& 
 
 Golden Rule, 
 Is the wish of Charles Reuben Isham, Bard of New 
 
 England" 
 
 The Bard had begun the above lyric by droning it 
 in a nasal way, to the tune of "Old Hundred," but find 
 ing himself so often left high and dry on a note, with 
 six or seven words still to that note's credit, he dis 
 carded mere song and made up for the lack of it by 
 swaying back and forth in time to his words. 
 
 A vigorous hand-clapping from everybody except 
 Em greeted the reading. 
 
 "Thank you ever so much, Mr. Isham! I didn't 
 know I was to become famous in verse!" broke in 
 Lois gayly. "But " with a laugh that seemed to 
 lack something of buoyancy, " why, may I ask 
 why 'The Prodigal's Return' ? I may be in want, but 
 I don't think any one will accuse me of 'wasting my 
 substance on riotous living' !" 
 
 "Oh, no, Miss Sessions, pardon me," began Charles 
 Reuben helplessly, when Eden came to the rescue 
 with 
 
 "He was thinking of the fatted calf that the Doc 
 tor would like to kill as soon as you got home there's 
 where the 'Prodigal' part came in, wasn't it, Mr. 
 Isham?"
 
 ON THE DOCTOR'S LAWN 91 
 
 The Bard's false teeth gleamed an assent. 
 
 "I guess, by the good smell that's comin' from the 
 kitchen, the calf's bin killed and's about ready to be 
 ate !" said Em with a comprehensive sniff. "And here 
 comes Mrs. Sessions, so we folks better be gettin' 
 along home an' leave you to have your dinner in 
 peace. 
 
 "Next time you write a poem to a young lady, 
 Charles Reuben, just mention a word or two about 
 her father don't ignore him so !" went on Em in fine 
 sarcasm, winking the eye away from him, at the 
 others. "He ought to have a couple o' lines anyway! 
 Good-day, everybody." 
 
 Charles Reuben did not deign to reply to this, but 
 nevertheless he tiptoed along nattily, at Em's elbow, 
 as she started across the lawn for home with Experi 
 ence Lee beside her. 
 
 "How about the organ, Delia?" asked the doctor. 
 
 "Oh, it's all right now, I think. We fussed over 
 it as long as we dared, and then I saw Deacon Cone 
 look up at the gallery appealingly and I knew we had 
 already kept Sunday School waiting ten minutes, so 
 I took pity on him and came away. 
 
 "Lois, you stay out here and take care of these 
 men a moment, while I run in and see whether Jenny 
 has managed to burn the veal."
 
 92 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 To Mrs. Sessions' surprise the other three broke 
 into a laugh, while the minister exclaimed : 
 
 "I told you there was a fatted calf cruising around 
 somewhere!" 
 
 Mrs. Sessions, catching a whiff of the animal in 
 question, rushed off without waiting for any explana 
 tion, while Lois, always more than content to play 
 Mary to her mother's Martha, turned her fullest at 
 tention to charming the two men left in her charge 
 a thing which undoubtedly she succeeded in doing, if 
 one might judge by the look in both pairs of eyes 
 fixed admiringly on her. She was used to the ex 
 pression in her father's eyes, but that in Philip Eden's 
 stirred a hitherto untouched chord in her, and brought 
 a delicate flush to her cheek, in spite of her outward 
 tranquillity. 
 
 A few minutes later, Mrs. Sessions' little handmaid, 
 Jenny, announced from the doorway, "You kin come 
 to dinner," and they all went in together.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 LOIS BECOMES INTERESTED 
 
 THERE was something about the very walls of the 
 Sessions' house that always seemed to shed an atmos 
 phere of good-fellowship and friendliness on every 
 one who entered it; and the four people gathered 
 around the dinner table were in the highest spirits, all 
 through the meal. 
 
 There was much merriment over the episode of the 
 organ. Charles Reuben's poem was rehearsed by the 
 three who had heard it, for Mrs. Sessions' benefit. 
 
 "Mother, did you see old Root at church?" said 
 Lois. 
 
 "Indeed I did, the miserable hypocrite!" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Sessions. 
 
 "Oh, don't be so hard on him, Mrs. Sessions," 
 pleaded Philip. "The old man is really trying to re 
 form. I'm very much interested in him!" 
 
 "You're doing your part all right, my son," said the 
 doctor, "and I don't like to discourage you; but it's 
 only fair to tell you, as you've not been here long 
 enough to find out for yourself, that the 'critter* is 
 
 hopeless hopeless ! 
 
 93
 
 94 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "He's past saving, I'm afraid. He's the meanest 
 man alive, you* know, and he's already been put out 
 of the other three churches here in South Wilbr'm, 
 in succession." 
 
 "Doctor's right about it," said Mrs. Sessions. 
 "When Bessie Warren died, he wouldn't do a thing 
 to help Rose, and wouldn't even let one of the hired 
 men come down for the Doctor, for fear he would be 
 doing some one a service." 
 
 Here Lois broke in again. 
 
 "Our gardener, at college, is old Root's nephew. 
 Isn't it a little world? 
 
 "Did you ever hear about the time he lived in Som- 
 ers?" Lois went on. "I. mean old Root, not the gar 
 dener. 
 
 "Why, this town got too warm for him, so he 
 thought he'd go to live in Somers! He did all sorts 
 of mischief there, and at first people didn't really 
 get onto him, he was such a hypocrite; but there was 
 a dear, little old woman named Miss Burt who was 
 dying of consumption and had no one to take care 
 of her. She had lost every cent she had, and owned 
 nothing but the house that covered her. She clung 
 to this frantically, as her greatest dread was that she 
 might some day have to go to the 'poorhouse/ Every 
 one was sorry for her, and all the neighbors used
 
 LOIS BECOMES INTERESTED 95 
 
 to send her in food and fuel, and so forth; so they 
 thought that when old Root announced that he and 
 his wife would go and take care of her, it was just 
 a natural bit of kindness. My father used to drive 
 all the way over there to see her every day, and 
 take milk and wine and things that Mother would 
 send her. 
 
 "Will you believe it, old Root and his wife used 
 deliberately to drink and eat up all the things that 
 were sent to her, before her very eyes, telling her 'she 
 couldn't get well anyway, so the sooner she died the 
 better.' And that wasn't the worst. For beside slowly 
 starving the poor soul to death, they used to torture 
 her by telling her she was so wicked, Hell was yawn 
 ing for her! 
 
 "Poor little Miss Burt, who never did one thing that 
 wasn't perfectly saintly in her whole life ! 
 
 "No one would have found out about it, if Fa 
 ther hadn't happened to overhear them one time. He 
 put a stop to it all, right away, of course; but Miss 
 Burt never got over the effects of their cruelty, for 
 during the week or ten days longer that she lived, she 
 used to lie and look at her poor, tiny little wrists, and 
 moan 'Oh, these chains are so heavy! I know I'm 
 very wicked, but couldn't I please have a little lighter 
 chains? My wrists are so weak!' Then she would
 
 96 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 cry and beg them 'Not to put her into the fire!' It 
 was awful ! 
 
 "Old Root and his wife were driven out of Somers, 
 and all the church bells in the town were rung for 
 joy as they vanished up the road !" 
 
 "How horrible!" exclaimed Philip. "It's hard to 
 believe that any human being could do such a fiendish 
 thing! I certainly didn't think Mr. Root could be 
 capable of it! His wife isn't as bad as all that, is 
 she?" 
 
 "Oh, no," said Dr. Sessions. "Mrs. Root would be 
 all right if it wasn't for her husband; but she's afraid 
 to say her soul's her own, and so he claims it. 
 
 "Once she actually got a divorce from him. Her 
 plea was that he 'threw her against the wall so hard 
 that she bounced back again and hit the opposite wall/ 
 but somehow or other he got her to marry him again 
 in a few years and she's hardly dared breathe since." 
 
 The young minister looked serious. 
 
 "This all sounds very discouraging," he said, "but 
 I refuse to give up the Roots altogether. There must 
 be some good in the old man the worst sinner that 
 ever lived has something that makes him worth re 
 deeming !" 
 
 "That's the right spirit, my boy. I only hope you 
 won't be disappointed," and the Doctor sighed a little;
 
 LOIS BECOMES INTERESTED 97 
 
 for he too had once had his hopes of letting light in 
 on old Root's darkened soul. 
 
 Soon after dinner the doctor had to start on his 
 rounds; but the others, at Lois' suggestion, returned 
 to the lawn and sat under the big maple trees while 
 the afternoon wore pleasantly on. 
 
 At last Philip rose to go. 
 
 He had walked hardly the length of the lawn, how 
 ever, before he turned and came back. Remembering 
 that he must write that afternoon his weekly letter 
 to his sister, he was minded to report progress in obey 
 ing her written request to "make Lois' vacation as 
 pleasant as he could." 
 
 "Miss Sessions," he said, "I have a boat couldn't 
 I take you out rowing some day soon?" 
 
 "Of course you may I adore it! When do you 
 want me?" 
 
 "When? Just as soon as you'll go would to 
 morrow afternoon at two be too early?" 
 
 "No, I think that will suit me perfectly." 
 
 "Then it's a bargain. Good-by, Miss Sessions." 
 
 "Good-by." 
 
 Eden was once more half across the lawn when he 
 heard Lois call 
 
 "Oh Mr. Eden" 
 
 He came back, hat in hand.
 
 9 8 
 
 "I er have you a double set of oars?" she asked. 
 
 "I'm afraid I haven't," returned the young man 
 apologetically "but I can borrow some." 
 
 "Oh, do!" exclaimed Lois delightedly. "And we'll 
 both row! That'll be splendid will you, surely?" 
 
 "If there are any oars in South Wilbr'm to be bor 
 rowed, you shall have them!" 
 
 Another good-by, and he was really gone this time. 
 
 Lois looked at her mother and then off at the hills. 
 
 "He seems pretty nice," she said dreamily, "when 
 you get right down to it"
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 DINNER AT EM*S 
 
 DINNER at Em Ufford's had not progressed quite 
 so happily as at the doctor's. 
 
 Em, much dissatisfied with the "spell" she imagined 
 Lois was trying to cast over the minister, had gone 
 Jiome in a tantrum; and although she had worked 
 as much of it off onto the unoffending Charles Reu 
 ben as she could, she was still far from tranquil when 
 she bade her lovelorn swain and his sister good-by 
 at her gate. 
 
 When Rose came home from Sunday School, and 
 they all sat down at the table, Em unburdened her 
 heart in this manner. 
 
 "Philip Eden ought to know better !" 
 
 Rose looked at her in surprise and meekly asked : 
 
 "What has he been doing, Aunty, dear? I didn't 
 know that you would ever acknowledge he could be 
 anything except all that's perfect." 
 
 "Wai ! He ain't perfect no man is ! But he's bet- 
 ter'n most, and I did think he had more horse sense 
 than to let himself be snapped up by that Lois Ses- 
 
 99
 
 IOO 
 
 sions without so much as an 'If you please.' What 
 lie can see in her, I don't know the cat!" 
 
 "Why, Aunty," said Rose gently, in spite of a 
 queer sick feeling way down in her heart "He's never 
 seen her before to-day aren't you getting all stirred 
 up for nothing?" 
 
 "No, Rosie, I ain't gettin' stirred up for nothin' ! / 
 watched 'em!" (shutting up her mouth with a tri 
 umphant snap as if she were grinding the offenders 
 to powder). "I know the signs and / saw the way 
 she looked at 'im ! She means business and he's just 
 innocent enough to fall right into her net! The best 
 of men ain't able to distinguish between a girl's laugh 
 that means she's happy and the laugh that aims to 
 show off a dimple! He'll learn his mistake, too late. 
 I prophesy it. She ain't no ways worthy of him, an* 
 I say it, even if her Pa and her Ma are my best friends. 
 'Tain't their fault; they've done everything for her; 
 but she always was stuck up and selfish! I wish I 
 could tell him so, but law! 'Twouldn't do a bit o' 
 good ! Experience is the thing that shows up the 
 snares set for young folks when it's too late. It's 
 like the cold mist that shows the spider's web when 
 the flies ain't no longer alive to be caught. 
 
 "She means to land him." (Here Em presumably 
 left the flies and reverted to Lois.) "I know her!"
 
 DINNER AT EM'S 101 
 
 Rose laughed. 
 
 "Aunty, I really believe you want him yourself I 
 You're such a dear, delicious old goosie! Don't you 
 know the man has a right to take a fancy to Lois 
 if he wants to? Why in the world shouldn't he?" 
 Another little laugh, and then, "They would look sim 
 ply stunning together, wouldn't they?" 
 
 Em gave her one good glare. When she spoke 
 again, it was hard to tell whether her tone was one 
 of relief or censure. 
 
 "Wai, I'm glad you can take it so cool, Rose War 
 ren maybe you're right and there ain't nothin' in 
 it after all. Only I know there is!" 
 
 Then there was a dead silence for several minutes, 
 till Danny suddenly broke it by saying : 
 
 "Mrs. Currier wags her jaw like this when she sings 
 the Doxology: Tra-a-aise G-G-God frommmm whom 
 a-a-all bless-s-ings f-flow' I saw her !" 
 
 "Danny!" exclaimed Rose. "How often have I 
 told you that you mustn't imitate people?" 
 
 "I know it, but, Rose, she did, really! I wonder 
 why. Do you suppose the reason she has whiskers is 
 becuz she 'sociates with those cats so much ?" 
 
 At this Em and Rose both laughed in spite of them 
 selves, and then tried to frown Danny into silence. 
 
 "Danny," said Em, in a stern and awful tone of
 
 102 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 voice, turning a stony blue gaze on him as she spoke, 
 "when a witch hears a little boy talking about her 
 whiskers, she is apt to pull the hairs of his head out 
 one by one one by one until they are all out and 
 there is not one hair left on his little bald head 
 and the hairs never grow again !" 
 
 "Oh, Aunt Em !" said Danny in an awestruck tone. 
 "Is she really a witch ? Do you believe it, Aunt Em ?" 
 
 "I didn't say that, Danny, but I wouldn't advise you 
 to make fun of her any more. You'd better always 
 be careful to speak most respectful of Mis' Currier 
 after this; and when you comb your hair, do it gently 
 for a few days in case she should have just loosened 
 a few hairs, an' not decided to pull 'em all the way out 
 yet!" 
 
 Danny reached a cautious hand to his curly hair, and 
 sat smoothing the top of his head in thoughtful si 
 lence, as if to be sure it was still there. Then he 
 said ingratiatingly, half under his breath and looking 
 hard at his plate: 
 
 "Mrs. Currier is a lovely lady, and I guess her sing 
 ing is a whole lot better than it sounds." 
 
 Dinner over and the dishes washed and put away, 
 Em, Rose and Danny went into the "best room," where 
 every Sunday afternoon they gathered to sing a few 
 sweet old hymns.
 
 DINNER AT EM'S 103 
 
 Rose took her place at the melodeon as usual, and 
 a quaint, homely little group they made, the elderly 
 woman, the young girl and the little boy, all singing 
 because they loved it, because Sunday was in their 
 hearts, and the cares and bothers of the world were 
 forgotten. Em's tones may have been somewhat 
 cracked, Danny's a trifle shrill; but, perhaps, for all 
 that, the three voices went straight up to Him who 
 knoweth and heareth all things, and He found in them 
 the sweetness of heaven. 
 
 To Em, this quiet Sunday singing meant everything 
 it gave her a peace, a pathetic joy in her home, she 
 had never known till Rose came to the house and 
 brought with her her sweet voice and gentle presence. 
 
 As for Danny, music always subdued him, and 
 Rose had taught him the meaning of the hymns so 
 that he loved them for their own sake. 
 
 Rose's voice was not strong, but it was appeal- 
 ingly sweet, and she was one of those rare persons 
 who sing flawlessly by nature. 
 
 Em thought she had never heard anything so lovely 
 as Rose's voice that afternoon. It seemed vibrant 
 with a new note that somehow brought the tears to 
 Em's eyes; and as she stood behind her foster-child, 
 she stopped singing for a moment and unconsciously 
 breathed a prayer which, put into words, would have
 
 104 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 been "Oh, God, don't ever let her be hurt or dis 
 appointed !" 
 
 After this she felt relieved, and quickly taking up 
 the hymn, went on to the end with renewed vigor 
 and confidence. 
 
 That evening, the Union Meeting was at the brown 
 Methodist Church, and all three flocks were united 
 under one roof. 
 
 Em and Rose went, as a matter of course, after 
 having tucked Danny safely in his little bed. 
 
 The night was lovely, and Philip walked home with 
 them as usual. Rose chattered merrily to both Em 
 and Philip, while Em, seeing Rose so lively, decided 
 that she had been mistaken about Lois. The young 
 minister was too fond of Rose, evidently, to be "taken 
 in" by any designing girl, no matter how clever and 
 handsome she might be. 
 
 "Maybe I'm an old fool, after all," Em reasoned 
 to herself. "Perhaps there ain't anything in it that 
 Rose need trouble about!"
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 LOIS WRITES A LETTER 
 
 WHEN Lois Sessions woke on Monday morning 1 , 
 she found, to her great disgust, that it was raining 
 in a steady, determined downpour that seemed to 
 say all too plainly, "No rowing on the river to-day!" 
 The girl gave her pillow a punch, turned over in 
 bed, and tried to sleep a little longer. What was the 
 use of getting up, she reasoned, if one must be shut in 
 a pokey old house all day? 
 
 Sleep would not come to her, so she lay still think 
 ing a good deal about Philip Eden and a good deal 
 more about herself. 
 
 At nine o'clock, Mrs. Sessions tiptoed softly up 
 stairs. 
 
 "Why, you're awake already, Baby!" she exclaimed, 
 as she reached the open door. 
 
 "Isn't this just perfectly rotten luck!" was Lois' 
 greeting. "There was no particular sense in getting 
 up early, so I just stayed where I was. I hate a rainy 
 day," she burst out, "and I was going on the river 
 with Mr. Eden and everything !" 
 
 105
 
 io6 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "Maybe it'll be clear by this afternoon, darling," 
 Mrs. Sessions suggested, as though apologizing for 
 any share she might have in the weather. 
 
 "Oh, no, it won't!" cried Lois. "Not such a rain 
 as this ! It's in for an all-day downpour." Her eyes 
 grew troubled : "I had something especial that I wanted 
 to say to the minister to-day and I hate to give up 
 a plan, once I've made it." 
 
 "I know you do, dear," answered her mother calmly, 
 "you always did. But we all have to give up to Provi 
 dence, once in a while, and you can go to-morrow just 
 as well. Now try to forget about it, and just be 
 comfy! I'm going to bring your breakfast up to you 
 so you can, lie there and get a good rest. Rest all 
 the morning if you like. I'm sure you need a little 
 relaxation after studying so hard all these months 
 it'll be the best thing in the world!" 
 
 "All right," agreed Lois, not very graciously, put 
 ting up her cheek mechanically to be kissed. "I can 
 write letters anyhow, and get through the morning 
 that way !" 
 
 After Mrs. Sessions had trudged upstairs with Lois' 
 breakfast tray, and had watched her with loving eyes 
 as she ate, she brought the girl her writing materials, 
 and, taking away the empty tray, trudged down again 
 to a busy morning of work.
 
 LOIS WRITES A LETTER 107 
 
 Lois, in a frilly, dainty pale blue breakfast jacket 
 (such as her mother could never afford to wear) lay 
 back among her pillows and gazed out of the win 
 dow at the tossing trees, her beautiful forehead shirred 
 into a discontented little bunch. In her eyes was a 
 look not only of discontent, but of serious worry. 
 
 At last she took up her pen. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Eden," she wrote. "You are probably a 
 better Christian than I am either that, or you don't 
 hate rain the way I do! Anyhow, I'm glad you 
 couldn'klook into my heart this morning when I woke 
 and heard it pouring! If you could, you'd find it 
 blacker than old Root's heart, I'm afraid. 
 
 "Seriously, I'm terribly disappointed. Not about 
 the row, for of course we can go up the river to 
 morrow or next day, if you like; but I wanted espe 
 cially to see you to-day. There is something I must 
 talk to you about something I cannot tell any one 
 but just you. I know that sounds queer; but I really 
 felt as if I knew you well, before I ever met you, 
 dear Miss Eden has tofd me such a lot about you 
 and just as soon as I got one good look at you, in 
 church yesterday, I knew I could trust you absolutely 
 and I'm going to. 
 
 "I'm in perfectly terrible trouble and there is no 
 one in the world but you who can help me out. I 
 know you'll probably think I've gone crazy, Mr. 
 Eden; but I only wish I had! Please regard this
 
 io8 
 
 letter as absolutely confidential Mother and Father 
 know nothing at all of what I am writing and I hope 
 and pray they may never have to know. That is why 
 I appeal to you, as a man and a Christian and a 
 clergyman, for help. I must see you and I cannot 
 wait till it stops raining so won't you come over, 
 this afternoon? Mother is going out, no matter how 
 it rains to read to blind Mrs. Howlitt and Father 
 is never in in the afternoon; so we'll have the house 
 to ourselves. I am going to send this by Jenny, and 
 she will wait for an answer. Please don't think me 
 melodramatic, Mr. Eden you won't, when you know 
 all about it. As I said before, there is no one else 
 to whom I can turn. 
 
 "Very sincerely yours, 
 
 "Lois SESSIONS." 
 
 After the letter was written, Lois, her cheeks burn 
 ing feverishly, got up and dressed. Hurrying down 
 stairs, she found Jenny. 
 
 "Take this note to Mr. Eden at once, Jenny," she 
 said. "It's important, so I know Mrs. Sessions won't 
 mind your leaving your work long enough to run to 
 the parsonage and back and I wish you to wait for an 
 answer," she added sharply. 
 
 "All right, ma'am," said Jenny. "Do I go, Mis' Ses 
 sions?" she asked, turning to her mistress. 
 
 As she often said in secret to her cronies, she did
 
 LOIS WRITES A LETTER 109 
 
 not "intend to be bossed by that high-toned Lois," 
 she was "workin' for Mis' Sessions an' the Doctor!" 
 
 "Yes, yes, run along, Jenny, anywhere Miss Lois 
 wishes you to go, but don't forget your rubbers," 
 Mrs. Sessions answered, rather crisply; for Jenny's 
 attitude toward Lois did not escape her. Yet she knew 
 it was Lois' fault. 
 
 After the little maid had gone out of the door, Mrs. 
 Sessions turned to her daughter and put a hand on 
 her arm. 
 
 "Do try to be a little more courteous to Jenny, dear, 
 you only make her unwilling to do things for you 
 when you order her about so !" 
 
 "Good heavens, Mother ! You make me tired ! She 
 gets good wages, doesn't she? Why shouldn't I 'order 
 her about' ? She does little enough, as it is. And you 
 and Father just about spoil her, letting her take the 
 kitten up to bed with her and all. That isn't the 
 way to treat servants!" 
 
 "I've kept house for a great many years, daugh 
 ter," said Mrs. Sessions, "and if I don't know how 
 to manage my little servant now, I never shall. Jenny 
 is country bred, and this is all the real home she has 
 ever known. She is living her life year by year just 
 as we all are. A little courtesy helps her as much 
 as it helps the rest of us. Why shouldn't she take
 
 no THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 the kitten upstairs? That's the sort of thing that 
 makes it home to her don't you see? She has a 
 right to pets, like any one else!" 
 
 "Well, she imposes on you both, fearfully and 
 she's not going to impose on me," was Lois' retort. 
 
 Mrs. Sessions made no reply and Lois wandered 
 into the parlor and began to play the piano while 
 she waited for the minister's answer. Her skillful 
 fingers roved aimlessly over the keys like sheep with 
 out a shepherd; for Lois' mind was not on the bit 
 of Moszkowski she was playing she was simply kill 
 ing time. 
 
 Presently Jenny came back, having, apparently, run 
 all the way. 
 
 "Here's the answer," she panted, putting a note into 
 Lois' hand and then hurrying out of the room as if 
 she feared that the girl might send her on another 
 mission. 
 
 But Lois was not even aware of her existence, just 
 then; for the minister's note said: 
 
 "DEAR Miss SESSIONS : 
 
 "Of course I'll come! If I can be of any earthly 
 use to you, you know I will my love for your fa 
 ther and mother would insure that much, even if I had 
 not met you. Naturally I shall regard your confidence 
 as sacred. I'm awfully sorry anything is troubling
 
 LOIS WRITES A LETTER in 
 
 you; but perhaps things are not so bad as you think 
 they generally aren't. Anyhow, we'll find a way 
 out somehow, so don't worry any more. Thank you 
 for coming to me about it. I'll be over at half after 
 two, as that is about the time we expected to go row 
 ing. Now be a good girl and don't worry until I 
 get there anyway ! 
 
 "Faithfully yours, 
 
 "PHILIP EDEN." 
 
 Yet, as half after two struck, and the minister's 
 broad shoulders appeared below an umbrella at the 
 end of the Sessions' walk, Lois was decidedly nerv 
 ous. Her heart seemed to be playing leap-frog in her 
 throat; and to her disgust she saw that her fingers 
 were trembling a little. 
 
 "This'll never do," she said to herself, as she opened 
 the front door and held out a welcoming hand to 
 Philip Eden. 
 
 
 
 That same afternoon, Em sent Danny down to the 
 parsonage for a book the minister had offered to lend 
 her. Em's thirst for knowledge of all sorts was never 
 slaked. Just now she was especially interested in 
 Syria. Bible history had always held a fascination 
 for her (she was more familiar with it than are 
 many clergymen) and Our Lord's journeyings through
 
 ii2 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 the Holy Land were as vivid to Em as the itinerary 
 of a presidential candidate to his campaign manager. 
 
 "You ask Mr. Eden if he's usin' that book he prom 
 ised me," she said; "and if he ain't, tell him I'd be 
 awful glad to have it to read while my bread's risin'. 
 An' you come right straight back," she warned. 
 "Don't you go near the store, for you've had all the 
 candy that's good for you to-day !" 
 
 But Danny returned without the book. 
 
 "I couldn't get it, 'cause he was out," the little boy 
 explained. "Th' housekeeper said he got a note from 
 Doctor's daughter and he had to go over to see her 
 right after he had his lunch. She said she was awful 
 sorry, but she didn't know where the book was, and 
 she didn't dare muss up his things to look for it. 
 Anyway he had a lot of books about Syria and she 
 might get the wrong one, so I thought as she wasn't 
 very 'telligent I'd better go down again in a half an 
 hour. Don't you think that's a good idea, Aunty?" 
 
 "It's a grand idea, Danny," said Em, her mind com 
 pletely off the book and on Lois' note. "What's Lois 
 a-writin' notes to the minister for, anyhow?" she in 
 quired aloud of the world at large. 
 
 "Th' housekeeper didn't know," answered Danny, 
 evidently thinking the question was meant for him. 
 "But she said she guessed it must of bin something
 
 LOIS WRITES A LETTER 113 
 
 awful important, for he was goin' to go over the bills 
 an' things with her this afternoon an' besides, he had 
 promised to let her shift the furniture in his study, 
 with him looking on so she wouldn't lose anything 
 or throw away anything he wanted to keep. She says 
 he'll probably be back in a little while, 'cause 'he always 
 does what he agrees to do/ she says." 
 
 "All right you're a good boy," said Em absently. 
 "You can run down again in about an hour, if you 
 want to he ought to be home by that time." And 
 with a puckered forehead Em went back to her work. 
 
 "He's over at Doctor's yet/' Danny's high treble 
 announced, cheerfully, an hour and a half later, as the 
 boy came into Em's kitchen after his second attempt 
 at a Syrian invasion. 
 
 "Not back, yet?" shrilled Em "Ain't he got any- 
 thin' better to do than spend a God-given, work- 
 inspirin', rainy day like this a-talkin' to Lois Sessions? 
 Land sakes " and Em's tirade stopped in a disgusted 
 snort as Rose came into the room. 
 
 "What's the matter, Aunty? What's Danny been 
 up to now?" inquired the girl. 
 
 "Oh, that blessed baby ain't bin up to anythin', ex 
 cept to help his old Aunty, I wish some grown folks 
 had his sense, that's all! There's Lois Sessions 
 a-writin' notes to the minister an' coaxin' him over to
 
 H4 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 see her an' everything, an' he's so blind she'll land him 
 
 in her net before he so much as knows she's out 
 
 fishin' !" 
 
 "What do you mean 'writing notes' ?" asked Rose, 
 
 mystified. 
 
 "Just what I say writin' notes! In " 
 
 "Aunt Em," burst in Danny, "what do you s'pose ? 
 
 I hopped " 
 
 "Don't interrupt Aunty, Danny," said Rose. "I'm 
 surprised at you!" 
 
 "I was just goin' to say," Em went on, "that in my 
 day, it was the men wrote the notes an' did the courtin', 
 not the girls! If Philip Eden is such a goose as to 
 follow her lead, don't you take up with him, Rosie 
 that's all I've got to say!" 
 
 "Aunty! I never knew you to go on so!" cried 
 Rose as she filled the watering pot at the kitchen sink 
 and went into the dining-room to water the window- 
 box flowers. She was more nearly angry with Em 
 than ever she had thought she could be. As she left 
 the room Danny at last got his chance. 
 
 "Aunt Em," he began, "what do you think ? I hop- 
 hop-hopped on one leg, all the way down the hill ! If 
 I should ever lose one leg, I think I could get on pretty 
 well, with just the other, with a little practice I 
 only had to stop twice ! I'll go down to the minister's
 
 LOIS WRITES A LETTER 115 
 
 again, after a while, if you'll watch me hop down 
 the hill. Will you?" 
 
 But Em was not listening. 
 
 It looked as if the little boy's third journey was 
 to be as unsuccessful as the other two; but just as 
 he was leaving the parsonage, Philip appeared. 
 
 "He looked awful queer," Danny reported faith 
 fully to Em and Rose; "his face was all solemn an' 
 awful white. He didn't say, 'Hello, ole man,' to me, 
 the way he genally does; he didn't hardly seem to 
 know I was there for a minute; then he smiled at me, 
 so I knew he wasn't mad at me or anythin'. And he 
 said: 
 
 " 'Oh, yes the book' 
 
 "An' he went an' got it, and here 'tis! Did you 
 watch me hop all the way down ? I couldn't look back 
 much, for fear I'd touch my other leg to the ground, 
 you know!" 
 
 "Yes, yes, Danny, you hopped so fine I wasn't sure 
 but what 'twas a crane a-standin' on one leg, till I 
 put on my glasses. You're a good little boy to bring 
 me the book. Aunty's got a kiss for you !" 
 
 Danny clasped Em about the neck in a strangling 
 hug, from which she emerged a moment later, red- 
 faced but loving. 
 
 "Now g'long," she said, "for I'm busy just now
 
 u6 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 and if you must hop, hop somewheres else besides on 
 my kitchen floor ! The plastering'll all be down, before 
 you know it, if you shake the room so. If you don't 
 get through with this hoppin' fever pretty soon, I 
 shall wish Easter vacation was over!" 
 
 All that evening, Em seemed unable to talk about 
 anything but "the web" Lois Sessions was "winding 
 about the minister." Rose, who realized the abso 
 lute absurdity of Em's prejudices, finally stopped the 
 harangue by saying firmly: 
 
 "Aunty, dear I know you mean all right; but you 
 mustn't say any more about Mr. Eden in that way. 
 He is my friend; and I don't like to hear it. You 
 know, a clergyman has to go, if people send for him. 
 He is only doing his duty, and it wouldn't be right 
 for him not to go to any one who wants to see him. 
 You know he'd go just the same if it were old Root, 
 or Mrs. Currier " 
 
 "Yes," interrupted Em under her breath, "but he 
 wouldn't stay so long " 
 
 "Or Mrs. Currier," repeated Rose. Then she 
 smiled. "You are a very silly, dear, annoying person," 
 she went on, gently, and I'm going to bed to get 
 away from you! You'll never get your 'Syria' read, 
 unless you stop scolding. 
 
 "By the way," she said, looking back, saucily, as
 
 LOIS WRITES A LETTER 117 
 
 she left the room, "you will be comforted to know 
 that Philip and I are going on a three-mile walk over 
 to 'Bennet's View' to-morrow afternoon! Now will 
 you be good?"
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 EM TAKES FATE INTO HER OWN HANDS 
 
 THE next day turned out to be brilliantly fine; and 
 Rose hummed a happy tune as she moved about her 
 quaint old-fashioned room, getting ready for her three- 
 mile walk with Philip. 
 
 She laced up her stout little walking boots with a 
 business-like snap and abandon; and waltzed over to 
 her clothes closet where, on a shelf, reposed the band 
 box holding her most becoming hat. She prinked 
 quite proudly and outrageously in front of her large 
 oval mirror, when she put the hat on; then looked 
 rather curiously at her reflection, wondering, after all, 
 how Philip could find her pretty. Having no natural 
 vanity whatever, she saw nothing attractive in the 
 friendly little face that looked out at her; but the fact 
 that so wonderful a person as Philip found her good 
 to look upon, made her very triumphant and happy 
 indeed. Snatching up her gloves, she ran downstairs. 
 It was almost time for Philip to appear, and not for 
 worlds would she keep him waiting a moment. 
 
 The appointed hour came and went, but no 
 118
 
 EM TAKES FATE INTO HER HANDS 119 
 
 Philip. Still Rose sat ready, and looking out of the 
 parlor window down the hill toward the village. 
 
 "Wai!" suddenly came Em's astonished voice from 
 the hall. "Thought you was gone long ago!" Then 
 she added worriedly, "Ain't he come?" 
 
 "He'll be here soon, I guess," Rose answered, "some 
 thing must have come up at the last minute." 
 
 "Wai, I " But Em decided not to finish her 
 sentence. 
 
 After a while, Rose, fearing Em would come back 
 and say something about Lois "settin' her cap at him" 
 went out and sat on the top step of the porch. 
 
 Here, nearly an hour later, Charles Reuben found 
 her, when he hurried up the walk with many apologies, 
 and handed her a note. 
 
 "I'm jest as sorry's I can be, Rose," he began. "Mr. 
 Eden come out of his house as I was goin' by and 
 asked me, if I was comin' right home, would I please 
 hand you this note in passin'. I ought to of bin here 
 an hour ago ; but I met Deacon Cone an' Alonzo Day 
 an' we got to arguin' about Town Meetin' Election, an' 
 before I knew it the minutes had flown by: 
 
 "Time will fly, 
 While you and also I 
 Sit and wait, or argufy 
 And sigh! 
 
 Signed, Bard of New England.
 
 120 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "Wai, here's the letter better late than never." 
 (With a roguish smile) "Er is Miss Ufford tolerable 
 well?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, indeed very well," said Rose cordially, 
 albeit longing to rush off upstairs and read her letter. 
 "Shall I call her?" 
 
 "No-no," hesitated Charles Reuben. "I'm afeared 
 she wouldn't let me come in, 'cause it ain't Saturday. 
 That's the only day she wants me to call. You know 
 she's strict about such things. I'm sorry I was so late 
 with the letter," he added wistfully. 
 
 "Oh, that's all right, Charles Reuben," Rose an 
 swered. "Don't give it a thought. It doesn't make a 
 bit of difference, as long as I have it now!" 
 
 Once safe alone in her room, Rose opened her letter. 
 She did not "tear it open," as a real heroine would 
 have done. Instead, she cut the envelope cleanly across 
 with her shining little scissors; for it was the first 
 letter Philip had written her; and, whatever it might 
 contain, it was very precious. 
 
 "Dear little Rose," it began. 
 
 "Something unexpected has just come up which 
 makes it absolutely impossible for me to keep our en 
 gagement this afternoon. I cannot tell you what it is, 
 for if I did that I should betray some one else's confi 
 dence; but I know you want me to do what seems
 
 EM TAKES FATE INTO HER HANDS 121 
 
 best, even if I doom myself and I hope you, too to 
 disappointment. The knowledge that I can count on 
 you to understand, is worth everything in the world. 
 And we'll have that walk, don't you fear! Are your 
 eyes looking very pretty, as you read this? And are 
 the little wisps of hair crinkling around your forehead ? 
 I know they are, and I wish with all my heart that I 
 were there to see them! 
 " 'Ever the best of friends,' 
 
 "PHILIP." 
 
 Of course, Rose, according to the accepted ways of 
 heroines, should have torn up the note indignantly, 
 and thrown it into the waste-basket. And she .should 
 have resolved to have nothing more to do with a suitor 
 who would break an engagement and not tell her why. 
 That is what she might have done, had she been think 
 ing at all of herself, (as the spirited heroine of fiction 
 seems rather prone to do) but, having given her heart 
 entirely into Philip's keeping, Rose's thought was only 
 of him. 
 
 In the midst of her deep disappointment it never 
 occurred to her to doubt that he would have come if 
 he could. She even kissed the place where Philip had 
 written "Ever the best of friends." 
 
 The hardest part of her problem was the explanation 
 to Em, and here Rose showed no lack of spirit. 
 
 Em went for the mail, that night, and as usual
 
 122 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 wandered over to the doctor's to wait, as soon as she 
 found that the stage was not yet in. Phoebe Bliss and 
 the Deacon were already there, and the doctor drove 
 into the yard a moment later. 
 
 "Where's Lois?" was his first question after greet 
 ing Lois' mother. 
 
 "She went upstairs to lie down for a while before 
 supper," answered Mrs. Sessions. "Mr. Eden was 
 here with her most of the afternoon," she added a 
 bit self-consciously, "and after he went she said she 
 was a little tired and was going to get some rest." 
 
 At Delia's harmless and innocent pride in the length 
 of the minister's call, Em's face turned quite purple, 
 and her blue eyes snapped; but she said nothing. 
 
 As the friendly, neighborly talk went on around her, 
 Em's silence became noticeable. 
 
 "Lost your tongue, Em?" teased Deacon Cone in 
 his pleasantly nasal voice. "I never knew you to be 
 silent before for ten minutes at a time, in all the years 
 since we went to school together. 'A penny for your 
 thoughts/ " he added, with his genial smile. 
 
 "Some thoughts is like bombs all right, so long as 
 some one don't touch 'em off!" Em answered shortly. 
 "I should hate to have you be the person to touch off 
 mine, just now ! 
 
 "There's the rumble of the stage," she broke off 
 
 !
 
 EM TAKES FATE INTO HER HANDS 123 
 
 suddenly. "I'm a-goin'! Good-by, folks!" and with 
 head up, and nut-cracker chin straight out, she marched 
 away in the direction of the Post Office. 
 
 "How funny of Em to start off like that, without 
 waiting for the rest of us," said Phoebe Bliss. "The 
 mail won't be ready ! Why, she'll get there almost as 
 soon as the stage does, if she keeps on walking at that 
 rate!" 
 
 But Em preferred to be by herself. That Philip 
 Eden should break an engagement with Rose in order 
 to spend the afternoon with Lois Sessions seemed to 
 her not only incomprehensible, but absolute proof of 
 his perfidy. He was a trifler, she decided. He had 
 been playing with Rose's tender little heart. Em's 
 cheeks flamed with indignation. 
 
 She was the first person at the delivery window, 
 and the first to leave the store. 
 
 Entering her house, by the kitchen, she found Rose 
 getting supper. 
 
 "Nothin' but the Union an' the Weekly Tribune, 
 to-night," she announced, as she turned to shut the 
 door. 
 
 The vigorous slam, as well as Em's red face, told 
 Rose that there were breakers ahead, and her own 
 color heightened, though she drew out the pan of hot 
 biscuit from the oven with a steady, quiet little hand.
 
 124 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 Em hung up her bonnet in the entry, put on a blue 
 checked apron, and then went methodically about the 
 business of supper. 
 
 "I wish to goodness Mis' Currier wouldn't let her 
 bees rove all over the buckwheat," Em exploded, as 
 she came in from the buttery with a box of fresh 
 honey. "She don't seem to have no control over 'em ! 
 Clover honey's worth ten of buckwheat. The bees 
 think so, too, I guess, for they always take more pains 
 in the making of it, I notice! I'm always tellin' Mis' 
 Currier I'll pay twice as much for clover but she 
 can't seem to remember Rosie !" Em interrupted her 
 self, coming to a halt midway between kitchen and 
 dining-room. "You won't like what I'm a-goin' to 
 say but I've got to say it, 'cause it's my duty I 
 should say it just the same if I was to be hung for it 
 to-morrow! If the minister comes here a-runnin' 
 after you don't you see 'im!" And Em's mouth 
 sprung shut like a trap. 
 
 "Aunt Em !" exclaimed Rose. "Of course I shall see 
 him! Why shouldn't I?" 
 
 " 'Cause I ask you not to ! You've been deceived 
 in 'im! I'm sure of it! Don't you allow a man to 
 play fast an' loose with you, like that!" 
 
 "Aunty I" 
 
 , "Fast an' loose is what I said he couldn't go walkin' 
 * 
 
 \
 
 EM TAKES FATE INTO HER HANDS 125 
 
 with you this afternoon but he could an' did spend 
 the time danglin' after Lois Sessions Delia said so! 
 Now I don't propose to have you play second fiddle 
 to Lois or any one else. I ain't sure there's any man 
 good enough for you an' certainly the one that tries 
 to play with two strings to his bow ain't! I'm more 
 disappointed in Philip Eden than I can tell of but 
 most men is alike, after all whifflin', triflin', con 
 ceited an' " 
 
 "Aunty ! I won't listen to any more such nonsense !" 
 cried Rose indignantly ; and golden sparks flashed from 
 her soft brown eyes. "If you feel that way toward 
 Philip, please don't talk to me about it!" 
 
 "It's only because I love you, Rosie," Em moaned 
 contritely. "Won't you promise not to see him the 
 next time he calls ? just to please me? Perhaps that'll 
 bring him to time! Men don't want what they can 
 get too easy!" 
 
 "I don't wish to 'bring him to time/ as you- say," 
 answered Rose. "If he comes, I shall see him, just 
 as I always have just as I see any of the boys that 
 call!" 
 
 "Wai, if you won't do as I say, you won't, I s'pose! 
 I never knew you to be so self-willed, Rosie! I'm 
 older'n what you are, and, I tell you you're makin' a 
 mistake! It's the apple that's out of reach that's al-
 
 '126 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 ways got the finest flavor. Philip Eden thinks you're 
 ready to drop into his mouth, whenever he wants you, 
 so he's reachin' out in another direc " 
 
 But Em was talking to an empty kitchen. 
 
 Twice, during the next few days, Philip climbed the 
 hill to see Rose. The first time, the girl and Em were 
 in Springfield for the day, so they never knew he had 
 called. The second time he was even more unlucky; 
 for Rose had gone "over East" to attend to some mat 
 ters at her old farm, and Em opened the door to him. 
 At least, she opened the door not knowing who had 
 rung the bell. When she saw the sunny gray eyes of 
 Philip Eden looking down into her face, her own eyes 
 seemed fairly to pop out and hit him. Involuntarily 
 he drew back a little. 
 
 "Oh!" snapped Em. 
 
 "Oh!" he answered, smiling, and waited for Em to 
 ask him in. But the spinster's knuckles tightened on the 
 door knob and she pushed the door to until there was 
 left but an inhospitable foot or so of space, far too 
 little to admit the brawny frame of the minister. 
 
 "Aren't you going to let me in, Miss Ufford?" he 
 asked. "Can't I come in and see you and Miss Rose 
 for a little while?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Eden, I'm sorry very sorry," said Em 
 firmly, "but you can't come in. Rosie doesn't care to
 
 EM TAKES FATE INTO HER HANDS 127 
 
 see you to-day." Em's heart beat fast at this fib, for 
 she was truthful. The fib hurt her even though she 
 lied with the best intentions. Her face turned mul 
 berry color; but, clearing her throat, she went on "I 
 guess we don't need no more Pastoral Visits at this 
 house we got along without 'em pretty well, before 
 you come to South Wilbr'm, an' I guess we can now 
 we ain't any wickeder'n what we was. So, if it's all 
 the same to you, I'll bid you good " 
 
 "Wait wait," cried Philip in blank amazement. 
 "What on earth have I done? Why won't Rose see 
 me ?" As he spoke he inserted his toe in the fast clos 
 ing doorway. 
 
 Em, frightened at what she had started, stuck 
 bravely to her guns. 
 
 "She didn't ask me to make any explanations," was 
 her most truthful rejoinder. "She just ain't at home 
 to you any more. Ain't that plain as the nose on your 
 face, Mr. Eden?" 
 
 "Quite," said Philip shortly. Then, with eyes full 
 of trouble, he burst out boyishly : 
 
 "Listen, Miss Em! You've always been a good 
 friend of mine what's it all about? Won't you tell 
 me, please?" 
 
 "You'd ought to know; better'n I do," said Em, 
 mysteriously. "Maybe you've done somethin' she
 
 128 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 don't like or maybe she's just lost her taste for you 
 or maybe " here Em's voice became a stage whisper, 
 " there's others!" and her mouth shut so tightly that 
 her resemblance to Mother Goose was positively 
 startling. 
 
 "Oh, I see," said the minister. "I'll try not to 
 trouble her any more. I didn't understand," Philip 
 went on miserably. "Thank you for telling me. 
 Good-by!" And he was gone. 
 
 Em, peering through the narrow hall windows at 
 the minister's fast disappearing back, found herself 
 trembling a little. 
 
 "The Lord have mercy on me I hope I done right !" 
 she said to herself. "I expected he'd of acted different, 
 somehow. Now with Charles Reuben, I'm never at a 
 loss I can always tell just which way he's goin' to 
 jump. Wai," she sighed as she turned away from the 
 window, "I done my best, Lord knows. I give him 
 somethin' to think of, at any rate !" 
 
 And when Rose came home, Em, with the convic 
 tion that she was doing the only right thing, gave her 
 no hint that Philip had called.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 "OLD ROOT" 
 
 A FEW days later, Rose, out on an errand for Em, 
 had occasion to cross the Scantic bridge. For a mo 
 ment she lingered and looked dreamily into the water, 
 remembering how Philip and she had stood there in 
 the moonlight on Easter Eve. What had happened 
 since then? She could not understand the tangle. 
 Philip had not been to the house (as far as she knew). 
 Over and over in her mind she twisted every little word 
 that she had said to him, trying to find something that 
 could have hurt that he could have misunderstood. 
 So have lovers tortured themselves, ever since the 
 world began! Then, as she stood there, she saw a 
 row boat push out from the bank, far down stream. 
 
 Something sent her heart into her throat. There 
 was only one pair of shoulders like that in South 
 Wilbr'm or in the world and they were Philip's. 
 Also there was only one golden head like that and it 
 belonged to Lois Sessions. The pair were headed up 
 the river, with two sets of oars. Rose turned away 
 quickly and hurried on down the road she did not 
 
 129
 
 130 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 care to be seen either by Philip or Lois just then, 
 for, to her own amazement, her eyes were full of 
 tears. 
 
 Philip, however, looked up in time to see her turn 
 away and walk firmly on. It was just as Miss Ufford 
 had said he told himself. Rose, for some reason, had 
 no further use for him. She did not even bother to 
 look at him. Miss Em had hinted at some other man. 
 There was certainly no one in South Wilbr'm, he 
 mused, who could interest her in that way it must 
 be some man from out of town some one he did not 
 know 
 
 "You're anything but a lively companion," com 
 plained Lois, interrupting Philip's miserable musing. 
 "Cheer up! I thought this was a pleasure trip!" 
 
 The girl and man rowed as if they had practiced 
 together for years; and each felt the exhilaration of 
 such companionship, as their strong young arms, bared 
 to the elbows, moved rhythmically and sent the boat 
 leaping on through the water. 
 
 The Scantic was a beautiful little stream, with ever- 
 changeful banks. For a short distance the way lay 
 through sunny meadows that flanked the river along 
 the village. 
 
 "Doesn't the town look lovely from here?" said 
 Philip, as they reached a turn in the river and stopped
 
 "OLD ROOT" 131 
 
 a moment to enjoy the view of the white houses and 
 church spires nestling in the little hollow between 
 stream and mountain. 
 
 "Yes, it does," assented Lois. "South Wilbr'm al 
 ways reminds me of the line in the hymn: 'Where 
 every prospect pleases and only man is vile !' " 
 
 Philip laughed. "Let's amend that," he remarked, 
 "and say 'Where every prospect pleases and only one 
 man is vile !' ' 
 
 "Old Root?" asked Lois. 
 
 "Old Root," said Philip "and speaking of angels, 
 etc., there he is now, isn't he sitting under that 
 tree?" 
 
 And there he was, staring as if he had never seen 
 two people in a boat before in all his life. 
 
 "He certainly has a cinch," said Lois. "His gar 
 dener-nephew at college would envy him his job in life, 
 if he could see him now." 
 
 After a long look at the rowers, old Root scrambled 
 to his feet and started off toward the town as fast as 
 his rheumatic legs would carry him. 
 
 Evidently he was bound on important business, al 
 though only a moment before he had been lolling on 
 the ground in the shade of an old apple tree, his fish 
 line and basket indicating that he intended to spend 
 at least a part of the afternoon there.
 
 132 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 Soon the meadows were left behind and the two 
 came to a wilder portion of the country where woods 
 grew down to the river's edge, making lovely brown 
 shadows in the clear water. 
 
 -On and on they went, till the town disappeared from 
 view and there was nothing of civilization to jar the 
 eye nothing but deep blue sky and wooded banks, and 
 the soft swish of water as they skimmed through it. 
 
 "Isn't this gorgeous?" exclaimed Lois, with a deep 
 indrawn breath. "Oh! If one could always feel like 
 this, how good one could be ! I don't want to go home 
 I want to keep going on and on and on, for 
 ever!" 
 
 In the meantime old Root, his sour-apple face all 
 twisted up with malicious pleasure, was making for 
 the Post Office as fast as he could. Arrived there he 
 sat down in his favorite seat, tipped his chair back upon 
 two legs and proceeded to spit into the stove in a 
 leisurely and contemplative manner. There was no 
 fire in the stove, but the village loungers always sat 
 around it in a circle, winter and summer, presumably 
 because the inside of it was convenient as a receptacle 
 for tobacco juice, and the outside had its uses as a 
 support for the feet. 
 
 "Wai, Matthias," he drawled, in his unpleasant 
 whine, "haow be you to-day ?"
 
 "OLD ROOT" 133 
 
 The Postmaster came out from behind his mail boxes 
 and leaned across the counter. 
 
 "Fust rate, Cyrus," said he. "But what's bringin' 
 you here so airly? You ain't forgot mail time, hev 
 you?" with his usual sidewise grimace indicative of 
 having made a witty remark. Not waiting for an an 
 swer, he went on, "Nor yet you ain't come to buy 
 anythin' in the line of gent's f umishin's ?" This with 
 a very knowing look calculated to make old Root 
 shrivel up with the guilty knowledge that he was too 
 stingy to buy anything, as long as he could possibly 
 do without. Root received the look, unmoved, how 
 ever, merely acknowledging Howlett's words by land 
 ing a well aimed quid of tobacco in the very center 
 of the ashes inside the stove. 
 
 All this calmness disturbed Mr. Howlett. It indi 
 cated something mysterious; and the Postmaster was 
 nothing if not curious. However, he knew the man 
 was contrary, by nature, and that his only hope of rind 
 ing out what old Root had come to tell was in keeping 
 his own eagerness in check. Therefore he said, going 
 back behind his mail boxes once more, "Nice arter- 
 noon !" 
 
 To this, also, old Root made no direct reply; but he 
 went so far as to take down one foot from the stove 
 and put up the other; after which he suddenly turned
 
 I 3 4 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 toward Hewlett with a yellow-toothed grin and 
 drawled, "The Congregational Church better be 
 a-watchin' its minister!" 
 
 Hewlett gave a plunge out of his boxes; but in 
 stantly thought better of it, and plunging back again, 
 worked furiously at his task of assorting stamps, albeit 
 his ears were both cocked eagerly in the direction of 
 his visitor. 
 
 "I say" the latter rasped, "the Congregationalists 
 better be a-watchin' their minister!" 
 
 This was too much for Howlett and hastily he asked, 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 Both feet came off the stove with a bang and old 
 Root leaned over toward Howlett in a flatteringly con 
 fidential way, as he said in an impressive, husky, stage- 
 whisper : 
 
 "I saw him a-sparkin' Lois Sessions!" 
 
 "You don't say!" exclaimed Howlett breathlessly. 
 "Where was they?" 
 
 "Out on the river in a boat ! They was a-goin' up 
 towards the woods as fast as they could git thar* and 
 they thought no one was 'raound to find it aout but 
 7 saw 'em !" Here he cackled forth a sound that was 
 meant to be ^ laugh. 
 
 "Wai, wal!" ejaculated the Postmaster. "Who'd 
 'a' thunk it ! Ain't they the sly ones, these ministers !
 
 "OLD ROOT" 
 
 You couldn't hear anythin', I s'pose?" he added in 
 sinuatingly. 
 
 "Didn't need to," said old Root firmly, turning his 
 attention to the stove. "Seein' was enough !" 
 
 
 
 By the time Lois and Philip got back to town after 
 their long afternoon up the river, there was hardly a 
 soul in the place who was ignorant of the trip. 
 
 Old Root's bomb, thrown as it was into the very 
 center of the community, had the effect he had counted 
 on; and his news, now grown and elaborated amaz 
 ingly, was dispensed free of charge by the Post 
 master, with each package of sugar, each yard of 
 ribbon, each quart of oats bought of him that day. At 
 mail time the store was full ; even the people who gen 
 erally sent for their letters through obliging neighbors, 
 preferred to come themselves, lest they should miss 
 something worth hearing. 
 
 The only person Mr. Hewlett was disappointed in 
 was Miss Ufford. Usually she was the first to take 
 up a piece of gossip and add to its flavor by her spicy 
 remarks. In this case her behavior was unaccount 
 able. 
 
 She had had no hint of the matter until she entered 
 the Post Office for her daily newspaper. Here, Mr. 
 Hewlett passed the tidings to her through the little
 
 136 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 window, with her mail; and every one listened, ex 
 pecting a treat from Em's tongue. 
 
 Every one listened in vain. 
 
 As Em took in the purport of Howlett's words, her 
 face became very red; and she turned sharply around 
 to walk out of the store. 
 
 She was not to get off so easily, though, for several 
 people blocked the way and said, "What do you think 
 of it, Em?" 
 
 "I think you're all a lot of fools, and that you're 
 a-makin' a mountain out of a mole hill that's what I 
 think!" snapped Em, her blue eyes sparkling out of 
 her red face. "As if our minister couldn't show polite 
 ness to our doctor's child, after the doctor and his wife 
 done so much for him, that he couldn't ever repay 'em 
 if he tried! Why shouldn't he go rowin' with Lois, 
 I'd like to know? The river's free, ain't it? I never 
 heard there was a mortgage on it. And if Lois chooses 
 to spend her day like that why, for them that has time 
 to fritter away, there ain't no harm in it, an' you know 
 it! And as for the minister's sparkin' Lois, why he 
 never laid eyes on her till a week ago last Sunday, in 
 the first place, and I happen to know there's others 
 he's more interested in, an' who could hev him if they 
 wanted him an' they ain't been to a college, either, 
 I'd hev you to know !"
 
 "OLD ROOT" 137 
 
 With which tardy and vehement demonstration Em 
 turned her back upon South Wilbr'm, figuratively and 
 actually, and walked down the steps, chin in air, a 
 glare in her eyes like a war horse's. 
 
 The glare suddenly encountered Lois and Philip just 
 back from the water and coming toward the Post 
 Office, serenely unconscious of all the commotion they 
 had occasioned. 
 
 On meeting Em at the foot of the steps, they were 
 amazed to find the glare turned full on them with an 
 added fierceness. Much surprised, they both bowed 
 mechanically, and Em, never stopping her determined 
 tread for a moment, marched by them with a swift, 
 upward jerk of the chin and fall of the eyes, which was 
 as near as she could come to a cordial bow, in her 
 present state. 
 
 For Em's heart was sore. Her biased mind had 
 reasoned at once that "politeness" alone would not 
 have made Philip take Lois on the river a thing he 
 had never suggested doing for Rose, though he had 
 known her much longer and that, and what had hap 
 pened before, had been enough to make her believe that 
 the minister was serious in the matter. So she had put 
 up the bluff before the Postmaster and the rest of the 
 people, solely on account of her own love and loyalty 
 to poor little Rose.
 
 138 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 Em had never liked Lois Sessions. They had al 
 ways rubbed each other the wrong way, and somehow, 
 now, her natural dislike was fast turning into hate; for 
 Em was never lukewarm it was all one way or the 
 other with her, and she never did things by halves. 
 
 Her love for Rose was almost idolatry, and her dis 
 like and distrust of Lois were fast becoming as strong. 
 
 Her mind worked ceaselessly as she walked up the 
 hill to her home ; and she was trying, trying always, to 
 think out some way to "break up matters" between 
 Lois and Philip before it should all become irrevocable. 
 The wildest schemes raced into her head, but she was 
 a practical woman and dismissed each of them as it 
 came, knowing that she was really powerless to do 
 anything for in spite of her hints at the Post Office, 
 there was the undeniable fact that Mr. Eden had never 
 actually proposed to Rose, nor as far as she knew com 
 mitted himself in any way. 
 
 What should she do?
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 EVERYBODY'S BUSINESS 
 
 THAT evening Dr. and Mrs. Sessions held council 
 together over the rapidly growing intimacy of their 
 daughter and the Minister. Eden had dropped in for 
 a moment after supper "to see that Miss Sessions was 
 none the worse for her row." 
 
 The man was desperately lonely and unhappy. The 
 prospect of sitting alone in his study until bedtime, 
 trying to work, but actually brooding in miserable per 
 plexity over Rose's strange treatment of him, was 
 more than he wished to face. And, rather to get 
 away from himself than for any other reason, he 
 strayed across to the Doctor's. 
 
 Lois had insisted on his staying awhile, and the two 
 were spending the evening by themselves in the old- 
 fashioned parlor, Lois at the piano and Philip hover 
 ing near. 
 
 Lois inherited her mother's talent for music, and 
 one of the many extravagances her parents had entered 
 into to please her had been a really fine piano. She 
 played and sang extremely well, and to-night as she 
 
 139
 
 140 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 sat bringing a flood of melody out of the keys, her 
 one listener was soothed by it. Philip was wretched, 
 and the music was drowsily cooling to his hurt. 
 
 Mrs. Sessions looked in through the door, occasion 
 ally, and once asked Lois if she didn't want a lamp; 
 but the girl answered that she would rather play in 
 the dark. And as there seemed to be no good excuse 
 for Mrs. Sessions' lingering any longer, and no one 
 invited her to do so, she shut the door quietly and 
 went back to her husband, sighing a little to herself as 
 she went 
 
 "Doctor," she said, stopping behind his chair and 
 smoothing his thick, silvery hair, "this affair of Lois 
 and Mr. Eden is the quickest thing I ever saw Do you 
 suppose he can be getting in love with her in this little 
 while?" 
 
 The doctor reached up a large, comfortable hand and 
 patted very tenderly the small one he found on top of 
 his head. "Well, Delia," he answered, "the first time 
 I ever saw you was at church you had on a pink satin 
 poke bonnet just the color of your cheeks, and a 
 flowered muslin dress and you were just seventeen. 
 I took one look at you, and I knew, after that one 
 look, that it was all up with me. You had my life 
 bound right up in that little pink bonnet of yours and 
 I vowed then and there that you should marry me just
 
 EVERYBODY'S BUSINESS 141 
 
 as soon as I could get my Medical Degree and I stuck 
 to it, didn't I ? I think my love was the genuine article. 
 How about it ?" 
 
 The look of affection with which Mrs. Sessions met 
 his upturned gaze, and her gentle kiss, left no doubt 
 about the mutual happiness the years had brought 
 them. 
 
 "But we were exceptions, dear !" she went on. "If 
 I could know that Lois would be as happy as we are, 
 I wouldn't have a word to say." 
 
 The doctor straightened up in his chair. "I think 
 they might love each other that's the main thing. 
 Aside from that, young Eden is a rising man. He has 
 much more to offer his bride than I had " Here a 
 remonstrating hand on his mouth stopped his words, 
 and his wife broke in 
 
 "You know you could have made a great name for 
 yourself if you had chosen to take your place in a large 
 city where chances come for one to rise; but your 
 goodness and tender-heartedness and that alone, 
 kept you here in this town, just because you knew the 
 people needed you so! If that isn't being a real Chris 
 tian Martyr, I don't know what is ! No minister ever 
 earned the right to a heavenly crown more truly than 
 you have and all Mr. Eden may or may not have to 
 offer Lois could never be equal to the privilege of liv-
 
 142 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 ing side by side with you for thirty years, as I have 
 done. I don't like to hear you talk that way!" And 
 the doctor's wife, feeling the tears creep into her eyes 
 and voice, stopped speaking suddenly. Then she went 
 on, bravely, if a little shakily, "I've got the pink bon 
 net, yet." 
 
 "Delia! Have you really?" said the doctor de 
 lightedly. 
 
 "Yes," she answered. "It's packed away up attic 
 I never would let it be thrown out or made over, 
 because I was always certain that you would never have 
 fallen in love with me if it had not been for that 
 bonnet, when it was new. I wore it the first time that 
 Sunday," she added dreamily. 
 
 "Sometime soon let's- make a pilgrimage to the attic 
 and have a look at it shall we? I've a notion you'd 
 look mighty pretty in it even now!" said the doctor 
 with a roguish twinkle in his eyes. They were seated 
 in the office just across the hall from the parlor; and 
 they were conscious of long and frequent pauses in 
 the music. At the moment Philip was saying to Lois : 
 
 "Do you know what you look like, sitting here 
 playing, in that white dress, with the shaft of moon 
 beams lighting up your face and fingers and leaving 
 everything else in shadow?" 
 
 She did not answer; but raising her head began to
 
 EVERYBODY'S BUSINESS 143 
 
 play the softly dropping, mysterious first movement of 
 "The Moonlight Sonata." 
 
 "You look just like the 'Modern Saint Cecilia at 
 the Organ/ " Philip went on. 
 
 Then the music cast its spell over him and he sat 
 silent. 
 
 When the last note had died away the girl suddenly 
 rose and going over to the window looked out at the 
 moonlit lawn. 
 
 "Let's go back into the other room and sit with 
 Mother and Father shall we ?" she said, with a catch 
 in her throat. "I can't play any more to-night " 
 
 "I think I'll be going home, if you don't mind," an 
 swered the man. "I'm afraid I wouldn't be good com 
 pany for any one just now. Say good-night to them 
 for me, will you?" 
 
 A moment more and he was gone. Lois went back 
 alone and sat in the dark parlor, at the piano ; although 
 her fingers did not touch the keys. 
 
 If Doctor and Mrs. Sessions could have seen her 
 tight clenched hands, they would have been more than 
 astonished. She had something to fight out for her 
 self, and she was very brave. 
 
 Three-quarters of an hour she sat there, and her 
 parents were beginning to wonder at hearing neither 
 the murmur of voices nor the sound of the piano,
 
 144 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 when she walked out into the office, and going up and 
 laying her cheek against her father's (he always came 
 in for the larger share of her attention, her feeling for 
 her mother being mere cool toleration), she said quite 
 in her ordinary manner : 
 
 "I think I'll go upstairs now and go to bed. Mr. 
 Eden left his good-nights for you." 
 
 She took very calmly their murmurs of surprise at 
 the abrupt ending of the evening; then, with a light 
 kiss for each, she went upstairs to the little blue and 
 white bedroom once occupied by Rose Warren. 
 
 Rose was having troubles of her own, not indirectly 
 connected with Lois. She had resolved, however, to 
 keep her feelings entirely to herself. 
 
 Her good little heart shrank from burdening Em 
 with her worries ; and her loyalty to Philip, as well as 
 her natural pride, made her vow that there should be 
 no worries. Resolutely she put the man out of her 
 mind, and was so sweet and helpful, so cheerful and 
 affectionate, that, when Em came home from the Post 
 Office that Monday night, she had not the heart to 
 say a word to Rose about what she had seen and 
 heard. 
 
 "Aunty, do you know what you're doing?" said 
 Rose suddenly, with large-eyed disapproval, as they 
 were getting ready to place their evening meal on the
 
 EVERYBODY'S BUSINESS 145 
 
 supper table, "you're cutting \i ) the whole of that 
 enormous loaf of bread just for you and Danny 
 and me! And you know we couldn't possibly eat half 
 of it ! And you sprinkled salt on the apple pie I saw 
 you and I saw you wipe it off carefully, and then put 
 sugar in its place, too, though you did walk off into 
 the buttery to do it ! Now, Aunty " (leaning across 
 the table shaking a very small but firm forefinger at 
 Em) "there's something on your mind! Are you and 
 Charles Reuben planning an elopement ? You have all 
 the symptoms, and I really feel that you must be 
 watched. You're just like Mary Blake, the girl who 
 eloped from North Wilbr'm Academy while I was at 
 school there ! The day before she ran away with Joe 
 Hammond, she emptied a whole pitcher of water into 
 the waste-paper basket, and never knew she hadn't 
 poured it into the wash bowl, until she was deluged.'* 
 "Now see here!" said Em snappishly, although 
 secretly much relieved at the chance of turning mat 
 ters on herself, and so away from subjects more 
 dangerous to Rose's peace of mind, "Now see here, 
 Rose Warren ! You know if there's one thing I won't 
 stand, it's havin' you bring that shiftless Charles 
 Reuben to my notice! If folks don't stop a-talkin', 
 I'm liable to take up with 'im after all, just to spite 
 'em ! As I've said before and I'll say again "
 
 146 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "Oh, Rose! Mr. Eden's going to marry Doctor's 
 daughter! Everybody says so, down at the store!" 
 shouted Danny breathlessly, as he appeared without 
 warning in the doorway.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 EM SPEAKS HER MIND 
 
 THE next day Mrs. Sessions was seized with one 
 of her bad attacks of rheumatism and Lois was de 
 puted to take care of her mother until she should be 
 able to be up and about once more. 
 
 Her nursing consisted for the most part in sitting 
 in her mother's room, in a pretty and becoming frock, 
 with her eyes fixed on the window hoping for Philip 
 to appear. She was, supposedly, head nurse; but 
 Doctor, himself, did all the real waiting on his wife, 
 making her comfortable before starting on his rounds 
 each time, and ministering to her every need, when 
 ever he was in the house. He was as tender as a 
 woman in the sick room, and stepped as lightly, in 
 spite of his great bulk. 
 
 Lois had offered to rub her mother on the first day 
 of her illness; but the girl disliked the odor of the 
 liniment so much, and in spite of her superb young 
 strength, so evidently considered the labor an un 
 necessary bore, that her mother pretended not to 
 need the rubbing ; and never told her husband, for fear 
 
 147
 
 148 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 that he might blame Lois. She herself never thought 
 of blaming her daughter. To the mother, Lois was 
 still a baby, to be petted and shielded from all things 
 disagreeable or unpleasant. Mother-like, she gave 
 everything, and looked for no return. If Mrs. Ses 
 sions thought about it at all, doubtless she reasoned 
 that Lois' beauty and cleverness and her charm 
 more than compensated for the lack of anything 
 else. 
 
 Of course, every one knew of Mrs. Sessions' ill 
 ness, and one of the first persons to call on her was 
 Em Ufford. 
 
 She bustled in full of importance and sympathy, 
 bearing in her hands a dish covered with a spotless 
 napkin. 
 
 "Wai, how's the rheumatiz to-day?" she queried, 
 drawing up a chair and sitting down by the bed. 
 " 'Bout the same ? Wai, no loss's a body's gain, they 
 say. I'm glad you're no worse, anyway! Rheumatiz 
 always hes to run its course. 'Tain't no use to try 
 to hurry it, I find. I made you some arrow-root 
 jelly an' I got my mornin's work all done up early, 
 so's I could come an' set with you a spell, an' see you 
 eat it. Now mind you swatter every scrap, for it's too 
 good to waste, I'd hev you know!" 
 
 While Mrs. Sessions was thanking her and admiring
 
 EM SPEAKS HER MIND 149 
 
 the clearness of the jelly, Lois came into the room, 
 and Em turned a disapproving gaze on her. 
 
 "How de do, Lois? Are you goin' to a party ? No? 
 Oh, I thought you wuz. We folks in South Wilbr'm 
 don't generally dress up in the mornin' there's too 
 much around the house that needs to be done. Ain't 
 that so, Mis' Sessions?" 
 
 "Lois stays here and takes care of me," said the 
 mother, protecting her young. "One doesn't need a 
 kitchen apron on to do that." 
 
 "Oh, wal," flounced Em, "I s'pose you both know 
 your own business best I only hope you don't over 
 work yourself, Lois, a-takin' care o' your Ma!" she 
 added spitefully. 
 
 Lois sat down by the window, not deigning to an 
 swer Em's sally. Mrs. Sessions ate her jelly peace 
 fully, for although she resented the invariable friction 
 between Em and Lois, she was too fond of Em to lay 
 up anything against her. 
 
 The spinster considered a moment and then went 
 on in a tone which she tried to make coquettish, 
 "They're sayin' all over town that there's goin' to 
 be a weddin' here in this house before long do you 
 folks know anything about it?" 
 
 Mrs. Sessions avoided Em's sharp eye and looked 
 inquiringly at Lois.
 
 ISO THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "There may be," answered that young person in a 
 leisurely tone. "And again, there may not !" she added 
 with her clear silvery laugh, as she looked directly 
 into Em's defeated face, with her mocking brown 
 eyes. 
 
 "Lois Sessions, I should like to shake you," shrilled 
 Em. "You exasperate a body to extinction, with 
 those cool ways o' yours! If you ain't engaged, then 
 you ought to be, that's all I can say! You needn't 
 expect to run after a man every instant for over a 
 week an' not hev folks in this town ask questions." 
 
 Lois rose up to her full height. 
 
 "I'll thank you not to talk about my 'running after' 
 anybody, Miss Ufford it isn't in my line! You're 
 beside yourself with rage at me and you're so trans 
 parent that the reason is not hard to find. If / have 
 been talked about, I'm not the only one. Everybody 
 knows that that silly little Warren girl is dead in love 
 with Mr. Eden" 
 
 "It's a lie!" screamed Em, jumping up out of her 
 chair. 
 
 "She's in love with him and he doesn't care a 
 finger for her." 
 
 "It's a lie " Em repeated automatically while her 
 heart seemed to rise up and choke her. 
 
 "It's not a lie. It's all of it true, and you know it
 
 EM SPEAKS HER MIND 151 
 
 and that's why you've come here, pretending to come 
 to see Mother!" 
 
 Em turned white. 
 
 "Lois, Lois!" pleaded Mrs. Sessions. But Lois 
 paid no attention. 
 
 "You came here for news; and you shall have it. 
 Yes, open your eyes as wide as you like. Instead of 
 'running after' Mr. Eden, as you so politely suggest, 
 it has been quite the other way. I have not yet de 
 cided whether I care to tie myself down to being a 
 minister's wife or not it might be rather wearing 
 to have the members of the congregation take one 
 to task every time one changed one's dress, or put a 
 flower in one's hair. If I do marry Mr. Eden, I 
 shall certainly insist upon his leaving South Wilbr'm. 
 I never could stand it to live in the same town with 
 you!" she finished insolently. 
 
 Em was perfectly livid with rage. 
 
 "So it's all true, is it! Wai, I'm sorry for Mr. 
 Eden, and I'm sorry for the people of his church, if 
 he marries you! It's a pity you ain't got some of 
 your father's and mother's goodness, but you ain't!" 
 "Em, for heaven's sake!" cried Mrs. Sessions, al 
 most in tears. 
 
 "Don't you try to hush me up, Delia Sessions ! Its 
 time somebody gave this girl of yours a good dressing
 
 152 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 down, and I ain't afraid to be the one!" Then dart 
 ing her eyes back onto Lois "It's open war between 
 us at last, and I'm glad 'tis! You've lorded it over 
 everybody all your life, Lois Sessions, but you ain't 
 a-goin' to lord it over me! Your Pa an' your Ma 
 have worked themselves to the bone for you, and 
 what are you? A selfish, insolent snip with no thought 
 for any one but yourself ! You don't care to live in the 
 same town with me, do you wal, the feelin's mutual, 
 but I'm too old a woman to be sassed to my face as 
 you've sassed me and I won't stand it. I ain't so 
 patient as your mother, poor woman, nor so blind, 
 though perhaps it's a mercy she don't see through you 
 as I do ! I only hope you won't break her heart and 
 your father's, some day," the high, quivering voice 
 went on. "It's what I expect an' look for, though, 
 just as sure as the sun rises an' sets ! Now, I've said 
 my say an' I'm glad I've done it it's high time 
 some one did; but, Mis' Sessions, I'm as sorry as I 
 can be, that I've distressed you. I'm a-goin' now 
 good-by. I hope you'll be all right before long. 
 Don't cry. I'm sorry I spoke so harsh as I did, 
 before you but it hed to be done!" 
 
 "One moment, please," said Lois icily, as Em turned 
 her back on her and started toward the door without 
 a word of good-by. "I want this thing clearly un-
 
 EM SPEAKS HER MIND 153 
 
 derstood you've insulted me in my father's house, 
 before my sick mother. And until you take back your 
 words, kindly refrain from coming here again!" Her 
 eyes were black and hard and shining, her naturally 
 firm chin aggressive, and Philip Eden would scarcely 
 have recognized her as "Saint Cecilia," 
 
 "You needn't worry " (Em tossed her answer 
 over her shoulder without turning around.) "If this 
 town ain't big enough to hold us both, certainly this 
 house ain't!" With which she marched from the 
 room, and let herself out at the front door.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE TANGLE 
 
 AFTER Lois' departure for college, the excitement 
 and conjecture incident to her meteoric "love affair" 
 soon subsided and was forgotten in the general prepa 
 ration for an event of keenest interest to every one in 
 town namely, Philip Eden's examination, ordination 
 and installation in the Congregational Church. 
 
 This was to take place early in June, and all through 
 the month of May there were committee meetings, 
 board meetings, meetings of the Ladies' Society, etc., 
 to discuss ways and means of making the great day 
 one that should go down in town history. The Church 
 received a new coat of white paint outside, was redec 
 orated inside, a new carpet was ordered and the high- 
 backed pulpit chairs were re-covered to match. The 
 organ was tuned, and the choir held several rehearsals 
 each week, going over and over the music to be sung 
 at the installation. 
 
 A chorus was organized from the young girls of 
 the church. They were to fill the organ loft; the 
 
 154
 
 THE TANGLE 155 
 
 choir, proper, standing in the very front rank, as be 
 came their importance as veterans in the cause. 
 
 Of course, Jane Bliss would never yield the place 
 of honor as first soprano and leader of the choir, 
 while she had breath left to force a sound from the 
 long, ropy cords of her neck ; but, as Rose Warren had 
 undeniably the best voice in town, the music com 
 mittee suggested that she should take the place of 
 lieutenant to Jane's captaincy, and drill the girls on 
 the choral work. Jane rather resented even this, but 
 Rose was so tactful, and made opportunities to ask 
 her advice, in such a pretty way, that Jane was quite 
 mollified ; and ended by feeling very much flattered that 
 her lieutenant, could not to all seeming, possibly get 
 along without her. 
 
 There was no doubt that Rose knew instinctively 
 how to make people happy not that she ever "man 
 aged," but her natural sweetness seemed to radiate 
 good feeling all about her, and her kind little heart 
 always told her the very thing people wanted her to 
 do or say. 
 
 It was no easy task for her to keep up a brave and 
 cheerful spirit at this time; for since the day when 
 Danny had burst into the house with the rumor of 
 Lois' engagement to the minister, she had felt as if 
 there was nothing worth while any more. That even-
 
 156 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 ing Em had found her lying across the foot of her 
 bed in the dark, in a paroxysm of weeping. 
 
 Em, without a word, had gathered her up into her 
 arms; and there, on the spinster's bony breast, the 
 girl had sobbed her lonely little heart out. Em asked 
 no questions, but only whispered, "There, there, sh , 
 my pretty! Em knows all about it sh sh every- 
 thing'll come right somehow the Lord ain't a-goin' to 
 let my little bird beat her wings to pieces like this 
 for nothin'. It's all right, see if it ain't! He puts 
 us to great trials sometimes, just to prove how strong 
 we can be don't you know that, dearie? 
 
 "Rosie, can't you feel the love in my old arms?" 
 A clinging pressure of the soft, young ones around 
 Em's scraggy neck was Rose's answer. "Wai, don't 
 you know that God loves you just as much more? 
 Those whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth ! 
 
 "Take heart, my bird! He'll make it all right in 
 the end if He wants you to marry the man you love. 
 If not, then there's some good reason why, and you 
 must accept it, and fold your love away reverently, 
 lock the drawer and throw the key down the well. 
 We can't help love a-comin'. It comes unasked, unbe- 
 knowest, and pitches its tent in our hearts ; but friend^ 
 ship builds there remember that; and when love has 
 come and gone if it must go if 'tain't right to have
 
 THE TANGLE 157 
 
 it stay why, then, friendship stands strong and beau 
 tiful, awaitin' to teach us to help ourselves and each 
 other. 
 
 "Now dry your pretty eyes and tell Em you're her 
 brave child !" 
 
 Gradually, Rose had become quiet; then Em and 
 she had knelt beside the little bed together and, with 
 arms intertwined and heads bent, had sent up a prayer 
 to the Heavenly Father for strength. 
 
 Since that night, not a word had been exchanged 
 between Em and Rose on the subject; but the older 
 woman watched the younger with a dumb, dog-like 
 wistfulness, as the girl went about her daily tasks 
 quite as usual except that she was, if anything, 
 sweeter than before. 
 
 Trouble had brought them very close together, and 
 Rose understood the generous depths of the older 
 woman's twisted nature, as no one else ever had. 
 
 Em had one secret, however, that she could not 
 share with Rose, and it was one that was like the grip 
 of an icy hand on her heart. This was, that Rose, 
 for all her cheerfulness and vivacity, was not at all 
 well. She never complained in the least, of feeling 
 ill; but Em was not deceived; and as her graceful 
 little figure became daily more slender, Em could 
 think of nothing but the awful Warren heritage, and
 
 158 THE EXES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 what it would mean if Rose should go as had nearly 
 all her family. Not that there was any immediate 
 sign of such a thing only, Rose was losing ground; 
 it was evident. All this worked like rank poison in 
 Em's veins, whenever she thought of Lois Sessions. 
 
 Strange to say, she did not blame the man much for 
 his defection; s"he believed that in this instance the 
 woman did tempt him; and men counted really very 
 little in her scale of things, anyhow. The matter pre 
 sented itself to her in this way : Her beloved foster- 
 child wanted something, and Lois Sessions had taken 
 it away from her. Therefore, there was no epithet 
 in her vocabulary bad enough for Lois. Further than 
 that, her child was going into a decline, and Lois 
 was absolutely responsible for that consequently 
 something must be done. She turned the matter over 
 and over in her mind, during her daily housework and 
 on her way to and from the "Ladies' Society" meet 
 ings. She swept it into the carpet, baked it into the 
 cake, sewed it into her patchwork quilt; but as yet 
 no help had come. 
 
 About this time she began getting "double doses" 
 of Charles Reuben. In other words, his weekly call 
 became semi-weekly. He, like every one else, was 
 much interested in the coming Installation of Mr. 
 Eden, and invented all sorts of errands connected
 
 THE TANGLE 159 
 
 with the preparations that he said his sister wanted 
 him to attend to and in which consultation with Em 
 was absolutely necessary. 
 
 Beside this, he was constructing a gigantic ode tak 
 ing in all the history of the church, to say nothing 
 of the inhabitants in general and the minister in par 
 ticular. A'nd he insisted on reading it to Em, bit by 
 bit, serial fashion. 
 
 Em let him keep coming, partly because he distracted 
 her mind, and more because he made Rose laugh ; but 
 he became vastly encouraged by her unusual gracious- 
 ness, and preened and plumed himself more than 
 ever, as he strutted about town, his high hat at an 
 angle of forty-five degrees, his frock coat thrown 
 open, and his thumbs thrust into his arm pits. 
 
 There was still another reason why Em was willing 
 to stand larger and more frequent doses of Charles 
 Reuben. Danny adored him, and odd as it seemed, 
 Charles Reuben's influence over Danny was decidedly 
 beneficial. The little boy was growing to be a good 
 deal of a problem to both Em and Rose, dear as he 
 was. 
 
 Em often said, "He needs a man over him we 
 coddle him too much! Before long, he'll ride right 
 over us both, rough shod. What the blessed baby 
 wants, is a man to make him do what's what."
 
 160 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 From the beginning, Charles Reuben had fascinated 
 Danny. The boy never noticed anything grotesque 
 about "The Bard." Childlike, he saw straight into 
 the heart of the man, and what he found there was 
 good. 
 
 Charles Reuben became Danny's dearest friend, and 
 cherished companion. They took wonderful, long 
 walks together in the woods, and Charles Reuben 
 seemed to have an intimate friendship with every rab 
 bit and bird they met. He taught Danny how to be 
 friends with them all, too, and sometimes the "Bard 
 of New England" rehearsed his ode in the depths of 
 a thicket surrounded by a quaint but very attentive 
 and absorbed audience of one little boy, a squirrel or 
 two, a rabbit, and even a tiny bird. 
 
 Em knew nothing at all about these woodland re 
 citals. Perhaps, considering her aversion for The 
 Bard's poetry, it was just as well she should not know; 
 but it was perfectly evident to her acute perception 
 that Danny was always more obedient, more subdued 
 and polite, after he had been with Charles Reuben ; and 
 she soon formed the habit of saying, "Charles Reuben, 
 you talk to him! You can put more sense into him 
 than Rosie and me together which is certainly a mys 
 tery, considering that you show so little sense regardin* 
 your own doin's!"
 
 THE TANGLE 161 
 
 So Em came to depend more and more upon Charles 
 Reuben to manage Danny and Danny seemed to need 
 the managing, very much. Charles Reuben had never 
 been so happy. Em had never come so near to ad 
 miring him. 
 
 Meanwhile, Charles Reuben's sister fluttered back 
 and forth through the village, from house to house, 
 more full of business than almost any one else in town. 
 She always undertook willingly the things that no 
 one else wanted to do. And her part, just now, was to 
 canvass the place for table-linen, silverware, china, 
 etc., to be lent for the great dinner that was to be 
 held in the vestry after the examination of Mr. Eden 
 by the Ministerial Council, and before the Installa 
 tion. 
 
 The South Wilbr'm women were all famous cooks 
 all except Cyrus Root's wife, Hannah. No one ever 
 laid it up against Hannah, for the whole town knew 
 that old Root was too stingy to have anything better 
 than corned beef and boiled potatoes on his table; 
 so his wife never had a chance to learn to cook any 
 thing else. 
 
 Phoebe Bliss and Experience Lee were wonderful 
 cake makers, Mrs. Sessions was a master hand at es- 
 calloped oysters and salads; while no one could rival 
 Em Ufford's chicken pies. Jane Bliss' hot biscuits
 
 162 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 were as light as snowflakes, and her preserves were 
 the finest imaginable. 
 
 The roasts, and ice-cream making, were always 
 equally divided between Mrs. Sessions, Experience Lee 
 and Em Ufford; and the small boys of the church, 
 Danny included, were always pressed into service to 
 pound the ice and turn the freezers. So the con 
 gregation was nothing more nor less than a big fam 
 ily, where church celebrations were concerned, and 
 everything went on merrily. 
 
 Philip Eden himself was hard at work, getting ready 
 for his part in the Council and Installation, and spent 
 many hours each day and evening in his study. 
 
 He was full of zeal in his chosen calling, and, with 
 his devoted little flock around him, his cup of hap 
 piness should have been full. 
 
 Instead, he was wretched. He could not under 
 stand what had come between Rose and himself, any 
 more than could she. What Lois had told him bound 
 the man to silence. So he could not explain to any 
 one why he had devoted so much time to the doctor's 
 daughter during her stay. The fact that he was the 
 Minister prevented people from telling him how he 
 and Lois were being gossiped about and it did not 
 occur to him that the neighbors would attach any im 
 portance to his visits at the doctor's. Dearth of con-
 
 THE TANGLE 163 
 
 ceit made him dense in such matters. That Rose 
 should have forbidden him to come to see her, as 
 Miss Em had said, had no connection in his mind 
 with Lois. But even the most sensible of lovers is 
 supersensitive ; and, having tried twice to see Rose, 
 only to be told that she no longer wished to see him, 
 Philip felt that the situation had passed out of his 
 hands. The thing that hurt most was the elaborate 
 hint that Em had given about another man. Philip 
 spent many miserable moments that should have been 
 devoted to his Installation sermon, in trying to picture 
 this very imaginary man. His day dreams became 
 nightmares that always ended in a resolve to "have it 
 out with Rose." 
 
 But this was not so easy. For Em stood guard over 
 Rose, in true Gorgon fashion. She seemed an ani 
 mated "No Trespass" sign. 
 
 It was unavoidable that the two young people should 
 meet often at this time, for the minister was con 
 sulted by each and every member of each and every 
 committee and had to give his opinion on everything 
 from music to marmalade; so of course he was called 
 in occasionally to hear the girl's chorus sing. 
 
 But Rose had herself well in hand, and nothing 
 happened to make her devoted followers suspect that 
 she had a thought except for them and their singing.
 
 164 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 And indeed to Philip it seemed that she had not; for 
 by great strength of mind, she forced herself into the 
 work, heart and soul. 
 
 And always, there was Em ! Over and over again, 
 Philip tried to get a word alone with Rose only to 
 see the spinster's carroty head bob up between them 
 with invariable regularity. It made no difference 
 whether she happened to be in the room or not. She 
 seemed to know, intuitively, whenever there was a 
 chance of their being together for a moment, and she 
 dropped whatever she might be doing, and "flew to 
 the rescue" as she would have put it, determined 
 that Rose should not be "harrowed up by a traitor who 
 had given his own heart to another." 
 
 Thus Em, with the kindest intentions in the world, 
 gathered up the strands that lay side by side in the 
 skein of fate gathered them into her loving, bony 
 little fist and snarled them tightly into a hopeless 
 tangle.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 DANNY 
 
 So the busy weeks flew by, and the time for the 
 Installation was close at hand. It was June, and 
 South Wilbr'm was in its fullest bloom of beauty. 
 
 The Village Green lay like a soft velvet carpet, sur 
 rounded by the quaint, old white houses and quainter 
 church. 
 
 Everywhere the ancient elms and maples (whose 
 like one finds nowhere but in New England) cast their 
 graceful shadows. All the lawns were neatly trimmed 
 and the old-fashioned gardens were full of flowers 
 and shrubs. The air was sweet with summer sounds, 
 and there were robins and orioles everywhere, hold 
 ing Examinations and Installations of their own 
 among the trees. 
 
 The town lay like a veritable jewel in its surround 
 ing setting of dark-green mountains shading to purple ; 
 while at their base the little river gleamed here and 
 there, to disappear again and again as it wound its 
 way through the invisible gaps in the mountain chain. 
 
 It was the evening before Installation Day. And 
 165
 
 i66 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 as Philip sat at the window of the parsonage study 
 looking out over the peaceful scene, his thoughts were 
 full of the morrow. Everything was done. There re 
 mained but the ceremony of one day, and he would be 
 fully launched on the sea of life. 
 
 Then he fell to musing on the loveliness of Rose. 
 The evening before he had spent hours over a letter 
 to her; he had taken the plunge, and written his heart 
 out, urging her to marry him as soon as he should be 
 installed ignoring the vision of "another man" that 
 Em had invoked. It was such a letter as sweeps the 
 slate clean and leaves no chance for misunderstand 
 ings. He had posted it the same night and felt that 
 Rose would surely send her answer by the evening 
 mail. He was really happy for the first time in 
 weeks. It seemed as if God were too good to him 
 in every way. He vowed humbly to be worthy of all 
 the great trust imparted to him; and his face shone 
 with uplifted happiness and splendid purpose, as he 
 sat there in the evening light, his elbow leaning on 
 the window sill, his head supported by his hand. 
 
 Presently the soft tinkle of bells was heard and the 
 sound of a childish voice calling "Boss, boss, go on 
 boss!" 
 
 Across the bridge and along the road at the far 
 end of the Green came Deacon Cone's cows returning
 
 DANNY 167 
 
 from their mountain pasture, and driven by Danny 
 Warren who was earning the money for a bicycle by 
 driving them to pasture each morning and going for 
 them every evening. 
 
 As Philip watched the straggling, uneven proces 
 sion, Danny detached himself from the group for a 
 moment and ran up the Post Office steps as fast as 
 his bare little legs would carry him. 
 
 The cows took advantage of his momentary ab 
 sence to stop and browse on the Green; and a beau 
 tiful picture they made, in the slanting sunlight as it 
 lay between long shadows on the grass. 
 
 A few minutes later Danny emerged from the door 
 way, holding in one hand a paper bag. Candy in the 
 hand is worth ever so many bicycles in the bush. 
 
 Philip, knowing of the intended purchase of the 
 bicycle, smiled to himself as he watched the small 
 boy. 
 
 Danny shouted lustily to his cows, and soon they 
 were all going up the opposite hill to the Cone home 
 stead. Already they had passed from the minister's 
 sight, and only the faint tinkle of the cow-bell was 
 heard. 
 
 The sun sank lower, and the breeze died down. 
 People began going by, and turning their steps toward 
 the Post Office from all directions; so Philip knew
 
 168 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 it must be mail time. He waited until he saw the 
 stage come clattering down the street, saw the pas 
 sengers (there were only three, all men) alight, and 
 the Postmaster and his boy come out after the mail 
 bags. 
 
 Then he started for the Post Office, with a thump 
 ing heart. 
 
 Mr. Howlett often eyed him inquisitively; longing, 
 doubtless, to say something in the line of repartee in 
 answer to Mr. Eden's daily requests for mail. But 
 he stood a little in awe of "The Parson/' as he 
 called him, and so had contented himself with looking 
 what he dared not say. 
 
 To-night, however, he could not refrain from re 
 marking : 
 
 "There ain't nothin' for you but my sympathy this 
 evenin', Parson. I'm afraid she's gone back on you! 
 Here's just a taown letter!" 
 
 The Postmaster meant Lois when he said "she" 
 for Lois had written repeatedly to Philip since her 
 return to college. 
 
 The Minister smiled pleasantly. 
 
 "Just a town letter?" he questioned, though his hand 
 trembled as he took the envelope held out to him. 
 "Thank you, Mr. Howlett. A lovely evening, isn't it? 
 Good-night!"
 
 DANNY 169 
 
 The Postmaster gazed about the crowd of mail- 
 seekers with round eyes of astonishment. 
 
 "I tell ye, he's game, now, ain't he? You can't get 
 a rise out o' him, nohow ! I'm kind o' sorry I spoke. 
 I just wanted to see what he'd say. Wai, he gets my 
 vote, an' I hope he wins aout to-morrow at the 
 Caountsil !" 
 
 Philip started home across the Green, rather than 
 by the sidewalk. He wanted to feel the soft grass 
 under his feet, and also he wanted to avoid having 
 to stop and speak to people. 
 
 The "town letter" was not from Rose, after all. It 
 was just an unimportant, unsealed notice of some 
 sort. 
 
 Somehow, everything seemed changed since he 
 found there was no word from Rose. She seemed 
 miles away from him, and, apparently, there was no 
 way to reach her. There was not a chance of his 
 own letter having gone astray, he reasoned. Even 
 the curiosity of Matthias Hewlett was powerless to 
 upset the very simple postal system of South Wilbr'm. 
 
 As a matter of fact, the culprit was not Hewlett, 
 but Danny. That morning, Philip's letter had been 
 handed to the boy with one or two others. He had 
 trotted home with them all ; and, as usual, had looked 
 into the kitchen window intending to give them to
 
 170 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 Em or Rose if either chanced to be in the kitchen. 
 
 The room was empty. He wished to stay out of 
 doors, to play; so he stopped a moment, and idly 
 dangled the letters up and down on the windowsill 
 while he waited for some one to appear, to relieve 
 him of them. 
 
 Suddenly, one of them slipped through a crack be 
 tween the wall and the windowsill, and dropped out 
 of sight. Danny fished for it with his finger-nail, then 
 with a pin; but it was gone forever. Danny knew 
 that mail must never be played with Aunt Em was 
 always most strict about that. He grew cold along 
 the spine. Then he decided that since the letter was 
 gone where it could never be recovered, there was no 
 possible harm in saying nothing at all about it, for a 
 little while anyway. And, then, later, not being much 
 more than a baby, after all, he forgot about it. 
 
 Philip felt very much alone, just now; there would 
 be no one of his own with him during his ordeal, and 
 he had counted so on this letter! He had counted 
 so on Rose ! He did not realize quite how much, until 
 he had taken the plunge and asked her to marry him 
 asked her while his Installation was still a matter 
 of probability rather than certainty. It was a rash 
 thing to do, he now told himself a foolish, rash 
 thing. Yet Rose was so different from any one else !
 
 DANNY 171 
 
 She had always understood, so wonderfully! And 
 he needed her so, just now ! Why hadn't she written ? 
 What was the matter? It was not in the least like 
 Rose to leave a fellow in the lurch! Well, he must 
 stand alone. 
 
 His sister, (his only living relative) as Dean of 
 her college, must stay on duty for it was Commence 
 ment Week. So she must miss Philip's Installation, 
 much as she would have loved to be with him. Never 
 had the boy felt quite so alone! Never had he so 
 wanted Rose! Why hadn't she answered his letter? 
 
 Just then there was the sound of joyous and vigor 
 ous singing, and the thread-bare and time-worn strains 
 "She is Gone and Lost Forever, Oh My Darling 
 Clementine," were wafted to him from three wagon 
 loads of singers coming through the village from the 
 east. 
 
 They "were the young people of Philip's congrega 
 tion, who had been off all the afternoon gathering 
 mountain laurel, fir trees, wild clematis and every sort 
 of decoration they could find; wherewith to trim the 
 church, in his honor. He had begged to go with them, 
 but had been ordered, peremptorily, to "save his 
 strength for what was before him," so had given in 
 to the majority and stayed at home. 
 
 His "Young Men's Class" and the girls of Rose's
 
 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 chorus made up the party, and Charles Reuben Isham 
 drove the first load, having borrowed his sister's big 
 hay wagon. 
 
 From the top of the chariot, Rose Warren, a 
 gorgeous color in her cheeks, waved Philip a salute 
 and called in a voice that she sought to make very 
 gay and very natural: 
 
 "Come back to the church with us and help unload 
 the trees !" 
 
 Philip instantly decided that Rose could not have 
 received his letter. He seized upon the chance of 
 getting a word alone with the girl, and so accepted the 
 invitation to ride. But Charles Reuben spoiled every 
 thing by amiably moving along and offering the min 
 ister a seat which Philip could not well refuse, as it 
 was the only vacant spot. 
 
 Needless to say, Rose was at the other end of the 
 wagon, surrounded by several adorers, who kept her 
 quite busy. 
 
 For the moment, Philip's loneliness almost left him, 
 in the general spirit of youthful buoyancy all about. 
 
 Presently, Charles Reuben cried "Whoa," and the 
 jolly party tumbled down from the wagon and into 
 the church, carrying armfuls of flowers as they went. 
 They were met at the church door by Mrs. Sessions, 
 Em, and Experience Lee. Every time Philip tried to
 
 DANNY 173 
 
 get a word with Rose, Em bounced up from nowhere 
 and drifted between them. 
 
 Later, when the auditorium had been turned into a 
 bower of green, studded everywhere with the star-like 
 blossoms of delicate pink laurel, and the young people 
 had stood for some time at the back of the church, 
 admiring the fruit of their united labors, Philip made 
 another attempt. Leaning across Em, he said to Rose : 
 
 "You're such a wonderful little girl ! Do you know 
 when you called me to come and help, I was in a 
 dismal fit of the blues and now you've chased all 
 my bogies away! You're such a bundle of happiness 
 yourself that one couldn't be in the same room with 
 you and stay gloomy. Really, I felt awfully forlorn 
 and deserted, till I got in here, at work with all you 
 people." 
 
 "Did you?" said Rose smiling up at him with a 
 shy look of trouble in her soft eyes. "I'm so glad it 
 worked ! For, really, you know, you had 'blues' written 
 all over your face when we met you, and that is why 
 I asked you to help. I hoped you'd forget to be lonely 
 when you saw how pretty the church was going to 
 look. Of course, I knew all the mothers and grand 
 mothers had forbidden us to let you have anything to 
 do with the church decorations; but there's nothing 
 like work to scare away the blues, I think."
 
 174 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "Speaking of blues," Philip said abruptly, "Did you 
 get a let" 
 
 "You're tactful enough and clever enough to carry 
 your husband through a political campaign," put in 
 Mrs. Sessions, not hearing Philip, "and you've the 
 conscience to keep him honest, too. One of these days 
 you certainly ought to marry a politician " 
 
 "Or a minister!" suddenly interrupted Em, and 
 then could have bitten her tongue out with chagrin 
 and vexation. Her habit of saying exactly what she 
 thought, was too strong for her. 
 
 There was a dead silence for several seconds, while 
 Em's face turned the color of a ripe tomato, in her 
 distress. And Philip realized another chance was 
 gone. 
 
 Rose, although her heart stood still at Em's unlucky 
 speech, proved her right to Mrs. Sessions' compli 
 ment, by saying naturally: 
 
 "Aunt Em has picked out a red-haired missionary 
 with fourteen grown children as my proper partner 
 in life. He is to live in the Sandwich Islands, and 
 I am to keep house, and clothe the red-haired one and 
 the fourteen children. I suppose you think she means 
 us to eat the cannibals "here there was a general 
 laugh, and Em's speech was forgotten "but I assure 
 you that's not Aunty's idea at all ! She thinks I'd be
 
 DANNY 175 
 
 able to manage the cannibals externally and keep the 
 missionary and his fourteen hopeful ones from any 
 danger of coming to grief at the jaws of ravenous, 
 man-eating heathen so you see her ideas of my tact 
 go ahead of yours, Mrs. Sessions. Instead of its being 
 a matter of mere politics it becomes an international 
 affair. But do you think it necessary that the mission 
 ary should have red hair? Aunty thinks he cannot be 
 a perfectly good one, without !" 
 
 "I protest against the red hair and against your 
 being wasted upon mere cannibals!" said Mrs. Ses 
 sions. "Why cannibals, Em ?" 
 
 Em's face gradually had returned to its normal 
 color, and, to all seeming, she was quite calm again, 
 though she would never be able to forgive herself 
 for the tactless display of her real thought at such an 
 inopportune moment. 
 
 "Wai, cannibals is cannibals, o' course," she said 
 in her usual sharp voice. "Nobody's a-goin' to deny 
 that! But Rosie here can twist anybody around her 
 littlest finger, and not hurt their feelin's. I ain't 
 lived with her this long, not to find that out. And 
 when it comes to cannibals, she'd certainly be able to 
 persuade 'em all inside o' five minutes of her landin* 
 on their shores that missionary meat wa'n't good for 
 their digestions, an' inside of an hour she'd have 'em
 
 176 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 eatin' breakfast foods an' such, an' by the next day 
 they'd have forgot the taste of human flesh and never 
 want any thin' more, so long's they had Rosie to take 
 care of 'em. If you don't believe it, look at me!" Em 
 exclaimed dramatically. 
 
 Every one turned quickly, with a sort of start, as if 
 half expecting to see signs of latent cannibalism in her; 
 but she appeared quite as usual, and went on: 
 
 "Could any one ever persuade me to open the win 
 dow blinds in my best room till Rose came? No! 
 Could any one persuade me to litter up my front porch 
 with cushions and hammocks an' hangin' plants an' 
 mats an' such geegaws, till Rosie made me do it? No ! 
 Could any one else make me dress up in my second best 
 dress and set out on that porch an' do my sewin', most 
 every afternoon, like a lazy good-f or-nothin' ? No, 
 sir ! An' the worst of it is, I like it I freely confess 
 I like it, an' I'm happier for it an' if I remember my 
 plain, shiny old piazza and my gloomy old dark best 
 room as it used to be, at all, it's only to be thankful 
 that Rose came into it and brightened it all up for me, 
 like she brightens up everything with her sweet self! 
 So if she can do all this with a hardened crotchety 
 old maid like me, cannibals even ain't too much of a 
 task for her! Now, you see my point! She'd come 
 sailin' back to America before a year was out, with
 
 DANNY 177 
 
 a string of cannibals as tame as pet cats, and most 
 likely with big pussy-cat bows of ribbon around their 
 necks and a peaceful, heathen smile on their faces 
 as proud of their captivity as I am o' mine!" 
 
 By this time they had all gradually gotten them 
 selves out of the church, and stood around waiting to 
 say good-by as Em finished. There was a little more 
 merriment over her tirade, and the party broke up. 
 
 Em seized Rose almost roughly by the arm and 
 fairly pushed her away from Philip's proximity. 
 
 "Two's company three's none," she snapped, as he 
 took a step beside Rose. 
 
 "Aunty!" Rose murmured, rebelliously, dropping 
 her eyes in hurt embarrassment. But Philip did not 
 hear her he saw only that she avoided his gaze, and 
 he did not persist. 
 
 "My precious child," said Em in a broken voice, as 
 they turned into their own yard, "you are dearer to 
 me than anything on earth you know I wouldn't 
 hurt you for worlds!" 
 
 "I know," said Rose quietly, putting her hand in 
 Em's "Just look at our roses! All those buds have 
 come out this afternoon !" And that was all that was 
 said about it.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE ORDEAL 
 
 IT wanted but five minutes to the time set for the 
 long-talked-of Examination. It was twenty-five min 
 utes after three o'clock, and the Council, made up for 
 the most part of rural clergymen round about, were 
 all in their places in the front pews of the church ; the 
 Moderator facing them and in the center of the plat 
 form, with Eden on his right, also facing the Council 
 and his anxious and excited congregation. 
 
 The little church was packed with the faithful fol 
 lowers and friends of the young minister, and the hush 
 was noticeable, for it meant that all were too excited 
 even to whisper to one another. 
 
 Philip was very white, but sat calmly enough in the 
 chair allotted to him. 
 
 "He looks like a lamb led to the slaughter," thought 
 Em; but she could not have uttered a word aloud to 
 save her soul. "I hope they won't keep the poor boy 
 a-waitin' long," she ruminated nervously, as she turned 
 her head back to look at the clock. What was her 
 amazement to see Lois Sessions tiptoeing in through 
 
 178
 
 THE ORDEAL 179 
 
 one of the doorways. She was in traveling costume 
 and decidedly dusty; and her hair was blown about 
 her face in quite an unnatural manner; but she was as 
 handsome as usual and even more haughty. 
 
 Her look, however, was panic-stricken, Em thought, 
 in the brief glimpse she had of her before the girl 
 knew that she was observed. Then Lois found a seat 
 at the back of the church and sank into it, and out 
 of the glare of Em's burning eyes. 
 
 "What can have brought her home in that shape?'* 
 Em questioned to herself. Then, "Why! There ain't 
 no train sure as fate, there ain't a train to East Long- 
 meadow at this hour of the day! How did she ever 
 get out here from Springfield?" 
 
 As Em was puzzling over this last thought, the 
 Moderator rose and called the meeting to order. 
 
 He was a short, roly-poly man, of great dignity; 
 and of considerable eminence in the city he came 
 from. 
 
 The congregation took a keen glance at him, and 
 instantly decided that they liked him. He looked as 
 if he would be favorable to Mr. Eden, they thought. 
 
 Meanwhile, a glint of surprise had come into the 
 Minister's face at Lois' unexpected entrance. 
 
 Then his attention also was caught and held by the 
 rising of the Moderator.
 
 i8o THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 At the opening of the meeting, there was a brief 
 prayer. After which, Philip was asked to rise, and 
 the questioning began. At first everything went eas 
 ily. The young candidate answered the questions put 
 to him, readily and without embarrassment. His con 
 gregation felt their hearts swell with pride at his 
 brilliant showing. 
 
 The ecclesiastical brethren in the front pews nodded 
 their heads frequently, in approbation. The Mod 
 erator was openly pleased with the new candidate for 
 the Ministry. He had a son of his own in a Theologi 
 cal Seminary, and felt that he would be perfectly 
 satisfied if he could know that his boy would make 
 an equally good showing. 
 
 As the examination went on Em, who had been 
 sitting bolt upright and breathless, from the first word 
 that was uttered, gradually leaned back as her pent- 
 up anxiety relaxed, and a feeling of security and of 
 intellectual enjoyment took its place. Finally her sharp 
 shoulder-blades touched the back of the pew and she 
 unfurled her best black fan, prepared to have a good 
 time for the rest of the afternoon. 
 
 Suddenly the movement of the fan was arrested in 
 mid-air. Em shot forward into her former position, 
 her eyes and one of her large ears trained on an old
 
 THE ORDEAL 181 
 
 clergyman from a nearby village, who was speaking 
 to the Moderator in a slow, 1 dry, crusty voice. 
 
 "Our young brother has answered all questions put 
 to him with surprising lucidity and directness," (he 
 was saying), "and I am sure we are all pleased with 
 his understanding of the teachings of Holy Scriptures 
 thus far but there are a few points that I should 
 like to satisfy myself in regard to, if I may be al 
 lowed to do so, Mr. Moderator?" 
 
 "Certainly, Mr. Harris," returned the Moderator. 
 After which Mr. Harris, his face all twisted into 
 knots and wrinkles, turned to Mr. Eden with an 
 acid smile which gave his countenance a look almost 
 of pain. 
 
 "Now, then! Now, then! My dear brother in 
 Christianity Do you or do you not believe in Infant 
 Damnation ?" 
 
 "I do not, sir!" answered Philip. 
 
 Mr. Harris leaned forward like a gnarled tree bent 
 by the wind, his hand to his ear "Did I understand 
 you to say that you do not believe in John Calvin's 
 doctrine that Hell is paved with the skulls of unbap- 
 tized infants?" 
 
 "Yes, sir I do not believe in any such ungodlike 
 thing!" answered Mr. Eden vehemently.
 
 i82 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 Old Mr. Harris gazed about him with a horrified 
 air, and went on "Will you kindly explain why you 
 do not believe one of the oldest tenets of the Estab 
 lished Protestant Church?" 
 
 "Because," said Mr. Eden, flushing, "I believe God 
 to be a God of love, a God who would condemn no 
 one unheard, however wicked he might be and cer 
 tainly not an innocent little child who had not lived 
 long enough to commit any wrong whatever !" 
 
 "Are you aware, young sir, that you differ with 
 many men greater and wiser than yourself, in thus 
 taking a stand of unbelief " 
 
 A rap on the table from the Moderator stopped Mr. 
 Harris in the middle of his sentence, as the former 
 rose hastily and said : 
 
 "The candidate has answered your question regard 
 ing his belief. His differing with greater or lesser 
 men really has no bearing on the subject at hand. 
 May I request that you proceed to your next question, 
 Mr. Harris?" 
 
 "As you wish, Mr. Moderator," answered the old 
 clergyman, with a light of anger in his eye. Once 
 more he turned toward his victim. 
 
 "Since you have expressed yourself so freely against 
 Infant Damnation, will you kindly give your opinion 
 of the doctrine of Fore-Ordination, regarding all souls
 
 THE ORDEAL 183 
 
 born into this sinful world ? Do you believe us to be 
 fore-ordained for good and evil?" 
 
 "I do not so believe," said Mr. Eden resolutely. "I 
 cannot believe any such narrow doctrine. For, in such 
 a case, there would be no object in our striving toward 
 goodness. Christ would have died in vain instead 
 of which, we are told, and I believe, that He died to 
 save sinners." Then, reading augmented disapproval 
 in his antagonist's face "These questions were never 
 brought up to me before and I did not know that 
 any one believed such things, nowadays!" the boy 
 concluded in a hesitating way, his face growing 
 white. 
 
 "May I ask what you do believe in, Mr. Eden?" 
 went on the acid voice. "The foundation of your 
 theological education seems to be wwbelief, to judge 
 from your own confession." 
 
 "I believe in God the Father, Maker of Heaven and 
 Earth. I believe Him to be a God of Love I believe 
 that for that reason, alone, he sacrificed His Son for 
 us to save us from the tortures of our sins. I be 
 lieve Him to be a just, merciful Father slow to anger 
 and plenteous in mercy." 
 
 "Do you believe in the Trinity?" 
 
 "I do," answered the candidate. "I believe in the 
 Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost."
 
 1 84 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "I am glad to hear it " retorted Mr. Harris with a 
 sour smile, rather put out to find his victim so ready 
 in spite of his badgering. 
 
 "Do you believe in the inspiration of the Holy 
 Scriptures?" 
 
 "I do," answered Philip firmly. 
 
 "Do you not believe, with the Reverend Jonathan 
 Edwards, that the righteous in Glory should feel un 
 mixed joy at sight of the sufferings of the damned?" 
 fairly shouted Mr. Harris in his enthusiasm. 
 
 "I do not!" declared Mr. Eden. "I think that God 
 in His justice would not allow such a shameful con 
 dition of things in the Spiritual World. A thing like 
 that would make the Saints all over into Pharisees 
 in no time. A God who gives us strength to bear the 
 trials of this world would not surely allow us to be 
 jeered at in the next, by those who happened to be 
 more righteous than we. I believe that the Father 
 will never forsake us, whatever we do, or whatever 
 happens. 'Yea, though I walk through the Valley 
 of the Shadow of Death, / will fear no evil!' " said 
 Philip, looking straight out before him, his eyes wide 
 with the inspiration of his faith. 
 
 There was a sound of subdued sniffling from dif 
 ferent parts of the church, and much blowing of noses. 
 Mr. Harris, himself, was appalled before the implicit
 
 THE ORDEAL 185 
 
 trust of the young man; but a moment after he flung 
 one last question, with his former zeal: 
 
 "How about 'Sinful Man in the hands of an Angry 
 God'?" 
 
 "I am afraid I cannot satisfy you, Mr. Harris " 
 faltered the candidate despairingly, "our points of view 
 are utterly different. I do not believe in any 'Angry 
 God.' The God I believe in is He whose Son said 
 'Believe on me and ye shall be saved I go to pre 
 pare a place for you if it were not so, I would have 
 told you.' 'God so loved the world, that He gave His 
 only begotten Son/ that through Him we might be 
 saved ! 
 
 "It all seems so plain to me," he finished hopelessly, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 But Mr. Harris was not yet through with him. 
 "One more question " 
 
 "Mr. Harris !" burst in the Moderator "This meet 
 ing has already been extended considerably over the 
 time allotted to it. Mr. Eden has answered all the 
 important questions; well, and to the point. Person 
 ally, these latter questions seem to me to have little 
 or no bearing on Theology of the present time " 
 
 "Pardon me, Mr. Moderator," spoke up a fussy, 
 elderly man, "but I think Brother Harris quite justi 
 fied in his attempt to find out whether our young can-
 
 1 86 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 didate is worthy of the trust we are trying to help 
 him to undertake. We want none but sound men in the 
 Pulpit. And Theology of the present time is or ought 
 to be Theology of the ancient time as well. Pardon 
 me, Mr. Moderator." 
 
 At this, one after another took sides, and the Coun 
 cil threatened to become a ministerial riot; till the 
 Moderator, seeing that things were going too far, ad 
 journed the meeting. The Congregation were dis 
 missed and the Council went into secret session to de 
 cide the young minister's fate.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 SUPPER IS KEPT WAITING 
 
 THE original plan of the Entertainment Committee 
 had been that after the Council was over, Dr. Ses 
 sions, as leading citizen, was to take the visiting clergy 
 men around the village, pointing out the prettiest views, 
 and explaining the various ancient landmarks; after 
 which, they were to repair to the vestry, where they, 
 and the Congregation as well, were to regale them 
 selves with a gorgeous supper, until half-past seven, 
 when the Installation Service was to begin. 
 
 The moment the secret session convened, however, 
 and the doors were shut on the church people, the 
 latter hastily gathered outside in earnest conclave in 
 which righteous indignation was a prominent factor. 
 
 "There's no time to take anybody round to see the 
 sights, Doctor," said Em with asperity. "Them min 
 isters spent so much time a-keepin' Mr. Eden on the 
 rack, they'll hev to go without their walk an* it 
 serves them right! Old Mr. Harris don't deserve his 
 supper !" 
 
 187
 
 i88 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "No! Nor that other old fossil either!" agreed 
 Mrs. Sessions. "Do you think there is any chance of 
 their failing to ordain Mr. Eden, Doctor?" 
 
 "Of course not, Delia Mr. Eden is as sound as any 
 of 'em, and only two of the clergymen are old fogies. 
 Most of the rest seemed very favorable from the start, 
 and it was easy to tell that the Moderator was im 
 pressed by our Minister. The Moderator is the big 
 gest of the whole lot, and he knows a good man when 
 he sees one. He'll bring him through all right, if 
 there's any great discussion. I could see that from 
 the first." 
 
 "Wai, in the meantime, how about our supper?" 
 shrilled Em. "Is that all to get cold and spoilt, just 
 because those men upstairs like to hear themselves 
 talk? Mr. Harris an' that other old critter are 'bout 
 as much benefit to the community as a last year's 
 almanac ! 
 
 "We'd ought to have given them their supper, first. 
 Then they'd have felt in better humor maybe!" 
 
 Every one laughed at Em's vehemence. Just then 
 Lois Sessions, attended by the Minister, came up the 
 walk. The girl had beckoned him aside as he came 
 dazedly out of the church. 
 
 The moment they were observed, there was a general 
 rush for the popular young candidate, as each person
 
 SUPPER IS KEPT WAITING 189 
 
 hastened to assure him of all confidence in the elec 
 tion. 
 
 "Don't you worry, Mr. Eden," said Charles Reuben, 
 hovering behind Em as usual. "They're a-goin' to 
 elect you with e-clatt I'd be obliged to you if you'd 
 shake my hand on it !" 
 
 Then every one else wanted to shake hands with 
 the Minister, and at once he became the center of a 
 warm-hearted, encouraging crowd. 
 
 Lois, meanwhile, had stepped up to her mother and 
 was asking her in a whisper for the house key. 
 
 "Darling!" exclaimed her mother. "You startled 
 me so when I saw you coming up the walk! How 
 could you ever leave College just now and how did 
 you get here at this time of day?" 
 
 "I'll tell you all about it later, Mother, if you'll 
 only let me have the key I haven't looked in a 
 mirror since early this morning and I know I'm a 
 fright. Do give me the key and let me run away be 
 fore people begin to ask questions I'll be back in a 
 few minutes, and tell you all about everything, if 
 you'll only let me make myself decent first !" 
 
 Wondering, Mrs. Sessions handed the key to her 
 daughter without a word, and watched her disappear 
 down the street. 
 
 "What's happened to Lois, Mis' Sessions ? Ain't bin
 
 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 an' left College just when she was a-goin' to carry off 
 all the palms, has she?" Em inquired stiffly. She 
 couldn't be cordial when speaking of Lois, though 
 she really tried hard. 
 
 "I'm afraid she's not well " said Mrs. Sessions 
 uneasily; "she didn't look a bit like herself " 
 
 "Let's go down into the vestry and see how the 
 supper looks!" broke in Charles Reuben's sister run 
 ning up to Mrs. Sessions and Em, a perfect whirl 
 wind of pale-blue ribbons and white muslin. "Come 
 on, let's go down!" she pleaded in her sweet affected 
 lisp. "Even if we can't eat, we can sit down and 
 companion each other!" 
 
 Poor Experience Lee's principal idea of a good 
 time was having people "companion each other," and 
 now she rushed about from group to group urging 
 them all to go down with her into the vestry. 
 
 As they started down the stairs, Mrs. Sessions took 
 the opportunity to get near her husband and whisper : 
 
 "Did you know Lois was home? What do you 
 suppose has happened?" 
 
 "I don't think anything has happened," whispered 
 the doctor in return, "except that the temptation to 
 see Mr. Eden ordained, was too strong for her to 
 keep away any longer. She just darted up to me and 
 asked for the key, and I told her you had it."
 
 SUPPER IS KEPT WAITING 191 
 
 By this time they were downstairs where a gay 
 confusion reigned. 
 
 People were rushing around admiring one table 
 after another each heaped high with a tempting dis 
 play of dainties. There was a profusion of flowers 
 everywhere sweet old-fashioned flowers, that trans 
 formed the bare vestry with its long tables into a 
 fairy bower, with a feast for the gods in the midst of 
 all. 
 
 "Oh!" sighed Em, "Why didn't we feed 'em first? 
 They're all men; and every one knows the way to a 
 man's heart!" 
 
 Charles Reuben gave her a tender and admiring 
 glance, and murmured fervently, "What a woman!" 
 
 A moment later, Lois came down the stairs, once 
 more immaculate, though still in her traveling clothes. 
 
 The doctor rose at once and hurried to her anx 
 iously. 
 
 "How are you feeling now, Lois?" he asked. "You 
 must be so dreadfully tired !" 
 
 "I am tired," answered Lois, and she looked it. 
 
 "Now, Baby," said her father, "it's time you told 
 us all about everything; your sudden appearance gave 
 your mother quite a turn!" 
 
 "There's nothing to tell," answered Lois with her 
 characteristic little laugh, "except that I broke down
 
 192 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 went all to pieces and the physical director and the 
 doctor said that unless I gave up everything and came 
 home at once, I'd be such a nervous wreck that they 
 wouldn't answer for the consequences so here I am. 
 Everything's over !" with a pretty gesture of resig 
 nation. 
 
 There was an instant's silence; then her father 
 said slowly, his face whitening: 
 
 "Do you mean you're not going back to grad 
 uate?" 
 
 "Yes, Daddy I'm ill" she insisted "Just feel 
 my heart thumping." 
 
 She took her father's hand ana held it over her 
 heart. 
 
 "I should say it was thumping!" he said. "I guess 
 you need your old Dad to take care of you. We'll 
 bring you round all right, don't you worry. Just sit 
 down though, my girl don't stand, with a heart like 
 that!" 
 
 Lois allowed herself to be put into an arm chair, 
 and Mrs. Sessions and Experience Lee hovered around 
 her like anxious mother-hens. 
 
 The Doctor rushed home to get some sort of quiet 
 ing medicine for his daughter's heart. 
 
 Lois had never been known to have a sick day in 
 all her life; and so sudden a breakdown created a
 
 SUPPER IS KEPT WAITING 193 
 
 sensation. Em alone looked skeptical. The Doctor's 
 eyes might be deceived by love and anxiety, she 
 thought; but, to her, the expression she had surprised- 
 in Lois' face as she stole into church just before the 
 Council, spelled fear, not illness. 
 
 "How'd you get out here in the middle of the day, 
 Lois, if I may ask?" said Em. 
 
 Lois made no sign of having heard; at which snub, 
 Em gave a snort and tossed up her head, scenting 
 battle. 
 
 "Yes, how did you get here, dear?" asked her 
 mother, trying to keep the peace. 
 
 "I walked." 
 
 "Walked!" exclaimed several people. 
 
 "Yes, walked out from Springfield. What are you 
 all so astonished about?" she added scornfully. "It's 
 only ten miles. That's nothing for an athlete like 
 me." 
 
 "Humph," snorted Em. "Thought you was such an 
 invalid h'm!" 
 
 This last sound was emitted in a slow, ruminative 
 way, as she gave Lois a level glance that said as 
 plainly as words, "You can't fool me," and then 
 quietly turned away from the group and began ar 
 ranging the flowers in a nearby vase. 
 
 The color flooded Lois' face and she seemed about
 
 194 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 to retort; but evidently thought better of it. Soon 
 her father came back, bringing the promised medi 
 cine, which Lois took quite meekly; while Em, all un 
 noticed, sniffed derisively to herself. 
 
 "Isn't it horrid to have to sit here and wait all 
 this time !" exclaimed Lois. "They surely must know 
 by now what they're going to do!" 
 
 "Every one is beginning to look fagged," said Philip 
 nervously. "I wish, for everybody's sake, it were all 
 over." 
 
 "Let's go back to the days of our childhood and 
 play games," said Rose Warren. 
 
 "Oh, come on, let's!" said Danny, at her heels as 
 usual. 
 
 "Well, dear, you and Charles Reuben stir the 
 people up and we'll have an old-fashioned spelling 
 match !" 
 
 "Splendid!" cried Philip. "Let Charles Reuben 
 choose one side and Danny the other !" 
 
 Thus appealed to, every one rose to the occasion, 
 and a spelling match was soon in progress. 
 
 Lois was not allowed to stand up and take part, 
 so she and Mrs. Currier (who, being stone deaf, was 
 also debarred) sat and watched the contest. 
 
 Charles Reuben had, of course, chosen Em at once 
 for his first speller; and Danny with equal promptness
 
 SUPPER IS KEPT WAITING 195 
 
 and loyalty had lifted up his high little voice for 
 Rose. 
 
 Deacon Cone gave out the words, and the fun 
 waxed keen; though the voices were kept decorously 
 lowered, out of respect to the debating clergymen 
 upstairs. 
 
 After a time, the spelling match began to pall, for 
 every one was at heart secretly anxious and increas 
 ingly worried at the over-long delay in the decision. 
 However, they went on spelling bravely, until Miss 
 Phcebe Bliss, who had never spelled a word wrong 
 in her life, came off victorious and was assisted, smil 
 ing and blushing, to her seat. 
 
 After this there was another pause and Dr. Ses 
 sions began to walk the floor, while every one showed 
 the strain of waiting. Even Em was silenced for a 
 longer time than usual, contenting herself with the 
 one remark: "Those men upstairs don't need a Mod 
 erator it's an accelerator they want." 
 
 Finally Experience Lee suggested that the people 
 play "Beast, Bird or Fish." A few joined half-heart 
 edly in the time-worn game. Then came another 
 dreary stretch of waiting. 
 
 "Let's " began Mrs. Sessions. 
 
 But she got no further, for a messenger from the 
 Council appeared, summoning Mr. Eden.
 
 196 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 Soon afterward, the measured tread of ministerial 
 feet was heard descending the stairs to the vestry. 
 
 The Council were escorted to the table set apart for 
 them, the congregation took their allotted places at 
 the other tables, and all sat waiting. 
 
 For a moment there was tense silence. 
 
 Then the voice of the Moderator broke the stillness. 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen, this Council here assembled 
 has been in earnest conclave for several hours, regard 
 ing the election of our dear brother, Philip Eden, to 
 the ministry. It is with the deepest regret I am ob 
 liged to tell you that, as a Council, agreement could not 
 be reached regarding his eligibility. Certain members 
 among those here called together, have expressed 
 themselves as of the opinion that the Candidate's 
 theology is unsound that he would not be a safe per 
 son to whom to intrust a pastoral flock. 
 
 "It has been impossible for us to overcome these 
 objections, although we have argued long and earnestly. 
 Therefore, as our vote is not unanimous, we are 
 forced with the deepest regret, to refuse to elect the 
 Candidate. I believe this is all that there is to be 
 said." 
 
 The congregation sat as if turned to stone while, 
 with a bow, the Moderator prepared to sit down. He 
 was stopped midway, however, by a voice from the
 
 SUPPER IS KEPT WAITING 197 
 
 end of the room, and hastily stood upright again as 
 he saw the mighty form of Dr. Sessions looming 
 mountain-like far over the heads of the people. The 
 doctor stood, one hand resting on the chair he had 
 just quitted. 
 
 "Pardon me that is not all there is to be said," 
 boomed the doctor's rich voice. His eyes were spar 
 kling with indignation and his face, in its frame of 
 white whiskers, was very red. 
 
 "Gentlemen of the Council, on behalf of the congre 
 gation of this church, I desire to state with all respect, 
 that we, as a congregation, refuse to accept the deci 
 sion of the visiting Council regarding our beloved pas 
 tor, Philip Eden. 
 
 "You have seen fit to condemn him, simply on ac 
 count of his disbelief in a few antiquated dogmas that 
 are, or soon will be, entirely out of date. You have 
 not taken into account the tremendous force of his 
 compelling Faith in Christianity. In fact, you have 
 proved, by your decision, that you have not reached, 
 at all, a knowledge of the finer elements in his char 
 acter and teaching. We, who have sat regularly under 
 his instruction, have this knowledge, and we protest 
 against your superficial condemnation. 
 
 "We cannot understand how a Council of learned 
 men could come to such a decision when all the facts
 
 198 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 are considered. It almost seems as if it were an at 
 tack of spite on the part of one or two the feeble 
 attempt of the old and narrow, to prevent the progress 
 of a young and broader man. A little fear that the 
 old may be superseded by the young. (A losing bat 
 tle that, between youth and age!) 
 
 "Some one in the congregation has suggested, not 
 unreasonably, that it is a pity supper was not served 
 before the decision " (numerous broad smiles and 
 glances at Em) "and I am inclined to agree with that 
 person; our brother from East Longmeadow might 
 have been in a more indulgent humor, if he had known 
 the good things provided for him. However, it is 
 too late to think of that now. 
 
 "The congregation of the church is prepared to 
 bring forward proof of Mr. Eden's eligibility, in the 
 number of people who have accepted Christianity and 
 signified their desire to become members of this cnurch, 
 during his brief pastorate of less than six months. 
 No iess than twenty-eight people have turned to God, 
 entirely through this young man's ministrations; and 
 if you consider the small size of the town, twenty- 
 eight is a large number. 
 
 "More than that, he has done wonders with the 
 church societies, not only bracing up those that were 
 instituted before his coming, but starting a young
 
 SUPPER IS KEPT WAITING 199 
 
 men's Bible class under his own supervision, that has 
 had already a marked effect on the life of the young 
 men of this parish. 
 
 "He is a born leader of men, a natural orator, a 
 consistent Christian. What more would you have? 
 
 "His ministry among the sick and helpless has been 
 unceasing he has given freely of himself, always, 
 sparing neither strength nor sympathy. In short, he 
 has walked in the footsteps of Christ. And what fur 
 ther could one need in a minister of the Gospel? 
 
 "If we, to whom he ministers, are satisfied, why 
 should you be displeased?" (Subdued applause from 
 the congregation, and much nodding of heads.) "Did 
 our Saviour preach Hell Fire and Damnation? No! 
 Yet I hope the learned clergymen do not question the 
 orthodoxy of our Lord." (More vigorous nodding 
 from the congregation.) "This young man has stood 
 before you to-day; boldly declaring his faith, like the 
 martyrs of old. You have not shaken that faith no 
 though you have scourged him with the whips of 
 your musty old doctrines. He has fought a good 
 fight, and, I repeat, we refuse to accept your decision. 
 It is our purpose to invite another Council I believe 
 I speak for the whole congregation?" (Tremendous 
 applause.) "You see we are of one mind to invite 
 another Council. We shall be careful whom we choose
 
 200 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 the biggest men in the country are none too good 
 for the little town of South Wilbr'm. We made the 
 mistake, before, of going out into the byways and 
 hedges " (with a glance toward Mr. Harris). 
 "This time there will be no mistake. We will have a 
 Council of broad-minded men, and Mr. Eden will 
 undoubtedly be elected." (Applause.) 
 
 "Before closing I wish to tender the sincere thanks 
 of the congregation to the eminent Moderator, and 
 to all of the Council who may have signified their wish 
 to elect Mr. Eden. I sincerely regret the unhappy 
 ending to this long-looked- for occasion; but feel that 
 the final act is not yet played, and that all will be well. 
 
 "In the meantime, the ladies of the Church, who 
 have taken great pleasure in preparing a supper for 
 you, invite you to partake of it without further delay. 
 I thank you for your indulgence, gentlemen." 
 
 The doctor sat down amid thunderous applause, in 
 which the Moderator and a number of the Council 
 joined. 
 
 Suddenly Charles Reuben jumped to his feet. "A 
 cheer for the doctor!" he cried, waving his high hat. 
 With that, there was a ringing shout "Hurrah for 
 the doctor ! Doctor ! Doctor !" 
 
 "Hurray for Mr. Eden!" shouted Em, forgetting 
 her animosity toward Philip, for the time.
 
 SUPPER IS KEPT WAITING 201 
 
 "Mr. Eden! Doctor! Mr. Eden!" yelled the peo 
 ple, frantic with enthusiasm. 
 
 The young man had not come back after the Coun 
 cil had called him out. He felt stunned by the blow 
 that had been dealt him and had stayed outside by 
 himself for a few minutes; but Deacon Cone had 
 slipped upstairs when the applause began, and now 
 appeared, urging him along. 
 
 In the general uproar, Philip was soon put at his 
 ease; the promise of another Council was whispered 
 in his ear, and his spirits rose. 
 
 Amid all the din, old Mr. Harris and his grizzled 
 crony sat with bent shoulders and scowling brows; 
 looking like whipped and snarling dogs, and not dar 
 ing to raise their eyes. 
 
 Finally the Moderator rapped upon the table and 
 shouted : 
 
 "Order!" 
 
 There was silence in a moment and then he said: 
 
 "I wish to thank Dr. Sessions for stating the case 
 so clearly. He has come nobly to his friend's de 
 fense, and I would like to go on record as saying that 
 I appreciate his spirit and the attitude he has taken. 
 I am more than delighted to know that another Coun 
 cil has "been decided upon, and with all my heart I 
 hope and believe that there will be no difficulty, a
 
 202 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 second time, in the election of so worthy a candi 
 date." 
 
 Spontaneous applause greeted the Moderator as he 
 sat down, showing that he was not included in the 
 general condemnation of the action of the Council. 
 
 After the hand-clapping subsided, the Moderator 
 asked a blessing, and supper was fairly under way at 
 last. 
 
 Every one felt the relief of tension and the meal 
 was a success from beginning to end. In spite of the 
 delay, nothing was spoiled, and the Moderator was 
 heard to observe that he would always be glad of an 
 excuse to come to South Wilbr'm if this was a sam 
 ple of the cooking. 
 
 Suddenly, Charles Reuben jumped to his feet. 
 
 "I wish to make an announcement, folks," he cried. 
 "It's going to be something of a surprise to you all; 
 but wonders will never cease on this 'arth! Miss 
 Emma Ufford has done me the distinguished honor to 
 promise to be the bride of the Bard of the World " 
 
 His voice was at once completely drowned by the 
 chorus of delighted screams that rose on every 
 side. 
 
 Em, fairly purple in the face, grabbed Charles Reu 
 ben's coat-tail and sleeve, frantically, and tried to pull 
 him into silence. But for once he paid no attention
 
 SUPPER IS KEPT WAITING 203 
 
 to her, except to seize her bony red fists and hold 
 them firmly in his own. 
 
 "Em doesn't want me to tell," he went on, beam 
 ingly, "but I'm going to for if everybody knows, 
 then she can't back out ! She " 
 
 Here he was interrupted again; but Em's abashed 
 face stopped the mirth and Charles Reuben forged 
 ahead once more. 
 
 "She only promised me, last night and she's been 
 a-tryin' to make me have it a secret weddin', to avoid 
 all the fuss an' talk. But I ain't ashamed of my bar 
 gain, and I want all you folks to know how happy I 
 am an' how proud," he looked it "an' an' it 
 seemed just a leetle safer to announce it before every 
 body and now't's over, I don't suppose she'll mind so 
 much do you, Em?" 
 
 He turned to the spinster with pathetic appeal in 
 his eyes, as he stopped speaking, dropped her hands 
 and sat down. The boldness of his deed frightened 
 him. 
 
 "Speech speech, Em !" came the cry on every side. 
 "It's your turn, now!" 
 
 Em went rather pale, then quite red, half arose, 
 sat down, was pushed up again and then with a shake 
 of her shoulders and a toss of her carroty head, 
 began:
 
 2204 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "Wai, folks, Charles Reuben has certainly let the 
 cat out, this time. But he needn't to have thought I'd 
 go back on him 'twasn't necessary to publish our 
 secret, to keep me from goin' back on my word I 
 guess everybody else here knows that and if Charles 
 Reuben don't, after these sixteen years, he never will. 
 
 "The truth is, he's pestered me so long, I'm all wore 
 out, and I just hed to agree to merry him, to get rid 
 of him!" 
 
 Unheeding the laughter, Em went right on. 
 
 "An' then, I s'pose I'm kind of used to him and 
 Danny here thinks he can't live without him to judge 
 by the way he's carryin' on now." Danny had left 
 his seat and was hugging Charles Reuben in free and 
 unaffected happiness, much to the detriment of the 
 Bard's collar and tie. "Mebbe we all needed him 
 more'n we thought. There wasn't no other way," 
 Em added in a softer voice. 
 
 "Oh, law I talk like an old fool I guess I am 
 one"; with renewed spirit "there's no fool like an 
 old fool wal, all I was a-goin' to say was, that it 
 was to be a secret weddin' no one but Rosie (of 
 course) to know. It's my way to like things quiet. 
 We was goin' to steal off, and just be merried; but as 
 long as you all are in the secret you might as well all 
 be there. So I invite every one present to be at my
 
 SUPPER IS KEPT WAITING 205 
 
 house tomorrer afternoon at half-past three o'clock 
 sharp. Now la'ff! We don't care, so long's you come 
 to the weddin' !" 
 
 And laugh they did, and drank Em's health in un- 
 fermented currant wine; and the health of Charles 
 Reuben who appeared as if he really needed it. 
 
 Gradually, a look of beatific happiness overspread 
 his face, and he rose unsteadily to his feet with one 
 hand in his breast pocket and cleared his throat. 
 
 "Ahem ahem," he began. "I have er a little 
 thing, an ode that I wrote about the Installation; 
 but as there isn't going to be any Installation, I'm 
 afraid that won't do so I'll just say 
 
 "Come in your wagon 
 Come in your carriage 
 To see Em and Charles Reuben 
 United in marriage!" 
 
 At this every one rose from the table, eager to 
 shake hands with Em and Charles Reuben. So the 
 evening, which had threatened to be such a failure, 
 became a never-to-be-forgotten jubilee.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 A WEDDING 
 
 IT was the morning- of Em Ufford's wedding day, 
 and every one in the house was up, betimes; for, 
 though her domain was, to the ordinary eye, immacu 
 late at all hours, Em's* piercing glance was sure to light 
 on- some infinitesimal speck of dust that no one else 
 could possibly have found; and the house to-day was 
 swept and garnished, from force of habit rather than 
 because there was the slightest need of it. 
 
 The prospective bride chuckled as she went about 
 her work, thinking of the bomb Charles Reuben had 
 cast among her friends the evening before when he 
 had announcd their forthcoming marriage. 
 
 All at once she sat down in a rocker, her dust- 
 cloth still in her hand, and began to laugh aloud, 
 rocking as she laughed. 
 
 Rose, polishing silver in the next room, heard her 
 through the open door and came rushing in. 
 
 "What's the matter, Aunty?" she asked. "You're 
 not having hysterics all by yourself, are you?" 
 
 "Me ? Em Uff ord havin' hysterics ? I should hope 
 206
 
 A WEDDING 207 
 
 not! But I'm just as nigh to it as I ever expect to 
 be, and all for thinkin' of the face of that poor critter, 
 Charles Reuben, when he told the folks our weddin' 
 was afoot! 
 
 "Oh, law !" she cried, wiping the tears of mirth from 
 her eyes with her blue checked apron, "there was only 
 one face could beat it, and that was the same critter's 
 face when I said I'd marry 'im. It was as good's a 
 play! I never saw any one more took aback! The 
 poor soul ! Oh, me," she gasped, "it was the best joke 
 ever was! Of course I knew it had to come some 
 time, so, thinks I, why not now? 
 
 "Wai," (more seriously) "when once we get off on 
 our weddin' trip " 
 
 "A wedding trip," exclaimed Rose. "Oh, you dear 
 Aunty! You're just too delicious for anything! 
 What on earth would you do with Charles Reuben 
 on a wedding trip?" 
 
 "Just you wait and see, dearie. Charles Reuben's 
 been spoilt by his sister; but he has possibilities and 
 I calculate that I know him better'n any one else does. 
 If I hadn't a-known there was something to him, 
 under all that poetry, do you s'pose I'd hev let him 
 hang round and pester me to death all these years ? Em 
 Ufford may not be a beauty, but she's no fool, if I do 
 say it as shouldn't! An' Charles Reuben ain't any-
 
 2o8 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 body's fool either, when you come right down to it. 
 After sixteen years trainin', I've got him just where 
 I want him. An' you'll be surprised to see how spry 
 he'll chop wood, when he has a wife to chop for! 
 Choppin' wood'll be just as easy as his everlastin' whit- 
 tlin', when he gits used to it!" 
 
 "But, Aunty, where are you going on your trip?" 
 persisted Rose. 
 
 "Never you mind! Brides ain't s'posed to tell all 
 they know, beforehand! We'll tell you where we've 
 bin, when we git back. That'll be time enough I guess, 
 won't it, Rosie?" 
 
 "All right, Aunty, I won't ask another question; 
 if you'll promise to go and lie down, just to please 
 me. You know everything about the house looks per 
 fectly lovely, and a bride ought to do nothing at all on 
 her wedding day but dress for the wedding. You've 
 been working like a slave, since sunrise! Please, 
 Aunty!" (Gently pushing Em out of her chair and 
 toward the door.) "And Aunty you know you 
 promised me solemnly that you'd do your front hair 
 up on crimping irons " 
 
 "Wai, I suppose I must, if you're a-goin' to put 
 that pleadin', pathetic tone into your voice. Why do 
 you want an old woman to look more of a frump 
 than she is?"
 
 A WEDDING 209* 
 
 Rose gave her a hug, and kissed the end of her 
 nose, for answer; and then added: 
 
 "Because I love you so very, very much, Aunty, . 
 dear now, be my good child and lie down. Remem 
 ber, I'm managing things to-day!" 
 
 Em went to her room obediently, but sighed as she 
 said to herself : 
 
 "The precious lamb won't be 'managing things' 
 much longer, unless somethin' happens pretty sudden; ; 
 she's just nothin' but a pale little shadder of herself 
 an' what a lesson she teaches to us common clay! 
 So cheerful so sweet an' bright! May the Lord 
 forgive me if I feel like cursin' those that hev bruised 
 up her lovin' little heart! 
 
 "I shall keep on hopin' for the best, though," she 
 soliloquized, as she prepared to apply the crimping 
 irons to her carroty hair. "I shall keep on a-hopin' an' ' 
 may be the Lord will answer my prayer before He's 
 through !" 
 
 Rose had borne the increasing rumors of the min 
 ister's engagement to Lois very bravely. Not even to 
 Em had she said a word about it. She had tried 
 resolutely to put her own troubles aside and throw 
 her heart as well as her mind into the preparations . 
 for Em's nuptials. 
 
 At first, Em's friends were distressed that she had
 
 2IO 
 
 not given them time to help her get ready for the 
 great occasion; but she declared that there was no 
 preparation necessary as she "wouldn't have any 
 prancin' an' paradin' anyway," and when it was found 
 that the gigantic fruit cake Jane Bliss had made for 
 the Installation supper had not been cut into, owing 
 to the great quantity of dainties provided, Jane de 
 clared that it must become Em's wedding cake; so 
 it was carried up the hill to adorn the center of the 
 table ; although Em protested against "so much f ussin' 
 about a red-headed old maid !" 
 
 By the time the crimping irons had done their 
 destined work and the unyielding hair had been trained 
 by Rose's skillful little ringers into wavy locks drawn 
 back softly on either side of Em's head, people were 
 beginning to arrive, downstairs, in obedience to the 
 bride's announcement that the wedding would be at 
 "half-past three o'clock sharp!" 
 
 "Hurry, Rosie," said Em nervously. "Everybody's 
 a-comin' so fast I don't know's there'll be chairs enough 
 in the the best room for 'em all to set down in. Never 
 mind my hair, it'll be well enough. Do let me get 
 into that dress, if I must wear it!" This last with the 
 air of a martyr. Rose had insisted that Em must wear 
 a white dress; and as Em did not possess anything 
 in white more elaborate than a dimity morning gown,
 
 A WEDDING 211 
 
 Miss Phoebe Bliss had offered to lend her a white 
 nun's-veiling of her own, and although at first Em had 
 stoutly refused to go to the altar of the Lord in false 
 garments "As if " she said "I was a-tryin' to pass 
 'em off on Him as my own when He knows all the 
 time they're Phoebe's! Do let me be honest on my 
 weddin' day !" Rose had at last wheedled her into it. 
 And, as Em, standing before the mirror, saw herself 
 slowly transformed, she could not but be proud at the 
 result; although she admitted it grudgingly. 
 
 The cream white dress had some of Miss Phoebe's 
 real lace at the wrists and throat, and the cobweblike 
 meshes fell over the wearer's work-worn hands and 
 relieved the redness of her face to such an extent that, 
 although nothing could ever make her handsome, she 
 looked surprisingly well. 
 
 Finally, when all was done and Rose had pinned 
 a bunch of lilies of the valley on the front of the 
 bride's gown, she gave Em a hand-glass and said: 
 "Now just look at yourself and see if you're not 
 sweet !" 
 
 Em took a long look at her back, then at each side, 
 then at the front. 
 
 It was as if she were trying to fix the picture in her 
 mind, for future remembrance. Then she drew a deep 
 breath and laid the hand-mirror down.
 
 212 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "Wai, Em Ufford, you're a whited sepulcher!" she 
 apostrophized, "but there's no deny in' that you look 
 better'n you ever expected to till you git into your 
 ascension robe. It's a nice f eelin', anyway, ain't it, old 
 woman?" (with another sigh). "But, laws a-me!" 
 (turning briskly away from the temptations of van 
 ity). "Here I am a-standin' a-prinkin' an' tryin* to 
 imagine I'm a blushin' bride, when I presume half the 
 invited guests are a-coolin' their heels on the front hall 
 oilcloth without a chair amongst 'em. Rose, come 
 on Oh!" 
 
 While she had been admiring herself the girl had 
 run into the next room to slip on her own frock; 
 and as Em called her, she came back, such a vision of 
 loveliness that the older woman involuntarily caught 
 her breath. 
 
 "It's you that ought to be the bride, my pet ! You 
 look like nothin' but one of God's angels; in that white 
 muslin dress!" 
 
 It was the first time Rose had worn anything but 
 black since her sister's death, and her ethereal face 
 looked, as Em said, positively angelic with its ex 
 pression of calm sweetness and quiet strength. Her 
 frame had grown so slight, that one felt, somehow, 
 unconscious of its presence as if the face and the
 
 A WEDDING 213 
 
 spirit behind it were floating in space, with a cloud 
 of diaphanous white below them. 
 
 "Give old Em one kiss, darling " said the bride, 
 half sobbing. "It'll be like a benediction from 
 Heaven to be kissed by you with that look on your 
 face an' you know it's the last chance you'll 
 have to kiss Em Ufford " (with an attempt at a 
 smile). 
 
 Rose held her close in her arms for a moment; 
 then started toward the door. 
 
 "Now, Aunty, wait till you hear me begin the wed 
 ding march and be sure you keep step as you come 
 in ! I'm going to find Charles Reuben for you and see 
 that his tie is all straight. Good-by don't worry, 
 we've six minutes yet!" 
 
 "Oh, Rose!" came a distracted wail from Em, and 
 Rose flew back into the room. 
 
 "Oh, am I all right? And do we lock arms all the 
 way down the stairs, or only after we get into the 
 room? I begin to feel as if I couldn't go through with 
 it ! Would you take his left arm or his right ? Which 
 would you do ? Oh supposing I should lose my voice, 
 when I go to speak !" 
 
 "You look just dear," said Rose comfortingly, "and 
 I'd take his arm right here at the door and walk down-
 
 214 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 stairs that way, and then you won't have to think of 
 it at all as you go into the room take his right arm 
 and you won't lose your voice, I know. Just look 
 out that Charles Reuben doesn't lose his !" cried Rose, 
 laughing as she ran down the hall to find the bride 
 groom. A moment after, she was downstairs greeting 
 every one and, with Danny's aid, making an aisle be 
 tween the ranks of guests, up which the happy pair 
 were to find their way to Mr. Colton, the Methodist 
 minister, stationed with open book in hand, in front 
 of the fireplace, and directly under the picture of the 
 weeping willow lady. In spite of Em's recent preju 
 dice against Philip Eden, she had, strange to say, been 
 
 M 
 
 very anxious to have him perform the marriage cere 
 mony. But of course that was impossible, as he had 
 not been regularly ordained; so Mr. Colton was sum 
 moned at the last moment. 
 
 The room was entirely full, and the hallway and the 
 veranda as well were literally packed with people. 
 They moved aside, willingly, at Rose's smiling order, 
 "Make way for the bride !" and, everything arranged, 
 she went to the "instrument" and began the Lohengrin 
 Bridal March. 
 
 As the first note sounded, Em, with a stony "go 
 through with it or die" expression, stepped forward 
 across the threshold of her room into the hall, saying
 
 A WEDDING 215 
 
 in a sepulchral voice "Charles Reuben where are 
 you?" 
 
 Obedient to her call, the groom appeared, trembling 
 visibly, but with a brave smile that showed a gleam 
 of false teeth between the tense lips. 
 
 'Tut your right foot on the top step, Charles Reu 
 ben," went on Em's hollow voice. "Now we start!" 
 
 Solemnly they paced down the stairs, each afraid to 
 look at the other, lest they get out of step, each afraid 
 to come down with anything but the flat of the foot, 
 lest a stumble should throw the proceedings out of 
 order. The stairs seemed interminable and the surge 
 of faces below them overwhelming; but at last they 
 were safely down, and found themselves rapidly ap 
 proaching Mr. Colton. 
 
 Charles Reuben had had no time to procure new 
 clothes, but his best plaid trousers of pale gray and 
 black were always a joy to him, and he was resplen 
 dent in white kid gloves and a white tie, to say noth 
 ing of the boutonniere of lilies of the valley that Rose 
 had pinned on his coat, just before she went down 
 stairs. 
 
 The Bard's hair had been newly oiled, and he was 
 redolent of "White Rose" perfumery ; so altogether he 
 almost outshone the bride. 
 
 In a daze they stopped finally before Mr. Colton,
 
 2i6 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 and, as the music ceased and the minister's voice be 
 gan, they both felt as if just awakened from a trance. 
 
 Em's responses were characteristically firm, despite 
 her inward panic; but when it was Charles Reuben's 
 turn to say "I do," his dry throat clicked, and the 
 words refused to come. There was an awful pause, 
 while the bridegroom stood swallowing, trembling like 
 a leaf. 
 
 Then Em turned on him, her eyes flashing dark blue 
 fire: 
 
 "Speak! 'Fraid cat!" she whispered. 
 
 "I do," came trembling from the false teeth after 
 which the ceremony proceeded to the end without 
 any noticeable hitch. 
 
 As soon as it was over, Charles Reuben at once 
 became himself again and, all nervousness departed, 
 .graciously responded to the congratulations of his 
 friends, with his accustomed florid rhetoric. 
 
 Em, too, was happy, as she said : 
 
 "Wai, folks, me an' Charles Reuben tried to see 
 what we could do and we done it!" 
 
 After every one had kissed the bride and wrung the 
 hand of the groom, Experience Lee hopped upon a 
 -chair, her ribbons (pink this time) fluttering around 
 her, and shouted in the loudest lisp she could muster, 
 *'I vote we have thome denthin' ! A weddin' can't be
 
 A WEDDING 217 
 
 a weddin' without we have a Virginia reel to wind 
 up with ! All handths to their partnerth, pleathe !" 
 
 Acting on this hint, all the swains made a dash for 
 the girls, young or old, it made no difference. Sets 
 were formed in the "front room," lower and upper 
 halls and veranda, to say nothing of one out on the 
 lawn just under the open window, through which the 
 music was expected to filter. 
 
 While Experience was helped down from her perch, 
 Rose had gone to the melodeon; but Em, seeing her 
 intent, hurriedly left the side of her newly made hus 
 band, and blocked the way. 
 
 "No, you don't!" she decreed. "You ain't a-goin' 
 to set and play at my weddin' while there's others 
 a-dancin', I'd have you know! There ain't a-goin' 
 to be any dancin', unless you are right straight in the 
 middle of it, Rosie ! In my day, the men could whis 
 tle; an' they can now I guess, just as well's they could 
 then, whistle an' dance at the same time. If that 
 won't keep everybody's feet goin', I lose my guess! 
 So you go 'long and have a good time with the rest 
 of the young folks! I mean to, myself. Come on, 
 Charles Reuben, just show these folks what real whis- 
 tlin' is!" 
 
 Thus adjured, Charles Reuben seized Em by the 
 arm and burst into a lively whistle as the two pranced
 
 218 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 toward the head of the room with a step similar to 
 what would later have been called a cake walk. 
 
 The other men proved themselves equal to the occa 
 sion, and fell in with their chosen partners, keeping 
 up a vigorous whistling and clapping of hands the 
 while. 
 
 Charles Reuben was fairly in his element when the 
 Virginia Reel began, and went through the most won 
 derful evolutions imaginable, now twisting and turn 
 ing his partner underneath his outstretched arm, now 
 interpolating fancy steps in his goings and comings, 
 the like of which were never seen before, and which 
 kept every one in a roar of laughter. Em allowed 
 herself to be buffeted about, and her face became redder 
 and redder with enjoyment and unusual exercise. 
 Once she gasped out "I feel the floor a-beatin', with 
 all these feet treadin' such a measure! S'pose it was 
 to give way!" But as she was going down the line, 
 at the moment, being twisted and turned by first one 
 person, then the next, no one had time to answer her, 
 and when she arrived panting at the foot, Charles 
 Reuben seized her and swung her up to the head 
 again. And she forgot her house in the anxiety to 
 marshal her line of women so as to meet Charles Reu 
 ben's line of men once more at the foot. 
 
 Dr. Sessions had Rose for a partner. And their evo-
 
 A WEDDING 219 
 
 lutions were almost as wonderful as Elm's and Charles 
 Reuben's, though not nearly as fantastic. Doctor was 
 remarkably light on his feet and Rose seemed to 
 blow around the room like a feather, rather than really 
 to touch the floor with .her little feet. 
 
 "There's nothing left of that girl!" said Deacon 
 Cone, pointing to Rose as she flitted past the door 
 way where he and Lois Sessions (who was forbid 
 den to dance on account of her heart) watched the 
 dancing. "She's just like a bit of fluff! I'd be fright 
 ened, if she belonged to me!" 
 
 "Oh, that kind doesn't die," whispered Lois scorn 
 fully. "I don't believe her heart's in half so bad a 
 state as mine !" 
 
 About this time, Em declared she had had all she 
 could stand. So the reel came to a brilliant end, and 
 every one rushed, panting, for chairs. 
 
 "Let's have a quadrille !" cried the Postmaster. "I'll 
 be one of four gents to brave it !" 
 
 There was no response, although several men looked 
 eager. 
 
 "Why don't you speak up?" asked Matthias. 
 
 "Don't know it," answered Walter Smith, the bell- 
 ringer. 
 
 "Wai, this is it! Ladies and gents baow to pard- 
 ners, then to corners! Forrard an' back! Forrard
 
 220 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 an' baow ! Ladies change ! Baow ! Sachey ! Baow ! 
 Balance to corners! Swing yer pardners to place 
 baow !" 
 
 "Do you expect us to remember all that at onct, 
 Matthias Hewlett?" cried Em. 
 
 "Wai, you go ahead an' dance an' I'll call off ! Come 
 on!" After much laughing and hanging back, the 
 quadrille was started, with Mrs. Sessions at the melo- 
 deon. 
 
 In the midst of it, however, Em's hospitable voice 
 called out: 
 
 "Now, folks, let's come out into the dinin'-room! 
 There's a weddin' cake an' some currant wine out there 
 to be consumed by somebody, an' I suspect they're 
 a-gettin' impatient to be ate !" 
 
 With which, she took her beamingly happy hus 
 band's arm and headed the procession toward the 
 dining-room. Once there, Mrs. Sessions and Experi 
 ence Lee took charge of everything, although Em 
 attempted to pass the refreshments and was quite dis 
 tressed when she was not allowed to. 
 
 "You've all got me where I can't say anythin' !" 
 she groaned resignedly as she went back to her seat 
 beside Charles Reuben. "Any one who's cracked 
 enough to git merried at my age, ought to hev keep 
 ers, I'll admit it ; but I want you to notice I didn't say
 
 A WEDDING 221 
 
 'obey,' Charles Reuben, so don't let my seemin' meek 
 ness encourage you! I don't mind humorin' these 
 women!" she added with a twinkle. 
 
 "Now, friends, here's to your health, and may you 
 all go an' do likewise! Charles Reuben an' me hev 
 been slow, there's no denyin'; but perhaps it's just as 
 well. -The turtle is slow, but he generally gits there 
 in time for the soup! I hope and believe we've made 
 no mistake. Of course, there is drawbacks. Charles 
 Reuben's a poet. As a rule, while the poet takes in 
 the beauty of nature, his wife takes in washin'! But 
 I'm willin' to forgive Charles Reuben his poetry, if 
 he'll forgive me my temper, an' I guess he will." 
 (Charles Reuben's adoring, uplifted countenance left 
 no doubt of it.) "And after all, about the worst joke 
 a woman can play on a man is to merry him, when 
 you come to think of it. So I guess we're about 
 even !" 
 
 It was impossible for every one to crowd into the 
 dining-room, and, as is usual at such times, the younger 
 people made a rush for the hall stairs, their plates 
 and napkins in their hands. 
 
 Lois Sessions and Mr. Eden (who had first tried, 
 ineffectually, to find Rose) had established themselves 
 on the top step, above the turn. The girl had picked 
 out this particular spot with intention. Here they
 
 222 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 could talk uninterruptedly without being seen by those 
 farther down. 
 
 "It's unfortunate that you happened to come home 
 just now/' Philip was saying, "for I cannot be here 
 to help you. I am going away to-morrow morn 
 ing." 
 
 "Going away!" echoed Lois blankly. 
 
 "Yes. It won't be for long, but I promised my 
 sister I would go to her right after the Installation, 
 for a few days." 
 
 "But there wasn't any Installation, at least, there 
 won't be till later on, now; so I don't see why you're 
 not absolved from your promise." 
 
 "That's very pretty sophistry, but I'm afraid it isn't 
 quite honest enough for a would-be clergyman to go 
 by," said Philip. "And, anyway, I wish to go!" 
 
 "Oh " said Lois coldly. "Of course if you wish 
 to go, that's another matter." And she devoted her 
 self strictly to her wine and cake, while her eyes 
 narrowed. 
 
 "Elizabeth and I are just everything to each other," 
 Philip went on, "and we haven't been together for 
 months. And perhaps it's better, after all for then 
 I can tell her" 
 
 "No 1" interrupted Lois, turning around on him sud 
 denly.
 
 A WEDDING 223 
 
 "No?" he asked, surprised. 
 
 "No!" she reiterated. "I will not have her told! 
 I won't have Miss Eden and the girls know I insist 
 on that !" she said passionately. 
 
 "Why, I don't understand you," pursued the man. 
 "I thought we agreed it would be more honor 
 able" 
 
 "Yes yes I know we did," assented Lois. It's 
 only that Oh I suppose I'm nervous the doctor 
 up at College said any little thing that excites me is 
 awfully bad for me and I dread all the fuss and so 
 on! Oh, please don't say anything to her about it! 
 Promise !" she coaxed. 
 
 "Can't you see that your only course is to come 
 right out with the truth and get things over?" rea 
 soned Philip. "I have promised to help you in every 
 way possible, and I will. But you must leave matters 
 in my hands, absolutely." 
 
 "Oh, of course if you're going to bully me into 
 submission, I've nothing to say," grumbled Lois petu 
 lantly. "But you know my wishes and apparently you 
 don't intend to consult them. I've placed the great 
 est trust in you that a woman could put in a man 
 so now you think you can make me do as you like! 
 It seems odd when there are a dozen men who would 
 cut off their heads for me, gladly, if I asked them to
 
 224 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 and be proud to do it for me, too! Perhaps when 
 you've a hold over a girl, it's different!" 
 
 "Don't!" said Philip indignantly. "If you talk that 
 way, I'll drop the whole thing! If I'm to help you, it 
 must be in my own way. Elizabeth sails for England 
 next week, and won't be back all summer so " 
 
 "Don't I know it?" cried Lois. "That's why I" 
 Then she stopped and bit her lip. "If you'll wait till 
 she comes back I won't say a word! I'll agree to tell 
 her, then " 
 
 "No," said Philip, quietly, "I won't. I'm sorry to 
 offend you, my dear girl, but if you mill be provoked 
 when I do the only decent thing a man can do, then 
 I cannot help it. I've never been used to deceit and 
 I don't understand it. Of course I know you don't 
 really intend to deceive," he added hurriedly, "but 
 Elizabeth, as Dean of the college, must be told before 
 she sails. You know, as well as I do, that it is the 
 only square thing. I'll shoulder all the responsi " 
 
 "Why must she be told? It's my affair, not hers! 
 How silly you are!" Lois cried, on the verge of hys 
 terics. Then, raising her tear-wet eyelashes patheti 
 cally, "Don't go home!" she whispered softly. 
 
 "I must go home! The Church has given me a 
 week's vacation now, and I must go," was Philip's de 
 cisive answer.
 
 A WEDDING 225 
 
 "Then I've nothing more to say," said Lois in a 
 hard voice. 
 
 Philip stood up and stretched out a hand toward 
 the girl. "Can't you see that my way is the only 
 way?" he urged gently. "Why keep it a secret longer? 
 I'm just thinking of you!" 
 
 Lois laughed lightly. The sound was like a stream 
 of ice water. She rose, too, and said scornfully: 
 "Thinking of me? How touching!" 
 
 Neither of them had noticed Rose who had come 
 up by the back staircase to get Em a handkerchief. 
 She was just in time to hear the last two sentences, 
 and see Philip standing with his arm held out to Lois, 
 his eyes full of pleading. 
 
 Then she slipped quietly down stairs, on her mission. 
 
 Philip and Lois stood looking silently at each other 
 a moment, then the girl said : 
 
 "Once more do you insist on going?" 
 
 "I must," said Philip sadly, letting his arm slowly 
 drop. 
 
 "Then don't expect to " 
 
 There was a scream (Experience Lee's voice) down 
 stairs, a sound of running feet, and confusion. Me 
 chanically, Philip and Lois rushed, like every one else, 
 toward the dining-room. 
 
 Halfway down the stairs, they were stopped by the
 
 226 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 jam of people, but over the heads of those in the 
 dining-room they could see Rose Warren lying half 
 on the floor, half in Experience Lee's lap, a thin stream 
 of blood trickling from her mouth, down onto the 
 sweet white dress. 
 
 Em bent frantically over her; with hands clasped; 
 so tightly that the knuckles shone while Dr. Ses 
 sions, clawing ice from a nearby glass, was trying 
 to force it into Rose's mouth. 
 
 To add to the confusion, Danny was pushing his 
 way through the crowd, and, the moment he got a 
 look at Rose, he burst into frightful sobbing. 
 
 "Oh, Doctor ! Doctor ! It's just like Bessie ! Is she 
 goin' to die too is she goin' to die too is she goin' 
 to die too?" 
 
 "Don't! You'll frighten your sister!" Doctor an 
 swered shortly. "Of course she isn't going to die, 
 but she's sick, and you must be good!" Then turn 
 ing to Em as Mrs. Sessions extinguished Danny's sobs 
 on her broad bosom, the doctor said "We must get 
 Rose up to her room and she mustn't be disturbed 
 I don't think this is anything but the breaking of a 
 very small blood-vessel, perhaps in the throat; the ex 
 citement of the wedding, and all. But she must have 
 absolute quiet, and at once." 
 
 While the doctor was speaking, Philip had some-
 
 A WEDDING 227 
 
 how managed to leap down the remaining stairs to 
 Rose. Without a word he gathered the slight bur 
 den into his arms and carried her to her room. 
 
 The wedding party began to break up, quickly and 
 silently. 
 
 Suddenly, Rose opened her eyes and encountered 
 Em's tear-filled ones. 
 
 "Aunty, do put on your traveling dress at once; it's 
 
 time you were getting ready to start," she whispered. 
 
 "My lamb ! Do you suppose I'll go one step ? No, 
 
 sir! Not till you're perfectly well and strong! Me 
 
 an' Charles Reuben can wait, can't we, husband?" 
 
 "Course, we can," assented Charles Reuben heart 
 ily. He had followed behind Em when Philip car 
 ried Rose upstairs; and he had hung around, just out 
 side the door of her room, waiting to be of assist 
 ance to some one. 
 
 "Can't I do anythin', Em?" he added wistfully. 
 Em came close to her husband and whispered "Yes, 
 you can; you can go downstairs and tell those folks 
 the weddin's over, an' thank 'em all for comin'. Ask 
 'em to please go kind of quiet. And, here" (pulling 
 a bill out of its hiding place in the front of her dress) 
 "just give the minister this for merryin' us, only 
 don't tell him it come from me !" 
 
 Charles Reuben pushed her hand gently away from
 
 228 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 him and with a proudly superior smile tapped his 
 coat in the spot where his wallet presumably lay. 
 "No, Em," he said, teetering back and forward first 
 
 on his heels, then on his toes. "This is my treat hey? 
 Five dollars is a good deal, but it's worth it it's 
 worth it! And more than that, we don't hev to git 
 merried every day! Once done, it's done for good, 
 old girl!" 
 
 With that, he teetered back and forth very violently, 
 keen delight written all over his countenance. He 
 even became so bold as to give Em a playful dig under 
 her sharp chin. 
 
 "Now, you g'long!" said Em, pleased at the atten 
 tion, nevertheless. "I've no time to spend talkin' to 
 you, when my lamb lies sick!" 
 
 On the way back to Rose's bedside, she said to 
 herself "Who'd ever have thunk it! Charles Reuben 
 payin' out five dollars, from choice! I'll venture it's 
 the first time he ever spent so much of his own money! 
 He must hev wanted me pretty bad all these years, 
 that's sartin !" 
 
 Downstairs, Charles Reuben did as he was bid, 
 and thanked every one, in Em's and his own name, for 
 coming to see them married. Waving his arms he 
 said : 
 
 "On this great occasion this great occasion I feel
 
 A WEDDING 229 
 
 that I should like to say something you could all 
 remember how would this do: 
 
 "Never disparage marriage! 
 
 If you cannot have a carriage 
 Come in a cart and stand up and do your part 3 
 And and and you'll be happy 
 Whatever HER age! 
 
 "That last line isn't quite up to the rest, but it's 
 impromptoo, friends, impromptoo and under the cir 
 cumstances wedding just over fair damsel taken 
 with a sudden sick spell and all is of course upset 
 ting but the sentiment is all there, and sometime I 
 shall take pleasure in writing it all out for you, 
 regular. 
 
 "I'm sorry to have to request you to go home as 
 quiet as possible, but my wife Miss Ufford as was " 
 (gesture to the left) "MRS. Charles Reuben I sham 
 as is" (gesture to the right) requests you to take your 
 leave quietly with thanks and much obliged to all." 
 
 And so, with several profound bows and much show 
 ing of even, blue-white teeth, the bridegroom at length 
 witnessed the departure of his guests, and turned back 
 into Em's house now his with a strange feeling of 
 proprietorship. 
 
 The last person having vanished in the distance,
 
 230 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 Charles Reuben started to go upstairs, then stopped a 
 moment, changed his mind and came out onto the front 
 porch. Drawing up a large rocking chair, he tilted 
 back in it, crossed his feet carefully upon the piazza. 
 railing, drew out a cigar, and closing his queer little 
 eyes, gave himself up to placid contentment./ 
 
 He had reached his haven at last. 
 
 Occasionally he opened his eyes and listened for a 
 sound from upstairs; but everything was quiet. Rose 
 was asleep, and faithful Em sat by her, stroking her 
 transparent little hand as it lay in the watcher's unoc 
 cupied palm.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 PHILIP GOES AWAY 
 
 - Lois SESSIONS had hurried home at once, with her 
 mother, while Philip, in a fever of worry, had hung 
 around until the doctor told him Rose, for the pres 
 ent at least, was comfortable. 
 
 He and Lois had not exchanged one word since Ex 
 perience Lee's scream had stopped Lois in the middle 
 of her sentence; and as she thought the matter over on 
 her way home, Lois began to regard Experience as an 
 instrument of Providence for when the cry came, she 
 had been upon the point of rejecting Philip's help, alto 
 gether. Another word would have done it, and Ex 
 perience Lee had saved her that word. 
 
 Now, in a cooler moment, Lois knew suddenly that 
 Philip meant more much, more to her than just the 
 person who had promised to get her out of a wretched, 
 heart-breaking scrape. And she turned cold with 
 fright as she thought how near she had come to losing 
 him before ever she had won him. 
 
 She was sick with panic fear at the prospect of 
 Philip's coming interview with the Dean of her col- 
 
 231
 
 232 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 lege, but she realized at last, with a queer amaze, that 
 she loved Eden loved him too much to give him up 
 whatever he might do whatever his visit to his sister 
 might involve. She loved him, especially, because he 
 would not give in to her will. He was the first per 
 son who had ever opposed her (except Em, whom she 
 did not think worth noticing) ; so the experience was 
 novel. 
 
 The more she thought about it, the more she blessed 
 unsuspecting Experience Lee. But she did not aban 
 don the idea of making Philip give up his trip. She 
 resolved to send him a sweet little note apologizing for 
 her display of temper, and asking him to call that even 
 ing ; and by this means so to fill his heart with remorse 
 that he would give in to her, after all. "He must " 
 she thought. "Every one does. And he will, in the 
 end, if I play my cards right." 
 
 But when evening came, he did not call, although 
 Lois sat watching for him until eleven o'clock, hidden 
 behind the shutter of her little room upstairs. 
 
 Nor did Philip come rushing over in the morning, 
 as she hoped against hope he might do. Instead, Lois 
 caught a glimpse of him in the early stage as it flew 
 by the doctor's house on its way to East Longmeadow. 
 
 His big square shoulders and clean cut features 
 looked quite as usual; and this gave her an absurd
 
 PHILIP GOES AWAY 233 
 
 feeling that he was going with a light heart, regard 
 less of her suffering. Her temper rose again, and she 
 rushed up to her room and spent a good part of the 
 morning in a convulsive storm of angry tears. 
 
 Had she known it, Philip went away with anything 
 but a light heart. But it was Rose, not Lois, that he 
 was thinking of. Yet it was the only thing he could 
 do; for the doctor had assured him that Rose would 
 be much better by the morning; but must on no ac 
 count see any visitor for several days. So he had no 
 hope of a glimpse of her, even if he were to postpone 
 his going. Still, he had hurried up the hill to Em's, 
 a few minutes before stage time. He felt that he 
 could not leave town without news of some kind. 
 
 Charles Reuben met him at the door, with a finger 
 on his lip. In a sibilant stage-whisper, the Bard 
 warned Philip that Rose was not yet awake, but Em 
 said she was better. 
 
 With this, Philip was forced to be content. But he 
 gave Charles Reuben his address; and the queer little 
 man promised to write him every day he was gone, 
 "how Rose got on" a promise which he kept, faith 
 fully. And, for some strange, romantic reason, the 
 bridegroom did not tell even Em about it, regarding 
 the matter as the minister's own secret.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 DURING the week Philip was away, Lois kept almost 
 entirely to herself. 
 
 The afternoon after his departure, she had gone 
 alone for a long row up the river to the place where 
 she and Philip had rowed together, that wonderful day, 
 just after Easter. On the way home, she had encoun 
 tered Em Ufford and Danny, walking by the riverside ; 
 looking for flowers to take home to Rose. 
 
 Em had given Lois one of her piercing looks, and 
 had called out sarcastically: 
 
 "That's a pretty heavy boat for such an invalid as 
 you. Ain't you a-goin' ruther fast? Look out you 
 don't overtax yourself !" 
 
 After this Lois had kept off the water, and instead 
 took a rug and a pillow down to the trees near the 
 river's edge and made herself happy with a book or 
 pretended to do so, for the benefit of the curious. 
 
 She also reread, quite often, a little note that Philip 
 had written her on the train the morning he left, and 
 posted at one of the stations, en route. It ran: 
 
 234
 
 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 235 
 
 "DEAR Lois : 
 
 "This is just a line to tell you how sorry I am that 
 I could not do as you asked, and stop in to see you last 
 evening; I meant to have done so but matters came 
 up which kept me at home. However, there was really 
 nothing more we could have said, I think. It was 
 sweet and good in you to 'apologize' but you need 
 not have. I am sure you long to do the right thing, 
 both for your own sake and for the sake of others 
 and I am going to help you to do it the right way, if I 
 can. I was stupid in not making you understand my 
 point. You are too fine a girl to agree to a thing un 
 less you see it clearly, yourself, and I like you all the 
 more for being sincere and not doing just what I ask, 
 blindly, without using your own reasoning powers. 
 Honestly, I do. So will you forgive me for seeming so 
 obstinate? Elizabeth is not only very fond of you, 
 but she is also very wise; and she will help us to get 
 things straightened out, I know, so that your dear 
 father and mother will be spared the knowledge that 
 would hurt them so cruelly. Just trust me and trust 
 Elizabeth and when I come back, I'll have good news 
 for you. Keep up a brave heart, and don't worry. I'll 
 make everything all right, see if I don't. 
 "Faithfully yours, 
 
 "PHILIP EDEN." 
 
 Certainly, any girl with a burdensome secret should 
 have been satisfied with such a letter; but though Lois 
 kissed it and tucked it into her dress with great care, it
 
 236 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 did not seem to afford her any happiness at all. In 
 stead, it caused a few hot tears to push themselves 
 through her bravely resisting eyelashes, and her throat 
 to swell most uncomfortably. She was not used to 
 fear. But fear was doing all manner of things just 
 now to her once-steady nerves. 
 
 On the third morning, the girl ambled along by the 
 river aimlessly, with her usual impedimenta, not notic 
 ing or caring where she stopped. At last, a big apple 
 tree struck her fancy; for its branches came down to 
 the ground, and it seemed a good place in which to keep 
 away from people. 
 
 She sat down, leaned her head against the tree trunk 
 and did not even make the pretense of reading; just 
 sat, her eyes closed, her usual look of indifference re 
 placed by one of hopeless desperation. 
 
 Presently she was startled out of her reverie by a 
 slight rustle. Opening her eyes she discovered the 
 brown, gnarled face of "Old Root," grinning at her at 
 close quarters from an opening in the heavy branches. 
 His yellow, fang-like teeth parted even wider, as he 
 saw she had observed him. 
 
 "Feelin' disconsolate, be ye?" he snarled, still smil 
 ing. "Hes ye feller deserted ye?" (in a playful tone). 
 "Naow, I call that a shame !"
 
 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 237 
 
 "How do you happen to be here spying on me?" 
 demanded Lois haughtily, sitting upright. 
 
 "Wai, you ca'n't rightly call it spyin'," he drawled, 
 "seein' as how I've bin 'customed to set under this tree 
 for forty odd year. Ye see, I come here to fish !" 
 
 Lois for the first time perceived a fishing rod and 
 basket lying a little distance off, and nearer the water. 
 If old Root had put them there, he evidently had done 
 it very quietly, and had tiptoed up to the tree at 
 tracted by the shimmer of her light summer dress. 
 
 "O' course I ain't wishin' to introode. And you can 
 stay thar', now yer once sot. / don't care. It's a com 
 fortable old tree, even though I ain't used to bringin* 
 a whole feather bed, like you done, to rest my bones 
 on. Young folks air lazy, nowadays. 'Twan't so when 
 I was young, I can tell ye. I chose this tree long ago, 
 for a fishin' tree, becuz ye can see an' not be seen ; an' 
 if thar's any passin' goin' by, ye sure ter git it. 
 
 "Wai, your Minister got throwed aout by them con- 
 sarned old city preachers, didn't he?" 
 
 Silence. 
 
 "How long's your Minister goin' ter be away?" went 
 on old Root, undaunted. 
 
 "Mr. Eden will be back in a few days, if that is 
 whom you mean," answered Lois. She would have 
 preferred not to have answered her tormentor at all;
 
 238 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 but somehow she felt afraid of his tongue, and the 
 words came in spite of herself. 
 
 "Feelin' pretty lonesome, ain't ye?" he drawled in 
 sinuatingly. "Hope nothin's happened betwixt ye!" 
 This last with sanctimonious solemnity. 
 
 "Naturally not," said Lois f reezingly, and turned her 
 whole attention to her book. 
 
 "Up the other way, hold her the other way!" sug 
 gested old Root, motioning toward her book which 
 she held inverted. 
 
 This discovery of his was too much for Lois, and 
 she looked up angrily, saying "Are you going away? 
 Or shall I?" 
 
 At this he said, "Oh I beg yer pawdon! I was 
 a-tryin' to help ye. Beats all what they teach in them 
 colleges! Who'd a-thunk you could read a book up 
 side daown, naow !" and off he went, cackling to him 
 self in high glee. 
 
 "Has every one in this village got eyes on me?" 
 asked Lois aloud, of the tree. "They know I'm in 
 some sort of a fix, that's plain!" Then her thoughts 
 turned back to a point toward which they always re 
 verted sooner or later, during these long dragging days 
 of Philip's absence. 
 
 "It will come all right it must come right," she 
 repeated over and over. Then "But why hasn't he
 
 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 239 
 
 written me? Not a word since that note scribbled in 
 the train on the day he left. That certainly was meek 
 and remorseful enough. He probably didn't get my 
 answer and so he thinks he's not forgiven for treating 
 me so, on the stairs that day. Oh, if only I could have 
 kept him here a month just a little month !" she mur 
 mured aloud.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 OLD ROOT MAKES A CALL 
 
 UP at Em's, the atmosphere was in direct contrast 
 to that at the home where Lois was the central figure. 
 Here, every day, Rose was to be found curled up in 
 the hammock on the front porch ; her pet kitten, like a 
 small, furry, yellow ball, in her arms. 
 
 Em always brought her sewing out and sat beside 
 the hammock, shelled her peas, and did there, in fact, 
 everything she was not actually obliged to do in the 
 kitchen. 
 
 It seemed as if she could not bear to have Rose out 
 of her sight for an instant. "I feel's if the angels 
 might come and waft her away, if I leave her alone," 
 the poor woman confided to Charles Reuben. 
 
 Rose was getting much better, but the doctor had 
 told Em not to start on the wedding trip for some 
 days yet. And Em was quite content to wait, and min 
 ister to her darling. 
 
 Charles Reuben was surprisingly helpful to every 
 one. Em kept him from reading too much poetry to 
 
 240
 
 OLD ROOT MAKES A CALL 241 
 
 the invalid, and Rose began to have a real affection 
 for the queer man. 
 
 Danny's admiration for him increased daily. . 
 Charles Reuben knew how to whittle most wonderful 
 whistles, and also to carve out of wood little bears that 
 delighted the child's heart. 
 
 Once when Dr. Sessions was at the house on a visit 
 to Rose, Danny showed him one of the bears. 
 
 The doctor opened his eyes wide and raised his 
 bushy eyebrows over the rims of his spectacles as he 
 said: 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me that Charles Reuben carved 
 that bear with a penknife?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Danny decidedly, "I saw him !" 
 
 "Well, you go and tell Charles Reuben that if he 
 can carve as well as that, he better give up poetry and 
 take to this, instead. Tell him that in Switzerland 
 people get a lot of money for doing no better work than 
 that. And I'll undertake to sell as many as he'll carve ; 
 and get a good price for them, too, from a man I 
 know in Springfield !" 
 
 Danny hopped off to jtell Charles Reuben the glad 
 tidings; and the result was, the next time the doctor 
 went to town, he took with him fifteen beautifully 
 carved little bears, so perfect that even the curio* dealer 
 in Springfield was astonished. And a permanent ar-
 
 242 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 rangement was made, whereby Charles Reuben was to 
 have a market for his wares. The dealer was to send 
 them to Boston regularly, to his main office, if they 
 continued satisfactory. 
 
 Strange to say, Charles Reuben himself was not in 
 the least puffed up by the discovery that he was an ar 
 tist. "I've been makin' 'em all my life, but I never 
 knew they wuz wuth anything' 5 he said modestly. 
 
 It pleased him, though, to earn money for Em, and 
 to think that she was proud of him. And proud she 
 certainly was, so proud that she ordered him to carve 
 two large bears, twelve inches high, to be placed one 
 at each end of the mantel in the "best room" under 
 the mournful shade of the weeping- will ow picture. 
 
 Altogether, life was very simple and sweet at Em's, 
 and one day passed much like another; the only varia 
 tion being when the neighbors occasionally dropped in 
 to inquire for Rose and to listen to Em's spicy tongue. 
 
 Old Root was never known to have been among 
 Em's callers; but, on the morning he had discovered 
 Lois Sessions under his tree, he was seen to trudge 
 stiffly up Em's front walk, in his old, rusty clothes, and 
 stop with one foot on the lowest step of the piazza,. 
 
 "Mornin', folks," he said without removing his hat. 
 
 Em and Rose responded to this Chesterfield greet 
 ing; and Em, hospitable to the death, remarked 1 in a
 
 OLD ROOT MAKES A CALL 243 
 
 voice from which all cordiality had been drained, as 
 through a sieve "Will you come up and set with us, 
 Mr. Root?" 
 
 "Thanks don't keer if I do!" said the old man, 
 clumping up the steps in his heavy farm boots and 
 edging into the nearest chair. 
 
 "Haow's the invalid?" giving a hitch to his whole 
 body, in the direction of Rose, and trying to smile 
 genially. 
 
 "Oh, I'm better, thank you, Mr. Root. Aunty won't 
 let me get up out of this hammock, but I'm really quite 
 strong again. How is Mrs. Root?" 
 
 "What the old woman? Oh, she's wal 'nough, I 
 guess. Allus complainin', though. I got so I don't pay 
 no 'tention to it no more she's as strong as a hoss, 
 if she was only a mind to think so!" 
 
 Em and Rose exchanged significant looks over their 
 guest's head, knowing full well that poor Hannah Root 
 worked her frail body to the bone for her husband. 
 
 "Some women want the 'arth," he continued plac 
 idly, shifting his quid of tobacco from one side of his 
 mouth to the other. "That kind hes to be treated 
 firm. Gentleness is bad for 'em!" 
 
 "Did you ever try it ?" asked Em dryly. 
 "Try it! Why bless ye, I'm a saint at home!" 
 cackled the old man. "Ask Mr. Eden," (with a wink)
 
 244 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "He, he, he!" Then suddenly lowering his voice to 
 the pitch of gossip and mystery "That reminds me 
 er what's up with L0-is?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" said Em sharply. 
 
 "Why, this mawnin'," he drawled in a loud, husky 
 whisper, "this mawnin' I found her a-settin' under a 
 tree down by the bridge, not readin' her story book 
 even, but only a-settin', with her eyes shet, as if she 
 was just a-waitin', kind o' patient, for to hev a tooth 
 pulled. He's been gone for a week, a'most, an' she cer 
 tainly ain't the pictur' of a happy bride ter be. I left 
 her a-tryin' to read her book upside down, he ! he ! he !" 
 (Then once more lowering his voice which had grad 
 ually risen to a cackle he went on in a husky whis 
 per) : "What do yeow make of it?" 
 
 "I'm not in the makin' business, Cyrus Root that's 
 your business. If you want to know what I think of 
 the match, though, I tell you freely, I think she ain't 
 half good enough for 'im. An' that's putting it mild. 
 A girl that'll come home and play off sick when she 
 ain't no more sick than you an' me are, as far as I can 
 see ; an' give no satisfactory account of why she didn't 
 graduate, isn't goin' to make a good minister's wife. 
 There's a lie out, somewheres. Either it was all lies 
 in the beginnin' about her bein' the best scholar they 
 had an' carryin' off all the prizes, right an' left either
 
 OLD ROOT MAKES A CALL 245 
 
 those tales was all lies, an' she couldn't pass, after all, 
 or there's some other reason fer her not graduatin' than 
 the one she gives out. No girl, if she can carry off 
 the palm, is a-goin' to walk away an' leave it to some 
 one, just becuz she's got narves an' a pain in her back. 
 No, sir! You can depend upon it there's a lie some 
 where along the line !" 
 
 "I'm sorry to hear you say that, Miss Uf Isham," 
 said old Root hypocritically. "Ain't you a leetle hard 
 on the gal?" 
 
 "Wai, maybe I am," said Em, also hypocritically. 
 
 "How's your sister, Liza?" she went on changing the 
 subject. "It's a long time since she's bin in these 
 parts." 
 
 "Yes, it is," assented the man. "She enjoys poor 
 health, most o' the time. I may hev to go up there 
 most any day now. She's got one of her turns comin' 
 on, her husband writes. An' any one may be the last. 
 So I'm liable to be sent for, any day. I don't suppose 
 she'll ever git to South Wilbr'm agin. Ye see, she's 
 gittin' kind of old to travel so fur on the railroad." 
 
 "She's no older'n I am an' I ain't quite ready to 
 give up yet, Cyrus Root," snapped his hostess. "Is 
 Liza still a-livin' in that college town?" 
 
 "Still a-livin' thar' an' always will, I s'pose. Her 
 husband don't make much, nowadays, (he's a stone cut-
 
 246 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 ter) on account o' his rheumatiz, he says: but I calcu 
 late it's laziness more'n anythin' else keeps 'im housed 
 most o' the time. His son's smart enough though, for 
 the best of 'em. His son by his first, ye know he's 
 gardener up to the college, where Lo-is goes." 
 
 "So I heard," said Em, a gleam in her eyes. "It's 
 odd now I can't remember Liza's merried name! It's 
 clean gone from me!" 
 
 "Tooig it's a queer one Amos Tooig's the name 
 o' the man she married. They call the son 'little Amos' 
 to tell him apart from his pa, although he's six fut 
 two in his stockin' feet, they tell me, an' his pa allus 
 was a runt an' is so still ; less he's growed more'n most 
 of us do in our old age." 
 
 "Wai, if you write to Liza, tell her I asked for her. 
 She'n I used to play together so much when we wuz 
 children! Once, when I fell in the brook an' nearly 
 drowned, she pulled me out an' likely as not saved my 
 life; for the brook was pretty deep in that spot. She 
 an' Experience Isham an' Mary Ann Smith took off 
 all my wet clo'es an' rolled me in a shawl we'd hed to 
 set on ; an' thar' we stayed all the afternoon, a-waitin' 
 for my clo'es to dry. We was all afraid we'd be 
 whipped if we went home an' told how I fell in the 
 brook, so we hung my hull wardrobe on the bushes an' 
 just set around an' watched 'em drip. Oh, them days !
 
 OLD ROOT MAKES A CALL 247 
 
 I wonder if Liza remembers 'em!" Em ended with a 
 far-away smile. 
 
 "Whatever become of Mary Ann Smith after she 
 married Luke Pease ?" asked old Root. 
 
 "They went way off and travilled in furren parts; 
 an' when they come home, they was too grand to live 
 in South Wilbr'm, they thought, so they went to Lime, 
 Conn. I met her once on Main Street in Springfield 
 an' when I says 'Do tell, Mary Ann Pease, I'm glad 
 to see ye ' she looks around as if she was afraid some 
 one would hear what I was a-sayin' an' whispers 
 'Hush! My name's Madame Anna Peaseola now! 
 That's Italian for Ann Pease!' Wai, Madame Anna 
 Peaseola she's bin to this day an' she's welcome no 
 body's a-goin' to grudge it to her!" 
 
 "It learns ye a lot to travil !" sighed old Root, wist 
 fully. 
 
 "Not always," said Em. "There was Luke Pease, 
 himself, never could absorb any knowledge in spite of 
 his wanderin's all through the wonderful places where 
 Christian Martyrs were burned, an' Emperors went 
 to war! I was always interested in such things, my 
 self, havin' read so much about 'em, but when I begun 
 askin' Luke an' his Anna Peaseola about Rome, Anna 
 she says 'Let's see, Luke, was we to Rome?' And 
 he answers back 'Why, yes; don't you remember?
 
 248 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 That was where we bought them socks!' That's all 
 Rome meant to either of 'em. There was another place 
 they went to. They didn't say where, but I think 'twas 
 in Greece, somewheres. They was in a temple. There 
 was a guide who belonged to the temple a-showin' 
 'em round till they come up to a great candle burnin* 
 on an altar. The guide says 'This sacred candle has 
 jeen burnin' on this altar for three thousand years !' " 
 
 "Law !" interrupted old Root, in an awed tone. 
 ' 'Three thousand years, honest?' says Luke to the 
 guide. 'That's what I said,' says the guide. 'It has 
 never been known to go out !' Luke drew himself up 
 an' blew with all his might at the candle. 'It's aout 
 naow !' he says." 
 
 "Good enough !" cackled old Root. "I'd like to 'a' 
 done that myself!" 
 
 "I presume you would !" said Em slowly and scorn 
 fully. "If it hed bin me, I should 'a' bin so overcome 
 to think the Lord had preserved me to cross the great 
 ocean an' see all them wonders, the temples, an' tri 
 umphal arches an' pictures of saints an' martyrs, that 
 I believe I should 'a' knelt right down an' prayed in 
 front o' that candle ; not f eelin' that it was any affair 
 o' mine whether the candle was three thousand years 
 old or hed to be renewed occasionally (like the lamb 
 they had lyin' down with the lion at the circus). It's
 
 OLD ROOT MAKES A CALL 249 
 
 the spirit o' things, a,n' not the letter of 'em, that car 
 ries us through life." 
 
 "So 'tis," said old Root, not in the least understand 
 ing her. "Wai, I must be a-goin'," he added, slowly 
 getting up out of his chair. "Give my respec's to the 
 bridegroom!" He ambled off down the walk on his 
 shaky old legs, leaving Em alone on the porch; for 
 Rose had vanished into the house at the first word 
 about Lois and Philip. She felt that she could not 
 bear to hear the matter discussed by any one; least of 
 all by ' old Root. 
 
 "Has he gone, Aunty ?" came a sweet voice through 
 the window. 
 
 "Yes, my bird," answered Em, jumping up with 
 alacrity. "Let Aunty help you out agin!" And a few 
 minutes later, the jarring element forgotten, things 
 resumed their usual appearance of serenity. Em 
 stitched steadily on a shirt for Charles Reuben; Rose 
 lying quite still and gazing thoughtfully up into the 
 cool, leafy green depths seemingly infinite made by 
 the thick branches of the huge maple trees close by the 
 house.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 LOIS AND PHILIP 
 
 IT was a depressed household at the doctor's. 
 
 Lois' father and mother had received a heavy blow 
 to their ambition when their daughter failed to grad 
 uate; and although they said no word of their disap 
 pointment to her, it was the more keen because they 
 tried to shield her, as usual, from all that was unpleas 
 ant. 
 
 Lois realized this in a vague way; but her whole 
 mind was absorbed by something, to her, much more 
 overwhelming. 
 
 Philip Eden had been home from his vacation two 
 days and had not, yet, been near Lois. 
 
 Dr. and Mrs. Sessions could not account for this, 
 accepting, as they did, the Village's verdict that the 
 flourishing intimacy between the two must mean a 
 love affair ; but they put it down to a lovers' quarrel. 
 
 Apparently Lois herself had had every expectation 
 of Philip's coming to her the moment he returned ; for 
 on the evening that the stage brought him back, she 
 arrayed herself in her very prettiest gown, of laven- 
 
 250
 
 LOIS AND PHILIP 251 
 
 der batiste, and sat waiting for him on the steps of the 
 porch until at last pride drove her into the house and 
 to the piano, where she attacked the keys furiously, 
 for an hour or more. 
 
 When the twenty-four hours had gone around again 
 and still no Philip appeared, she grew desperate. 
 
 The doctor and his wife longed to help her in her 
 trouble, and consulted together; but neither dared say 
 anything to the girl, until she sheuld open the subject. 
 
 "It's best not to mix in lovers' quarrels," said the 
 doctor. "Many's the match that has been broken up 
 just by a person trying to be peacemaker. If they're 
 left to themselves one or the other of them will come 
 'round I only hope it will be Lois, for I think we've 
 let the girl have her head a little too much. Knowing 
 them both so well, I'm afraid she may be in the 
 wrong." 
 
 "But don't you think it's dreadful for them to have 
 words, Doctor? When they've only known each other 
 such a short time, too?" inquired Mrs. Sessions anx 
 iously. 
 
 "You and I didn't, dear," answered the doctor pat 
 ting her cheek, "but, you see, Lois is different she's 
 high strung, naturally and just now she is very nerv 
 ous and she never will be as gentle as you, though 
 she's a dear girl and as clever as they make 'em !"
 
 252 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 It did not occur to them as odd that not once did 
 they think of the fault as lying with Mr. Eden. 
 
 On the afternoon of the third day after Philip's 
 return, Lois could stand the state of things no longer. 
 Putting her pride in her pocket, she went straight to 
 the parsonage. 
 
 The front door was wide open, to let in the warm 
 June air; and through it, as she came up the shallow 
 steps, Lois could see the minister sitting at his big 
 desk, in his study, at the left of the entrance hall. 
 
 Her heart gave a great thump as she glimpsed the 
 familiar head, with its bent brow, supported by one 
 strong, young hand and arm. 
 
 A half-written sermon lay before the minister; but 
 the hand with the pen in it was not moving, and, as the 
 young man sat, unconscious of her presence, the ex 
 pression in his eyes was the saddest she had ever seen 
 there. 
 
 The girl paused an instant on the threshold, more 
 frightened than ever she had been in her life, and yet 
 with no thought of retracing her steps. As she stood, 
 breathless, her eyes fixed on the man she now knew 
 meant all the world to her, her parasol slipped from 
 her nerveless fingers and fell to the floor with a clatter. 
 
 At the sound, Philip started up as if wakened from 
 a dream; then, seeing Lois, he rose.
 
 LOIS AND PHILIP 253 
 
 They gazed at each other, speechless, for several 
 seconds. A look almost of horror crept into the man's 
 eyes. 
 
 Lois saw it, and held out her hands to him. 
 
 "Philip," she said, in a tremulous voice, "I came to 
 see you I couldn't bear it any longer Aren't you 
 glad to see me?" 
 
 Still, he looked at her, seemed to look through her 
 powerless, apparently, to speak. At last his voice 
 came 
 
 "No," he said slowly. "No, I'm not glad to see 
 you but you'll be glad to learn that I've fixed every 
 thing so you'll not have to bear the consequences of 
 your sin and your parents will never have to know " 
 
 "Philip!" the girl cried, hurrying toward him and 
 clasping his arm as if fearful that he might leave her 
 alone. "Philip, why are you treating me so? Why do 
 you feel that way toward me ? Is it on account of that 
 silly business on the stairs at Em Ufford's? You 
 ought not to lay that up against me you know that 
 I'm sorry for everything I said! Surely you've pun 
 ished me enough and you had your way, anyway 
 you -went!" 
 
 "Yes," he said in a grim tone, "I went." 
 
 "Well, what is it, then?" she insisted, clinging to his 
 arm as he turned away from her. "I tell you I'm sorry
 
 254 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 so sorry I was horrid, on the stairs I didn't mean 
 anything I said " 
 
 "Lois," interrupted the minister gravely, unclasping 
 her clinging hands and holding her opposite him by her 
 two arms. "You know as well as I do what the mat 
 ter is you know that that foolish discussion on the 
 stairs had nothing to do with it ; except that it shows 
 you tried to deceive me as long as possible! You 
 know that's not the real thing. For Heaven's sake, let's 
 not have any more deceit !" 
 
 He dropped her arms, wearily, and Lois, her face 
 now as white as his, stood, a shaking hand resting 
 lightly on the nearby desk. 
 
 "Why must one prolong the thing?" said Philip 
 dully. "It seems to me there's nothing to be said." 
 
 Still, she stood as before. 
 
 "If you have something you must say, won't you sit 
 down ?" he added gently. 
 
 She sat down in his desk chair, mechanically; and 
 as she did so her gaze fell on a photograph of Rose 
 Warren. It was only an enlarged snapshot, that Philip 
 himself had taken; but it looked none the less im 
 portant in the place of honor the center of the desk. 
 
 "There is a lot to be said," Lois cried passionately. 
 "You make so much of such a little such a very 
 little thing!"
 
 LOIS AND PHILIP 23? 
 
 The minister came over and stood by her, taking her 
 hand. 
 
 "Lois," he said sadly, "is it a little thing? Think!" 
 
 "It's a little thing in comparison to the way you take 
 it I never thought you would be like this !" 
 
 She fumbled for her handkerchief, choking back 
 the sobs that would come in spite of her. 
 
 There were tears in Philip's eyes too, as he said, 
 still holding her hand : 
 
 "My dear child, the very fact that you can regard 
 this as a little thing shows how different our points of 
 view must always be. It is not a little thing " 
 
 "Philip Philip!" came a heart-broken cry from 
 Lois. "Do you realize what you are saying? You're 
 treating me like a criminal! You seem to have for 
 gotten that you promised to help me! Look at me 
 I want to be good, like other girls! I want to please 
 you to make you proud of me and I can, if you'll 
 only help me to start afresh !" 
 
 "How can I help you, now?" Philip asked sadly. 
 "You were not fair with me you told me one lie 
 after another, until you had all my sympathy. You are 
 not sincere in your repentance, even now you are only 
 afraid of the consequences." 
 
 Lois sank deeper into her chair, and leaned her head 
 against the desk in mute anguish.
 
 256 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "You poor child," went on Philip. "You've taken 
 away the only weapon with which I might fight for 
 you by playing double with me. When I went to 
 Elizabeth with the pitiful story you had told me, and 
 my solution of the whole miserable business, she 
 showed me that you had been making a fool of me !" 
 
 "That's not true," Lois said in a muffled tone. "I 
 did misrepresent some things I suppose I was a cow 
 ard about it. I know, now, it was because I I cared 
 about you ! I " 
 
 "Oh, no!" interrupted Philip hurriedly. "Don't say 
 that ! You don't know what you're saying !" 
 
 "I do," contradicted the girl vehemently. "I'm tell 
 ing you the whole truth this time. I I love you and 
 I don't care who knows it ! That's why I came to you 
 for help ! That's why I lied to you and why I didn't 
 want you to see Miss Eden; it was a little because I 
 was afraid you wouldn't help me; but it was mostly 
 because I was afraid you wouldn't love me if you knew 
 the real truth !" 
 
 "You mustn't say such things, child," cried the man. 
 "You're excited now, and you'll be so sorry after 
 ward ! And I cannot listen to them ! You would never 
 be happy with me ; our outlook is too different ! You'll 
 realize that when you've had time to think things
 
 LOIS AND PHILIP 257 
 
 "But I have thought " Lois insisted. "I I can't 
 live without you! I " 
 
 "Besides," Philip interrupted gently, "there is an 
 other reason " involuntarily his eyes rested on Rose's 
 picture, and Lois intercepted the look in them. "I 
 couldn't " he came to a halt. 
 
 "You were going to say you couldn't love me be 
 cause you love some one else!" she half sobbed, "but 
 I suppose you thought it would be kinder to say noth 
 ing. Don't bother to be kind to me." 
 
 "I told you we could never understand each other," 
 said Philip, horribly ill at ease; "that's why it would 
 have been so much better if you had not come here to 
 day. Let us try to forget all this we shall only get 
 into a worse tangle I've helped you all I can " 
 
 Lois pulled herself up and sat straight in her chair, 
 turning to face the minister squarely. Her eyes shone 
 bright and hard. 
 
 "Is this all?" she queried in a flinty voice. "Do I 
 understand that you are going to have nothing more 
 to do with me after I have bared my heart to you? 
 And this is what you call Christian Charity !" cried the 
 girl scornfully, rising as she spoke. Her eyes blazed 
 and the color rushed into her cheeks as she turned 
 toward the door. 
 
 "Don't go like this, please," Philip said, stung by
 
 258 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 her words. "It is your happiness, not mine, that I am 
 thinking of, believe me. Won't you shake hands and 
 say good-by " 
 
 "No I might contaminate your saintship!" re 
 torted Lois. 
 
 Then she replaced a loosened side comb and straight 
 ened her hat, lest inquisitive neighbors suspect anything 
 of her agitation. 
 
 Philip followed her to the door and, picking up her 
 parasol from the floor, gave it to her mechanically. 
 She took it without a word, and, as the man watched 
 her, went slowly down the path, unfurling the parasol 
 with a graceful gesture as she walked.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE DOCTOR MEDDLES 
 
 Lois was calm enough until she got into her own 
 yard. Then she went to pieces. Flaming with hu 
 miliation and rage, she threw sanity aside, and was 
 gripped by the stark, babyish need for help. Some one 
 must help her, somehow. It did not matter how. She 
 began to cry. 
 
 Rushing across the grass and into the house, she 
 burst into the doctor's study ; and, snatching a vial out 
 of his hand, as he was in the act of mixing some medi 
 cine, she pushed it quickly across the table, forcing her 
 father to give her his whole attention. 
 
 "Father, listen!" she cried. "I'm in dreadful 
 trouble ! Philip has Philip says he doesn't love me 
 when he he knows how much I love him !" 
 
 "Mr. Eden says that " repeated the doctor in 
 amazement. 
 
 "Yes, he he says he and just for a silly little 
 quarrel ! I " 
 
 "Begin at the beginning and tell me all about it, 
 girl," said her father tenderly, drawing her to him. 
 
 259
 
 2<5o THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "Oh, I can't I just can't go into details! But I 
 told him I was sorry for my part of it and " 
 
 "But surely, if you said you were sorry " 
 
 "I told him so, over and over again, but nothing 
 makes any difference it's all done with, for good and 
 all!" 
 
 "You're talking nonsense, Baby," said the doctor. 
 "Philip Eden is a grown man. He certainly woul(f 
 not give you up or let you give him up, if you love 
 each other, just for a few hasty words. Tell me what 
 was said, Lois. Can't you be frank with your old 
 father?" 
 
 "I tell you there was nothing worth speaking about !" 
 cried Lois. "He's as obstinate as can be! I can no 
 more move him than a rock !" 
 
 "Well, that's not a bad quality in him, I'm thinking. 
 You must have said something that hurt him deeply, 
 little girl you know you're hasty. Delia and I don't 
 mind it because we understand through it all what a 
 precious girl you are; but he hasn't known you as long 
 as we have, and I'm afraid you must have said some 
 thing you oughtn't. Think now, didn't you?" he 
 coaxed. "Father only wants to help you!" 
 
 "No, I did not!" answered Lois, drawing away, "and 
 I shouldn't think you'd side against your own flesh 
 and blood!"
 
 THE DOCTOR MEDDLES 261 
 
 The doctor's blue eyes had a slight expression of 
 pain in them. 
 
 "A man isn't necessarily perfect just because he's a 
 minister! Oh, is there no one to help me?" she ex 
 claimed. "I never thought you'd go back on me !" 
 
 "I'm not going back on you, daughter," the doctor 
 put his arm about her, "but I'm groping for facts. Tell 
 me once more you're keeping so much back!" 
 
 "No, no, no! I'm keeping nothing back that has 
 any bearing on the matter between us! I can't tell 
 you all the foolish things he said and I said and what 
 happened before. I can only repeat just what I said 
 before we separated I said I was sorry he wouldn't 
 even say that! And now he says we never could be 
 happy and we mustn't be married! You still look as 
 if you didn't understand me! Don't you believe me? 
 Do you doubt my word ?" 
 
 "No," said the doctor slowly, "I don't doubt you 
 of course not ; but my old head is in a whirl. I cannot 
 conceive what ails the fellow ! I never would have be 
 lieved it of him!" 
 
 "Oh, Daddy ! I can not bear it 1" cried the girl, put 
 ting her head down on her father's shoulder and sob 
 bing convulsively. A moment more and a fresh parox 
 ysm of weeping shook her. 
 
 The doctor wisely let her have her cry out, saying
 
 262 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 nothing, but patting her arm and kissing the top of her 
 head softly, now and then. 
 
 "What shall I do?" she moaned. "I can never, 
 never bear it ! Can't you do anything for me, father ?" 
 she went on hysterically, aimlessly, as she sat up and 
 pushed her hair out of her eyes. "You're the biggest 
 man. You can, can't you?" This last with childish 
 faith in her father's powers. 
 
 "What am I here for, but to fight your battles, my 
 darling?" said her father. "If it comes to that, I don't 
 think we need fear the outcome," he added with a 
 gleam in his mild eyes. "But I hope it won't have to 
 come to that I think he will see reason all right." 
 
 "No, he never, never will, father," said Lois de 
 cidedly. "I humbled myself before him as I never be 
 lieved I could humble myself for any one I begged 
 him to marry me yes, I did. I'm ashamed of it 
 maybe it was unwomanly I suppose it was but I 
 can't help it," her words rushed on. "I love him so, 
 it will just kill me to give him up ! He'll go and marry 
 some sanctimonious angel whom he'll think perfect and 
 she won't know how to make him half as happy as I 
 can make him! Oh, Daddy, do something do some* 
 thing!" she cried, jumping up as she spoke. "Don't 
 sit there looking at me can't you see that I'm fairly
 
 THE DOCTOR MEDDLES 263 
 
 torn in pieces?" she almost shrieked, her voice rising 
 higher and higher. 
 
 The doctor got up and calmly poured out a dose of 
 aromatic ammonia. 
 
 "Drink this," he said quietly, "and get hold of your 
 self; there must be no hysterics. Sit down in that 
 chair there until you are more like yourself. This is 
 not my self-contained daughter that is shrieking at 
 me, but an insane child who is at her wits' end. Now 
 go upstairs and lie down. We'll talk about this when 
 you're quieter." 
 
 When she had gone, the doctor stood very still for 
 perhaps five minutes, in the center of the little room 
 which his giant presence always dwarfed. Then, mov 
 ing with a slowness that spoke more clearly of repres 
 sion than did his iron tight lips, he left the house.
 
 DANNY, AGAIN 
 
 PHILIP had looked after Lois as she walked down 
 the pathway, and as he thought, out of his life. A 
 delicate violet fragrance, caused by the swish of her 
 dainty lavender frock, was wafted back to him. 
 
 He stood watching her from the doorway, until she 
 turned in at her own home. Then slowly he went back 
 to his neglected sermon; but the sermon refused to be 
 written. Try as he would, his mind could not rid it 
 self of the picture of a beautiful, tear-stained face 
 framed in a tangle of golden hair. He seemed to see 
 Lois everywhere; and to hear the tones of her voice, 
 first pleading and then angry and unpleasant. 
 
 Finally he turned for relief to the sweet, strong face 
 of the girl he loved. 
 
 Leaning both elbows on the table and cradling his 
 square chin on his closed fists, he gazed intently at the 
 picture, forgetting his sermon and all else, in his deep 
 absorption. 
 
 It was thus the doctor found him. 
 
 Hearing a step, Philip looked up to find the huge 
 264
 
 DANNY, AGAIN 265 
 
 form of Dr. Sessions filling his low, old-fashioned 
 doorway from top to bottom. The doctor was hatless 
 and his thick, white hair stood up as straight as its 
 fluffy nature would allow, his whiskers breezing out 
 at the side, as if charged with electricity. 
 
 His hands were plunged deep in his pockets in a 
 business-like way, and he surveyed the younger man 
 with eyes that smouldered darkly, under his bushy 
 brows. 
 
 Philip rose and went forward to greet his guest with 
 outstretched hand; but the doctor did not remove his 
 own clenched hands from his pockets; and the color 
 slowly crept up toward Philip's forehead. 
 
 At last the doctor spoke and his voice had in it 
 that which would have startled a less brave man. 
 
 "You're a nice minister, aren't you?" were his 
 words. 
 
 "This is a strange greeting, Doctor, between two 
 such firm friends as you and I have always been," said 
 the minister. 
 
 "Friends! Yes, we have been friends. At least I 
 have been your friend ; and I think have not failed when 
 you needed me most. You have returned this friend 
 ship by first obtaining the love of my daughter, and 
 then flinging it back in her face. Now, please answer 
 for yourself I I am waiting."
 
 266 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "I know what you must think of me, Doctor," Philip 
 said. 
 
 "No, you don't!" said the other. "You can't pos 
 sibly imagine the way I feel toward a man who'll 
 treat an innocent kid of a girl as you've just treated 
 Lois! I'm her father, boy," (tapping his mighty 
 chest). "Just think of that, and then see whether 
 you've sized up my feelings right !" 
 
 "I'm inexpressibly sorry that I've made you angry, 
 sir. Believe me, my own sorrow over this miser 
 able trouble is as great I think greater than 
 hers." 
 
 "Then what the devil is it all about?" said the doc 
 tor in amazement. 
 
 "Didn't Lois tell you?" asked Philip blankly. 
 
 "She said that you and she quarreled, and that she 
 said she was sorry; and that you would not forgive 
 her, and you had broken with her you had broken 
 with her is that true?" 
 
 "It is true that circumstances have made it impos 
 sible for us to understand each other but I did not 
 make the circumstances I had nothing to do with 
 them. Lois was mistaken when she told you that a 
 quarrel was the cause of the trouble." 
 
 "Then what was the cause? Let's have no more 
 beating about the bush."
 
 DANNY, AGAIN 267 
 
 "If Lois hasn't told you, I can't tell you." 
 
 "Can't tell me? Nonsense! That's a fool's an 
 swer !" 
 
 All the muscles in the minister's body tightened sud 
 denly, at this challenge; and at its tone which was 
 more than a kick. The pulses in his temples and 
 throat beat visibly; but he held himself in hand, and 
 forced himself to speak calmly. 
 
 "Bandying insults is not my profession, Doctor Ses 
 sions," he said. 
 
 "No, but breaking girls' hearts is, hey? Give me 
 the reason!" 
 
 It is doubtful if the good doctor had been in such 
 a towering rage before, in all his massively calm life. 
 His fingers clasped and unclasped, till for self-control's 
 sake he folded his arms tightly. 
 
 "I've not broken anybody's heart at any rate, not 
 your daughter's," Philip said resolutely. "Doctor, I'd 
 give anything in the world to set this straight, but the 
 secret is not mine to tell. I cannot do it I haven't 
 the right!" 
 
 "Damn the right ! Have you no manhood, no sense 
 of decency? Is my girl to go about branded as an 
 article that nobody wants? Once more, sir are you 
 going to tell me your idiotic reason, or not?" 
 
 "No!"
 
 268 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "Then to hell with you!" thundered the doctor. 
 "Since you haven't the manhood to " 
 
 There was a violent ring at the doorbell. Philip 
 glanced uncertainly at the doctor, knowing that the 
 one and only woman-of -all-work was out. 
 
 The doctor nodded curtly. "Go on," he said. 
 "You'll find me waiting when you get back " 
 
 It was Rose Warren, and she had come for the doc 
 tor. 
 
 "They told me at your house that you were here," 
 she panted, brushing by the minister. "Danny's just 
 fallen out of a tree! I I don't think his leg is 
 broken, but it may be, and I don't in the least know 
 what to do for him. I can't find any liniment or any 
 thing of that kind at home, and you know Aunt Em 
 and Charles Reuben aren't back from their trip yet 
 Can't you come, right now ? The poor boy is suffering 
 so. Here's your medicine case I thought I'd save 
 time by getting it from Mrs. Sessions." 
 
 The matter certainly seemed urgent. 
 
 And as the doctor was a doctor above all else, he 
 hurried off, still hatless; with Rose beside him, trying 
 to keep pace with his long strides. 
 
 Danny's accident did not prove to be serious, and 
 before long his strained leg was comfortably bandaged. 
 
 "How are you getting on, Rose?" said the doctor,
 
 DANNY, AGAIN 269 
 
 methodically putting back his liniment, cotton, etc., 
 each in their allotted space in his medicine case. 
 
 "Oh, I'm beginning to feel very strong again," an 
 swered Rose. "Aunty will find a great change in me, 
 even in the few days she has been away." 
 
 "When do you expect her back?" 
 
 "Let me see this is Tuesday I hope she won't 
 come before Friday or Saturday; I want them to have 
 a really nice vacation." 
 
 "Well, little woman," said the doctor, putting his 
 hand under her chin, "don't overwork, now you are 
 'head cook and bottle washer.' The roses are back 
 in your cheeks again, and I want them to stay 
 there!" 
 
 Then, with a change of tone: 
 
 "Now, young man, you stay put, do you hear?" 
 turning on Danny a look of mock severity. "I don't 
 want you making any trouble for your sister. Your 
 leg will be all right in a day or two, if you don't try 
 any tricks with it. Good-by !" 
 
 It was later than the doctor had thought; and after 
 leaving his little patient, he decided that he would not 
 go back to Mr. Eden's until evening; for there was 
 sure to be a straggling lot of people, walking by the 
 parsonage to or from the Post Office, just at this hour. 
 Somehow, he could not feel so unreasoningly bitter
 
 270 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 toward the younger man, now that he had had time to 
 calm down. 
 
 "The boy certainly didn't look as though he had 
 done anything to be ashamed of," mused the doctor as 
 he walked on. "Just the same " He left the mut 
 tered sentence unfinished, except for a grunt of angry 
 perplexity.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 "WHEN THE CAT'S AWAY" 
 
 PHILIP waited some time for the doctor to come 
 back; but when he finally saw him turn into his own 
 yard instead of toward the parsonage, the minister 
 took his hat and hastily made his way toward the old 
 Ufford house, to find out, on his own account, how 
 badly Danny was hurt at least, he tried to pretend 
 to himself that that was his errand. 
 
 Rose, looking through the window, as he came up 
 the path, began to feel decidedly nervous; for when 
 she had burst in upon the men, she could not help see 
 ing, in spite of her own agitation, that something was 
 very much amiss between them and somehow she 
 knew instinctively, that it had to do with Lois. 
 
 Both she and Philip were painfully conscious that 
 it was the first time they had been alone together in 
 many weeks. The first time that Em had not been 
 there to pounce upon and dominate the situation, in 
 a jealously mistaken idea that she was doing Rose a 
 service. 
 
 271
 
 272 THE EYES "OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "I just came up to find out about Danny," said 
 Philip in uncomfortably formal explanation. 
 
 "He really got off much too easily, I'm afraid," an 
 swered the girl smiling and outwardly calm, though the 
 heightened color in her cheeks told its own tale. "I 
 hoped the little monkey would have to keep still long 
 enough to make him realize the virtue of being care 
 ful but Doctor says he'll be around in no time at all ! 
 That's where he had climbed to, when he fell!" (point 
 ing upward to the dizzy heights of a tall slender cherry 
 tree nearby). "Do you wonder that he came near 
 breaking his bones?" 
 
 "The miracle is that he has any bones left at all," 
 answered Philip. 
 
 "Won't you er sit on the porch, a little while? 
 You look tired really very tired," Rose added 
 timidly. 
 
 It was so hard to know what to say, under the cir 
 cumstances. She did long to comfort him in some way, 
 for his eyes were tragically full of the trouble of which 
 she knew nothing. 
 
 "I hope you didn't mind very much, my breaking 
 in on Doctor and you I got away into the room 
 before I realized that there was was anything hap 
 pening; and then the only thing seemed to be to go on
 
 "WHEN THE CAT'S AWAY" 273 
 
 with my errand especially when Danny was suffer 
 ing so! Please don't think it rude of me " (with a 
 pretty little gesture of pleading). 
 
 "You could never be rude, Rose. And I think your 
 coming at that particular moment was more a bless 
 ing than anything else. I've incurred the doctor's very 
 gravest displeasure and " (with a whimsical look) 
 "it was time for some one to interfere. I'm afraid we 
 were both pretty angry and altogether it was sort of 
 trying," he finished awkwardly. 
 
 "Oh I'm so very sorry for you and for him too, 
 for he must have thought he was in the right, even if 
 he really wasn't. Could couldn't any one make up 
 the quarrel? Is there anything I could tell him for 
 you, that you don't feel like telling him yourself?" 
 
 The soft brown eyes looked into his, very earnestly, 
 and a sympathizing hand was laid unconsciously on 
 his arm to emphasize the willingness of its owner to 
 help every one in trouble. It seemed very strange in 
 deed that they should both be sitting there, almost 
 tongue-tied, when their hearts had so much to tell 
 each other that they were nearly bursting! 
 
 "You are a wonderful little friend for a man to 
 have," said Philip, his voice shaking a bit, "but I'm 
 afraid there is nothing any one can do; the Doctor is
 
 274 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 probably finished with me forever he thinks I'm a 
 blackguard, you know," smiling ruefully. 
 
 "Don't make light of it to me," went on the girl. "I 
 know you're all broken up about the affair, what 
 ever it is and I know how fond you are of Doctor, 
 and how you must feel if you have made him have 
 unkind thoughts toward you." 
 
 "You always did have a way of divining one's 
 feelings, so I see it's no use to 'pretend/ as my sister 
 and I used to say when we were children. And al 
 though I cannot tell you my trouble for it is a very 
 real trouble still your sympathy has done me a world 
 of good. I can't tell you how horribly alone I felt, 
 ten minutes ago!" 
 
 Rose's face lighted up beautifully, and Em, if she 
 had been there, would have said, as she did on her 
 wedding day, that the girl looked like one of God's 
 angels. 
 
 All Rose answered was "It's not the least bit 
 nice to feel alone and so I'm going to be unconven 
 tional and suggest that I walk down toward the Post 
 Office with you!" 
 
 She stood up, as she spoke, and Philip followed her 
 example. 
 
 "I've got to get my mail anyway, now Danny is 
 laid up and cannot be errand boy." Rose went on,
 
 "WHEN THE CAT'S AWAY" 275 
 
 talking against time. "There's a shower coming, I'm 
 afraid, so perhaps it would be best for us to start 
 now." 
 
 "Rose," Philip burst out abruptly, "I can't stand 
 this sort of thing any longer. Did you ever get a letter 
 I wrote you two days before my Examination? Tell 
 me, did you get it? If you did, I won't bother you 
 any more but I just want to be sure it reached 
 you!" 
 
 "Letter?" exclaimed Rose in astonishment, as soon 
 as she could break in on Philip's long pent-up flow 
 of words. "I didn't receive any letter!" 
 
 "Thank the Lord!" cried Philip, laughing boyishly 
 in his relief. 
 
 "Was it such a dreadful letter as all that?" ques 
 tioned Rose, laughing a little, too, though entirely 
 mystified. 
 
 "No that is, yes!" said Philip incoherently. "Let 
 me come into the house a minute; I'll tell you what 
 was in it." 
 
 So they went into Em's prim little parlor now 
 much less prim than of yore and then, holding Rose's 
 hands and looking down into her eyes, (luckily Em 
 was too far away to interfere this time) he told 
 her. 
 
 "The letter," he began, "just said: 'I love you
 
 276 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 and I want you to marry me and struggle along with 
 me, poor as I am a3 soon as I'm ordained, for I can 
 not look up in any direction without finding you just 
 ahead of me ' " 
 
 "But " Rose interrupted uncertainly "I thought 
 every one thinks, you're engaged to Lois Sessions !" 
 
 "Lois Sessions'! Never in a thousand years!" and 
 he tightened his grip on the two little hands in his. 
 "It's just you I want have always wanted !" 
 
 "But you and she " 
 
 "I know," interrupted Philip. "I can't tell you 
 about Lois it's her secret, not mine; but you'll just 
 have to trust me when I tell you that there has never 
 been a word of love or anything like it betwee that 
 I never spoke or thought one word of love to her or 
 about her!" 
 
 "Of course I trust you; but but why, if you were 
 not in love with Lois, did you stop coming to see 
 me?" asked Rose blankly. 
 
 "Why ? Because Miss Em forbade me the house 
 that's why !" 
 
 "Aunt Em forbade you the house?" Rose repeated 
 slowly. 
 
 "She surely did and she never gave me a chance 
 to see you alone, anywhere; in fact, she very particu 
 larly told me you didn't wish to see me!"
 
 "WHEN THE CAT'S AWAY" 277 
 
 "Didn't wish to see you?" Rose repeated again, 
 dumbfounded. Then, she surprised both herself and 
 her lover; for before either of them knew what she 
 was about, she had slipped her hands out of Philip's 
 grasp and had put both arms right up around his neck 
 v ^though she had to stand on tiptoe to do it. 
 
 "Oh, sweetheart!" was all the man could say as 
 he held her to him in a grip that threatened to crush 
 her delicate little frame. And then, for a few min 
 utes, they were very silent, and very happy. 
 
 Finally Rose found her voice. 
 
 "Of course, Aunt Em meant it all for the best 
 She just about worshiped you; and when she thought 
 you cared for some one else, she imagined that it was 
 a slight to me and she she was afraid I might break 
 my heart or something and she was only trying to 
 save me from that !" 
 
 "You angel!" Philip exclaimed happily. "She cer 
 tainly made a mess of things and she hinted to me 
 that you cared for some one else though she didn't 
 actually say so " 
 
 "Poor Aunty! I suppose she wanted you to feel 
 badly, too! Please forgive her no one could know 
 her and not realize that she meant it for the very, very 
 best." 
 
 "If she had known how many months it is since I
 
 278 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 first longed to kiss that little wispy, curly lock of hair 
 over your right ear, she would never have had the 
 heart to mess things so " and Philip made up for lost 
 time, and revenged himself on the absent Em. 
 
 "Afcd now, littlest of little girls," he said presently, 
 "you have not yet promised to marry me. Are you 
 brave enough to become a poor parson's wife just 
 as soon as Tie is ordained if ever he is ordained?" 
 
 "I'm so brave that I'd marry this poor parson, even 
 if he were never ordained," was Rose's gay answer. 
 But in her heart she was very sure that he was to 
 become the most famous clergyman in America, be 
 fore many years could pass. 
 
 It was decided that they would tell no one of their 
 coming marriage, except Em, until after the Installa 
 tion. As they went down the front walk, Rose said, 
 smiling : 
 
 "This is the second time to-night that we've started 
 for the Post Office !" 
 
 "Yes," said Philip; then added, inanely, "This time 
 we go by way of Heaven ! It isn't every one who can 
 go to the Post Office by way of Heaven!" And they 
 both laughed as if he had said a very brilliant 
 thing. 
 
 They walked slowly down to the Post Office, only 
 to find the stage had not yet come; and Rose decided
 
 "WHEN THE CAT'S AWAY" 2279 
 
 to join the group on the Sessions' lawn, while Philip 
 went back to his sermon. Their secret was so very 
 new, they were afraid the world might read it in their 
 faces if they lingered longer together.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN 
 
 WHEN Doctor Sessions reached home that evening 
 he found the usual gathering of neighbors waiting for 
 the stage to come, and with it, the mail. 
 
 "Where you bin, now, Doctor?" said Experience 
 Lee. 
 
 Lois, from her seat on a garden bench, came out of 
 her black revery and looked up apprehensively. The 
 doctor made answer: 
 
 "Danny Warren got too gay with a tree and needed 
 a little mending ; nothing serious ; but I hope it fright 
 ened the youngster enough to make him more careful 
 he's a reckless boy." 
 
 "Father," said Lois abruptly, getting up, "I want 
 to speak to you a moment." 
 
 Obediently, the doctor walked off into the house 
 with her, and was soon telling of his interrupted in 
 terview with the minister. 
 
 "How that man does worship his daughter!" ex 
 claimed Miss Phoebe Bliss to Mrs. Sessions. "I never 
 saw such devotion. It's just beautiful." 
 
 280
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN 281 
 
 "Yes, they're very fond of one another. Doctor 
 and I have centered all our hopes on Lois," said Mrs. 
 Sessions. "I suppose it's natural, when people have 
 only one child," she added rather apologetically, as if 
 ashamed of her own mother-love. 
 
 "What's become of old Root?" asked Jane Bliss. 
 "I've missed him at the Post Office for several 
 days." 
 
 "He's gone to visit his sister," answered Mrs. Ses 
 sions. "She is quite sick, and he was rather inter 
 ested in having her make her will You know the 
 Tooigs have done pretty well, the last few years." 
 
 "The old skin-flint!" exclaimed Jane. "He wants 
 everybody's money! I hope she won't leave him a 
 cent!" 
 
 Just then Rose Warren appeared from the direction 
 of the Post Office. 
 
 "Come and join us, Rose," Mrs. Sessions called. 
 "The stage isn't due for several minutes yet, and 
 Matthias Hewlett gets slower and slower, in sorting 
 out the mail !" s 
 
 "I mustn't stay one minute after the stage is in/' 
 said Rose, as she kissed Mrs. Sessions, "for I've the 
 f orlornest little boy at home you ever saw ! Did Doc 
 tor tell you about it?" 
 
 For a few minutes they were taken up with a recital
 
 282 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 of Danny's mischance. Then the conversation turned 
 to Em and Charles Reuben. 
 
 "How did they steal a march on us, Miss Rose?" 
 asked Deacon Cone. "We were all planning to pelt 
 them with rice, as they left town!" 
 
 Rose laughed. 
 
 "It's impossible to get ahead of Aunty," she said. 
 "She had had it all planned, for days." 
 
 "I was in part of it," interrupted Experience Lee, 
 simpering, "for they strolled up to my house about 
 dusk, just as if they was out for a walk, and we 
 set on the porch quite a spell, till it got good and 
 dark now you go on, Rose," she added, generously. 
 
 "Then," said Rose, "a livery stable carriage from 
 North Wilbr'm drove up to Experience's house. Aunty 
 and Charles Reuben jumped in, and off they went to 
 North Wilbr'm, where they took the train for some 
 where, no one knows where for they wouldn't even 
 tell me where they were going." 
 
 "And they never even went through the village," 
 said Jane Bliss. "To think how we were all watch 
 ing the outgoings of the East Longmeadow stage, 
 day after day! I was sure that, of course, Em would 
 go that way!" 
 
 "She's a cute one," said Deacon Cone. "There's a 
 big shower comin' up over the mountain," he added.
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN 283 
 
 "You folks that haven't umbrellas are going to get 
 wet!" 
 
 "Oh, dear!" said Experience Lee, timidly, "I don't 
 like thunderstorms. When Mother was alive, she 
 and I always used to go into a dark closet, if a 
 shower come up, an' shut the door an' hold hands 
 till 'twas all over ! We used to companion each other 
 a great deal. Land, Delia ! What a flash ! I'm goin' 
 into your house!" 
 
 "Let's all go in," said Mrs. Sessions, rising 
 quickly. 
 
 "I don't suppose it is very safe, is it, Deacon, out 
 here under these big maple trees?" queried Phrebe, 
 raising her delicate eyebrows inquiringly at Mr. Cone, 
 as she lifted her embroidered skirts in either hand 
 and started across the grass with the others. 
 
 "The trees are certainly a great protection to the 
 house," said the Deacon, "but Run ! Here comes the 
 rain!" 
 
 There was a general scamper; and Mrs. Sessions 
 conducted the little knot of people to the dining-room, 
 where they found the doctor and Lois. 
 
 The girl got up to leave, as they came in, but her 
 mother put out a detaining hand. 
 
 "Stay with us, darling," she said. Then she added 
 in a whisper "Stay and talk to them while I rush
 
 284 THE 'EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 around and shut the windows upstairs and down ; the 
 rain must be just pouring in on the north side." 
 
 Before Lois could refuse, her mother was gone, and 
 she was left to do the honors as best she might. 
 
 The storm was increasing steadily and at each flash 
 of lightning Experience Lee jumped, and screamed 
 faintly. She sat as near the middle of the room as 
 was possible without moving the dining table; and 
 kept her feet curled up on the rungs of her chair, 
 so as not to touch the floor. Her feathers and frills 
 were all bedraggled from the downpour during her 
 hasty run to shelter, and she looked more like a poor 
 little wet hen roosting on a fence, than anything else, 
 as she surveyed her neighbors with miserable eyes. 
 
 The doctor busied himself in trying to allay her 
 fears; but she persisted in telling the most dreadful 
 tales about people she knew who had been struck by 
 lightning. 
 
 Suddenly, between the crashes of thunder, a familiar 
 rumble was heard. 
 
 "There goes the stage," said the doctor, "but you 
 must all stay here till the rain lets up!" 
 
 "We'd better stay a few minutes, anyway " gasped 
 Experience, between chattering teeth "I have " (as 
 a terrific crash came) "Wasn't that awful !" 
 
 Mrs. Sessions had come back and was busily en-
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN 285 
 
 gaged in lighting the lamp, for the blackness of the 
 storm had made it impossible to see across the 
 room. 
 
 Deacon Cone, being nearest the door, got up and 
 looked around. By a lightning flash, he made out 
 three figures bobbing toward him from the direction 
 of the Post Office. 
 
 "Here come three drowned rats !" he cried from the 
 doorway. 
 
 "Oh, do shut that door, Mr. Cone !" begged Experi 
 ence Lee. "It makes a draught right through here 
 There! the lamp nearly went out then, an' it's so 
 dangerous to have draughts in a thunderstorm!" 
 
 She might have saved her breath for all the atten 
 tion the Deacon paid to her. 
 
 "As sure as you live," he cried, "it's Em and Charles 
 Reuben, with old Root paddling along behind. Well, 
 I never!" 
 
 Every one jumped up, eagerly, at the news, and 
 rushed to the door even Experience half forget 
 ting her fear of the storm in her haste to catch a 
 glimpse of her bridegroom-brother and his wife. 
 
 "Wai, this is a rain!" Em's shrilly familiar tones 
 announced. "We swum all the way from the Post 
 Office! Hello, folks!" 
 
 "Didn't expect to see the bride and groom for an-
 
 286 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 other week, at least!" called the Deacon into the 
 storm. "You didn't make much of a trip " 
 
 "Let me have that wet umbrella," cried Mrs. Ses 
 sions, reaching out for it as Em neared the door. 
 
 "Look out for my bunnit," cautioned Em amicably, 
 as she handed over the umbrella. "Wai, we didn't go 
 so far, but we went fast. We seen Bunker Hill Monu 
 ment, an' Boston Common, an' Plymouth Rock an' 
 all the things we'd wanted to see, all our lives. An' 
 then we didn't know what to see next, and somehow 
 we got kind o' homesick, and so, I says, 'Husband, 
 let's go home' and here we are an " 
 
 "Say, are you folks goin' to stand jawin' in this 
 doorway all night? I want ter git in!" snarled a 
 roice over Em's shoulder. 
 
 "Good land !" she ejaculated with a start. "Thought 
 you'd gone home, Cyrus Root ! Don't let that man in 
 here!" she cried, appealing to the friendly knot of 
 neighbors pressing around her in welcome. "Shut him 
 out, somebody! No, Rose darling" (her voice soft 
 ening unconsciously) "I can't answer any more ques 
 tions yet I know I'm a-drippin' from head to foot, 
 but 'twon't do any harm. Keep that man out!" she 
 reiterated. Then suddenly she darted back and 
 slammed the door in old Root's face.
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN 287 
 
 "Charles Reuben !" she shouted, "see to it that that 
 critter don't get in here! You hold the door, Hus 
 band, till I tell you to let go!" 
 
 But the wind ripped the doorknob out of Charles 
 Reuben's wet hands, and old Root, grinning tooth 
 lessly, ducked and twisted himself under the Bard's 
 arm and into the house, like a gnarled, evil spirit of 
 the storm. 
 
 "Thought ye could keep me aout, did ye?" he 
 chuckled. "The whole pack o' ye couldn't keep me 
 aout not 'thout I wanted to stay aout!" 
 
 "Ye there, Doc?" he went on, paying no attention 
 to any one else. "The rain's most blinded me 
 steamed up my specs. I want ye to give me some 
 o' them drops that stops the neuralagy I'm nigh 
 crazy with the pain in my face, after ridin' in that 
 old stage an hour and a half in the rain. It was 
 a-hailin' } an' a.-rainin' an' a-thunderin' an' slight enin' , 
 an' if thar' was another thing it could of bin doin', it 
 would a-done it, you bet!" 
 
 "You come right in here and get dry, Root," said 
 the doctor hospitably. "Don't bother to go into the 
 office. Get up by the stove. I'll bring you something 
 that'll quiet your pain right away. Then, to-morrow, 
 you have that tooth out; as I told you to a month
 
 288 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 ago;" the doctor's voice trailed off as he closed the 
 door of the office, "for if you don't, I'll pull it, my 
 self." 
 
 "All right. Fix me up, good, Doc, for the house'll 
 be powerful cold at home. I don't let Hannah have 
 a fire after noonday dinner's cooked. She'd coddle 
 herself all day 'f I'd let h " 
 
 "Oh, come!" put in Lois. "We all know Hannah! 
 You never yet gave her a chance to get decently warm, 
 to say nothing of " 
 
 "What's that to you, Miss Imper'ance?" snarled old 
 Root. " 'Tain't none o' your business!" 
 
 "Don't aggravate him!" burst in Em, anxiously, to 
 every one's surprise. 
 
 Lois paid no heed. Between peals of thunder her 
 voice rang out, clear and young. 
 
 "It'll be everybody's business, before long," she 
 went on, "for if you don't give her more to eat, and 
 work her less hard, she'll fall apart from sheer ex 
 haustion." 
 
 Old Root fixed his ferret eyes on Lois. Then he 
 shook a crooked finger in her face. Slowly, he said, 
 "So my affairs'll be everybody's business, will they? 
 Not before yours will, you " 
 
 "Don't ye say it, Cyrus Root !" cried Em, suddenly 
 starting forward and putting a protecting arm about
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN 289 
 
 Lois an arm the astonished and indignant girl vainly 
 strove to shake off. 
 
 "Better go, Cyrus," said Charles Reuben sooth-- 
 ingly. "Here's your medicine I went in an' got it 
 the doctor handed it to me. Better go, before he 
 conies out o' the office an' hears you." 
 
 "Go!" shouted old Root, still writhing under Lois' 
 criticism of his happy home life. "I won't go till 
 I've got through with this gal here ! She " 
 
 "She's Doctor's daughter an' Delia's daughter,'* 
 interrupted Em, frantically clinging to Lois' protest 
 ing arm, "an' a child of this village. An' I appeal 
 to everybody to shut this man's mouth or put him 
 out. Don't let him say what he's a-tryin' to say, for 
 God's sake!" 
 
 "What's all this rumpus?" called the doctor, com 
 ing down the hall with long strides; "sounds like a 
 cat fight!" 
 
 "Doctor! Put him out!" Em shrilled, "put that 
 worthless old critter out, before he disgraces himself 
 and everybody else! He " 
 
 Just then there was a blinding flash of lightning, 
 as old Root, pointing his dripping umbrella at Lois, 
 glared at her till she shrank back in horror. 
 
 "Do you see her, everybody? Wai, look at her!: 
 Do you know what she is? No! But I'll tell yout
 
 290 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 Now, Lois Sessions, I'm a-goin' to tell 'em all, what 
 I know an' what you know an' what you thought 
 no one in this village was a-goin' to find out didn't 
 you, Miss? But you didn't count on Cyrus Root 
 whose 'business was goin' to be everybody's busi 
 ness.' " 
 
 "What on earth are you talking about, Root?" 
 fumed the puzzled doctor, in some heat. 
 
 "Yes " persisted Root in a higher key, shaking his 
 umbrella menacingly, and shouting down a shrill in 
 terruption from Em. "Yes I'm goin' on. Arter 
 what she said about me an' Hanner, I'm a.-goin' on! 
 
 "Do you see that girl there, folks, a-decked out in 
 all them fine clo'es an' white shoes an' fancy stuff? 
 Do you know whare she got 'em? She stole 'em. 
 She's a thief ! A common thief no better'n that nig 
 ger that got took up down in the Holler, the other 
 day, for stealin' a silver fork from Phoebe, here! 
 She's a common thief, I tell ye! Now, look at her!" 
 
 Amid the roar and blinding flashes of the storm, old 
 Root in his dripping clothes seemed like a grotesquely 
 avenging gnome, pointing the finger of fate at his 
 shrinking victim. His voice ceased for a moment, and 
 there was dead silence. Every one seemed paralyzed. 
 The doctor had taken an angry step forward, but 
 now stood swaying. A sudden gust from the opeo
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN 291 
 
 door blew the lamp out; at which Experience Lee 
 screamed. 
 
 Once more, Root's face and that of the stricken girl 
 were thrown into bold relief. Another face also 
 the doctor's. Every vestige of color seemed to have 
 vanished, leaving it almost as white as his hair and 
 whiskers. His voice broke the stillness. 
 
 "Some one light the lamp, please," he said. Then, 
 "Speak up, Lois ! Tell them it's a lie !" he added ; and 
 into the tone of his voice there crept a simple, child 
 like wistfulness. "Tell them it's a lie! Then I can 
 settle with this foul-mouthed liar! I'd have treated 
 him as he deserved to be treated before he'd spoken 
 three words. But this is too big and too damnable 
 to be punished before it's answered!" 
 
 The lamp by this time was relighted. 
 
 "Speak, daughter dear!" urged the doctor, with 
 trembling lips, his face turning ashen. 
 
 Lois started forward and seemed about to offer 
 some denial; but Cyrus fixed a relentless eye on her, 
 and the girl, with one fascinated look of terror, sank 
 to the floor, her face in her hands. 
 
 "There! You see!" cried the man, still pointing. 
 "Does that look like innocence? No! Is that the 
 high and mighty girl who holds her head above every 
 body? No! It's a girl that's bin expelled from Col-
 
 292 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 lege for raisin' a check yes, an' stealin' money, before 
 that, to buy nice clo'es with! I went straight up to 
 her college town, I did, to see my sick sister an' I 
 found out all there was to find out from my nephew 
 what's gardener round the college grounds. Every 
 body knows it there. 
 
 "I had a tongue in my head," he went on, "an* 
 I wa'n't afraid to ask questions! What she done, 
 she done knowin' how wrong it was, an' that she was 
 sure to bring down her father's and mother's gray 
 hairs in sorrer to the grave ! They'd hushed it up and 
 expelled her, instead of prosecutin', 'cuz she'd bin such 
 a favorite an' so on!" 
 
 Lois got to her feet, all at once. 
 
 "It's true, what he says, so far as it goes !" she cried 
 in a clear voice. "But he doesn't tell how I had to do 
 it. How could any one graduate on the miserable bit 
 of money my father sent me ? I " 
 
 There was a moan from Mrs. Sessions. 
 
 The doctor said steadily : 
 
 "The storm at least the rain is over. May I 
 trouble you all to go home all except Em? Delia 
 may need her. Good-night, every one. Get out, 
 Root!" 
 
 He held the door wide open and the neighbors tum 
 bled quickly out, all to overwhelmed to speak. All,
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN 293 
 
 that is, except Root, who whispered loudly behind his 
 hand to Em, as he passed her : "Ye thought ye could 
 stop me, but I was too cute for ye! He, he, he!" 
 With the last word, he faded into the mist of the 
 village street. 
 
 "Cyrus Root!" called Em after the vanishing fig 
 ure. "You're a skunk just a plain, low-down skunk! 
 I ain't never bin too fond o' Lois, myself; but I'd a 
 cut my tongue out sooner than expose her so before 
 her family an' friends ! Don't you ever dare to darken. 
 my door again, so long as you live !" 
 
 "He, he !" creaked a faint echo, as Em turned back 
 into the Sessions' dining-room, and as old Root went 
 gleefully to spread his wonderful tidings among the 
 Post Office loungers. 
 
 As soon as the room was cleared of all but the 
 Sessions family and Em, the doctor closed the door 
 carefully, and walking over to his weeping wife, laid 
 a protecting hand on her arm. Then he turned a 
 drawn, flabby face toward his only child. 
 
 "Now, Lois," he said, "your mother and I are 
 ready." 
 
 There was silence, a moment dead silence, except 
 for the dripping of the water from the eaves out 
 side. Then Lois, looking at Em rather than at her 
 father and mother, began:
 
 294 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "I don't know what to say, exactly. I meant to 
 make it all right again. You people can't understand 
 how things really are " 
 
 "We know how things really are. Never mind 
 about that tell us what you did!" interrupted the 
 doctor. 
 
 "Oh, Lois !" cried Mrs. Sessions, clasping her hands 
 tightly and leaning forward to peer through tear- 
 dimmed eyes at her daughter. "You didn't didn't 
 steal you couldn't! My baby couldn't " Her 
 voice trailed away in a horrified whisper as she read 
 the expression in Lois' face. 
 
 "I could, and I did since you will have the facts. 
 I didn't mean any harm, truly. I was class treasurer, 
 and I altered a check. There was no other way for 
 me to get money ; and I had to have it. I was at the 
 head in everything and I had to dress for the part" 
 (with a sneer). 
 
 "What check?" asked the doctor; adding, hope 
 fully, "One of mine?" 
 
 "No," said Lois, jerking out her answer in staccato 
 sentences. "A girl's. One of the girls in my class. 
 Edith Todd. Her father is the pork-packer, Todd, you 
 know. Out in Cincinnati. She has heaps of money, 
 her father keeps her bank account full for her all the 
 time. She scribbles checks by the dozen, for every-
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN 295 
 
 thing; just jots down the figures and doesn't even 
 write them out, and never bothers about putting down 
 the amounts on the stubs. She never knows if she 
 has a dollar or a thousand dollars in the bank. It's 
 a joke, at college. Our class was assessed nine dol 
 lars each, for the chapel bell we're giving. Edith 
 Todd gave me her check. I changed the nine to 
 ninety. That was all." 
 
 "All!" echoed the doctor heavily. 
 
 "It wasn't really stealing," flashed Lois. "I had to 
 have the money for my graduation clothes. I knew I 
 could save up enough out of my allowance to pay 
 it back. I could send Edith the money and tell her 
 it was a mistake. And she's too stupid to know the 
 difference. I wasn't defrauding her. Because she has 
 more money than she can ever spend or keep track 
 of." 
 . "But" 
 
 "It would have been all right, too," she went on in 
 sudden irritation, "if " 
 
 "Lois," babbled her mother, dazed, "you stole ?" 
 
 "I was the 'star' player of the basket-ball team for 
 one thing my gym suit had to be a stunning one 
 I was in about a hundred other things, and all of 
 them called for clothes, clothes clothes! I couldn't 
 do as the third-rate girls might: wear just any old
 
 296 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 thing, when every eye was on me. You don't know 
 anything whatever about it you've always led a quiet, 
 humdrum life in this out-of-the-world hole, and I 
 suppose you thought that the absurd little bit of money 
 you sent was going to be enough for me to graduate 
 on! It might do for my clothes, possibly, if I buried 
 myself here in South Wilbr'm but it certainly never 
 could carry me through the expenses of the last year 
 at college! No one could do it who tries to be any 
 thing. You shouldn't have sent me there if you 
 couldn't give me what I needed!" 
 
 The doctor put his hand to his head in a bewildered 
 way. 
 
 "We we did all we could didn't we, Delia?" he 
 asked hesitatingly of his wife. 
 
 She nodded helplessly. 
 
 He seemed to speak with effort, and repeated slowly, 
 straightening up and looking at Lois : 
 
 "We did all we could we You see" (indicating 
 his shabby coat with one hand) "the kind of clothes 
 we have been wearing for your sake. Sometimes 
 we have even been a little hungry " he added 
 with a humbly questioning inflection on the last 
 word. 
 
 "I can't stand this!" burst out Em. "I didn't stay 
 here to hear you a-pleadin' to your child to please for-
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN 297 
 
 give you for not givin' her the 'arth so's she could 
 keep honest, when you've already given her the skin 
 off your backs! It most breaks my heart to hear 
 you a-humblin' yourself so. You both of you 
 who've always been truth and honesty incarnate. I've 
 felt hard toward Lois in my time I'm a wicked old 
 woman " (here the scalding tears rushed into Em's 
 eyes) "but I meant it for the best, I swear it before 
 Almighty God! 
 
 "I'd known there was something wrong, for a long 
 time I'd just felt it; but I'd never thought of snoopin' 
 round an' try in' to find out what 'twas, even if Lois 
 had injured my own darling child so! You all look 
 surprised, but it's true, just the same. She did. And 
 that's why my poor pretty Rose was a-droopin' and 
 gettin' to be a peaked shadder though the cheerfulest, 
 sweetest creetur' ever made, through it all! And I 
 could see that she was a-goin', just as all her family 
 had gone, an' I just couldn't bear it! I couldn't bear 
 it!" wailed Em with hard, dry sobs that hurt her throat 
 cruelly. "An' sometimes I felt as if I had to do some- 
 thin' ! You see, the minister didn't come to see Rosie 
 so much after he saw Lois" (here Lois gave a star 
 tled look of closer attention) ; "an' yet they was most 
 as good as engaged before, till Lois come along and 
 cut out my child, with her rowin' an' her clo'es ! Rosie
 
 298 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 never complained or had any hard feelin's she's too 
 much of an angel; but she just crumpled up like a 
 little bruised roseleaf an' begun to wither away. I 
 prayed an' prayed, but the Lord was slow to act. An' 
 I never thought o' His takin' this way." 
 
 "So that's it, is it," interrupted Lois sneeringly. "1 
 was wondering why you were so much interested in 
 me! You thought I cut out your little meek-faced 
 saint! Well, you can tell her from me that she can 
 have him! / don't want him. I've had all I want of 
 saints and ministers and Christian charity. A man is 
 held up as above common clay, simply because he 
 stands in a pulpit on Sundays and then when a 
 woman is down on her luck he is the first one to cast 
 a stone! Rose can have him! And I wish her joy, 
 the first time her pedestal rocks a little!" 
 
 Em turned to the girl's father and mother. 
 
 "Your poor hearts are stricken, just at first; but 
 don't judge your only child too harsh, all at once. She's 
 stricken, too, an' she's had about all she can stand. 
 Her punishment must of come on her, just as soon as 
 she done it, for she's honest by nature couldn't be 
 otherwise with such a mother or such a father. She's 
 had her lesson and I ain't afraid for her future 
 nor must you be. Her temptations was greater than 
 most, on account of bein' so handsome an' popular.
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN 299 
 
 Old Root told me and my husband the whole story 
 first, for he was on the same train with us comin' 
 home. Lois can tell you 'bout it better'n I can, but I 
 guess the poor little creetur' don't feel like talkin' 
 much more, so I'll go on, an' she can interrupt if she 
 wants to. Now, she didn't start out to steal. She was 
 class treasurer, like she says. Just at the wrong time, 
 come a measley check for nine dollars Lois got to 
 lookin' at it, I s'pose, an' thinkin' how easy it would 
 be to change the nine to ninety just borrow the money 
 for a little while an* then pay it back as soon as she 
 could. Wasn't that it, child?" 
 
 A grateful nod from Lois was the only answer. 
 "She didn't see it as stealin', but it hurt, just the 
 same, I know and I guess she didn't eat much dinner 
 that day 'cause by nature, she was honest. Then, 
 after she had done it, and before she could get a chance 
 to make up the amount, along come the Hand of the 
 Lord. It seems her ink didn't dry just the same color 
 as the ink on the check, an' the man at the bank no 
 ticed it. He showed it to the Dean at college Mr. 
 Eden's sister an' so it went. Wai, every one was 
 fond of her" (Mrs. Sessions was sobbing "My baby 
 my baby!" softly to herself as Em's cracked voice 
 continued) "an' so they decided to hush it all up an* 
 not prosecute but just let her go quietly home with-
 
 300 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 out any one knowin', but the Faculty. But somehow 
 it got around, like such things do, till everybody 
 knowed it. 
 
 "How Cyrus Root could have brought himself to 
 blab to you, I don't see. But he done it. Cyrus was 
 just burstin' with it an' I couldn't stop him from tellin', 
 hard as I tried. 
 
 "I've reasoned out how it all happened. First off, 
 I blamed Lois mighty bad, o' course; then I got to 
 thinkin' how she must of suffered, an' I felt only 
 pity for the poor child, an' sorrow an' that's how 
 you, Delia, and Doctor, must feel it's going to be 
 the makin' of that girl of yours an', I want you to 
 be glad the blow's come. It had to come, in one form 
 or another it won't come again. An' before you 
 know it you'll all be happy again. If you ain't got the 
 money handy to pay the extra sum, 7 have, an' I can 
 send the college a check to-morrow (I planned to tell 
 Lois that, an' have it a secret between her and me ) 
 an' you know you can owe me till Kingdom Come I 
 shan't ever collect on the best friends I have in the 
 world. All I want is to have Lois feel I'm her friend 
 from now on " 
 
 "Oh, don't!" cried Lois, throwing herself on Em's 
 breast. "I've always been so rotten to you !"
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN '301 
 
 But the doctor looked at his daughter with a new 
 expression. 
 
 "How how did Philip Eden know?" he said, la 
 boring painfully with the words. 
 
 "I I told him," flamed back Lois. "Yes, I told 
 him, weeks ago and he paid back the money so as 
 to keep me out of prison! Yes, he did," Lois cried 
 recklessly, giving up all attempt to screen herself, as 
 her father looked blank. "I hate him, now; but you 
 might as well know the whole thing I hate him; 
 but you've got to be grateful to him all your days, 
 for he kept your daughter from going to prison out 
 of Christian charity! I thought it was something 
 else, but it was only Christian charity! You see, it 
 wasn't only the ninety dollars. A maid saw me take it 
 out of Edith's drawer " 
 
 "Take what? The check?" asked Dr. Sessions. 
 
 "No, it was before that I was terribly hard up. 
 And that little fool of a Todd girl aways used to 
 leave handfuls of bills loose in her bureau. She'd 
 never have missed them. But the maid saw me, and 
 I had to keep giving her money, every little while, 
 to keep her mouth shut; and then I found that, in 
 spite of all, she'd told another maid, and there was 
 no end to it. It had to come out sooner or later.
 
 302 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "So I told Philip Eden when I came home, Easter, 
 and asked him to help me and he did. He wouldn't 
 have, only I lied to him I told him I did it for your 
 sake. I told him this house was mortgaged up to the 
 eyes and that I'd stolen to pay the notes that were 
 coming due so as to keep a roof over your heads 
 and, like a goose, he believed me; and gave me all the 
 money I needed. But then they found out about the 
 check, anyway (that came afterward) and they ex 
 pelled me. And then he insisted on going to see his 
 sister the Dean and she told him the whole thing 
 about the check and the other money and all; and 
 that's why he loathes me. He thought he had con 
 verted me from stealing, and was going to make a 
 saint of me; but he doesn't even try to cure me of 
 lying. Isn't that funny?" Even at this crisis, her 
 whole thought seemed to be of Philip, rather than 
 anything else. 
 
 Again her father tried to speak; but all they could 
 make out was a thick mumble of "Poo-r boy poo' boy 
 Delia I blamed him poo* " Then of a sudden 
 he fell heavily over the table. 
 
 All three women rushed toward him. And, as they 
 tried to lift him up, they saw that his mouth and the
 
 THE STAGE COMES IN 303 
 
 whole left side of his face were queerly twisted, his 
 eyes vacant and staring. 
 
 "Oh, God! It's a stroke!" cried Em. But Mrs. 
 Sessions had fainted.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 STRICKEN ! 
 
 THE news that Dr. Sessions had had a stroke of 
 paralysis was all over the village in no time. It trav 
 eled almost as fast as the story of Lois' thefts. 
 
 A physician hurried out from Springfield in response 
 to Charles Reuben's imperative call. 
 
 He and Rose had not gone home when Dr. Ses 
 sions had dismissed his neighbors; but had walked 
 up and down, outside, waiting for Em and discussing 
 old Root's appalling disclosures. 
 
 Then, all at once, Em had appeared in the doorway 
 and called for help. Instantly her husband and Rose 
 were at her side. 
 
 "Charles Reuben, you git a hoss and drive to Spring 
 field faster'n you ever drove before Doctor's got a 
 stroke an' you must bring another doctor back with 
 you. Git Dr. Brown. He's bin out here before, an' 
 our Doctor knows 'im. Rosie, you run and git three, 
 mebby four, men, to carry the Doctor upstairs to his 
 bed. I don't know how anybody's goin' to lift 'im 
 he's so dretf ul heavy !" 
 
 304
 
 STRICKEN! 305 
 
 Charles Reuben made a dash for the adjacent barn, 
 and luckily found the doctor's horse with his harness 
 still on; although he had been taken out of the old 
 buggy, and was peacefully devouring oats in a feed 
 bag. Charles Reuben hastily backed him into the 
 shafts and set off at a mad gallop. 
 
 At the same time, Rose had made a run for the 
 Post Office, that being the only place where she was 
 sure of finding several men at once. 
 
 By the time Charles Reuben was well on his way 
 to Springfield, the poor distorted wreck of what was 
 once the doctor's magnificent body had been tenderly 
 borne upstairs and laid on his bed.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 "UNTO THE HILLS" 
 
 THE doctor never again recovered the use of his 
 limbs ; but gradually his vocal chords regained a meas 
 ure of their power, and his brain its old activity. 
 
 All day long, he used to sit in his big chair, 
 propped up by pillows, his helplessness doubly piti 
 ful by contrast with his former splendid strength. 
 
 As soon as he was able to make himself under 
 stood, he had called for Philip Eden so insistently 
 that Mrs. Sessions had had no other course than to 
 send for the minister. 
 
 "Boy forgive vio-violence," his twisted mouth 
 had articulated carefully. And the "boy," in answer to 
 the pleading blue eyes, had taken the cold, inert hand 
 in his warm, strong fingers and smoothed it as if it 
 were that of his own father. 
 
 "Right you did right " went on the twisted lips 
 "sorry" 
 
 Then the tears rushed to the helpless eyes, and Philip 
 Eden, distressed beyond measure, looked away as he 
 patted the hand he held and said: 
 
 306
 
 "UNTO THE HILLS" 307 
 
 "It's all right, Doctor, if you've forgiven me. I 
 tried to save you from knowing what I suppose you 
 were bound to find out sometime, that's all. Shall 
 we try not to speak of it or think of it any more?" 
 
 And after that, the young man and the old were 
 better friends than ever before; and the patient looked 
 forward eagerly to the Minister's daily visits. 
 
 As soon as the doctor was strong enough to sit up, 
 Lois was sent to Montana to stay with a sister of 
 Mrs. Sessions, for an indefinite time or at least until 
 South Wilbr'm should have stopped talking about 
 her. 
 
 Her father and mother missed her terribly, but they 
 made no complaint. 
 
 As the doctor sat in his chair, looking out on the 
 beautiful New England mountains that he loved, he 
 often murmured to himself : 
 
 " 'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence 
 cometh my help !' ' 
 
 Then Delia, his wife, would come softly and lay 
 her cheek against his, and look too, at the hills and the 
 sunset behind them. And they both knew that some 
 where beyond those hills was Lois.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 EM PREACHES A SERMON 
 
 ON the night Em and Charles Reuben came home 
 from their honeymoon, Rose had a long talk with 
 Em, and told her that Philip and she had made up 
 their misunderstanding; that they were to be married 
 that he had never cared for Lois. Indeed, the lat 
 ter explanation was unnecessary, as the older woman 
 already knew that part of it. 
 
 Em blamed herself hotly "for an old fool" in hav 
 ing kept the lovers apart ; and said many bitter things 
 to herself about "meddlin' in other folks' matters." 
 
 More than that, she apologized so abjectly and gen 
 erously to Philip, when he appeared the next morning, 
 that he forgave her everything and kissed her weather- 
 beaten cheek, saying merrily : 
 
 "I've needed an Aunt Em to put me in my place 
 for a long, long time !" 
 
 Then Rose had joined them, and all three had gone 
 into Em's "best room." 
 
 "Wai, you two didn't wait for my blessin', did you?" 
 308
 
 EM PREACHES A SERMON 309 
 
 Em shrilled, happily. "You only waited till my back 
 was turned, you naughty children!" 
 
 And, holding a hand of each, she led Rose and 
 Philip to the narrow horsehair sofa the sofa where 
 Em always sat in a thunderstorm or on solemn and 
 impressive occasions. 
 
 Sitting down between them, she still held their 
 hands, patting them occasionally. 
 
 "Philip," she began, "I s'pose if I'm your 'Aunt 
 Em/ like you said, I might's well call you 'Philip' 
 I want you should know what a dear daughter Rosie 
 here has been to me. I don't want to let her go I 
 don't want ever to let her go" (here Em swallowed), 
 "but I know I couldn't keep her longer, if I would, 
 'cause you've got her heart and there ain't much 
 left of Rosie when you've snatched out her heart. 
 So take 'er, Philip" (here she joined their two hands, 
 in her lap), "an' an' if you should ever make her 
 unhappy, I b'lieve 'twould kill me outright, I do, hon 
 est. But I know you won't, an' I I'd ruther have 
 her merry you than any one. Only, just remember, 
 she's so little an' not very strong! So she needs an 
 extra amount of lovin' and lookin' after. She always 
 tries to do all the lovin' an' lookin' after people so 
 it'll be hard work for even you to keep up with her; 
 but you must
 
 3io THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 "In the sight of God, you're just two children startin' 
 out on the real journey of Life together, and I want 
 you should go hand in hand always hand in hand," 
 Em repeated with emphasis, "an' keep your faces set 
 in the right direction forrard. Even if you go hand 
 in hand an' one looks backward, there's harm done. 
 Lot's wife would of bin well enough off, this minute, 
 if she'd done as her husband did just remember 
 that. As you go on, day by day, don't look back. 
 If you do, you'll see somethin' or other that ought to 
 of bin done different, as sure's you're born! There's 
 no use in that ! You're both bound to make mistakes ; 
 but if you're patient with each other if you don't say 
 'I told you so' (and it's powerful hard not to say 'I 
 told you so,' sometimes I ain't said it to Charles 
 Reuben yit, but I'm bound to do it one of these days 
 when I'm off my guard) ; as I was sayin', as long's 
 you don't say 'I told you so' things'll come all right 
 after a while." Em paused for breath, then went 
 on: 
 
 "We all have a lot of 'self about us even the best 
 of us! You two less than most; still even you must 
 look out for it. Leave it right here an' now, at 
 the Threshold of Life. Throw it away as you would 
 an old worn-out shoe an' live no more for yourselves, 
 but for each other. That's the only safe way to start
 
 EM PREACHES A SERMON 311 
 
 out to live in such close companionship. That's the 
 greatest secret in the world the secret of a happy 
 merried life. 
 
 "Perhaps you think I ain't bin merried long 
 .enough to know all this. Wai, I ain't bin merried 
 very long, it's true; but I've looked on an' seen some 
 of my friends make frightful messes of their lives 
 when a little unselfishness would of set everything 
 straight. 
 
 "Being poor ain't a tragedy even being awful sick 
 ain't a tragedy at least to the one that's sick it ain't. 
 But being discontented, or being suspicious is a trag 
 edy. Don't forget that last. Don't have suspicions! 
 Don't ever believe any harm of each other, even when 
 you know it's true! Stand by each other, whatever 
 happens. A burden, a sorrer, that both of you can 
 bear, is only half as heavy as when a body has to 
 carry it all alone. 
 
 "Then again, don't expect too much of each other! 
 Of course nobody can be good all the time! You both 
 know you're bound to be wrong, sometimes, so don't 
 expect more of your life-comrade than you are equal 
 to, yourself. Oftentimes, unhappiness comes from just 
 such a cause a man imagines that he's merried an 
 angel, an' then gits mightily put out when he finds 
 that a real angel would have merried way out of her
 
 312 THE EYES OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 class in takin' him! So, say I, don't expect too much, 
 but do just the best you can to live up to the love 
 you have for each other, and you'll not fail. Dear 
 children, I I've great hopes for you " Suddenly 
 Em stopped ; then she went on briskly : 
 
 "Have I talked too much? I never expected to be 
 moved to preach a sermon to a minister! It's like 
 'takin' coals to Newcastle' (whatever that may be), I 
 guess you think ; but, now it's out o' my system, I feel 
 better!" and Em wiped her eyes in a businesslike way 
 and put her handkerchief into the black ribbon pocket 
 she always wore at her belt. 
 
 "It is a precious 'sermon' and I shall remember 
 it all my life," said Philip quietly. "And I promise 
 you here and now that I'll abide by it, with God's 
 help, to the best of my ability." 
 
 "And I will, too, dearest Aunt Em," said Rose in 
 a smothered tone, her face against Em's little, bony 
 shoulder. 
 
 After this there was much happy castle-building 
 on the part of all three; till Philip suddenly remem 
 bered that Rose and he had planned a ramble in the 
 woods for that morning. 
 
 When they had gone, Em sat alone in the middle 
 of her sofa for nearly three-quarters of an hour, gaz-
 
 EM PREACHES A SERMON 313 
 
 ing pensively at the stiff white handkerchief of the 
 "weeping willow lady" on the opposite wall though 
 she never could have told you that there was a pic 
 ture there, or even a wall.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 EM HAS TH,E LAST WORD 
 
 ABOUT two months after the doctor was stricken, 
 a new Council was called, and, to every one's delight, 
 Philip Eden was regularly ordained to the Ministry 
 and installed as pastor of the South Wilbr'm Congre 
 gational Church. 
 
 Late that same evening, Em and Charles Reuben 
 were sitting out on their front porch; enjoying the 
 soft air and the moonlight together. Danny had just 
 been sent upstairs to bed. 
 
 "Where on 'arth hev those folks gone!" Em ex 
 claimed. "Rose has no business to be out so long in 
 the night air, even if she is so well and strong again ! 
 It don't pay to be careless about night air !" 
 
 "Oh, I guess they've only gone up the road a piece ! 
 Young folks will be young folks!" answered her 
 spouse, cheerfully. 
 
 All at once there was a flutter of white muslin, 
 with a dark blotch of shadow moving along beside 
 it. The white muslin flew up the walk, leaving the 
 darker shape far in the rear. 
 
 314
 
 EM HAS THE LAST WORD 315 
 
 Straight up the steps it flew, not hesitating a mo 
 ment in the brilliant moonlight; and, before Em knew 
 what had happened, her head and neck were impris 
 oned by two soft arms caught in a tight squeeze 
 which did not lessen as the dark shadow, at a slower 
 pace, came up the walk. 
 
 Not a word did Rose utter; but Em's intuition 
 needed none. The happy pressure of the arms she 
 loved told her everything. And, as the dark shape 
 reached the steps and became recognizable, Em said: 
 
 "So you've set the day! Wai, Philip Eden, you've 
 sartainly been long enough in gettin' started; but you 
 ain't losin' much time now. Land sakes! We ain't 
 hed time to draw breath since nearly breakin' our 
 necks gettin' you Installed! An' now, on top o' that, 
 we've got to turn right round an' git ready for your 
 weddin'. Ain't that just like a man!"
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 URL OCT271975 
 
 8CT17 
 
 Form L9-50iM-ll,'50 (2554)444
 
 A 001 247459 9