Miss Dividends: A Novel

by Archibald Clavering Gunter

"Thank you," says the girl in so grateful a tone that Mrs. Livingston, who has heard of Captain Lawrence's call during the afternoon, and has been fearful as to its effect in regard to Oliver's chances with the heiress, goes very complacently away from her dinner, and taking Ferdie and Louise, proceeds to the Salt Lake Theatre.

Then Miss Travenion, very much excited, takes carriage, and, escorted by Mr. Oliver Livingston, drives to the Sunday-school festival in the little Mormon meeting-house of the Twenty-fifth Ward.

"Papa will be in town to-night," she says in happy tones. "Fancy, I have not seen him for eight months. And Mr. Kruger says he is well."

"I shall be very happy to see him, also," returns Livingston cordially. "I have not met a man in this crude community yet to whom I cared to talk. Your father's old Unity Club anecdotes will seem to me like an echo of New York."

"I am glad to hear that papa's small talk pleases you," laughs the young lady, and a moment after says: "We are here."

Assisting her from the carriage, Oliver cries to the hackman: "Be back in an hour!" for a carriage at a Mormon ward meeting is so unusual that it attracts the attention of the crowd of Latter-Day Saints who are entering the building. Then he adds: "You need not stop in front of this place. Just draw up about a quarter of a square from here!"

And the man driving away, they mingle with the crowd, and are scarcely noticed again, as Miss Travenion, thoughtful of the place to which she has come, has dressed herself in her most unpretentious gown, and has covered her bonnet and face with a veil so as not to attract attention by any contrast of toilet with the surrounding congregation. The hall is already almost filled, and they only find seats in the back row unoccupied. On these they sit down, and Miss Travenion's eyes go wandering over the assemblage searching for Mr. Kruger.

But they only see a very plain meeting-room, filled with the average hard-featured men and women of this Mormon city, dressed in their best, which means for the women gowns that would be a horror to a French dressmaker, and for the men, clothes that would be a nightmare to a Broadway tailor—and children—lots of them—most of them white-headed, but happy. The stage, moreover, is filled with them, dressed in the best their mothers can put upon them, chiefly bright calicoes and ginghams; some of them looking quite pretty in these, for youth is nearly always beautiful, and Mormon tots are generally as happy as other children. Over their heads hangs a piece of white calico in festoons, bearing this peculiar motto: "Utah's best crop is children."

Miss Travenion has just completed her survey, when the man she is looking for comes from a side door on to the platform, and makes the stereotyped Mormon address for such occasions, but says: "There is a better talker coming after me. I refer to the bishop of this ward, the Counsellor of our President, Bishop R. H. Tranyon, who, after the children have sung a hymn, will hold forth on what is the duty of the up-growing generation of this Sect and people, in order to become true Mormons, in the faith of Joseph Smith and Hyrum, his brother."

But all the time Kruger is speaking his eyes rove around the assembly, as if seeking some one, and finally, lighting upon the graceful form of Erma, he appears satisfied, and triumph and joy coming into his voice, his audience think it is the glory of Zion inspiring him, and applaud him as he sits down; a Mormon girl, just in front of Miss Travenion, remarking, "Bishop Kruger seems to have his talking-coat on this evening!"