It was hoped that the minister would preach on Joppa. He preached on “human insignificance,” and read of the war-horse, “Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?” but it was thought not to refer to Joppa.
As for the children of Hagar, did they not dream of him, and hear him thumping and blundering by in the winds of the dim night? They saw no humor in him, nor in the deacon. Rather it was a serious mystery, and they went about with the impression of it on their faces, having faith that the outcome would be worthy of the promise.
Harvey Cummings thought that the war-horse did not refer to Joppa, and said so on the steps of the church. “There wan'd no thudder aboud him. He was the meekest hoss in Hamilton County. He run away on accound of his shyness.”
Mr. Cummings had no palate to speak of, and his consonants were uncertain. Mr. Atherton Bell threw out his chest, as an orator should, put his thumbs in the armholes of his vest, and gazed at Mr. Cummings with a kindling eye.
“For a meek horse,” he said impressively, “he showed—a—great resolution when he spilled Mrs. Cullom Sanderson. I declare to you, Harvey, I give you my word, sir, I would not have missed seeing Mrs. Cullom spilled for a government contract.”
“Oh, indeed, Mr. Bell!” said Mrs. Cullom Sanderson, rustling past, “clothed with thunder” and black silk. Mr. Atherton Bell recovered himself slowly and moved to a greater distance from the church door. He was a politician and a legislator, but he found diplomacy difficult. Several others gathered around, desiring to hear the statesman. “Now suppose, Harvey, suppose the deacon too should take a notion to run away, knock over Mrs. Cullom, you know, and—a—disappear. Imagine it, Harvey.”
Mr. Cummings shook his head.
“Can't do it.”
Mr. Bell took off his hat and smiled expansively.
“It's a pleasing thought, ha! He might be translated—a—Elijah, you know. He might leave his mantle to—to me. Hitherto the deacon has lacked dramatic interest. Contact between Mrs. Cullom and Deacon Crockett would—” (here his hearers stirred appreciatively) “would have dramatic interest—Ah, good morning, deacon, good morning, sir. We were speaking of your loss. We—a—trust it will not be permanent.”