He understood that Dr. Mossman was the new Baptist minister. He had seen the much-discussed gentleman on the street once or twice, but rumors of football prowess and heavyweight championships during college days had aroused in Sube a curiosity to look him over at closer range.
As Dr. Mossman began to speak Sube pressed his face against the shutters and peered in. He found himself perilously near the doctor's large left ear. Then he noted the enormous size of the white but muscular hands, little dreaming that he would ever fall into them. But his attention was not long held by the speaker's personal appearance, for Sube was electrified by what he was saying.
He began to comprehend at once why his mother had not wanted him to hear the lecture. He felt outraged at the thought that she should thus seek to restrict his education, and stunt his mental and spiritual growth. He was converted to "Moral Persuasion" on first sight, and made up his mind to affiliate himself with their organization at the earliest opportunity.
When Dr. Mossman waggishly declared that the hairbrush should be used solely for arranging one's locks, and that the good old slipper should be devoted exclusively to the humble task of comforting tired feet, Sube joined heartily in the laugh that followed. And when the good doctor concluded his lecture with the impassioned statement that "willfully inflicted pain never improved anything!" Sube participated so enthusiastically in the applause that he lost his balance and fell to the ground, taking with him the greater part of his father's cherished ivy.
For an instant he was dazed. He could not seem to comprehend where he was. Then he recovered his bearings and hurried back to the Theatorium. As he reached the lobby the doors swung open and the crowd began to emerge. Cathead and Sim were among the last to come out.
"How's your neck?" asked Cathead as he approached Sube, who stood looking at a poster of the next day's bill.
"My neck?" asked Sube, momentarily off his guard. "Who said an'thing—Oh! my neck! Oh, yes; my neck is fine! It was all right jus' as soon as I sat in the back seat a little while." He gave his head a few experimental twists, and then added in confirmation: "Yup, it's all right."
The hour was late when the theatergoers reached home. The last guest had departed, and their father was unamiably engaged in carrying out the folding chairs, which had been donated for the occasion by the local undertakers, and piling them on the front porch.
The boys, preferring almost anything to going to bed, offered their assistance, which their father rather reluctantly declined. Cathead dallied, asking numerous questions about the lecture, but Sube trudged off to bed without a word.
The following day a cold rain kept the boys indoors. Throughout the morning frequent observations were made, but no cheering patch of blue large enough to make the mythical Dutchman's breeches could be seen. Although the rain began before seven it failed to stop before 'leven. In fact, it was three o'clock before it let up at all.