Ever yours faithfully
AUSTIN GRAY
CHAPTER VII
The first of October found a very quiet household at the old Gray Homestead. Austin was in Europe; Thomas had gone to college at Burlington, Molly to the Conservatory of Music in Boston. Sally had prudently decided to teach for another year before getting married, and now that she could keep all her earnings, was happily saving them for her modest trousseau; she "boarded" in Wallacetown, where she taught, coming home only for Saturdays and Sundays, while Katherine and Edith were in high school, and gone all day. Mrs. Gray declared that she hardly knew what to do with herself, she had so much spare time on her hands with so many "modern improvements," and such a small family in the house.
"Go with Mr. Gray on the 'fall excursion' to Boston," said Sylvia. "He told me that you hadn't been off together since you took your wedding trip. That will give you a chance to look in on Molly, too, and see how she's behaving—and you'll have a nice little spree besides. I'll look after the family, and Peter can look after the cows."
Sylvia had recovered rapidly from her illness, and her former shyness and aversion to seeing people were rapidly leaving her. She no longer lay in bed until noon, but was up with the rest of the family, insisting on doing her share in the housework, and proving a very apt pupil in learning that useful and wrongly despised art; when callers came she always dropped in to chat with them a little while, and even the mail-carrier of the "rural delivery, route number two," the errand-boy on the wagon from Harrington's General Store, and all the agents for flavoring extracts and celluloid toilet sets and Bibles for miles around, were not infrequently found lingering on the "back porch" passing the time of day with her, whether they had any excuse of mail or merchandise or not. Not infrequently she went to spend the day with Mrs. Elliott or with Ruth, and to church on Sunday with all the family; and although perhaps she was not sorry at heart that her deep mourning gave her an excuse for not attending the village "parties" and "socials," she never said so. The Library, the Grange, and the Village Improvement Society all found her ready and eager to help them in their struggles to raise money, provide better quarters for themselves, or get up entertainments; and the Methodist minister was the first person to meet with a flat refusal to his demands upon her purse. He was far-famed as a successful "solicitor," and conceived the brilliant idea that Sylvia was probably sent by Providence to provide the needed repairs upon the church and parsonage and the increase in his own salary. He called upon her, and graciously informed her of his plan.
"The Lord has been pleased to make you the steward of great riches," he said unctuously, "and I feel sure there is no way you could spend them which would be more pleasing in his sight than that which I have just suggested."
"I agree with you perfectly that the church is in a disgraceful state of disrepair," said Sylvia calmly, "and that your salary is quite inadequate to live on properly. I have often wondered how your congregation could worship reverently in such a place, or allow their pastor to be so poorly housed. I believe the Bible commands us somewhere to do things decently and in order."
"You are quite right, Mrs. Cary, quite right. Then may I understand—"
"Wait just a minute. I have also wondered at the lack of proper pride your congregation seemed to show in such matters. It does not seem to me that it would really help matters very much if I, a complete outsider, not even a member of your communion, furnished all the necessary funds to do what you wish. Your flock would sit back harder than ever, and wait for some one else to turn up and do likewise when I have gone—and probably that second millionaire would never materialize, and you would be left worse off than before, even."