“Why, this is perfect!” cried Betty. “The only thing lacking to complete the illusion is a trout brook in the front yard, and the smell of pines and the damp mossy earth of the forests. We’ll wear our old clothes, and have a bonfire at night, and roast potatoes and corn in the hot coals, and have the most beautiful time imaginable.”
The town visitors who still lingered on the scene were received cordially by Maxwell and Mrs. Betty, who seemed to be in rather high spirits; but when the visitors made any inquiries concerning structural matters they were politely referred to Nickey Burke for any information they desired, as he had assumed official management of the work.
Just before the various helpers left at six o’clock, smoke began to issue from the little stove-pipe sticking out through the canvas of the rear of the tent, and Mrs. Betty, with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her cooking apron on, came out to watch it with all the pride of a good housekeeper.
“Isn’t it jolly, Mrs. Burke,” she exclaimed. “I was afraid that it would not draw, but it really does, you see. This will be more fun than a month at the 217 seashore; and to-morrow we are going to have you and Nickey dine with us in the tent; so don’t make any other engagement. Don’t forget.”
By noon of the following day everybody in town knew that the Maxwells had been dispossessed, and were camping on the church lot; and before night most of the women and a few of the men had called to satisfy their curiosity, and to express their sympathy with the rector and his wife, who, however, seemed to be quite comfortable and happy in their new quarters. On the other hand, some of the vestry hinted strongly that tents could not be put up on church property without their formal permission, and a few of the more pious suggested that it was little short of sacrilege thus to violate the sanctity of a consecrated place. Nickey had painted a large sign with the word Rectory on it, in truly rustic lettering, and had hung it at the entrance of the tent. The Editor of the Durford Daily Bugle appeared with the village photographer, and after an interview with Maxwell requested him and his wife to pose for a picture in front of the tent. This they declined with thanks; but a half-column article giving a sensational account of the affair appeared in the next issue of the paper, headed by a half-tone picture of the tent and the church. Public sentiment ran strongly against Bascom, 218 to whom rumor quickly awarded the onus of the incident. In reply to offers of hospitality, Maxwell and Mrs. Betty insisted that they were very comfortable for the time being, and were not going to move or make any plans for the immediate future. The morning of the fourth day, Maxwell announced to Mrs. Betty that he had a strong presentiment that Bascom would soon make another move in the game, and he was not surprised when he saw Nelson approaching.
“Thank goodness we are in the open air, this time,” Maxwell remarked to Betty as he caught sight of the visitor. “I’ll talk to him outside—and perhaps you’d better shut the door and keep out the language. I may have to express myself more forcibly than politely.”
Nelson began:
“I am sorry to have to intrude upon you again, Mr. Maxwell, but I must inform you that you will have to vacant that tent and find lodgings elsewhere.”
“Why, pray? This tent is my property for as long as I require it.”
“Ah! But you see it has been put up on the land that belongs to the church, and you have no title to use the land, you know, for private purposes.”