“Why,—I,—” began Harricutt, and then saw there was nothing else for him to do, and stepped excitedly over to the minister's seat behind the table, and sank reluctantly down, trying to think how he could best make use of his present position to further his side of the question.
The minister was still standing, seeming to hold within his gaze the eyes of every one in the room including Mark.
“I wish to make a motion,” said the minister, “I move that we have a rising vote, expressing our utmost confidence in Mr. Carter, and leaving it to his discretion to explain his conduct or not as he pleases! I have known this dear young brother since he was a boy, and I would trust him always, anywhere, with anything!”
A wonderful shiny look of startled wonder, and deep joy came into the eyes of the young man, followed by a stabbing cloud of anguish, and then the hard controlled face once more, with the exception of a certain tenderness as he looked toward the minister.
“Mr. Duncannon, will you second my motion?” finished Severn.
The long gaunt dark elder was on his feet instantly:
“Sure, Brother Severn, I second that motion. If you hadn't got ahead of me I'd have firsted it myself. I know Mark. He's all right!” and he put out a hairy hand and grasped Mark's young strong fingers, that gripped his warmly.
Harricutt was on his feet, tapping on the table with his pencil:
“I think this motion is out of order,” he cried excitedly—but no one listened, and the minister said calmly, “Will the chair put the question?”
Baffled, angry, bitter, the old stickler went through the hated words: “It is moved and seconded that we express our confidence—”