Mrs. Larkins spoke more strongly than was her wont. She was naturally a quiet woman. But this man's narrowness and ignorance nettled her. Farrington, however, was not in the least affected by such words; in fact he rather pitied anyone who did not see eye to eye with him.
"What ye say, Mrs. Larkins," he replied, "is very fine in theory. But the question is, 'Will it pay?' Fer them as likes sich things they may study 'em to their hearts' content. But what do sich people amount to? I seen the parson once stand fer a long time watchin' the settin' sun, an' when I axed 'im what he saw he looked at me sorter dazed like. 'Mr. Farrington,' sez he, 'I saw wonderful things to-night, past man's understandin'. I've been very near to God, an' beheld the trailin' clouds of His glory!' 'Parson,' sez I, 'What will ye take fer yer knowledge? How much is it worth? While ye've been gazin' out thar at that sunset I've been gazin' at these letters, an' I find I'm better off by twenty-five dollars by gittin' my eggs an' butter to market day afore yesterday, jist when the prices had riz. That's what comes of gazin' at facts sich as price lists an' knowin' how to buy an' sell at the right time. That's of more value than lookin' at all the flowers an' sunsets in the world!' The parson didn't say nuthin', but jist looked at me, while the men in the store haw-hawed right out an' told the joke all round. Xo, you may find music in ripplin' water, an' poetry in flowers, an' sunsets, as Phil Gadsby and the parson sez, but give me the poetry of a price list, an' the music of good solid coin upon my counter. Them's the things which tell, an' them's the things we want taught in our schools."
Just as Farrington finished, cries of fright fell upon their ears. Turning quickly towards the dancers Mrs. Larkins noticed that most of them had fallen back in little groups, leaving Stephen Frenelle and Dick Farrington alone in the middle of the room. The attitude of the two left no doubt as to the cause of the disturbance. With clenched fists they faced each other as if about to engage in a fierce struggle. The former's eyes glowed with an intense light, while his strained, white face betokened the agitated state of his feelings.
"Say that again!" he hissed, looking straight at his opponent. "Say it if you dare!"
Dick stood irresolute with the look of fear blanching his face at sight of the angry form before him. While he hesitated and all held their breath, Nellie Westmore moved swiftly forward, and laid a timid hand upon Stephen's arm.
"Stephen, Stephen!" she pleaded. "Stop! don't go any further! Be a man! Come, let us go home!"
Quickly he turned and looked into her eyes, and at that look the pallor fled his face, leaving it flushed and abashed. His clenched hands relaxed, and without a word he followed her to the door. As they donned their wraps and passed out into the night, sighs of relief at the termination of this startling incident were plainly heard. Dick gave a sarcastic laugh, and the dance continued as if nothing unusual had happened.
For a while neither Nellie nor Stephen spoke as they sped along the road, drawn by a magnificent chestnut mare. The night was clear, and the crescent moon rose high in the heavens. Not a breath of wind stirred the trees, and the only sound which broke the silence was the jingling bells keeping time to the horse's nimble feet.
"He called me a fool and a pauper!" Stephen at length exclaimed. "Did you hear him?"
"Certainly," came the reply. "How could any one help hearing him?"