As the buggy drawn by the roan horse passed, the ranks of Dole closed up. That is, each woman crossed to her neighbour, and the men rested from their labours to discuss the arrival.
There was one thing that never was forgotten about Sidney’s entry—a circumstance viewed severely by the many, leniently by the few—he wore a grey suit of clothes. Dole murmured in its heart at this infringement of the ministerial proprieties, but Dole was destined to experience a succession of such shocks, for its young and eager pastor trod often upon the outspread skirts of its prejudices.
Sidney himself was profoundly moved as he drove up the street, for he was entering the precincts of his holy city. In the geography of the heart there are many cities. There is the place where we were born; the place of our dreams; the Rome which under one guise or another fills the foreground of our ambitions; and above all there is the place where first we tasted of love, ah, that is where the Temple Beautiful stands. And Sidney’s first and only love had been born in Dole.
Eager eyes were watching for them from the parsonage windows; Mabella, the habitual happiness of her face masked and subdued by tender-hearted concern; Mrs. Ranger, a bustling important woman of many airs and graces, filled with a sense of her own importance, and knowing that her every action would be reported to Temperance Tribbey (her sworn enemy) by Mabella; Mr. Simpson who had nursed Mr. Didymus from the beginning; and, waiting alone and silently in the tiny hall upstairs, Vashti Lansing.
She saw the two men coming up the street, side by side in the buggy, and her heart leaped up and cried for the one who was denied her. Again an angry gust of passion shook her as she looked. For the one moment her decision wavered. That pale slight man whose grey eyes were so eager, so alight with hope and love, was nothing to her compared to the blue-eyed, fair-haired young countryman. Why should she condemn herself to the torture of the continual contrast? But this way her revenge lay, unplanned yet, but so eagerly desired. She would surely, surely find some means to make them feel her power when as the preacher’s wife she was First Lady in Dole. So Vashti Lansing, filled with Samson-like courage to wreck her enemies at any price, slowly descended the stairs as Sidney entered the front door. Then she went towards him.
Mabella saw them and with adroit sympathy endeavoured to detain Mrs. Ranger in the kitchen. But that worthy woman saw through Mabella’s artifice, and leaving her question unanswered made for the door which led from the kitchen into the little front hall; whereupon Mabella deliberately placed herself in Mrs. Ranger’s way, and animated by the courage which springs from consciousness of a good cause, dodged every attempt of that irate person to pass her. Mrs. Ranger endured this as long as she could, then, without more ado, she put out a strong arm and brushed Mabella aside. “Take care,” she said and passed into the hall. But Sidney had had his greeting, and Vashti’s calm face baffled her inquiring looks.
“I could see there had been something,” she said in reporting the matter, “but what had happened I don’t know.”
“My sakes,” said Mrs. Simpson, when Mrs. Ranger told her this, “I’m sure you must have been busy in the kitchen if you couldn’t spare time to watch ’em meet. My soul! If Len was worth his salt for observation he’d have kep’ his eyes open. But sakes! Men’s that stoopid——. But with you there I thought we’d know how things was goin’——”
“Well,” said Mrs. Ranger tartly, “you can thank Mabella Lansing for that. First as I was going out she ups and asks me a question. I paid no attention to that for I knew ’twas done to hinder (them Lansings is all in the same boat), and then when she seen I wasn’t to be took in with that she deliberately put herself in the way, and dodged me back and forward till I had all I could do to keep from giving her a good shove.”
“Well, M’bella Lansing had better look out. It’s a bad thing to be set up. Pride goes before a fall. And M’bella’s certainly most wonderful sure of self. But Lanty wouldn’t be the first young chap to——. Of course I ain’t sayin’ anything, but they do say——”