Vashti smiled in quiet amusement.
“What’s the news in the village?” she asked. “You know a minister’s wife never hears anything.”
Mabella brightened. Good little Mabella had a healthful interest in the social polity of the world in which she lived, and Vashti’s disdain of the village gossip had sometimes been a trial to her. Vashti usually treated “news” with an indifference which was discouragingly repressive, but to-day she seemed distinctly amiable, and Mabella proceeded to improve the opportunity.
“Well,” she said, “the village is just simply all stirred up about Temperance’s quarrel with Mrs. Ranger. I always knew Temperance couldn’t abide Mrs. Ranger, but I never thought she’d give way and say things, but they do say that the way Temperance talked was just something awful. I wasn’t there; it was at the sewing circle, and for the life of me I can’t find out what started it, but, anyhow, Temperance gave Mrs. Ranger a regular setting out. I asked Temperance about it, but the old dear was as cross as two sticks and wouldn’t tell me a thing. So I suppose it was something about Nathan. Young Ab Ranger has got three cross-bar gates making at Nathan’s shop, and they’ve been done these three days, and he has never gone for them; he’s fixing up the place at a great rate. I suppose you know about him and Minty Smilie? Mrs. Smilie’s going about saying Ab isn’t good enough for Minty; and they say Mrs. Ranger is just worked up about it. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if matters came to a head one of these days, and Ab and Minty just went over to Brixton and came back married—” suddenly Mabella arrested her speech and a more earnest expression sweetened her mouth. “Vashti,” she resumed, “there is something I wanted to ask you. Ann Serrup sent me word that she was coming to church next Sunday, and I want you to speak to Sidney and get him to preach one of his lovely helpful sermons for her. I’m sure he will if you ask him. Something to brace her up and comfort her, and, Vashti—I’m awfully sorry for her.” Mabella paused, rather breathlessly and a little red; “one never knew exactly where one was” with Vashti, as Temperance was fond of saying.
For a fleeting instant during Mabella’s little recital Vashti’s eyes had contracted in almost feline fashion, but she replied very suavely:
“I’ll tell Sidney, but, well—you know I never interfere in the slightest with his sermons.”
“Oh, no,” said Mabella with really excessive promptitude; “Oh, no, you wouldn’t dare to do that.”
“Of course not,” said Vashti with so much of acquiescence in her voice that it was almost mocking.
“I know how men think of these things,” continued Mabella with the calm front of one thoroughly acquainted with the world and its ways. “But Sidney is different; he is so good, so gentle, and he seems to know just how one feels”—a reminiscent tone came to Mabella’s voice, she recalled various hours when she had needed comfort sorely and had found it in the gracious promises Sidney held out to his listeners. “It is a great comfort to me,” she went on; “lately it has seemed to me as if he just held up the thoughts of my own heart and showed me where I was strong and where lay my weakness.” Mabella arrested herself with an uncomfortable knowledge that Vashti was smiling, but when Vashti spoke a silky gentleness made her voice suave.