“It done me good that prayer of your’n,” said Tom Shinar, and the words meant much.
“We have much to thank you for,” said Vashti’s sweet tones, and for the first time he looked up, and when he met her approving eyes, the garments of his shame clung tighter to him.
Mabella gave him her hand a moment and looked at him shyly.
Lanty stood a little aloof. He was a good young chap with honest impulses and a wholesome life, but he never felt quite at ease with parsons. Lanty placed them on too high a pedestal, and after having placed them there found it strained his neck to let his gaze dwell on them. He had a very humble estimate of his own capacity for religion. He was reverent enough, but he had been known to smile at the peculiarities of pious people, and had once or twice been heard making derogatory comparison betwixt precept and practice as illustrated in the lives of certain potable church members.
“Well,” said Temperance energetically to Sue Winder. “Well! I’m sure I never so much as ’spicioned he had the gift of tongues! After them white pants!! He talked real knowin’ about the fields and sich, but to home he don’t seem to know a mangel-wurzel from a beet, nor beets from carrits.”
“There’s no tellin’,” said Sue, who was somewhat of a mystic in her way. “P’raps ’twas The Power give him knowledge and reason.”
“Well—I don’t know,” said Temperance, “but if he stands with that eavetrough a-runnin’ onto him much longer it’ll give him rheumatics.”
“Temp’rins is powerful worldly,” said Sue regretfully to Mary Shinar as Temperance left her side to warn Sidney. Her experienced eyes saw his deathly pallor; she deflected her course towards Mr. Lansing where he stood among the worthies of the congregation giving a rapid resumé of Sidney’s history so far as he knew it.
Temperance was a privileged person. She broke in upon the conclave with scant excuse.