"Well," laughed Joe, "this is my first drink too. But I'm not going to be an old fogey. What's good enough for my boys is good enough for me."
Every child there held its breath for they knew that Joe spoke the truth. As for the proprietor, that puzzled man thought that the little shoemaker was trying to be funny and he laughed his first laugh that evening.
Peter Dustin stood beside his mother, his horrified eyes on the little toil-worn hand that was curled about the stem of a beer glass. He wanted to snatch that glass away, wanted to shout to her not to touch the stuff. But his throat was closed and he was conscious only of the fact that somewhere down inside of the anguish that filled him something was praying for help, something was begging God to keep the little, blue-eyed mother stainless and sweet and unharmed.
Joe's boys were not beside their father. They were at the other end of the counter staring, just staring, unconscious of everything, hearing only that strange new laugh of their father's and noticing what no one else except Mrs. Dustin saw—that Joe's hand as he raised his glass shook wretchedly.
And then, before any of them could bring their glasses to their lips, the thing the anguished soul of Peter Dustin had been praying for happened. The door opened and within its frame stood the big handsome figure of Green Valley's new minister.
One glance of his took in the scene and the smile he wore never changed nor did an eyelash so much as quiver even after the blue eyes of Peter's mother had flashed their message.
"Well—I've come to invite folks to my party and I find a party going on. I'm going to give a housewarming soon, and I came over to ask Williams here where he bought his graphophone and records. We must have one at my party so that when the musicians get tired we can have other music. And, Williams, I'm expecting you to come over that night and run the thing for me. I shall be too busy attending to other matters. And now, as long as we're all here would you mind letting me hear 'Annie Laurie' again?"
The song was put on and the children crowded round.
Joe and Mrs. Dustin were listening silently to the song that always brought back old faces and scenes and that old haunting ache for the things of long ago.
"That's my favorite tune," said the proprietor suddenly to Mrs. Dustin.