CHAPTER XVII
THE REVIVAL SERVICE
Ambrose was raking the dead leaves in his front yard two weeks after the oyster supper when Susan Barrows summoned him across to her with a wave of her ear trumpet. All day she sat outdoors in her wheeled chair, huddled in rugs, until the snow came, with her eager old eyes fastened on the street, her curiosity hungry after eighty years.
Ambrose knelt beside her with his lips to her trumpet.
"They're sayin' ugly things about you," she whispered. Then seeing the hurt in the man's face that even Miner had not fully understood, she rested her trembling hand on his gray head. "Talkin' but not believin', Ambrose Thompson. I ain't sayin' that some people don't agree to this ugly story, since whatever's ugly naturally pleases 'em, but the most of Pennyroyal is just rollin' this bit of scandal 'bout you under their tongues like a sweet morsel and then spittin' it out, knowin' it ain't fitten to swallow. But what worries me is that I'm afeard you'll be losin' the widow. Here's Brother Tupper startin' in with a series of revival services to-night at his new church, and the legislator neglectin' the welfare of his State to keep close to the widow! Not that it's the law I am so much scared of as the preacher. Peachy's plump and jelly-like and kin be easy shook, and I ain't been a female eighty years 'thout knowin' how easy 'tis to work on our religious feelin's. You goin' to the revivin'?"
Not at once did Uncle Ambrose reply; instead he seemed to be considering.
"I'm not at all sure, Miss Susan; seems like I've felt kind of lonesome in church since we lost Brother Bills, but I've more'n half way promised Peachy; she seemed so dead set on my attendin'."
Susan grinned. "Ef she's worryin' about you needin' religious instruction, Ambrose, don't you lose hope. It's a powerful wifely sign."