"HE FOLLOWED LAURA TO THE FRONT DOOR"
"Oh," she said, "I am glad to give the poor people a chance to hear good music. And I am not smart to make up music and poetry; it is a talent of mine, that's all. Good-bye, Mr. Buck. Thank you for helping me, but of course I knew you would want to."
She gathered up the music and book which she had carried with a vague intention of letting them prove her claim to music and poetry, and extended her hand with the air of an empress as she moved towards the door.
The honest little preacher grasped the hand heartily. "Good-bye," he said. "I am obliged to you for letting me help you out."
He followed Laura to the front door where he halted as a thought struck him.
"Will it be funny, your show on the Fourth?" he asked. "Our folks like funny things. Shall they laugh at it, say not?"
"Dear me, no," cried Laura, sincerely shocked. "They must learn to like something higher than funny things! Funny things are not improving."
Which statement proved how much she knew of human nature.
The little preacher looked wistful. "They gets pretty tired," he said doubtfully. "It's hard work farming, and these fields are stony yet! In my county we don't have to pick stones three days before we can plough one day."
Laura smiled in a superior way, and turned to go. "I shouldn't feel like doing funny things, Mr. Buck," she said. "Good music is the saddest thing! And all my poetry is very deep." With which statement she went out of the little gate.