“From the East?”
“Yeppy. Mr. Joe says he went to school with him. And he’s some preacher.”
“What do you think o’ that!” ejaculated Nell. “Mr. Hurley didn’t say anything to me about it the day we rode into the Pass together.”
“I reckon not. This has all been hatched up since then.”
“But, Mother Tubbs!” cried the girl. “You don’t expect any tenderfoot parson can come in here and make over Canyon Pass?”
“I reckon not. We folks have got to make ourselves over. But we need a leader—we need a Shower of the Way. We’ve lost our eyesight—the best of us—when it comes to seeing God’s ways. My soul! I couldn’t even raise a prayer in conference meeting no more. But I used to go reg’lar when I was a gal—played the melodeon—led the singin’—and often got down on my knees in public and raised a prayer.”
“Humph!” scoffed the girl. “If God answered prayer, I bet you prayed over Sam enough to have cured him of getting drunk forty times over!”
“I don’t know—I don’t know,” returned Mother Tubbs thoughtfully. “I been thinking lately that, mebbe when I was praying to God to save Sam from his sins, I was cursing Sam for his meanness! I ain’t got as sweet a disposition as I might have, Nell.”
“Oh, yes you have, Mother Tubbs!” exclaimed Nell, and suddenly jumped up to kiss the old woman warmly. “You’re a dear, sweet old thing!”
“Well, now,” rejoined Mother Tubbs complacently, “I ought to purr like any old tabby-cat for that.”