“Well,” said the parson calmly, “perhaps things will change with her in time. We won’t worry.”
“I’m glad you can take it so calm,” said Mother Tubbs, sniffing. “Now, come in yere. This is what I got for you.”
She led the way into the inner room, half bedroom and half sitting room, the principal room in the shack. There was a small center table. On it was a huge tome with tarnished brass clasps—a bulky volume that had evidently seen much rough usage. Mother Tubbs put her hand upon it proudly.
“See that, Brother Hunt?” she said. “It’s the old Bible out of the Blue Lick Chapel down in Arkansas. The chapel burned down when I was a gal; but the Bible was saved. When my folks moved out thisaway we brung it with us, and it’s been in the bottom of an old trunk of mine for forty year. Now it comes to light.” She opened it with care. “I reckon you got all the Bibles you need to work with. But I do like to see a big one like this on the pulpit for show.”
“This is most thoughtful and kind of you, Sister Tubbs,” declared Hunt, understanding the spirit of pride and reverence in which the old woman had offered the book. “I shall see that it rests on our pulpit.”
At that moment Nell Blossom came into the room from the stairway. She nodded to him bruskly, but offered him no welcoming hand.
“I declare, Nell,” complained the old woman, “you ain’t going out without a word to the parson, are you?”
“I’ve no particular word for the parson,” returned the girl, a glint of ice in her blue eyes.
“If you will allow me to say so, Miss Blossom,” said Hunt quietly, “I have a particular word for you.”
She stared at him angrily. He picked up his hat from the chair.