"But why? Listen! That's them now!" There was a sound of a brass band playing in the direction of the lights, the blare of horns, and the beating of drums. "They always play outside the tent to draw a crowd. Why don't you want to go, little girl?"
"You said you were tired."
"Who, me? Good gracious! Now that I've had my supper I feel like a fighting-cock. We'd better go. You are staying in too close, anyway."
CHAPTER XXVII
There seemed no way to avoid accepting the invitation, and she went into the cottage for a light shawl. Then they locked up their little house and started away. Tilly held his arm. She tried to fancy that they were taking one of the unforgettable strolls along the mountain roads at Cranston which had led to their union, but the illusion refused to abide with her, for at Cranston he had been care-free, full of hope and joy, and now his every word seemed to exude from a heart surcharged with pain. How she loved him, now that she better understood the Sinister fate that was scourging him so relentlessly!
Ahead of them they saw a tent. It was lighted. "That is not the one," John explained. "That is a tabernacle revival meeting. Sam goes every night. He doesn't believe in it any more than I do, down inside of himself, I mean; but he goes and tries to get the boys to go. That would suit your father. That preacher throws off his coat and dares the barkeepers to meet him in a fist-to-fist, knock-down, drag-out match on his platform. We must go, too. How about to-morrow night?"
"But—but you don't believe in such meetings," Tilly answered.
"It doesn't make any odds what I believe," John returned, in a thoughtful tone. "You got a lot, one way or another, out of your meeting and Sunday-school up at home, and—and this is a dull town. It is full of sets and a lot of silly pride, drawing the line at this and that. Take my trade, for instance. Do you know a brick mason is sort o' looked down on by the fool gangs that go in for style and show? Up your way everything is more on a level. One man is as good as another. That is one thing I like about religion. In the backwoods, at least, it does away with a lot of stuck-up ideas. You mustn't think I want you to quit going to church. No, I want you to go. I can't take part, but you can go on the same as you used to."
They were now in front of the tent's opening. And as Tilly was peering in at the brilliantly lighted platform on which sat some singers behind an organ, and a young, square-jawed, long-haired minister in a frock-coat, John thought she might be interested in the service.