CHAPTER VII.
One afternoon in June Mary went into her husband's office.
"Has _The Record_ come?" she asked.
"Yes, it's on the table in the next room."
She went into the adjoining room and seated herself by the table. Takingup _The Record_, she turned to the editorial page, but before she couldbegin reading she heard a voice in the office say, "How do you do,Doctor?"
"How do you do, Mr. Jenkins. Take a seat."
"No, I guess I'll not sit down. I just wanted to get--a prescription."
"The baby's better, isn't it?"
"Oh, the baby's all right, but I want a prescription for myself."
"What sort of prescription?"
"I have to take a long ride in the morning, driving cattle, and I want aprescription for a pint of whiskey."
Mary listened for her husband's reply. It came.
"Jenkins, I have taken many a long ride through dust and heat, throughrain and snow and storm, and I never yet have had to take any whiskeyalong."
"Well, I have a little trouble with my heart and--"
"The trouble's in your head. If you'd throw away that infernal pipe--"
"Oh, it's no use to lecture me on that any more."
"Very well, your tobacco may be worth more to you than your heart."
"Well, will you give me that prescription?"
"Certainly I won't. You don't need whiskey and you'll not get it fromme."
"Go to h-ll!"
"All right, I'll meet _you_ there." At which warm farewell between thesetwo good friends, Mary leaned back in her chair and laughed silently.Then she mused: "People will not be saved from themselves. If only theywould be, how much less of sin and sickness and sorrow there would be inthe world."
Presently the doctor came in.
"I have a trip to make tonight, Mary. How would you like a star-lightdrive?" Mary said she would like it very much indeed.
Accordingly, at sunset the doctor drove up and soon they were out in theopen country. Chatting of many things they drove along and by and byMary's eyes were attracted to a beautiful castle up in the clouds in thewest, on a great golden rock jutting out into the blue. Far below was agrand woman's form in yellow floating robes. She stood with faceupturned and arms extended in an attitude of sorrow as if she had beenbanished from her father's house.
There comes the father now. Slowly, majestically, an old man withflowing beard of gold moves toward the edge of the great rock. Now hehas reached it. He bends his head and looks below. The attitude of themajestic woman has changed to that of supplication. And now the fatherstretches down forgiving arms and the queenly daughter bows her headagainst the mighty wall and weeps in gladness. Now castle and rock,father and daughter slowly interchange places and vanish from her sight.The gold turns to crimson, then fades to gray. Just before her up therein the clouds is a huge lion, couchant. See! he is going to springacross the pale blue chasm to the opposite bank. If he fails he willcome right down into the road--"Oh!"
"What is it?" asked the doctor, looking around, and Mary told him with arather foolish smile.
The twilight deepened into dusk and the notes of a whippoorwill came tothem from a distance. "You and I must have nothing but sweet thoughtsright now, John, because then we'll get to keep them for a year." Shequoted:
"'Tis said that whatever sweet feeling May be throbbing within the fond heart, When listening to a whippoorwill s-pieling, For a twelvemonth will never depart."
"Spieling doesn't seem specially in the whippoorwill's line."
"It's _exactly_ in his line. Years ago when I was a little girl heproved it. One evening at dusk I was sitting in an arbor when he, notsuspecting my presence, alighted within a few feet of me and began hissong. It was wonderfully interesting to watch his little throat puff andpuff with the notes as they poured forth, but the thing that astoundedme was the length of time he sang without ever pausing for breath. Andso he is a genuine spieler. I will add, however, that the line is 'Whenlistening to a whippoorwill _singing_.' But my literary conscience willnever let me rhyme _singing_ with _feeling_, hence the sudden change."
"Now I'll speak _my_ piece," announced the doctor:
"De frogs in de pon' am a singin' all de night; Wid de hallelujah campmeetin' tune; An' dey all seem to try wid deir heart, soul and might To tell us ob de comin' of de June."
"_Aren't_ they having a hallelujah chorus over in that meadow, though!"
Darkness settled over the earth. The willow trees, skirting the road fora little distance, lifted themselves in ghostly tracery against thestarlit sky. A soft breeze stirred their branches like the breath of agentle spirit abiding there. They passed a cozy farmhouse nestled downamong tall trees. Through the open door they could see a littlewhite-robed figure being carried to bed in its father's arms, while themother crooned a lullaby over the cradle near.
For a long time they drove in silence. Mary knew that her husband was indeep thought. Of what was he thinking? The pretty home scene in the farmhouse had sent him into a reverie. He went back five or six years to abright spring day. He was sitting alone in his office when an old man, amuch respected farmer, came in slowly, closed the door behind him andsat down. The doctor who knew him quite well saw that he was troubledand asked if there was anything he could do for him. The old man leanedhis head on his hand but did not reply. It seemed that no words wouldcome in which to tell his errand.
Puzzled and sympathetic the doctor sat silent and waited. In a littlewhile the farmer drew his chair very near to that of the doctor's andsaid in a low voice, "Doctor, I'm in deep trouble. I come to you becauseyou are one of my best friends. You have a chance to prove it now suchas you never had before in all the years you've been our doctor."
"Tell me your trouble and if I can help you, I will certainly do so."
"It's Mary. She's gone wrong, and the disgrace will kill her mother ifshe finds it out."
For an instant the doctor did not speak; then he asked, "Are you surethat this is true?"
"Yes. She came to me last night and nestled down in my arms, just asshe's done every night since she was a baby. She cried like her heartwould break and then she said, 'Father, I _must_ tell you, but don'ttell mother'; and then she told me."
The old man, white and trembling, looked beseechingly at the doctor.
"Doctor, this must not be. You must stop it before there is any breathof scandal. Oh, for a minute last night I wanted to kill her."
The doctor's face was stern. "If you had killed her your crime wouldhave been far less hellish than the one you ask me to commit."
The old man bowed his head upon his hands. "You will not help me," hegroaned.
The doctor rose and walked the floor. "No, sir," he said, "I will notstain my soul with murder for you or any other man." He went to thewindow and stood looking out upon the street below. Presently he said,"Mr. Stirling, will you come here a minute?" The old man rose and went."Do you see that little boy skipping along down there?"
"Yes, I see him."
"If I should go down these stairs, seize him and dash his brains outagainst that building, what would you think of me?"
"I'd think you were a devil."
"Yet he would have a chance for his life. He could cry out, or thepassersby might see me and interpose, while that you ask me to destroyis--"
"There's one thing I'll do," said the old man fiercely. "I'll kill BenMorely before this day is over!" He seized his hat and started towardthe door.
"Wait a minute!" said the doctor quickly. "It's Ben Morely is it? I knowhim. I would not have thought him capable of this."
"He's been coming to see Mary steady for more than a year and they wereto have been married three months ago but they quarreled and Mary toldme last night that he was going away the last of this week. She is asgood and sweet a girl as ever lived. She never kept company with anybodyelse and she thought the world of him. The damned villain has got aroundher with his honey words
and now he proposes to leave her to face italone. But I'll kill him as sure as the sun shines."
"Sit down," said the doctor, laying a hand on the excited man's arm andforcing him into a chair.
"Let me tell you what to do. Young Morely's father is a good andsensible man and will take the right view of it. Go straight to him andtell him all about it and my word for it, he will see that they aremarried right away. He is able to help them along and will make it tohis son's advantage to stay here rather than go away. He will advise himright. Have no fear." The old man wrung the doctor's hand in silence andwent out.
Several days later the doctor was looking over the papers published inthe town and read in the list of marriage licenses the names, "BenjaminMorely, aged twenty-four, Mary Stirling, aged eighteen."
And that is why the scene in the farmhouse this summer night had senthim back into the past, for it was the home of Benjamin and Mary Morely,and it was a happy home. These two lives had come together and flowed onin such harmony and helpfulness and rectitude before the world that thestain had been wiped out. For a merciless world can be mercifulsometimes if it will only stop to remember that long ago a compassionateVoice said, Go and sin no more.
The doctor's reverie came to an end for he had reached hisdestination--a large white house standing very close to the road.
"Don't talk to me while you are hitching the horse," Mary whispered,"then they won't know there is anyone with you. I don't want to go in--Iwant to see the moon come up."
The doctor took his case and went inside. Mary sat in the buggy andlistened. The neighing of a horse far down the road and the barking of adog in the distance were the only sounds she heard. How still and coolit was after the heat of the day. A wandering breeze brought the sweetperfume of dewy clover fields. She looked across the intervening knollto the east. The tree that crowned its summit stood outlined against thebrightening sky. She was sitting very near the open kitchen window andnow saw the family taking their places around the supper table. She felta little uncomfortable and as if she were trespassing on their privacy.But they did not know of her proximity and she could only sit still inthe friendly cover of the darkness. How good the ham smelled and thepotatoes and the coffee.
A pretty home-scene!
The father at the head of the table, the mother opposite with foursturdy boys between them, two on each side. The father looked around theboard. Stillness settled down upon them, and then he bowed his head. Themother, too, bowed her head. The boys looked down.
"Our heavenly Father, we thank Thee for these evening blessings--" theboys looked up and four forks started simultaneously for the meatplatter. Every fork impaled its slice. Mary gasped. She crammed herhandkerchief into her mouth to shut off the laughter that almost shouteditself before she could stop it.
The oldest boy, a burly fellow of fifteen, looked astonished and thensheepish. The other three looked defiance at him. Each sat erect inperfect silence and held his slice to the platter with a firm hand.Mary, almost suffocating with laughter which _must_ be suppressed,watched anxiously for the denouement. The blessing went on. The boysevidently knew all its stages. As it advanced there was a tightening ofthe tension and at the welcome "amen" there was a grand rake-off.
At the commotion of the sudden swipe the father and mother looked up inamazement.
"Boys, boys! what do you mean!" exclaimed the mother.
"We got even with Mr. Jake that time." It was the second boy who spoke.
"We got _ahead_ of him," said the third. "He didn't get the biggestpiece this time."
"No, _I_ got it myself," said the fourth.
"Well, I'm scandalized," said the mother, looking across the table ather husband.
"Well, Mother, I'll tell you how it was," said the second boy. "Lastnight I looked up before Father was through with the blessing and I sawJake with his fork in the biggest piece of ham. You and Father didn'tnotice and so he was _it_. I'll bet he's been at it a good while, too."
"I've not, either," said the accused.
"I told Bob and Jim about it and we concluded _we'd_ take a hand in ittonight."
"Well, let this be the last of it," said the father with mild sternness."We'll try to have ham enough for all of you without sneaking it. Ifnot, Jacob can have his mother's share and mine."
The trio of boys grinned triumphantly at the discomfited Jake, then, thelittle flurry over, all fell to eating with a will.
The doctor's voice came to Mary from the room of the patient.
"You're worth a dozen dead women yet," it said. Then a high pitchedwoman's voice, "I'll tell you what Mary Ann says she thinks about it."
"Has she been here today?" If Mary Ann had been there the unfavorablecondition of the patient was explained.
"Yes, she just went away. She says she believes you're just keepin'Ellen down so you can get a big bill out of her."
The doctor was fixing up powders and went placidly on till he gotthrough, then he said "Mary Ann has a better opinion of me than Ithought she had. It takes a mighty good doctor to do that. That's a veryold song but there are a few people in the world that like to sing ityet. They don't know that there isn't a doctor in the world that knowsenough to do a thing like that even if he wanted to. Nature would beathim every time if they gave her a chance."
Mary heard the doctor give his instructions and then he came out. Asthey drove off she asked, "You came pretty near catching a tartar,didn't you?"
"Oh, that one is all right. It's her sister that's always raising thedevil."
"Look! isn't she lovely, John?"
"Isn't who lovely?" asked the doctor, looking back at the house in somesurprise.
"The gentle Shepherdess of Night," Mary answered, her eyes on the moonjust rising over the distant treetops.
"She's getting ready to 'lead her flocks through the fields of blue.'"
"How very poetical we are."
"Only an echo from a little song I used to sing when I was a littlegirl."
"Get up, my steeds," urged the doctor, "we must be getting back"; andthey sped swiftly homeward through the soft summer night.