The Morning Glory Club Part 18

"You, of course, know that I disapprove of such pastimes."

"Why, yes, certainly, but it all was planned without my approval,"

explained his wife.

"Naturally, if you considered the dignity demanded of you as the wife of a clergyman." The heavy, rounded shoulders of this conventional clergyman were raised slightly, and his dull eyes peered over his spectacles at the troubled face of Mrs. Flint.

"But, Elijah--" she faltered.

"I have given the matter careful thought," interrupted the parson, "and have arrived at the conclusion that this performance is uncalled for, unbecoming, undignified, and unnecessary." Mr. Flint never left the church--he was in the pulpit always, and for ever preaching.

"Elijah!" gasped his wife.

The parson's alliterative denouncement amused his son in the same degree that it caused his wife's dismay, and it was with difficulty that Will controlled his mirth.

"And furthermore," Mr. Flint continued, "it is my desire that you sever your connection with the organization immediately."

"But, Elijah, I am deeply interested in the work, and we--we need the money--I mean the club does," faltered Mrs. Flint.

"The evil one," said the parson, impressively, "employs many means and uses countless disguises for that unholy purpose."

"But surely you do not think that the principles of our club are wrong?"

"Not wholly; but the method pursued to further your purposes is far from my interpretation of right."

"But the other ladies, many of them belong to our church, and they--"

"Over them, in such matters, I have but feeble control," sighed the good man. "Were it possible I would put a stop to the performance at any cost."

"What's the harm, father?" asked Will, who saw that his mother was certain to lose the argument, and pitied her.

"William," said the parson, turning on his son, "your knowledge of such matters is infinitesimal. The stage is not real, it is but a show of puppets, and by persons of uncertain character."

"But," persisted Will, "what have the morals of actors got to do with the stage and plays?"

"What have the morals of a preacher got to do with his sermons? In the church, and out of it, is not every action watched, every word listened to and repeated? Is he not supposed to be an example?"

"Yes, father, but after all he is only a man."

"An exemplary one."

"Usually," said Will in a way that neither his father nor mother understood. For several minutes they ate in silence.

"I thought," began Mrs. Flint with renewed courage, "that Shakespeare's works were above reproach."

"So they are; there's no finer reading, no clearer understanding of human nature than in the plays of Shakespeare; but the performance of them is simply the making believe by actors that they are what they are not," patiently explained the parson. Will choked over his coffee in an effort to keep from laughing.

"Of course," sighed Mrs. Flint, resignedly, "if you insist I will leave the club."

"Let your action be guided by your own judgment, and consideration for the principles which I believe to be true. Perhaps the example of a worthy sister of our church who has already taken the step may make it easier for you to decide," said the parson in milder tones.

"Why, whom do you mean?" asked Mrs. Flint in surprise.

"Mrs. Deacon Walton."

"Has she resigned?"

"She has, or will at the next meeting, so her husband informed me last evening."

"Then of course I must do likewise," said Mrs. Flint, a little piqued to learn that Mrs. Walton had been the first to comply with the demands of their church.

"I knew that you could be relied upon to do your duty," replied the parson, triumphantly.

"But, father," said Will, quickly, with a trace of indignation in his voice, "is it her duty to deny herself something that she believes to be right? Is it right for her to do a thing just because you wish it?"

"I consider it so. Sometimes we do not see, or understand, our duty as clearly as others. In that case, when we are guided by some one who is in a position to know, it is certainly right to do a thing, which, at the time, is against our own will." The parson was irritated by his son's interference, and spoke sharply.

"You may be right, but I can't seem to understand," said Will, respectfully. "But then my ideas, and ideals, are usually in opposition to yours; you are always positive that you are right, and I am equally certain that I am right; we are father and son, why do we always differ?"

"You are young, I am old; the world changes," replied the parson, shortly.

"But other men of your age have changed with the world."

"My son, while I do not live wholly in the past, I must cling to the customs and beliefs of my youth."

"But the stage, father," persisted Will, with an earnestness that was strange for him, "in regard to that the ideas of most men have changed, and no one has been harmed; in fact, have we not been benefited?"

"No," replied the parson, "no one ever has, or ever will, receive good from it." He had little respect for the opinion of his son, rebelled at what he considered his disrespectful argument, and was determined not to budge from the stand which he had taken.

"This performance that the club is to give," continued Will, "can do no harm, you must grant that, and the ladies who are to take part are of unquestioned character."

"True, in regard to the ladies, more's the pity; but the play, my son, professional or amateur, is wrong. As for the club itself, and all organizations of women outside of the church, I am not sure but that they are an unfortunate experiment--sowers of discord and discontent."

The parson was unmistakably angry.

"Do you really believe that women should not be permitted to organize, to enjoy the companionship of others, outside of the home, after the manner of men? Do you believe that their ideals should be fixed, and no opportunity given to heighten and beautify them?" Will asked these questions with deliberation and without raising his voice, yet there were unmistakable signs of a controlled force that would have been impossible in a man who did not love a woman. The parson glared at his son for a moment before replying. "I repeat, it is an experiment--an experiment," he growled as he left the table and went to his study.

Narrow was the way of this man, his creed was his religion; he loved his books more than he loved men; in name only was he a minister of G.o.d.

"I'm sorry, mother," said Will when the study door was closed. "Are you going to resign?"

"Yes," she replied, and there were tears in her eyes.

"There's no need of it," said Will, quickly.

"I've got to," continued Mrs. Flint.

"No, you haven't," replied Will, savagely.

"Will!" exclaimed his mother. "It is your father's wish."

"Well," replied Will, in a calmer tone, "if I ever marry, I hope that I shall have sense enough to let my wife decide such questions for herself."