The Morning Glory Club Part 22

Stout.

"Well, I attend Mr. Flint's church," said Mrs. Jones, "and have the greatest respect for him, but I must say that I cannot fully agree with him in his ideas about the stage."

"Nor I," said Miss Sawyer.

"He's too stiff-backed for me," was Mrs. Stout's contribution.

"Me too," chirped f.a.n.n.y, and her mother and Mrs. Blake silently agreed with the others. For once they were of one mind. Mr. Flint could rave until he was hoa.r.s.e.

"For the land sakes!" suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Stout, as she sat up very straight with her eyes fixed upon something on the other side of the room. Then, as though controlled by some mysterious, irresistible force, she got up and walked toward the mantel, and when near enough to be sure that her eyes were not deceiving her, stopped. "If it ain't a picture of Sam Billin's!"

Miss Sawyer blushed, and wondered how she could have been so careless.

Poor Lizzie, with her Sam was a sort of "forlorn hope," and everybody knew it, but Mrs. Stout did not spare her.

"It's usually pretty serious when he gets 'round to givin' his picture,"

she said. "I wouldn't have believed it, Miss Sawyer, because Sam ain't exactly your kind. To be sure he's got some good points, but he ain't literary a mite."

"Mrs. Stout," said Mrs. Tweedie, angrily, "we came here this morning to transact business connected with our entertainment, and _not_ to meddle with the affairs of others."

"Well," replied Mrs. Stout, good-naturedly, "we seem to have done both pretty well."

"I _must_ be going," said Mrs. Jones, as she jumped up and bustled about getting her things and began putting them on. The others followed her example and thus again was the rupture that seemed inevitable between Mrs. Tweedie and Mrs. Stout postponed.

When they had gone Miss Sawyer took the photograph of Sam Billings from the mantel, looked at it for a long time, and then, with a sigh which could not be suppressed, she hid the picture in a drawer beneath a package of photographs of forgotten friends.

Chapter XV

Two Letters

WILL--FRIEND:--Since my last letter much has happened in Manville of interest to us both--more than I have time to tell now. The schools opened last Monday, and the children really seemed glad to get back--especially the dirty ones. I have discovered that work gives more happiness than idleness and the gossip of the village.

Many versions of the story of our accident have been circulated the length and breadth of the land. Since then Mrs. Tweedie has kept me at arm's length, but f.a.n.n.y has become a real friend, one whom I need and appreciate.

Every spare moment we spend rehearsing the scene that we are to give at the club entertainment.

The Morning Glories are blooming all the time, and the entertainment is expected to be the event of the season.

I called on the Duncans yesterday. Rufe has reformed, temporarily, at least, and Mrs. Duncan, poor creature, is happier than she has been for many years.

They had found out who put the flowers on little Bessie's grave, and were very grateful.

Good Mrs. Stout continues to keep people and things stirred up. I imagine that her motto must be "The Truth, the whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth." I never would have believed that the truth spoken at all times, regardless of anybody and everything, could be so amusingly disturbing.

What you have written about your work is very interesting--please tell me more. Whenever I rehea.r.s.e the part that I am to play there are many--many lines that send my thoughts to you. The closing words are best: "All angels guard and keep you."

BARBARA.

_January seventeenth._

Jan. 20, 18--.

MY DEAR BARBARA:--Until I went away and began to receive your letters I never knew what a real letter was like. When I was at college, father wrote me a weekly sermon, and mother sent pages of don'ts. They are doing the same now, but you send me what I need--cheerfulness and encouragement.

My work continues to be interesting, though hard, but hard work is what I need, too. Until now, I never knew how satisfying it could be. I never knew what it was to feel like a man until I began the struggle urged on by love for a good woman.

From your letters I have received the impression that my native town is being stirred up in a manner that must be a revelation to the inhabitants who have been asleep for so many years. If the Morning Glories never do anything else they will have accomplished a great deal.

I know that you will be splendid in your part, and hope to be able to come down to see you, but cannot be sure until the last moment.

I have resumed my evening studies and take much pleasure in them.

Since I have been here I have attended church regularly--something that I have not done since I was physically big enough to refuse--and please don't laugh when I confess that I enjoy the service very much.

The sermons are different from any that I have ever heard before. The clergyman seems to be talking to _me_, about clean thoughts and right living. And when the service is over I feel stronger and better, and that the world is a beautiful place. It is beautiful, Barbara, because you are in it. Each day I long so much to see you. What is there that I would not give for one moment in your presence? As it is, your letters are my life.

WILL.

Chapter XVI

Advertising

"HOW d'y'," said Sam Billings, one morning as he sauntered into Stout's Grocery, where the proprietor was busily engaged sorting a barrel of apples.

"Mornin'," replied Peter.

"Nice kind of weather."

"Yes."

"How's things?"

"Nothin' to complain about."

"You're lucky."

"You mean I 'tend to business."

"What's that got to do with luck?"

"Most everything."