The Morning Glory Club Part 24

When the poster was secure in its place, Sam walked slowly backward until he reached the middle of the road, where he stopped with his hands in his pockets, his head c.o.c.ked to one side, and viewed his work with a critical eye. He had been there but a moment when Doctor Jones drove up, and when he saw Sam's peculiar att.i.tude stopped.

"h.e.l.lo, Sam, what do you see that is so absorbing?" he asked, after waiting a moment for Sam to move or speak. In reply Sam waved his hand proudly toward the poster on the church.

The doctor looked and read.

"Some of your work?" he asked.

Sam nodded.

"So you are the club's advertising agent?"

"Nope," replied Sam, modestly. "I jest wanted to help 'em out a little."

"Very kind, I'm sure," said the doctor, as he drove away wondering who had made the mistake.

When Sam returned to the store he found Alick Purbeck standing in the doorway grinning.

"Do you expect to live long, Sam?" asked Alick.

Sam pushed by without replying, went to the back room, rolled up the remaining posters, walked out of the store without looking to the right or left, and marched off up the road.

By nightfall twelve more of Sam's posters were displayed in as many conspicuous places, and before the last one had been tacked up the whole town--except the members of the Morning Glory Club--was laughing.

Mrs. Tweedie was furious when Tommy asked if he could go to the "Big Show," and poor Ezra, he would have thought it funny had not his wife scolded the whole evening just as though he was to blame.

That night, after they were abed, Mrs. Stout told Peter, among other things, that he didn't have the sense of a half-grown puppy to let that fool of a Sam Billings do such a thing. When she had finished it was time for Peter to get up--and he thought so, too.

The Reverend Elijah Flint was in a terrible rage (state of righteous indignation). He went to the church as soon as he heard of the outrage, tore the offending poster into fragments, and vehemently declared that the perpetrator of the crime should be punished to the full extent of the law.

And Miss Sawyer, poor Lizzie, she knew that it was her fault, and bemoaned her indiscretion in mentioning advertising to Sam Billings. She wept all night, and vowed that she would never speak to him again as long as she lived.

Chapter XVII

More Advertising

THE next morning Mrs. Tweedie sent messages by her son Thomas to the members of the play committee requesting them to meet at her home that afternoon to consider a matter of "distressing importance." At two o'clock all of the committee had complied with the request, excepting Miss Sawyer, who sent word that she was "indisposed," and she might truthfully have added "to come."

"Ladies," Mrs. Tweedie began, solemnly, "yesterday one of the _other s.e.x_, an unprincipled creature by the name of Billings, inflicted upon our club an irreparable injury. You have seen or at least heard of the hideous posters that some time yesterday were put up in a dozen or more conspicuous places about town. Furthermore, the sensitive feelings of an educated and highly respected citizen have been deeply wounded by this act of wantonness--I refer to the Reverend Mr. Flint. One of the posters was placed, and remained for several hours, upon the bulletin of his, I might say our, church. We all know Mr. Flint's aversion to anything pertaining to the stage, yet he has refrained from speaking of our entertainment publicly out of regard for the members of his church who are interested in the club. What his att.i.tude from now on will be I dare not conjecture. As for the miserable villain who is responsible for the outrage--words fail to express my feelings."

"Quote Shakespeare," suggested Mrs. Stout.

"This is not the time for jesting, Mrs. Stout," replied Mrs. Tweedie, in a tone that would have withered any one but Mrs. Stout.

"n.o.body knows it better than I do," she retorted. "I've got reason to be as mortified as anybody, because the outlandish work was begun in my husband's store. Of course, he ain't to blame, but he ought to have told the fool that what he was doin' would make trouble."

"No one attaches any blame upon you or your husband," Mrs. Tweedie replied.

"I'm sure," said Mrs. Jones, "that I cannot see how Mr. Stout had anything to do with it. It seems to me that it was not done maliciously, any way, but more in the spirit of a practical joke."

"Practical meddlesomeness!" snapped Mrs. Stout; "and the man that did it was set up to it, in my opinion, by a woman in this club!"

The ladies looked at Mrs. Stout, and then at each other in astonishment.

"Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Tweedie. "If you are so positive pray tell us about it."

"Well, I ain't exactly positive," Mrs. Stout began, slowly, "but I guess at things sometimes, and come pretty near bein' right, 'specially when two and two make four. I ain't a woman that'll hurt anybody's good name unless it's been rightly damaged before by theirselves. In this case I ain't sure, so I won't mention no names, only say what I think made Sam Billin's do what he did." Poor Mrs. Stout, for the first time in her life she failed to find the direct path to the point, and wallowed helplessly about in a meaningless slough of words. "Well," she continued, "I don't seem to be gettin' ahead very fast, but what I wanted to say was this: You know that we talked some about advertisin'

at a meetin' of the committee awhile ago, and decided not to spend any money on it, but after the meetin' was over that day one of the ladies said to me as we was goin' home that _she_ thought that somethin' ought to be done about advertisin'. Now, I think that she, or somebody else that thought same as she did, must have talked with Sam Billin's, and told him her opinion about advertisin', and he agreed with her, and went off and done it."

The ladies were disappointed. The delicious bit of scandal that they had antic.i.p.ated was not forthcoming.

"What you have told us," said Mrs. Tweedie, "is very indefinite."

"It's about as definite as anything I hear at the club, only I didn't mention no names--some folks ain't so careful," retorted Mrs. Stout, who was angry with herself.

"I'm sure," said Mrs. Jones, "we are just as much in the dark as ever.

We know what has been done, and who did it, the question is--"

"What are we goin' to do about it?" interrupted Mrs. Stout.

"We owe Mr. Flint an apology," Mrs. Tweedie replied.

"That's easy," said Mrs. Stout, "and don't cost anything."

"The virtue of dutifulness has nothing to do with ease or cost," replied Mrs. Tweedie, loftily. "I shall write the letter myself, and a.s.sume the full responsibility. Now, in regard to the creature that committed the crime, shall we take any legal steps?"

"Goodness, no!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout, in alarm. "Legal steps cost ten dollars apiece, and there's no tellin' where they'll lead to."

Everybody laughed at this remark, and apparently good nature was restored.

"It would only mean more advertising," said Mrs. Blake, "and that is just what we are objecting to now."

"That's so," replied Mrs. Stout; "we've been advertised worse'n a circus or soap; let's hide our bright and shinin' light under a basket for awhile."

After the ladies had gone Mrs. Tweedie had only time to scold f.a.n.n.y, give Dora some instructions about dinner, tell Ezra that "If you had a woman's club on your hands you would have been insane weeks ago," which Ezra thought very likely, when the Reverend Elijah Flint was announced.

Despite the trials of the previous twenty-four hours, Mrs. Tweedie a.s.sumed a humble look as she entered the parlour and greeted her solemn-visaged pastor.

"I have called, Mrs. Tweedie," he began, after declining to be seated, "on a matter of grave importance to our church and myself. Perhaps it will not be necessary for me to--"

"I understand, Mr. Flint," she said, with proper gravity.

"Do you fully realize the false position in which our church has been placed?" asked the parson, impressively.

"I do, and sincerely regret the unfortunate circ.u.mstance."

"Unfortunate," he repeated, as though he did not think the word adequate. "Mrs. Tweedie, our church has been defiled, desecrated, by a wanton, worthless wretch, and I desire to know whether your club, or any member of it, is responsible, even in the slightest degree, for the outrage."