Hepsey Burke Part 9

to make a great sacrifice for some good-lookin' young fellow, all the same."

"Ah yes; the _average_ girl; but----"

Maxwell's voice trailed off into silence, while he affected to gaze stonily into the blue deeps of the sky overhead.

Hepsey had thought herself a pretty clever fisherman, in her day; evidently, she decided, this particular fish was not going to be easy to land.

"Don't you think a clergyman is better off married?" she asked, presently.

Donald knocked the ashes out of his pipe and put it in his pocket, clasped his hands across his knees, and smiled thoughtfully for a moment. There was a light in his eyes which was good to see, and a slight trembling of his lips before he ventured to speak. Then he sighed heavily.

"Yes, I do, on many accounts. But I think that any parson in a place like this ought to know and face all the difficulties of the situation before he comes to a definite decision and marries. Isn't that your own view? You've had experience of married parsons here: what do you think?"

"Well, you see the matter is just like this: Every parish wants an unmarried parson; the vestry 'cause he's cheap, every unmarried woman 'cause he may be a possible suitor; and it's easier to run him than it is a married man. He may be decent, well-bred and educated. And he comes to a parcel of ignoramuses who think they know ten times as much as he does. If he can't earn enough to marry on, and has the good sense to keep out of matrimony, the people talk about his bein' a selfish old bachelor who neglects his duty to society. He can't afford to run a tumble-down rectory like ours. If in the face of all this he marries, he has to scrimp and stint until it is a question of buyin'

one egg or two, and lettin' his wife worry and work until she's fit for a lunatic asylum. No business corporation, not even a milk-peddlin' trust, would treat its men so or expect good work from 'em. Then the average layman seldom thinks how he can help the parson.

His one idea is to be a kicker as long as he can think of anything to kick about. The only man in this parish who never kicks is paralyzed in both legs. Yes sir; the parson of the country parish is the parish goat, as the sayin' is."

Mrs. Burke ceased her tirade, and after a while Maxwell remarked quietly:

"Mrs. Burke, I'm afraid you are a pessimist."

"I'm no such thing," she retorted hotly. "A pessimist's a man that sees nothin' but the bad, and says there's no help for it and won't raise a hand: he's a proper sour-belly. An optimist's a man that sees nothin' but the good, and says everything's all right; let's have a good time. Poor fool! The practical man--anyway, the practical woman--sees both the bad and the good, and says we can make things a whole lot better if we try; let's take off our coats and hustle to beat the cars, and see what happens. The real pessimists are your Bascoms, and that kind: and I guess I pity him more than blame him: he seems as lonesome as a tooth-pick in a cider-barrel."

"But I thought that Bascom was a wealthy man. He ought to be able to help out, and raise money enough so that the town could keep a parson and his wife comfortably."

"Sure thing! But the church isn't supported by tight-fisted wealthy people. It's the hard-workin' middle cla.s.s who are willin' to turn in and spend their last cent for the church. And don't you get me started on Bascom as you value your life. Maybe I'll swear a blue streak before I get through: not but what I suppose that even Bascom has his good points--like a porcupine. But a little emery paper on Bascom's good points wouldn't hurt 'em very much. They're awful rusty."

"Oh well! Money isn't all there is in life," soothed Maxwell, smiling.

"No, not quite; but it's a mighty good thing to have in the house.

You'd think so if you had to wear the same hat three summers. I've got to that time in my life where I can get along very well without most of the necessities; but I must have a few luxuries to keep me goin'."

"Then you think that a clergyman ought not to marry and bring his wife to a place like Durford?"

"I didn't say anything of the sort. If you was to get married I'd see you through, if it broke my neck or Bascom's."

"Do you know, you seem to me a bit illogical?" remarked Maxwell mildly.

"Don't talk to me about logic! The strongest argument is often the biggest lie. There are times in your life when you have to take your fate in both hands and shut your eyes, and jump in the dark. Maybe you'll land on your feet, and maybe you--won't. But you have got to jump just the same. That's matrimony--common sense, idiocy, or whatever you choose to call it.... I never could tell which. It's the only thing to do; and any man with a backbone and a fist won't hesitate very long. If you marry, I'll see you through; though of course you won't stay here long, anyhow."

"You're awfully kind, Mrs. Burke," Maxwell replied, "and I sha'n't forget your promise--when the time comes for me to take the momentous step. But I think it would be the wisest thing for me to keep my heart free for a while; or at any rate, not to get married."

Mrs. Burke looked down at her rector, and smiled broadly at his clever evasion of the bait she had dangled before him so persistently.

"Well, do as you like; but that reminds me that when next you go to town you'll need to get a new gla.s.s for that miniature of your sister.

You must have dozed off with it in your hands last night and dropped it. I found it this morning on the floor alongside of your chair, with the gla.s.s broken."

She rose triumphantly, as she knitted the last st.i.tch of the wash-rag.

"Excuse me--I must go and peel the potatoes for dinner."

"I'd offer to contribute to the menu, by catching some fish for you; but I don't think it's a very good day for fis.h.i.+ng, is it, Mrs.

Burke?" asked Maxwell innocently.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER VIII

AN ICEBOX FOR CHERUBIM

As we have seen, when Maxwell began his work in Durford, he was full of the enthusiasm of youth and inexperience. He was, however, heartily supported and encouraged in his efforts by all but Sylvester Bascom.

Without being actively and openly hostile, the Senior Warden, under the guise of superior wisdom and a judicial regard for expediency, managed to thwart many of his projects. After each interview with Bascom, Maxwell felt that every bit of life and heart had been pumped out of him, and that he was very young, and very foolish to attempt to make any change in "the good old ways" of the parish, which for so many years had stunted its growth and had acquired the immobility of the laws of the Medes and Persians.

But there was one paris.h.i.+oner who was ever ready to suggest new ventures to "elevate" the people, and to play the part of intimate friend and adviser to her good-looking rector, and that was Virginia Bascom. For some unknown reason "the people" did not seem to be acutely anxious thus to be elevated; and most of them seemed to regard Virginia as a harmless idiot with good intentions, but with positive genius for meddling in other people's affairs. Being the only daughter of the Senior Warden, and the leading lady from a social standpoint, she considered that she had a roving commission to set people right at a moment's notice; and there were comparatively few people in Durford on whom she had not experimented in one way or another. She organized a Browning club to keep the factory girls out of the streets evenings, a mothers' meeting, an ethical culture society, and a craftman's club, and, as she was made president of each, her time was quite well filled.

And now in her fertile brain dawned a brilliant idea, which she proceeded to propound to the rector. Maxwell was non-committal, for he felt the matter was one for feminine judgment. Then she decided to consult Mrs. Burke--because, while Hepsey was "not in society," she was recognized as the dominant personality among the women of the village, and no parish enterprise amounted to much unless she approved of it, and was gracious enough to a.s.sist. As Virginia told Maxwell, "Mrs. Burke has a talent of persuasiveness," and so was "useful in any emergency." If Mrs. Burke's sympathies could be enlisted on behalf of the new scheme it would be bound to succeed.

As a matter of fact, Mrs. Burke had heard rumors of this new project of Virginia's. It always went against the grain with Hepsey to say: "Don't do it." She was a firm believer in the teaching of experience: "Experience does it," was her translation of the cla.s.sic adage.

And so one morning found Virginia sitting opposite Mrs. Burke in the kitchen at Thunder Cliff, knitting her brows and poking the toe of her boot with the end of her parasol in an absent-minded way. This was symptomatic.

"Anything on your mind, Virginia? What's up now?" Mrs. Burke began.

For a moment Virginia hesitated, and then replied:

"I am thinking of establis.h.i.+ng a day-nursery to care for the babies of working women, Mrs. Burke."

Mrs. Burke, with hands on her hips, gazed intently at her visitor, pushed up her under lip, scowled, and then observed thoughtfully:

"I wonder some one hasn't thought of that before. Who's to take care of the babies?"

"Mary Quinn and I, with the a.s.sistance of others, of course."

"Are you sure that you know which is the business end of a nursing-bottle? Could you put a safety-pin where it would do the most good? Could you wash a baby without drownin' it?"

"Of course I have not had much experience," Virginia replied in a dignified and lofty way, "but Mary Quinn has, and she could teach me."

"You're thinkin', I suppose, that a day-nursery would fill a long-felt want, or somethin' like that. Who's goin' to pay the bills?"

"Oh, there ought to be enough progressive, philanthropic people in Durford to subscribe the necessary funds, you know. It is to be an auxiliary to the parish work."

"Hm! What does Mr. Maxwell say?"

"Well, he said that he supposed that babies were good things in their way; but he hadn't seen many in the village, and he didn't quite realize what help a day-nursery would be to the working women."

"That doesn't sound mighty enthusiastic. Maybe we might get the money; but who's to subscribe the babies?"