“There!” he reflected. “Now Shallard, the damned fool, ought to see that I’m not trying to grab off the kid. … If he makes any breaks about ‘what are my intentions’ to her, I’ll just be astonished, and get Mr. Frank Shallard in bad, curse him and his dirty sneaking suspicions!”
But: “God, I’ve got to have her!” said all the tumultuous smoky beings in the lowest layer of his mind, and he answered them only with an apprehensive, “Watch out! Be careful! Dean Trosper would bust you! Old Bains would grab his shotgun. … Be careful! … Wait!”
Not till an hour after supper, when the others were bending over the corn-popper, did he have the chance to whisper to her:
“Don’t trust Shallard! Pretends to be a friend of mine—couldn’t trust him with a plugged nickel! Got to tell you about him. Got to! Listen! Slip down after the others go up t’ bed. I’ll be down here. Must!”
“Oh, I can’t! Cousin Adeline Baldwin is sleeping with me.”
“Well! Pretend to get ready to go to bed—start and do your hair or something—and then come down to see if the fire is all right. Will you?”
“Maybe.”
“You must! Please! Dear!”
“Maybe. But I can’t stay but just a second.”
Most virtuously, most ministerially: “Oh, of course.”
They all sat, after supper, in the sitting-room. The Bainses prided themselves on having advanced so far socially that they did not spend their evenings in the kitchen-dining room—always. The sitting-room had the homeliness of a New England farmhouse, with hectically striped rag carpet, an amazing patent rocker with Corinthian knobs and brass dragon’s feet, crayon enlargements, a table piled with Farm and Fireside and Modern Priscilla, and the enormous volume of pictures of the Chicago World’s Fair. There was no fireplace, but the stove was a cheery monster of nickel and mica, with a jolly brass crown more golden than gold, and around the glaring belly a chain of glass sapphires, glass emeralds, and hot glass rubies.
Beside the stove’s gorgeous cheerfulness, Elmer turned on his spiritual faucet and worked at being charming.
“Now don’t you folks dare say one word about church affairs this evening! I’m not going to be a preacher—I’m just going to be a youngster and kick up my heels in the pasture, after that lovely supper, and I declare to goodness if I didn’t know she was a strict Mother in Zion, I’d make Mother Bains dance with me—bet she could shake a pretty pair of heels as any of these art dancers in the theater!”
And encircling that squashy and billowing waist, he thrice whirled her round, while she blushed, and giggled, “Why, the very idee!” The others applauded with unsparing plow-hardened hands, cracking the shy ears of Frank Shallard.
Always Frank had been known as an uncommonly amiable youth, but tonight he was sour as alum.
It was Elmer who told them stories of the pioneer Kansas he knew so well, from reading. It was Elmer who started them popping corn in the parlor-stove after their first uneasiness at being human in the presence of Men of God. During this festivity, when even the most decorous deacon chuckled and admonished Mr. Bains, “Hey, who you shovin’ there, Barney?” Elmer was able to evade publicity and make his rendezvous with Lulu.
More jolly than ever, then, and slightly shiny from buttered popcorn, he herded them to the parlor-organ, on which Lulu operated with innocent glee and not much knowledge. Out of duty to the cloth, they had to begin with singing “Blessed Assurance,” but presently he had them basking in “Seeing Nelly Home,” and “Old Black Joe.”
All the while he was quivering with the promise of soft adventure to come.
It only added to his rapture that the young neighboring farmer, Floyd Naylor—kin of the Bains family, a tall young man but awkward—was also mooning at Lulu, longing but shy.
They wound up with “Beulah Land,” played by Lulu, and his voice was very soothing, very touching and tender:
O Beulah Land, sweet Beulah Land,
(You little darling!)
As on thy highest mount I stand,
(I wonder if I kinda looked pathetic, would she baby me?)
I look away across the sea,
(Oh, I’ll be good—won’t go too far.)
Where mansions are prepared for me,
(Her wrists while she plays—like to kiss ’em!)
And view the shining glory shore,
(Going to, by thunder! Tonight!)
My heav’n, my home for evermore.
(Wonder if she’ll come downstairs in a wrapper?)
“I just wish I knew,” said the wife of one of the deacons, a sentimental and lively lady, “what you were thinking of while we sang, Brother Gantry?”
“Why—I was thinking how happy we’ll all be when we are purified and at rest in Beulah Land.”
“My, I knew it was something religious—you sang so sorta happy and inspired. Well! We must be going. It’s been such a lovely evening, Sister Bains. We just don’t know how to thank you and Brother Bains, yes, and Brother Gantry, too, for such a fine time. Oh, and Brother Shallard, of course. Come, Charley.”
Charley, as well as the other deacons, had vanished into the kitchen after Brother Bains. There was a hollow noise, as of a jug mouth, while the ladies and the clergy talked loudly and looked tolerant. The men appeared at the door wiping their mouths with the hairy backs of their paws.
VIII
After the tremendous leave-taking, to a yawning host Elmer suggested, “If it won’t bother you and Sister Bains, I’m going to stay down here by the fire a few minutes and complete my notes for my sermon tomorrow. And then I won’t keep Brother Shallard awake.”
“Fine, fine—eaaaaah—’scuse me—so sleepy. The house is yours, my boy—Brother. G’night.”
“Good night! Good night, Brother Bains. Good night, Sister Bains. Good night, Sister Lulu. … Night, Frank.”
The room was far more boisterous when he was left alone in it. It reeled and clamored. He paced, nervously smiting the palm of his left hand, stopping in fever to listen. … Time crawling forever. … She would not
