Lily was wondering, but obviously she felt a pallid excitement as he followed her into her room, with its violet-broidered doilies.
“Lily, I’ve been worrying. Do you think Adelbert ought to have the choir start with ‘A Mighty Fortress Is Our God’ tomorrow, or something a little snappier—get the crowd and then shoot in something impressive.”
“Honest, Mr. Gantry, I don’t believe they could change the program now.”
“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. Sit down and tell me how the choir practise went tonight. Bet it went swell, with you pounding the box!”
“Oh, now,” as she perched lightly on the edge of the bed, “You’re just teasing me, Mr. Gantry!”
He sat beside her, chuckling bravely, “And I can’t even get you to call me Elmer!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Gantry! Miss Falconer would call me down.”
“You just let me know if anybody ever dares try to call you down, Lily! Why—I don’t know whether Sharon appreciates it or not, but the way you spiel the music gives as much power to our meetings as her sermons or anything else.”
“Oh, no, you’re just flattering me, Mr. Gantry! Oh, say, I have a trade-last for you.”
“Well, I—oh, let’s see—oh, I remember, that Episcopalopian preacher—the big handsome one—he said you ought to be on the stage, you had so much talent.”
“Oh, go on, you’re kidding me, Mr. Gantry!”
“No, honest he did. Now, what’s mine? Though I’d rather have you say something nice about me!”
“Oh, now you’re fishing!”
“Sure I am—with such a lovely fish as you!”
“Oh, it’s terrible the way you talk.” Laughter—silvery peals—several peals. “But I mean, this grant opera soloist that’s down for our opening says you look so strong that she’s scared of you.”
“Oh, she is, is she! Are you? … Huh? … Are you? … Tell me!” Somehow her hand was inside his, and he squeezed it, while she looked away and blushed and at last breathed, “Yes, kind of.”
He almost embraced her, but—oh, it was a mistake to rush things, and he went on in his professional tone:
“But to go back to Sharon and our labors: it’s all right to be modest, but you ought to realize how enormously your playing adds to the spirituality of the meetings.”
“I’m so glad you think so, but, honest, to compare me to Miss Falconer for bringing souls to Christ—why she’s just the most wonderful person in the world.”
“That’s right. You bet she is.”
“Only I wish she felt like you do. I don’t really think she cares so much for my playing.”
“Well, she ought to! I’m not criticizing, you understand; she certainly is one of the greatest evangelists living; but just between you and I, she has one fault—she doesn’t appreciate any of us—she thinks it’s her that does the whole darn thing! As I say, I admire her, but, by golly, it does make me sore sometimes to never have her appreciate your music—I mean the way it ought to be appreciated—see how I mean?”
“Oh, that is so nice of you, but I don’t deserve—”
“But I’ve always appreciated it, don’t you think, Lily?”
“Oh, yes, indeed you have, and it’s been such an encouragement—”
“Oh, well, say, I’m just tickled to death to have you say that, Lily.” A firmer pressure on her frail hand. “Do you like to have me like your music?”
“Oh, yes.”
“But do you like to have me like you?”
“Oh, yes. Of course, we’re all working together—oh, like sister and brother—”
“Lily! Don’t you think we might ever be, uh, don’t you think we could be just a little closer than sister and brother?”
“Oh, you’re just being mean! How could you ever like poor little me when you belong to Sharon?”
“What do you mean? Me belong to Sharon? Say! I admire her tremendously, but I’m absolutely free, you can bet your life on that, and just because I’ve always been kinda shy of you—you have such a kinda flower-like beauty, you might say, that no man, no, not the coarsest, would ever dare to ruffle it—and because I’ve stood back, sorta feeling like I was protecting you, maybe you think I haven’t appreciated all your qualities!”
She swallowed.
“Oh, Lily, all I ask for is the chance now and then, whenever you’re down in the mouth—and all of us must feel like that, unless we think we’re the whole cheese and absolutely own the gospel game!—whenever you feel that way, lemme have the privilege of telling you how greatly one fellow appreciates the loveliness that you scatter along the road!”
“Do you really feel that way? Maybe I can play the piano, but personally I’m nothing … nothing.”
“It isn’t true, it isn’t true, dearest! Lily! It’s so like your modesty to not appreciate what sunshine you bring into the hearts of all of us, dear, and how we cherish—”
The door shot open. In the doorway stood Sharon Falconer in a black-and-gold dressing-gown.
“Both of you,” said Sharon, “are discharged. Fired. Now! Don’t ever let me see your faces again. You can stay tonight, but see to it that you’re out of the house before breakfast.”
“Oh, Miss Falconer—” Lily wailed, thrusting away Elmer’s hand. But Sharon was gone, with a bang of the door. They rushed into the hall, they heard the key in her lock, and she ignored their rapping.
Lily glared at Elmer. He heard her key also, and he stood alone in the hall.
IV
Not till one in the morning, sitting in flabby dejection, did he have his story shaped and watertight.
It was an heroic spectacle, that of the Reverend Elmer Gantry climbing from the second-story balcony through Sharon’s window, tiptoeing across the room, plumping on his knees by her bed, and giving her a large plashy kiss.
“I am not asleep,” she observed, in tones level as a steel rail, while she drew the comforter about her neck. “In fact I’m awake for the first time in two years, my young friend. You can get out of here. I won’t tell you all I’ve been thinking, but among other things you’re an ungrateful dog that bit the hand that
