Some of the women of the congregation had been inclined to side
with the deacons, for it hurt their vanity that the pastor found
so many other interests when he might have been sitting in dark,
stuffy rooms discussing theology with them; but Douglas had been
either unconscious of or indifferent to their resentment, and had
gone on his way with a cheery nod and an unconquerable conviction
of right, that had only left them floundering. He intended to
quit the room now unnoticed, but was unfortunate enough to upset
a chair as he turned from the table. This brought a chorus of
exclamations from the women, who chattering rushed quickly toward
him.
"What do you think of my naughty boy, Willie?" simpered the
widow. "He dragged me quite to the window."
Douglas glanced amusedly first at the five- foot-six widow and
then at the helpless, red- haired urchin by her side, but he made
no comment beyond offering a chair to each of the women.
"Our choir practice had to be entirely discontinued," declared
Miss Perkins sourly, as she accepted the proffered chair,
adjusted her skirts for a stay, and glanced defiantly at the
parson, who had dutifully seated himself near the table.
"I am sure _I_ have as true an ear as anybody," whimpered the
widow, with an injured air; "but I defy ANY ONE to lead 'What
Shall the Harvest Be?' to an accompaniment like THAT.
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