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twg_000012935700 | is my idea, brethren, that the weeds of the earth must be cut down, and by weeds I mean bad men. If a petition is handed you to sign asking time for Orn Skinner, I ask you one and all not to place your names upon it." The clergyman suddenly stopped, closing his Bible. "Papa would cut off Tessibel's father's | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935701 | head if he could, wouldn't he, Frederick," whispered Babe. Frederick gave the child a reproving glance and the little girl sank back after explaining that if Skinner were hung "papa" would have the land which ought to be his. But as his father was speaking again the student turned his serious face toward the pulpit. "Brethren," finished the pastor impressively, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935702 | "before I close I would adjure every one of you to take the reins of his household into his own hands," and then looking straight at Deacon Hall, he concluded: "And if you have never had the reins, then I command you to take them this day and rule your homes as God would have you. 'Let us pray.'" Augusta | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935703 | Hall made but one remark on her way home from church. "Wednesday evening, I am going to show Dominie Graves that he can't rule every woman in Ithaca, and I want you to go with me, dearie." Orn Skinner was to be taken to prison the Monday after the famous sermon preached by Dominie Graves. Professor Young had gained permission | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935704 | for Tessibel to spend fifteen minutes with Skinner before his departure. There was something about the fishermaid that touched his heart. Her ignorance, her devotion to her father, and the loveliness of the anxious young face haunted the professor during his working hours, and at night, when he could not sleep, he created plans for her future and her father's | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935705 | release. He persuaded himself continually that Tessibel was not the motive for clearing the fisherman of the murder charge, it was the love of justice--justice to the squatter and his lovely child. Often the lawyer had set his jaw when he thought of Minister Graves and the evident malice shown by the parson against the fisherman. That Monday afternoon he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935706 | met Tessibel as she came into the jail-yard, much the same Tessibel he had seen in the court-room. Professor Young took the girl's hand in his and led her into the small waiting room of the stone prison. He desired to be alone with her for a few minutes that he might satisfy himself as to her history, which since | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935707 | her dramatic entrance into the court-room had been so distorted. "You have no mother, I understand, my dear," he began. "Nope," and Tessibel shifted one boot along the seam in the red carpet. "Do you remember her?" "Nope; don't remember none but Daddy." "Have you ever been to school?" Tessibel shook her head, displaying her teeth in smile which quickly | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935708 | faded. "Squatter's brats don't never go to school," she muttered. She edged away from the professor, raising her eyes pleadingly to his. The man read the desire the girl dared not put into words, but without heeding her glance he proceeded to question her. "Would you like to go to school?" "Nope, all I want air Daddy home in the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935709 | shanty. That air enough for me." She suddenly turned her face away toward the door that led to the upper cells. "But if I assure you," urged Professor Young, "that your father will positively get another trial, which is all that can be done at present, would you then like to study?" A definite shake of her head and another | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935710 | quick glance was Tessibel's answer. "I wants to read the Bible," she said, presently turning toward the professor; "it air a dum hard book to read, I hear." Professor Young tugged at the corners of his mustache to keep down a smile. "It would be easy for you to read any f you went to school," he told her. "How | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935711 | old are you?" "Comin' sixteen." "And cannot read--it's a pity! And wouldn't you like to learn to sing?" Young was desirous of touching a responsive strain in the girl. "Dum sight rather see Daddy--that's what I came here for! Ain't ye going to let me see him?" Professor Young rose with a sigh. Like the rest of her race, she | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935712 | did not know gratitude. He had worked diligently, preparing an appeal for a new trial which would bring acquittal to her humpbacked father, and he was interested in her own welfare, but her thankless words checked his inquiry. The professor did not realize what love meant to Tessibel, for every desire within her paled into insignificance beside her passionate devotion | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935713 | to Daddy Skinner. Tess followed him silently up the long winding stairs, her heart thumping in anticipation. The deputy's search of her clothing brought a flush to her face, but without a word she allowed him to draw off the great boots and quietly watched him as he turned them upside down, receiving them back gravely. Her longing to see | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935714 | Daddy Skinner, to be in his arms, to hug the grizzled head, overshadowed even this indignity. So long had it been since Tess had nestled in the shaggy chin hair, that her heart was sore and wildly impatient. Faith in Frederick's God had been forgotten--no other thought occupied her mind save that they were going to take away her beloved--the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935715 | only one left to her. She deigned not a glance at Professor Young after the deputy had gone, and measured the oilcloth-covered floor restlessly with the stamp, stamp, stamp of the big boots. Professor Young's presence was no more to her than the small insects which scurried from the edge of the floor covering into the light and then back | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935716 | into their hiding places, afraid of the human giants which loomed up before them. What did she care for reading, writing and such things. She wanted to be with Daddy Skinner--wanted him home in the shanty, as of old. She kept her eyes riveted upon the open door. Suddenly she leaned forward, for the ominous clanging of irons came to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935717 | her ears. She thought of the night she had been found scaling the ivy to Daddy's cell--how long she had waited in the darkness for only a little word about him. They had given her none, and her vivid imagination brought back the anguish of that lonely walk through the storm to the hut. Approaching footsteps made her alert, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935718 | in the paling of the sweet face Professor Young divined the tumult going on in the tender, uneducated heart. "Child," exclaimed he, "don't make your father's going away harder for him!" "Shut up," muttered Tess, just as the huge shackled prisoner appeared at the door. Every muscle in the strong young body stiffened. Tess had not seen her father since | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935719 | the trial. Intensity narrowed the eyes, the drooping white lids covering the lights in the brown iris, the small hands clutched convulsively. Daddy Skinner--her Daddy--was standing before her, his blue-gray eyes piercing her very soul from under the long shaggy brows. She bounded toward him, and two creatures of primeval passion met in one long embrace. It was the passion | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935720 | of an aboriginal father for his child, of a primitive girl watching her loved one separate from her through the portals of death. Tess had lifted herself deftly to the bible-back, and lowered her head to the grizzled face, the man's large mouth covering the twitching lips of the girl. The shrouding red hair hid the squatter faces from the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935721 | professor, and he turned his eyes away. He could not look upon them without distressing emotion. The strange maid was an enigma to him and he found himself wishing that he might guide her future. When Young glanced again, the fisherman had seated himself and had slipped Tessibel from his shoulders, gathering her closely into his great embrace--for she was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935722 | the brawn of his brawn and the bone of his bone. Under the squatter's huge red arm, the fisher-girl had wedged her head tightly, the low brows were taut with pain, the bronze eyes defiantly closed. Tess was as firmly fixed in her position as the iron chains that encased her "Daddy's" ankles. She had come to stay with Daddy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935723 | Skinner, to go with him where he went, in spite of the great man from the hill, in spite of the majesty of the law--even in spite of Daddy himself. The deputy warden with open watch stood over the prisoner with observing eye. The fifteen minutes allowed the girl were gone, and he slowly touched the humpback on the shoulder. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935724 | "Time's up, Skinner," said he. "Sorry, but it's the law, you know." Skinner tried to draw the curly head from under his arm but the muscles in the girl's body only tightened, the white lips grew more rigid. "It air time fer me to go, Tess," murmured the squatter in her ear. "I air--I--I air a goin' with ye." The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935725 | words were scarcely more than the flutter of a breath. The deputy warden stepped forward a little, then back to his place by the door; the professor rose but sank again to his chair; the bible-back of the fisherman pulsated as if a separate heart was beating in each great hump. Tess was as immovable as if nature had aided | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935726 | her to grow into her position. Skinner again tried to loosen the bare red arms. "Ye can't go to prison with me, Tess," he said coaxingly; "set up like a good brat ... Daddy'll kiss ye good-bye." "I air goin'," she insisted. "It air like a dead man's yard without ye in the shanty.... I can wash dishes. I can | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935727 | do a hull lot if ye'll take me with ye, Daddy Skinner." Not one whit less rigid was the slender body, the closed lids only pressed tighter together. The deputy grunted impatiently. "Come, Kid," said he gruffly; "it's the law ye're tamperin' with. Do you hear? Let the prisoner go." Professor Young felt his throat tighten. The pitiful sight of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935728 | the girl, the ragged skirt, the terrible unkemptness of the small body, almost brought a shout from his lips. It was a new sensation to the learned man, a stinging, rebellious, pitying sensation, a feeling that he wanted to shake the girl from her father's arms, and then care tenderly for her. One great boot had fallen from Tessibel's many | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935729 | times frozen foot. The little toe marked and cut by frost, limply hanging independent of its fellows, made Young wince. Suddenly Tessibel sat up and wound her arms more tightly about the big humpbacked body. "I can't go back to the shanty without ye, Daddy," she whimpered, "and they said--as how ye was comin'--home to stay.... And I ain't goin'--darned | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935730 | if I air." Young turned his head again toward the window. He could not banish the wish that Tess would listen to him. The deputy placed his hand firmly upon the prisoner's arm, the fisherman himself trying in vain to loosen the girl's fingers from the shaggy beard. "I--I--air to go with Daddy--I air--I air!" Tessibel brought out the words | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935731 | snappingly, but Skinner, with the aid of the deputy, opened the clenched hands. Tessibel gave way; she was unable to stop the awful impending danger that hung over her--absolute separation from Daddy Skinner. "Daddy, Daddy," she gasped, sitting up straight: "man--man, let me go ... I air dyin' without my Daddy ... I air alone--all alone!" The official moved anxiously | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935732 | as she made this appeal to him. She was now standing on her bare feet, but she bounded forward as the bible-back rose and fell, and large tears dragged themselves from the lowered lids of the fisherman's blue-gray eyes. She pantingly caught her father's hand in hers. "Kisses, Daddy Skinner, kisses on the bill for Tess--before ye go ... Tess | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935733 | air a bad brat--" She could not finish the sentence for the squatter had pressed her to him convulsively. Then Skinner dropped the slender, relaxed body into the wooden arm-chair, and iron-hampered, took up his march behind the deputy. The professor mutely watched the storm, desperate and terrible, break over the squatter girl. Her wild weeping settled into sobs, the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935734 | sound of which rent and shook the man's emotions. At last he ventured to speak: "Child, may I be your friend?" "'Taint no friends I want. It air somethin' to love--to kiss. It air Daddy I want." The voice came brokenly from the veil of red hair. Just then the great iron door clanged in the distance behind the prisoner. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935735 | Tessibel sprang to the open door, straining her ears to catch another sound from the "black place" which had enveloped her father within its menacing shadows. "He air--gone.... Daddy--air--gone!" The words were spoken slowly, and hurt the watching man almost as if the torture were his own. A shriek rose from the rounded white throat and the girl threw herself | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935736 | bootless upon the floor, and screamed in passionate childish sorrow, the wealth of disheveled hair mantling the dirty jacket, and covering the woful face. Neither the professor nor Tessibel heard the hurrying footsteps upon the stone floor in the prison corridor, but Tess, still in the frenzy of her new grief, heard her name spoken through a maze: "Tessibel Skinner!" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935737 | And then again: "Tessibel Skinner!" The squatter raised a pale, tear-streaked face to Frederick Graves. She sat up with a painful flush, drawing the bare legs closely under the wet skirt. The student spoke again: "Tessibel Skinner has forgotten that God rules and is just. Have your prayers proven nothing to you?" Tessibel gazed scarlet and embarrassed, into Frederick's face, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935738 | her under lip quivering. The red head sank slowly down, and the exhausted child wept as only a hurt child can weep. "I were a-goin' with him," she cried between her sobs, "I could have washed dishes in the prison--to be near Daddy. I air such a lonely Tess 'out him in the hut." The student lifted her gently in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935739 | his arms and seated her in the wooden chair. With the tenderness of a brother, he placed the great boots once more upon the girl's feet, and Tessibel was ready to start again upon her long tramp through the row of huts to her shanty home. The tears had ceased to flow, and with bowed head she was hanging upon | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935740 | every word the student uttered. Professor Young went quietly out, unheeded by either girl or boy. "No one blames you for your grief, child, at being obliged to leave your father," Frederick said huskily. "But are you going to take off the 'Armor of God' and forget all that He has promised you?" Tessibel blinked ignorantly at the long words, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935741 | "Armor of God," "Armor of God." It was something she had not heard before--perhaps it meant that the student's Christ would not help her now. It all came back in a flood of light--her utter faithlessness in the prayers of the student, in the pine-tree God who had waved her so many assurances. She had not dared to look into | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935742 | the noble face above her, but when they stepped from the jail into the street, she raised her eyes to Frederick's and murmured: "I air sorry cause I were so cussed ... I only wanted to go with Daddy." "I realize that," replied Frederick, making preparations to walk with her by drawing his coat collar tightly about his neck, "but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935743 | it was impossible, and, from now until the time he comes back, study your Bible." Tess halted a moment, looking up steadily into the dark eyes of the tall boy. "Does the Bible talk of Daddy Skinner?" she entreated; "does it tell as how he air comin' home?" "Indeed, yes," was the student's answer. "There's nothing the Bible doesn't contain. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935744 | The Saviour was nailed to the Cross bearing his misery to give you a heavenly harp and crown, Tessibel. If you read Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, you will see it all plainly. You can be happy if you pray and are a good girl while your father is away." Then, desiring to ease the tense-drawn face, he added: "It | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935745 | will please him if you write him often and tell him about yourself.... Come now, it's getting too dark for you to walk those tracks. Child, haven't you a friend in town with whom you can pass the night? It's frightful to tramp that distance alone." Tess stiffened instantly. Daddy's shanty was in her care, and of what night had | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935746 | she ever been afraid? "I air a goin' home," she answered almost sullenly; "ain't a dum bit afraid of nothin'." As Frederick turned to her side, Tess glanced up confusedly. "Ye can't walk with me through the streets of Ithacy," said she. "Why not?" "Cause--well, cause ye can't, that's why!" Frederick understood, and, gravely lifting his hat, turned in the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935747 | other direction with the remark that he would see her again soon. The girl stood for some seconds staring fixedly after him. Then, wiping her face with the sleeve of a ragged jacket, she started off toward the squatters' row. Many were the troubling thoughts which possessed the mind of Tess as she strode along. In the fulvid depths of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935748 | her red-brown eyes there dwelt an expression of misery. As the child took her way through the streets, with none to care whither she went, her face lighted with a sudden determination. Frederick had told her to read, to study, to pray--that these three with faith would save Daddy Skinner from the rope of the Canadian Indian; but the student, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935749 | like all those having plenty, forgot to enquire how Tess was to read without books, or study without anyone to teach her. True, Tess could pick out a few words which Daddy had taught her, could haltingly count the stars in the heavens at night, and the rain-drops on the shanty window. She could read the names upon the store | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935750 | signs and had often seated herself on the railroad tracks with a bit of newspaper to stammer forth the words she knew. But it was a Bible she needed--to learn about the student's God and the Christ. Tess was more interested in the cross than the crown, more interested in the nails that had opened the wounds in the Saviour's | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935751 | hands and feet, than in any royal head-covering that might come in some future time to her. There was too much misery in her own life, too much desperate desire for her loved one, to allow the glitter of a promised crown to affect her. She wanted to know of the suffering Christ, to read of how He had promised--Here | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935752 | Tess stopped and tossed back the red hair. What was it she wanted to read about? Ah, yes--not heaven and its glories nor hell and its terrors, but of Daddy Skinner back in the shanty. The Bible would tell her just how to bring him back,--but where should she get one? At the squatter mission, of course. Tessibel remembered that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935753 | once she had been coaxed to enter the mission, but the children had laughed at her rags and after that she could not be induced to go again. Then in the bitterness of her heart she had thrown stones and clay from the edges of the track through the open window upon the other children, and had been told by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935754 | the superintendent never to come near the small church again. But that was four long months ago, and not once since--since the horror of Daddy's going, had she even looked toward the mission. The dusk fell, slowly striking out the day-shadows from the railroad bed and she halted where the two tracks met. The mission was opposite her. Would she | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935755 | dare ask for a Bible? A rich, warm light flooded through the window and then the old squatter who had kept the place in order for many years came out and closed the door. Tessibel's eyes followed his form through the dim twilight until he disappeared into his shanty. Her hand clutched convulsively the knob of the mission door; it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935756 | yielded to her touch, and for the second time in her life Tessibel Skinner was inside the mission room. The small reed organ stood open: a hymn book stretched back with a rubber band caught her eye. A bright bit of red carpet wound its way about the altar. The squatter did not pause to examine the pictures on the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935757 | wall nor even an instant before the glowing fire. Her eyes were searching for a Bible--the shade deepening in them as she sidled toward the nearest seat. She read "H-y-m-n-a-l" on the back of the first book--dropping it she gathered up another. "H-o-l-y B-i-b-l-e," she spelled. Thrusting it into her blouse, she bounded out into the night, and raced up | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935758 | the railroad track almost to the Hoghole trestle before she stopped, satisfied that no one had seen her theft. Then, taking the book from her bosom, she kissed it reverently. "Them old fools ain't goin' to have every damn Bible in this here town. I air a right like them to this un." Again she kissed it, as she mumbled: | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935759 | "Matthew, Mark, Luke and John." That night the candle burned longer in the Skinner shanty, and an auburn head bent over an open book. A faltering voice spelled out the sufferings of the Nazarene. Once Tess smiled wanly when reading of how the Saviour had borne all the woes of the world--that any one believing could be saved. Her head | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935760 | nodded over the pages, and almost instantly the rapt face dropped upon the open Bible and Tessibel slept. A strange dream filled her sleep. A great light flashed suddenly into the sky--Tessibel's sky--and through the brightness of it she could see the cross with the Man upon it; could see the nail prints in the swollen flesh, the thorns pressing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935761 | into the bowed head. Then as Tessibel dreamed she moved upon the open Bible and groaned with the dream-Christ upon the cross. Directly in front of the crucified Saviour Daddy Skinner was coming toward her with the student. She started up--a cry of disappointed anguish escaping her lips. The candle had burned out in the grease cup, the wind was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935762 | rocking the shanty and making the rafters creak dismally. Tess shivered as she tossed her clothes upon the floor, and crept exhausted into Daddy's bed. The last thing she heard was the splashing of her pet eel in the water-pail. The next morning, on a piece of yellow paper, she scratched Daddy a small note. Frederick's words that her father | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935763 | would be pleased with it filled her with a desire to write. For three hours she struggled with her first letter. "daddy the ice air a goin out of the lake ben letts air a gettin well he air a cuss i air lonlie yit without ye i red my bible last nite i cribbed it frum the mishion it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935764 | says as how god air gooder then i thote he wer cum home and i reads as how a brite lite was a shinin about the cross and as how the christ ruz up here air a story bout a squatter brat it air bout tess she cride and cride fer her dady til her eel what she luved herd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935765 | her and he cride hisself to deth this here mornin he wer belly up in the bucket i air yer brat dady "the man on the cross ruz fer the hull world aint it nise to ruz." This delicate effusion of love to her father, Tess read over many times. With pardonable pride she folded it carefully and placed it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935766 | in the Bible where she had read about the cross and dying Christ. On Wednesday evening Deacon Hall tucked Augusta's pretty hand under his arm with a happy sense of proprietorship. He was proud to stand by his beautiful wife in her fight for church liberty. Hall really believed, as he had told Dominie Graves, that the world had outgrown | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935767 | its foggy notions, and he delighted in hearing Augusta air her ideas in meetings; in watching the rich blood mantling and playing under the transparent skin; and in listening to the modulated tones of the vibrant voice. Augusta was his style of woman. The thought of her force of character made him throw back his shoulders that Wednesday evening as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935768 | they neared the church door. Few members had gathered for the hour was early. Deacon Hall nodded pleasantly to Bill Hopkins, and a broad smile parted the latter's lips, giving his square face a softer, more genial expression. Bill calmly took his seat on the left side of the room; crossed his legs, placed his fingers about the white wart, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935769 | and then sat looking thoughtfully out of the window into the lighted street. For the first time in many months Bill Hopkins was in his chair at the weekly prayer meeting. His one idea in being present was to witness the Dominie's success in keeping the women in their places. He had had conscientious scruples about remaining in a church, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935770 | which, in spite of the fact that its tenets forbade its females to rise and voice either prayers or opinions before the males, countenanced this very abuse. Bill Hopkins had no objection to women in their places--in fact, he enjoyed the company of a pretty woman--but it was not her place to try and teach him. Hopkins had the overwhelming | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935771 | idea of the physical and moral superiority of men, while, as far as intellectuality was concerned, women were leagues and leagues behind. Many a warm argument had been held between Bill and the pretty Mrs. Hall, and as this lady came into the chapel she saw the former elder seated in his old chair, the familiar wart shining high and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935772 | white on the bald pate. She tilted her pretty chin an instant before inclining her head, then to the amazement of those present, she parted from her husband in the middle aisle, marching to the right, her amiable deacon taking the left. Bill Hopkins smiled inwardly as the thought flashed over him that there must have been a secret female | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935773 | conclave among the strong-minded women as well as among the men during the past week. The same idea occurred to the minister's mind as he saw his members separate in the middle aisle. He drew his brow into a pucker which furrowed the flesh between his brows. Mrs. Graves was seated at the rear of the room to the right, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935774 | her eyes upon an open n her hand. She did not raise them as her husband took his chair behind the small pulpit table upon which lay a huge Bible marked by a dangling blue ribbon. The clergyman bent his head a few moments in secret prayer, drew the book toward him, opened it, found his text and placed the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935775 | marker carefully between the pages. He coughed slightly and with an extra effort raised his eyes to his congregation. This is what he saw: The middle aisle divided almost every woman from her husband; only here and there had a timid wife with lowered eyes followed her lord and master to the left. Dominie Graves caught a peculiar gleam in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935776 | the eye of Augusta Hall and followed the line of her vision which was leveled at Bill Hopkins. There was no enmity in the latter's mien, but Dominie Graves knew that when the elderly deacon toyed with the white wart his nerves were vastly disturbed. For an instant the thought traveled through the clergyman's brain, that if Tessibel Skinner could | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935777 | work with her magic words on the dull protrusion upon Hopkins's glistening head the former deacon would lose his favorite occupation. He looked doubtfully down upon his own hands and remembered the warts which Tessibel had whispered away. Then, trying to drive all thoughts of the fisher-girl and her squatter father from his mind, the minister rose to his feet. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935778 | Frederick Graves had been watching his father intently and as he saw his effort to rise the boy whitened a little and settled back. Just growing into manhood and beginning to think for himself, the lad blushed with shame at the state of affairs that rose before his eyes this night. He threw a sidelong glance at Hopkins and met | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935779 | a dejected expression from the eyes of his mother. She looked so tired, so humiliated, that a bitter rebellious feeling arose in Frederick's heart against his father. Then his mind wandered again from the church to Tessibel Skinner in her shanty home. The quick look she had given him in the court-room had impressed him as nothing else could. He | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935780 | saw again the bright head thrown back in eager appeal and the shining eyes filled with pain. How he wished that his own faith in the Infinite had a touch of the strength which made that of Tessibel stand alone by itself! Little did Frederick realize or know that the intensity of the fishermaid, the wonderful faith and trust she | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935781 | had exhibited in her time of trial and trouble, had come to her from him. Every prayer Tessibel had uttered, every devout wish of her heart for Daddy Skinner, had been vaguely centered about the student. Her love for the Christ of whom she had heard so little was based upon the power of attraction that Frederick Graves held for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935782 | her. Twice had he, unobserved, seen Tessibel through the hut window; and the picture of the tired little figure with its drooping prayerful attitude came back with a force that brought a great lump into his throat, invigorating his desire to raise the standard of his own love for God's words and promises. His father's eloquent voice brought him back | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935783 | to the present and, as his eyes fell upon Hopkins, he saw the nervous fingers twiddling the great white wart and a smile forced itself to his lips. Then he dragged his truant mind from outside subjects and concentrated his attention upon the pulpit. "In accordance with the creed of the church," the clergyman was saying, "and of the laws | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935784 | under which our beloved congregation holds together, I speak. It is with love for all I adjure you this night. When I say that the subject of my talk will be upon duty you will not be surprised, for you, one and all, know what I mean. I shall ask the sisters in the church not to rise again to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935785 | speak. If they desire church work there are the poor, the blind, and always the needy. By needy I mean those desiring the faith of God and yet being unable to grasp it without help. To the dear sisters of the congregation I commend all these." He made no allusion to the division of the men and women, nor to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935786 | the sermon of the past Sunday. After the hymn he sat down, bowing his handsome dark head quietly, and remaining mute in the dismal silence that followed. Suddenly an elderly woman with a meek face struggled to her feet, glancing toward Augusta Hall for an encouraging smile. Several trimmed hats however loomed up between her and the deacon's wife, so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935787 | still standing she lowered her eyes and began to pray. Simultaneously with hers a masculine voice broke through the air mingling with the weak petition of the woman. Frederick Graves lifted his head quickly--the trend of war cutting through his mind like a knife. It had evidently been planned before the meeting just how severely the women were to be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935788 | dealt with, for Frederick noted that his father's eyes did not raise from his reverent position at the unusual happening. As the man's voice grew louder, importunately seeking guidance in this unhappy church affair, the woman closed her lips and fell backward upon the seat crying weakly. The masculine voice rose higher and clearer and finished the petition with ringing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935789 | clarity. Another embarrassing silence out of which came scarcely a breath. Augusta Hall caught a glimpse of the piercing blue eyes peering from under the shaggy brows of Bill Hopkins. The deacon was watching her, and Augusta knew that he exulted as one woman after another was driven to her chair by the masculine voice of her shouting opponent. So | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935790 | far the men held the day. This was demonstrated to Augusta Hall and Bill Hopkins by the undertoned sobs that continually emerged from behind the numerous white handkerchiefs. So dense was the quietude of the painful meeting that Frederick Graves could plainly hear the thumping of his own heart. Suddenly Augusta with a slight cough and a rustle of her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935791 | fine skirts rose to her feet. She started to speak reverently in a low tone. It was the usual petition that blessing should descend upon the missions, the sewing circle and the children's work--and here her voice wavered a little, for a man's bass voice joined in with her own. It was that of the deacon who carried the offering | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935792 | plate each Sunday morning, opposite her husband. On and on both man and woman shouted their words with strength and rapidity upon their hearers' ears. The Deacon's voice lifted and fell with the power of an orator. Augusta strained forth her tones high and clear. Minute after minute until fifteen had passed was the oratorical word display of each pitted | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935793 | against the other. Dominie Graves' fingers were twitching nervously beside his well-shaped nose. Bill Hopkins still twiddling his wart had drawn himself to a straighter position, and was listening with all intentness. The pallor of Deacon Hall's face deepened as Augusta talked on and on until all thought of prayer had left her mind, and her words shaped themselves into | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935794 | a discourse. She was holding the floor against the church official, whose brow was now running with the sweat of his embarrassment--his voice had become fainter and his words fewer and less well chosen. Augusta's voice, on the contrary, rang clearly through the room, a prepared speech upon the aptitude of women and their field of labor. Her husband was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935795 | watching her intently--and thought how beautiful she looked as the blood mantled to her white forehead, descending and rising as her thoughts took turn after turn. The unfortunate deacon was mumbling forth a few ill-connected sentences. At last with a groan he sank to his seat and placed a handkerchief to his fevered brow. Presently Augusta sat down and there | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935796 | was again an awful silence. No one advanced another petition and Dominie Graves pronounced a halting benediction. The congregation rose hastily and hurried toward the doors, with no desire for further discussion. Bill Hopkins leaned back against the outer door and as Mrs. Hall passed him he grasped her hand. "You had nerve," said he, "I'm not saying it's the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935797 | right kind ... but it's nerve just the same, and, well, I do believe that you women have gained the day in this church." Augusta, leaning on her husband's arm, looked down meekly from a pair of wicked twinkling eyes--she could be a sweet clinging creature if she wished, and this was her special charm to Deacon Hall. Suddenly she | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935798 | raised her gaze and looked winningly into Bill Hopkin's face. "I suppose you won't give me the money I asked you for, to aid Skinner," she said slowly. "I'll send you the check to-morrow morning," and Bill Hopkins' big shoulders disappeared through the open door. * * * * * "It frightened me at first," exclaimed Deacon Hall to his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012935799 | wife afterward, "but, as your voice went up and up, I knew my little woman would win, God bless her." "And we'll win about poor Skinner too," rejoined Augusta. "Every man and woman so far has agreed to help a little, and I don't want you to try to drive the squatters from our lake property." Here her words were | 60 | gutenberg |
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