The Democrat-sentinel. [volume] (Logan, Ohio) 1906-1935, 1906-06-21
FOR THE SAKE
OF DAVID.
BY GRACE TERRY.


you are out a great deal Of lGte
don't approve of boys of youl
,, age being out evenings; it leads
. to bad company, and bad compan!
: leads to all kinds of badness.
hope you don't spend your time al
, the tavernW
"Son David" a broad-shoul
: dered six-footer, smiled little
and colored a good deal, at these
words, which were delivered with
a precision and solemnity of look
and tone that made them dOubly
impressive.
"There's no occasion for alarm,
father; keep very good company
And as for the tavern, | haven't
set foot in it for six months or
more"
About the usual hour David laid
aside his book, and, putting on a
clean collar, and a linen coat, fresh
! from the hands of Aunt Betsy,
sauntered down toward the vii.
lage. This had been his custom
for several weeks past, and the
old deacon shook his head with Il
perplexed and somewhat troubled
air.
81 suppose the lad finds it rath-
er dull here" he mused; "the house
is lonely"
And, as he recalled the light OF
a certain bright eye and sunny
smile, what he had thought of do
ing "for the sake of David" seemed
a not unpleasant thing to do for his
own.
81 thing I'll go and consult Par
son DunlOw," thought the deacon,
who, like the generality of man
kind, having fully made up his
mind on the subject, determined
to seek advice, not for the pur
pose of gaining any additional
light, but to strengthen and con-
firm his own opinions.
The worthy deacon bestowed
quite as much time upon his toi
let before leaving the house as
did "Son David" And if glimpse
of the sprinkling of gray hair that
he brushed so carefully away from
his temples made him some what
doubtful as to the result of his
mission, it was but for moment.
Ought not any woman to be
proud of the honor of becoming
Mrs. Deacon Quimby, wife of one
of the most wealthy and infuen-
tial citizens of the place, even
though his hair might be a little
frosty and his form not SO erect
as when he departed on the self
same errand 80 years before.
In the weekly prayer-meetings,
of which he took the lead, the
deacon often called himself "the
chief of Sinners" San Improbable
servant" and the like, cOnfessing
and bewailing the depravity of his (
heart. But, like great many
other self-styled "miserable sin s
ers," he had tolerably good opin- t
ion OF himself, after all, making [
the confession with an air that /
seemed to say: "If |, Deacon
Quimby, pillar of the church, C
and a shining example to you v
all, can say this, what must be d
the condition Of the majority of '
those around me?" d
He found Parson Dunlow in his h
tudy, hard at work upon his next
Sunday discourse. But he was e
ised to interruptions, and had o
sincere liking for the worthy b
ieacon, who was his right hand e
nan in every good work; SO, lay, "
ng down his pen, he shook him q
'armly by the hand and bade him Il
Ne seated. Il
But somehow the deacon found
tdifiicult to get out what he came W
o say-the words seemed to stick ia
n his throat. But at last he ST
managed to stammer:
IL have called, parson, to- Iii
see you about my son, David, IN
hose conduct has OccasiOned me I'll
good deal of uneasiness OF late."
"You surprise me, Brother Quin. 81
y; | consider him to be an un. ne
sually slieady and exemplary
oung man." an
HE has been, parson, very he
-eady, indeed-at home every bl
'ening, busy with his book or de
aper. But now he's out most pr
'ery night, and sometimes don't
turn till quite late" gr
A faint smile fiiekered around fol
arson Dunlow's mouth, but il Da
as unebseryed by the deacon, hiI
hO resumed; CHI