The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1908-10-10
IN THE PEW BY THE DOOR.
BY EDITH coPEMAN HALsEY.

''I've only minute to stay," Mrs.
Morris announced, settling herself in
comfortable chair in the farmhouse
kitchen. ''I stopped for your mail,
but they said it was too late.'
Mrs. Headley nodded toward let
ter beside her. She never talked
much when Mrs. Morris dropped in.
She never needed to.
"About David?" questioned her
guest.
From David" was the answer.
"Well," responded Mrs. Morris,
CDR. Wilson was sayin' last night
that it was just wonderful. his bein'
called to that big church. hear he
went there to preach for 'em when
their minister was goin' to leave, an
some of the big bugs made up their
minds they'd have him and nobody
else. Lands When think of the
way you f00A sfietliSipisco-iltstc 0siDy
an brought him up, an you widow
an no kin at all, an how you've sold
most half of this little farm to edu-
cate him My! Ihope you'll geta
little gratitude for it, an some re-
ward !"
"David is my reward" quietly an
swered her hostess.
ooh, yes, of course" Then after
a pause, the salary's awful big"
cit seems to me, /" was the reply.
"Well," with little look of dis
appointment, II must get along. I
suppose you'll go up with DR.. Wilson
to hear him preach his first sermon as
pastor 7"
Then the old face opposite flushed
a little.
"Oh, no! It's so far and there
will be so many people there, I sup
pose oh, no, I couldn't CO."
Mrs. Morris considered a moment.
"Well, dom t know. Ishould think
you'd want to see how he looks among
all the high flyers. Of course, it costs
lot to go so far, and with a quick
glance at the little figure before herr
you mightn't feel real easy among
'em. Well, goodbye. Anyway,
faint as if he was your own"
Then she was gone and the sensi
tive soul was left with the sting, and
the wound, and the pain.
He wasn't her own He wasn't
her own Oh, the sharp, keen pain
it brought her. She "mightn't feel
easy among 'em." She knew that,
but why did we'll meaning Mrs. Nor
ris say it? She did not belong to the
great world out there-David did |!
She, if she went to be present at that
wonderful service, would hardly know
how to act, unless-and she almost
held her breath-unless she might
slip in a rear seat where no one would
notice her at all.
She picked up David's letter again !;
she had read every word of 1t four
times that day. 1t said "You must
come. DR.. Wilson will take care of
you on the train, and then will take
care of you p Much more there was
in the long letter. ''It doesn't sound
as if he"-and the thought sprang
out at last-"feels ashamed of the
country mother. David would do
his duty, anyway, and maybe I want
too much" The tears rained over
her face, but presently she lifted her
head and asked herself what they had
been for. Hadn't David always loved
her? Hadn't he always been kind
and good and attentive to her?
But down in her heart she knew
that only David himself in some way
could remove that haunting fear.
"He's no call to be so very grateful, I"
she said in loving excuse. "I'm a
selfish, exacting old woman, that's
what am, shedding tears when I'd
much better be thanking the Lord
that my boys able to preach |" So
she rose above the worry, stilled the
voice in her heart that whispered,
"He isn't your own, he isn't like
you," wrapped about her the mantle
of unselishness that she had always
worn, and wrote David that she guess
ed she'd better not come.
But because of the great 1ovein her
heart, and because DR.. Wilson insist
ed, it came about that the mistress ol
the little farmhouse took the long
Journey, and found herself one of
many who were entering a church
that seemed to her stately and beau.
! tiful beyond the telling.