The Challis messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1912-current, 1923-12-12
CHAPTER iI-Continued.

Mercy but you're hard man {
herd. Dsut y'u know you're goin'
home with Us T. supperT
First 1 heard of It," the woodsman
drawled, shifting his shoulder against
the post.
The girl glanced at the preacher
standing at the edge of the road,
him-a motion so elusive that 1t would
have escaped anybody else but Jack
Warhope-and lowered her voice to a
whisper:
"We'll git i'm t tell US about-Ken."
She turned away. The shoulders
left the porch post, and the man fol-
lowed.
The old banker was holding out his
hand for the letters. He glanced them
over, grunted, thrust them unopened
into the pocket Of his faded coat; NUT
tered q word, drew them forth again,
sorted out one, stared hard at the adj
dress and postmark and then, with a
half petulant grimace, knocked the
bunch of letters together, crammed
them back into his pocket again and,
followed by the others, trudged away
up the road.
The venerable widow. like the rest
of the village. must have been on the
lookout for the new preacher, for she
was at the door to meet him az he
came up the walk with the others. The
old banker presented him.
$50 glad to have you come, Brother
Hopkins 1t has been so dreadfully
lonesome since"
The mild old eyes floated full of
tears. The preacher seemed not to
notice.
81 saw your husbands obituary in
one of the church papers,"
The widow dabbed atrher eyes with
4 black-bordered handkerchief; the
preacher, in his hesitating, jerky way,
went on.
II Immediately wrote to Mr.. Colin
Offering to come on a-ah-sort of va
cation trip and serve the congregation
until the vacancy could be filed. 1
was the more attracted to the thought
Of coming because my health had
given way under the dual strain of
preaching and teaching. And then. too,
l had heard much about Buckeye and
the Flatwoods from a-ah-classmate
of mine while student in the college
In which / now have the honor TO hold
q professorship."
The banker frowned thoughtfully;
Texie glanced at Jack.
Evening shadows were gathering
thick In the corners Of the room. The
old man. becoming aware OF them,
glanced about him and turned to the
widow.
well, Sister Mason, II you don't
mind, I'll jist show Brother Hopkins
the study. and then you better & long
over with US I supper"
With the fine courtesy Of one trained
to the parsonage, she excused herself;
the old banker went on:
II blieve you said he was T have
the use of the study?"
The Widow Mason was only too we'll
used to the crisp curt ways Of Simon
Colin. She turned to the young
preacher.
Brother Hopkins, l don't want you
10 feel that you are TO have merely |
the study. My home is your home. |
Please feel free to use all of it or any |
part of It."
The young preacher bowed very low, |
and turned to the banker. who led the |
way up the stairs with as much au-
thority as If he owned the place
which. in reality, he did.
The study, with Its writing desk and /
leather easy chair, with Its shelves
md shelves Of books, showed that its
ate owner had been q man OF studi-
BUS habits and apparently scholarly at
ailments.
An immense appletree grew by the
,sst window, thrusting its stout
branches 20 close as almost to brush
he panes. Through its opening bios
IONS and half sprung leaves enough
# the day remained to catch a view
Il the old bankers two or three acres
II park-like orchard that lay between
he parsonage and the red-roofed cot
age.
The young preacher stood at the
window and gazed out over the or
hard, aromatic with promise, green
With its thick mat Of bluegrass. white
lnder the trees where the blossoms
moved down
The banker slapped him on the
He must have been deeply
in the spell Of the place, with
Is quiet and repose, for he started and
aughed nervously.
IL must have been dreaming"
Tho old man tossed hand toward
be window.