The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1923-12-06
CHAPTER ll-continued.

mercy! hut you're a hard man t
herd. Don't y'u know you're goin'
home with us Z supperT"
First | heard of H." the woodsman
drawled, shifting his shoulder against
the post.
The girl glanced at the preacher
standing at the edge of the road,
jerked her head ever so slightly toward
him-a motion so elusive that ii would
have escaped anybody else but Jack
Warhope-and lowered her voice to a
whisper:
"WeIl git I'm Z 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 oat NUT
tered a 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 ard,
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 as he
came up the walk with the others. The
old banker presented him.
$50 glad to have you come, Brother
Hopkins. II has been so dreadfully
lonesome since"
The mild old eyes foated full of
tears. The preacher seemed not to
notice.
n saw your husbands obituary In
one Of the church papers"
The widow dabbed at her eyes with
q black-bordered handkerchief; the
preacher. In his he~sitating, jerky way,
went on.
IL 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 filled. |
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,
! had heard much about Buckeye and
the Flatwoods from a-ah-classmate
Of mine while a student In the college
In which ] nov 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 a 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 g long
over with us Z supper"
With the fine courtesy Of one trained
TO the parsonage, she excused herself ;
the old banker went on:
Il blieve you said he was T. have
the use Of the study"
The Widow Mason was only too well
used to the crisp curt ways OF Simon
Colin. She turned to the young
preacher.
Brother Hopkins. I don't want you
ITO feel that you are to have merely
the study. My home Is your home.
Please feel free to use all OF 1t 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 II he owned the place
which, In reality. he did.
The study. With It's writing desk and
leather easy chair. with its shelves
and shelves Of books. showed that its
late owner had been a man of studi-
U habits and apparently scholarly at
tainments.
An immense apple-tree grew by the
east window, thrusting It's stout
branches so close as almost to brush
the panes- Through It's opening bios
SONS and half sprung leaves enough
Uf the day remained to catch a view
Of the old bankers two or three acres
of park-iike orchard that lay between
the parsonage and the red-roofed cot
fage.
The young preacher stood Mt the
window and gnzed out over the or
chara. aromatic with promise, green
with its thick NIT of blue grass. white
W -