"Oh no, no! Sit down! It's all right. The old man's a little acid at me.
He doesn't mean it."
Stacey got his coat and hat. His heart was swollen with indignation. He
felt as if something fine were lost to him, and the land outside was so
desolate!
Mrs. Allen was in tears; but the old man, having taken his stand, was
going to keep it.
Herman lost his temper a little. "Well, Dad, you're a little the
cussedest Christian I ever knew! Stacey, sit down. Don't you be a fool
just because he is--"
Stacey was buttoning his coat with trembling hands when Martha went up
to him.
"Don't go," she said. "Father's sick and cross. He'll be sorry for this
to-morrow."
Wallace looked into her frank, kindly eyes, and hesitated.
Herman said: "Dad, you are a lovely follower of Christ! You'll apologize
for this, or I'll never set foot on your threshold again."
Stacey still hesitated. He was hurt and angry, but being naturally of a
sweet and gentle nature, he grew sad, and, yielding to the pressure of
the girl's hand on his arm, he began to unbutton his overcoat.
She helped him with it, and hung it back on the nail, and her mother and
Herman tried to restore something of the brightness which had been lost;
but Allen sat grimly eating, his chin pushed down like a hog's snout.
After supper, as his father was about retiring to his bedroom, Herman
fixed his bright eyes on him, and something very hard and masterful came
into his face.
"Old man, you and I haven't had a settlement on this thing yet. I'll see
you later."
Allen shrank before his son's look, but shuffled sullenly off without
uttering a word.
Herman turned to Wallace. "Stacey, I want to beg your pardon for getting
you into this scrape. I didn't suppose the old gentleman would act like
that. The older he gets, the more his New Hampshire granite shows. I
hope you won't lay it up against me."
Wallace was too conscientious to say he didn't mind it, but he took
Herman's hand in a quick clasp.
"Let's have a song," proposed Herman. "Music hath charms to soothe the
savage breast, to charm a rock, and split a cabbage."
They went into the best room, where a fire was blazing, and Mattie and
Herman sang hymns and old-fashioned love-songs and college glees
wonderfully intermingled. They ended with _Lorena_, a wailing, extra
sentimental love-song current in war times, and when they looked around
there was a lofty look on the face of the young preacher--a look of
exaltation, of consecration and resolve.