Then she opened her poor foolish heart to him. And David was so
touched and interested that he could hardly wait to get home to pour it
all into Ellen's ears. Ellen was very sympathetic, and made haste to
ask Mrs. Smily to tea; and when she came was as kind and pitiful as
only dear, kind Ellen could be. But perhaps she took Mrs. Smily's
griefs a little less to heart than she might have done had she heard
the tale a month before. Just then she was in the whirl of Old Chester
hospitality; she was asked out three times in one week to meet the
Supply!--and by that time the Supply had reached the point of hoping
that he was going to meet Miss Ellen.
Yet, as Mr. Spangler reflected, this was hardly prudent on his part.
"For I might become interested," he said to himself, and frowned and
sighed. Now, as everybody knows, the outcome of "interest" is only
justified by a reasonable affluence. "And," Augustus Spangler reminded
himself, "my circumstances are not affluent." Indeed, that warm,
pleasant old house in Mercer, and Mary Ann, and his books, and those
buttoned-up coats needed every penny of his tiny income. "Therefore,"
said Mr. Spangler, "it is my duty to put this out of my head with an
iron hand." But, all the same, Ellen Baily was like a spray of
heliotrope.
For a week, the second week in April, while Old Chester softened into a
mist of green, and the crown-imperials shook their clean, bitter
fragrance over the bare beds in the gardens--for that week Mr. Spangler
thought often of his income, but oftener of Miss Ellen. Reason and
sentiment wrestled together in his lazy but affectionate heart; and
then, with a mighty effort, sentiment conquered....
"It seems," said Mr. Spangler, nervously, "a little premature, but my
sojourn in Old Chester is drawing to a close; I shall not tarry more
than another fortnight; so I felt, my dear friend, that I must, before
seeking other fields of usefulness, tell you what was in my mind--or
may I say heart?"
"You are very kind," Ellen Baily said, breathlessly.
.... Mr. Spangler had invited Miss Ellen to walk with him on Saturday
afternoon at four. Now, as everybody knows in Old Chester, when a
gentleman invites you to walk out with him, you had better make up your
mind whether it is to be "yes" or "no" before you start. As for poor
Ellen, she did not have to make up her mind; it was made up for her by
unconquerable circumstances. If she should "seek other fields of
usefulness," she could not take David with her. It was equally clear
that she could not leave him behind her. Where would he find his
occasional new coat, or even the hat with the blue band, if there were
no school in the basement? Compared to love-making and romance, how
sordid are questions about coats! Yet, before starting on that
Saturday-afternoon walk, poor, pretty Miss Ellen, tying the strings of
her many-times retrimmed bonnet under her quivering chin, asked them,
and could find no answer except that if he should "say anything," why,
then, she must say "no"; but, of course, he wasn't going to say
anything. So she tied her washed and ironed brown ribbons into a neat
bow, and started down the street with the Reverend Mr. Spangler.
David Baily, watching them from the gate, ruminated over obvious
possibilities. Mrs. Barkley had opened his eyes to the fact that Mr.
Spangler "was taking notice," and David was not without a certain
family pride in a ministerial proposal. "He'll do it this afternoon,"
said David; and went pottering back into the empty school-room to mend
a bench that Ellen told him needed a nail or two. But the room was
still and sunny, and Ellen's chair was comfortable; and sitting there
to think about the bench, he nodded once or twice, and then dozed for
an hour. When he awoke it seemed best to mend the bench the next day;
then, yawning, and staring vacantly out of the window, he saw Mrs.
Smily, and it seemed only friendly to go out and tell her
(confidentially) what was going to happen.
"It will make quite a difference to you, won't it?" Mrs. Smily said.
"Oh," David said, blankly, "that hadn't occurred to me. However," he
added, with a little sigh, "my sister's happiness is my first thought."
Mrs. Smily clasped her hands. "Mr. Baily, I do think you are real
noble!" she said.