MOSTLY CONCERNING GRATITUDE
Finally Colonel Lawton turned toward Frederik. He was now sitting
astride his chair and puffing violently at his cigar.
"Is _this_ what you hauled us out in the rain for?" he snarled.
Mrs. Batholommey, all unheeding, went on with her own train of thought.
"I see it all now," she whimpered. "He only gave to the church to show
off!"
"Rose!" her husband cried, aghast. "I myself am disappointed, but----"
"_He did!_" interrupted Mrs. Batholommey in tears of wrath. "Oh, why
didn't he continue his work? He was not generous. He was a hard,
uncharitable, selfish old man."
"Rose, my dear!" remonstrated Mr. Batholommey. "Think what you are
saying!"
"He was! If he were here, I'd say it to his face. The congregation
sicked _you_ after him. And now he's gone and you'll get nothing more.
And they'll call you slow--slow and pokey! You'll see! To-morrow you'll
wake up!"
"My dear!" expostulated her husband once more.
But Mrs. Batholommey paid no attention to his words or to the beseeching
look that accompanied them. She waved an arm dramatically.
"Here's a man the rector spent half his time with--and for what? A watch
fob!"
The ineffable scorn with which she pronounced these last words caused
Mr. Batholommey to hang his head.
"You'll see!" she went on. "This will be the end of you! It's not what
you preach that counts nowadays. It's what you coax out of the rich
parishioners' pockets."
"Mrs. Batholommey!" thundered the clergyman, taking a step forward; but
he might as well have tried to stem the ocean.
"The church needs funds to-day. Religion doesn't stand where it did,
when a college professor is saying that--that--"--(here her voice
broke)--"the Star of Bethlehem was only a comet."
The end of the sentence resolved itself into a veritable wail and she
sat down quickly and subsided into her handkerchief.
"My dear!" reiterated the helpless husband.
"Oh!" she wailed through her tears, "if I said all the things I feel
like saying about Peter Grimm"--(here it almost sounded as if she ground
her teeth)--"well--I shouldn't be a fit clergyman's wife. Not to leave
his dear friends a----"
Again her voice was muffled in the folds of the handkerchief, and
Colonel Lawton took advantage of the temporary lull to put in a word.
"He wasn't _liberal_," he said, rising, "but for God's sake, Madam,
think what he ought to have done for _me_ after my patiently listening
to his plans for twenty years! Mind, I'm not complaining, but what have
I got out of it? A Bible!"
"Oh, you've feathered _your_ nest, Colonel!" cried Mrs. Batholommey,
recovering somewhat.
"I never came here," retorted Colonel Lawton spitefully, "that _you_
weren't begging!"
"See here, Lawton," the clergyman interrupted truculently, "don't forget
who you are speaking to!"
Colonel Lawton waved his hand patronisingly at the clergyman.
"That's all right, Parson. I know who I'm speaking to. We're all in the
same boat--one's as good as another--when we're all up against a thing
like this. If anything, you two are worse than I am, for you stand for
better things. What would your congregation think of either of you if
they could look into your hearts this moment and see 'em as they
_really_ are?"
"Really are--really are!" cried Mrs. Batholommey. "I'm not ashamed to
have any one see my heart as it really is!"
(And Mrs. Batholommey was telling the truth, for she was a good woman at
heart, and it was not her fault that she had a human desire for this
world's goods for those she loved, for the church, and for herself.)
Here Frederik, who had watched the scene with much amusement at first,
came forward through the increasing gloom. He was getting tired of the
childish bickering.
"Well, well, well, I'm disgusted," he said, "when I see such
heartlessness! He was putty in all your hands."
"Oh, you can defend his memory. _You_ got the money!" cried Mrs.
Batholommey, with asperity. "He liked flattery and you gave him what he
wanted and you gave him plenty of it."
"Why not?" retorted Frederik calmly, getting a cigarette out of his
case. "The rest of you were at the same thing--yes?"
He struck a match and lighted his cigarette as he continued in a
disagreeable tone:
"And I had the pleasure of watching him hand out the money that belonged
to me--to _me_," he repeated. "My money! What business had he to be
generous with my money?"
Still talking, Frederik sat down at the desk.
"If he'd lived much longer, I'd have been a pauper. It's a lucky thing
for me he di----"
Frederik had the grace to leave the word unfinished.
Mr. Batholommey broke the slight pause.
"Young man," he said solemnly, "it might have been better if Mr. Grimm
had given _all_ he had to charity--for he left his money to an ingrate."
The "ingrate" laughed derisively.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" he cried. "You amuse one! You don't know how amusing you
are."
No one cared to add further to Frederik's amusement, so they all sat
still. The room was now perfectly dark, except for an occasional flash
of heat-lightning from the vanished storm.
Night had crept upon them unheeded, so intent had they been on their
petty wrangling.
Finally Mrs. Batholommey got up and went towards the desk.
"Where is the miniature?" she demanded. "I don't want it--but I'll take
it."
Frederik lighted a match, and by its flickering blaze found the
discarded miniature lying face downward on the desk. Mrs. Batholommey
snatched it from his fingers, and made her way back to the fireplace.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Frederik again.
"Rose, my dear," began Mr. Batholommey, "the min----"
"Sh!" interrupted Frederik.
There was a pause. Then he rose.
"Who came into the room?" he asked in a strange voice.
He lit a match and waved it slowly in the direction of the hall door. It
was extinguished instantly as if the wind had blown it out. He lighted
another, saying:
"We're sitting in the darkness like owls. Who came in?" he demanded
again.
There was no answer as he peered around the room, holding the match
toward first one corner and then another.
"I didn't hear any one," said the Colonel.
"Nor I," added Mrs. Batholommey.
"No," said Mr. Batholommey.
"I was _sure_ some one came in," Frederik said in a strange voice.
"You must have imagined it," suggested Mr. Batholommey. "Our nerves are
all upset."
"I'll get a light," Frederik said, starting toward the dining-room.
At that moment, Marta entered with the welcome lamps. She carried two of
them, one already lighted, which she put upon the table. The other
Frederik took quickly from her and carried to the chain-bracket over the
desk. This he adjusted with Marta's help, and then lighted.
After which he glanced apprehensively about the room once more. Even
under the reassuring flood of light his impression that some one had
stolen in upon the dim-lit conference would not wholly vanish.