end of the Hamilton pew she could not resist giving Maggie a nudge when
the handsome young man's eyes travelled in their direction, a nudge so
pregnant of meaning that Maggie giggled and transferred the same to
Sarah, whence it passed down the long row, setting ribbons and flowers
quivering, all to the extreme disapproval of Mrs. Fraser, who was not
too much occupied with the new minister to overlook any of the
misdemeanours of the Hamilton pew.
John Hamilton, himself, was in a state of dazed joy and quite oblivious
of his daughters. Any sort of a minister was an object of reverent
delight to the pious old man, but this one was so much better than he
had ever dreamed, that he looked at him with something akin to awe.
Andrew Johnstone sat at the end of his pew as straight and forbidding
as ever, but the gleam of his eyes, from underneath his bristling
brows, showed that his spirit was rejoicing.
Back in the last row, the young men of the church sat regarding the new
minister with approval and some envy. Syl Todd, who did not follow
after his parents' form of religion, but went now to the Presbyterian
Church and now to the Methodist, with impartial irregularity,
emphatically declared Mr. Egerton the most stylish looking fellow he
had seen since he left the States, and during the sermon silently
registered a vow that he would part his hair in the middle, too, just
as soon as he got home.
Peter McNabb's voice seemed charged with the universal rejoicing. Not
since he had missed Mr. Cameron behind him had the precentor let his
notes roll out so tumultuously glorious as when he led the first psalm,
"Oh come let us sing to the Lord,
Come let us everyone
A joyful noise make to the Rock
Of our Salvation!"
But of all the happy hearts in that congregation, there was none like
Duncan Polite's. He looked up at the young divine standing, like Saul,
head and shoulders above the people, and there came to his mind the
words spoken by the Lord to Samuel, "Behold the man whom I spoke to
thee of!" This was the man of promise, the man of his dreams.
The very air of the church seemed electric as the young minister opened
the Bible and began his sermon. The earnest for the future contained
in the text thrilled Duncan's soul, "For I am determined to know
nothing among you, save Jesus Christ and him crucified." "Nothing but
Jesus Christ and him crucified!" Duncan Polite repeated the words to
himself again and again. Ah, what a transformation was coming over his
glen, what a glorious fulfilment of his covenant--"Nothing but Jesus
Christ!"
The discourse surpassed even their expectations. It was a fine sermon,
sound enough in doctrine to suit the ruling elder and brilliant enough
in delivery to keep Syl Todd awake. Indeed, Miss Cotton declared
afterwards that it was the cleverest sermon she ever listened to, for
she didn't understand more than half of it.
But Glenoro's literary attainments were not represented by Eliza
Cotton. The bulk of the congregation carried the sermon to their homes
to discuss it until another one came, and Duncan and Andrew stood so
long at the former's gate, going carefully over it point by point, that
they forgot time and place and were almost late for Sabbath school.
After the service the congregation pressed about their new pastor,
welcoming him with hearty handshakes. He went down the aisle in his
free, kindly manner, grasping the outstretched hands, and almost
overcome by the tearful greeting from the old people. His own eyes
were moist when at last he was able to get away and out into the
street. The people stood crowding the steps to watch him pass up the
hill accompanied by the precentor. Mrs. McNabb had been a school
teacher in her younger days, and on account of this distinction the
McNabb household was the recognised stopping place for any genteel
visitor in the Glen. Consequently, they had the honour of boarding the
minister, and, as he walked out of the gate and up the road, the McNabb
family moved reverently in his wake, resplendent in his reflected glory.
For the next two days after that happy Sabbath, Duncan Polite moved
about in a radiant dream. He was waiting in childlike faith for the
blessings which were to descend. His whole thought was turned upon
Donald. Here was the man to influence him and bring him to a sense of
the great work awaiting his efforts. He was sitting at his door one
evening a few days after the new minister's advent, looking down into
his glen. His hopes for the valley had never been so high. The little
ravine lay in purple shadow, but on the crest of the opposite hill he
saw one tall pine standing up erect and grand and all ablaze where it
caught the last gleam of the dying sun, a pine tree with golden needles
like the one in the fairy tale. Duncan's heart, always in keen
sympathy with Nature, thrilled at the sight. It seemed to him the
bright promise of a new and greater day. He turned and saw Donald
coming up the path.
"Oh, and will you be going to the Glen?" he asked, making room for the
young man on the doorstep beside him.
"Yes, but I can't sit down, Uncle. Anything to look after?"
"Oh, no, it will be good of you to be always remembering the old man;
no, but--will you be seeing the minister, I wonder?"
"Yes, sure, I'm going to the Hamiltons'"--Donald essayed to make this
remark in a casual tone, as though this were not his almost daily
habit--"I'm going to the Hamiltons' and Archie said Mr. Egerton was to
be there to-night. They asked him down to meet some of the young
folks."
Duncan's face beamed. "Oh, indeed, and that would be a fine thing!" he
cried enthusiastically. He did not detain his nephew longer, for once
he was anxious to see the boy off for the village. Formerly, he had
suffered much anxiety because Donald and Sandy spent their evenings
hanging around the corner with a crowd of idlers, or at the Hamiltons',
where there was nothing but frivolity and gaiety, but now all this was
changed, for had not Mr. McAlpine returned to them? And was not the
Glen a place of blessing to any young person who entered it?
A few minutes after Donald had reached his destination, the young
minister passed out of Peter McNabb's gate on the slope of the north
hill and in company with the boys and girls of his boarding place, went
away down towards the Hamiltons'. He walked along buoyantly, filled
with admiration of the lovely little valley stretched at his feet.
Although the dusk was gathering, his movements were noted and commented
upon by everyone within seeing distance. The cane he carried came in
for special notice, opinion upon it varying from Syl Todd, who was
hurrying, oiled and perfumed, towards the Hamiltons' from the opposite
direction and who was overcome with envious admiration, to Mrs. Fraser,
who, from the post-office veranda, noted the implement of fashion with
some misgiving. Of course, it was all right for a minister to carry
one if he chose. He was too far above the rest of the community to be
judged by ordinary standards; but there was no denying that a slim cane
savoured of "pride," and might prove a stumbling-block to Donald Neil
and wee Andra and such wayward youths as were easily led astray.
Meanwhile, the object of all this interest had arrived at the gate
between the big oaks. The house was a blaze of light, notwithstanding
the early hour. Bars of pink lamp-light stretched out across the dusky
lawn and into the dark corners of the orchard. Someone was playing a
lively jig on the organ. There was a mingled sound of talking,
laughter, screams and hurrying feet, and all the usual evening hubbub
of this lively place.
The Hamilton family consisted of seven girls who were allowed more
clothes and liberty than was considered quite respectable in Glenoro
society. The Hamilton parents were not usually reckoned in speaking of
the household and were at best only accessory. Old John Hamilton lived
in a state of good-natured bewilderment when in the bosom of his lively
family. He spent the day at his flour mill down the river road and in
the evenings read his Bible and his weekly paper undisturbed and happy
amid all the rush and din. His wife was a bright little woman who,
having had a hard time in her own youth, felt there was some
compensation in allowing the girls to "have their fling," as she termed
it, until they "settled down."
As the minister approached, Mrs. Hamilton was standing at the gate
waiting to welcome him, Miss Cotton beside her. Being the village
dressmaker, Miss Cotton had the open sesame to every home in the
neighbourhood and held its occupants at the mercy of her sharp tongue
and needle. To-night she chose to bestow her company upon the
Hamiltons, determined to lose nothing of the excitement consequent upon
the new minister's introduction to society.
The big sitting-room, to which Mrs. Hamilton led her guest, was full of
young folks, the Frasers, the Duffys, the Baskervilles, the Balfs and a
crowd of McDonalds; college students, farmers and mill-hands, for
Glenoro knew no social lines.
But amid all the crowd, the stranger's eye picked out a girl at the
other end of the room. She was seated on the organ-stool playing, and
turned at the sudden silence announcing the minister's entrance. She
was dressed in a transparent white gown with a blue ribbon wound round
her slender throat; the lamp on the organ above shed a soft glow upon a
dainty head of clustering brown curls and a face of exquisite shape and
feature.
The newcomer took this all in with a glance, experiencing a sensation
of decided pleasure, but his attention was called by his hostess, who
proceeded to introduce him to the assembly. The laughing, chattering
groups broke up and all stood back against the wall, stiff and silent,
while Mrs. Hamilton triumphantly piloted her guest down the long rows.
He shook hands cordially with all and gave a pleasant word of
recognition to the few he had met before. The young men received him
with a hasty and somewhat limp handshake and an awkward "how d'ye do;"
the young women were more graceful, but quite as diffident, and all
were painfully respectful. But there was one young man who displayed
neither awkwardness nor shyness. He stood leaning easily against the
organ, but straightened himself as the minister approached and was thus
between him and the girl at the instrument.
"This is another Mr. McDonald," Mrs. Hamilton was saying for the fifth
time, adding the usual vague explanation, "Mr. Neil More, Donald Neil
More, you know, Mr. Egerton."
Mr. Egerton did not know, but he could not help feeling that this young
man was quite capable of distinguishing himself, even though he bore an
ambiguous name. He was tall enough to let his eyes look down just a
trifle as he shook hands, but perhaps that was because of the way he
held his head. He was friendly and kind; but the young minister,
accustomed to the adulation of rural friends, somehow missed the look
of deference from his fearless dark eyes and instinctively experienced
a slight feeling of constraint.
But the next introduction was an unmixed pleasure, when a pair of sweet
grey eyes were raised for an instant to his face and Mrs. Hamilton
said, unable to keep a tremor of pride from her voice, "And this is our
Jessie, Mr. Egerton."
He was sorry that she did not speak, but she gave him her hand with an
alluring shyness, and then he understood why the Hamiltons' was such a
centre of attraction.
The introductions were finished at last and the visitor found himself
anchored rather insecurely to a slippery haircloth sofa and seated
beside a small, youngish woman with a very haughty air, who, he
learned, was the schoolmaster's wife.
The buzz of talk had commenced again, though much subdued, and he was
at liberty to examine the company. They were four grown-up Hamilton
girls, he noticed, and three little ones. With the exception of the
beauty on the organ-stool, the young ladies were rather puzzling to a
stranger. They were all tall and fair and pretty, but the minister's
quick eye soon noted distinguishing characteristics. Bella, the eldest
and the one to whom the young Johnstone giant was paying such obvious
attentions, was the tallest and fairest. Sarah, the one with the
affected air of discontent, was the third in the quartette. He also
discovered afterwards that she was the cleverest and quite aware of the
fact, and the noisy rattle-brain who was up to some mischief in a
corner and to whom Mrs. Hamilton was making gesticulatory appeals, was
Maggie, the fourth girl.
But he was compelled to give his attention to his immediate neighbours;
with Mrs. Watson on one side and Miss Cotton on the other, he was soon
possessed of an exhaustive history of everyone present. Sarah Hamilton
went to the High School and was dreadful stuck up about it; Allan
Fraser, the pale young man talking to her, was studying medicine, and
young Donald Neil was going to be a minister. Both ladies agreed,
however, that Mr. Egerton would consider Donald's conduct anything but
clerical, though he was good to his mother, poor woman--a bad time she
had with those noisy rascals----
The steady flow of information was interrupted by the appearance of Mr.
Hamilton. He had been struggling with his coat and a clean collar ever
since the minister's arrival, and now came stumbling hurriedly into the
room.
"Eh, eh, good evening, Mr. Egerton," he cried heartily, "good evening,
sir, Ah'm jist that glad to see ye in the hoose, came awa into the
other room, come awa, man, an' we'll have a quiet word."
"Now, pa," protested Mrs. Hamilton, who had been hovering round her
guest, "don't take Mr. Egerton away out there!"
"Tuts, mother, Ah'll bring him back to the lassies, never fear!" he
cried, with ingenuous indiscretion. "Come awa, sir!"
The young man followed his host across the hall and into the dining
room. It was a big, rag-carpeted room; a large easy chair was set
beside the long table and a number of newspapers were strewn about.
The evening breeze blew in cool and sweet, setting the stiff, white
curtains swaying and bringing the refreshing scent of the river.
"No, jist ye set doon here, Mr. Egerton," said his host heartily, "an'
mind, as long's ye're in Glenoro, ye canna come too often! The lassies
cut up a bit dust in the room yonder, but there's always a quiet corner
here, an' me an' Mr. Watson here,--tuts, tuts, Ah was forgettin'--this
is Maister Watson, our schoolmaster, aye, aye!"
A small, slim, young man, with a dark, thin face and bristling hair
jumped briskly from the depths of an easy chair and grasped Mr.
Egerton's hand.
"Pleased to meet you, sir, pleased to meet you, I'm sure," he cried
effusively. "I've been most anxious to meet you, especially since
Sunday, sir. That sermon was the best I've ever heard in Ontario, sir;
yes, sir, the very best, patriotism, patriotism, from beginning to end!
That's the thing! That's what the country needs, sir!"
He pumped his auditor's hand up and down vigorously while he spoke,
then, at the end, flung it from him, stepped back a pace and, striking
an attitude, stood gazing up admiringly at the young minister.
John Egerton was decidedly surprised and a trifle disconcerted. He had
not considered his sermon at all patriotic, though he did remember a
slight allusion to the greatness of the heritage of Canadians, but he
was a cordial young man and had come to Glenoro prepared to meet all
sorts of people. Besides, he was still very young and had not yet got
over feeling a thrill of pleasure when his sermon was praised.
"I am glad you liked it," he said smilingly, as he seated himself. "So
you think we need more patriotism?"
"Patriotism! Well I should think so! It's the crying need of this
country, sir! I'm glad I've got some one to sympathise with me at
last. Do you know, Mr. Egerton," he drew up his chair closer and
lowered his voice confidentially, "you'll find this an awfully backward
place in that respect. If all rural Canadian places are as bad, I
don't know what's to become of this country, sir! Why, the absence of
any public spirit is simply appalling! Why, Mr. Hamilton here can tell
you that when Mrs. Watson and I came here two years ago there wasn't a
flag in Glenoro, sir!"
Mr. Hamilton acquiesced apologetically; he opened his mouth as if to
speak, looked ashamed, and said nothing.
"Yes, sir," the schoolmaster was rattling along, "Mrs. Watson and I
were in the States for a number of years and I can tell you there's
where they know how to do things. Great country that, I tell you, sir,
isn't it? Well, they know how to be patriotic there, I can tell you;
flags waving, bands playing and crowds cheering. It's inspiring! But
we could make something even of Canada if her people only had a little
more go. What do you think about our organising a patriotic society
here, sir?"
John Egerton sat back in his chair, and together the two young men
settled the destiny of Canada and her provinces, as well as of Britain
and her colonies, while their host sat in rapt attention. He told
Peter McNabb at the blacksmith shop the next day that it was, without
doubt, the most edifying talk to which he had ever listened. It was
interrupted by a summons to the sitting room to join in the singing.
Wee Andra, who was the leader in musical circles and who had as his
equipment for the position a bass voice in proportion to his size, was
marshalling his forces around the instrument. They made room for the
minister in the best position. He found it very pleasant to stand and
look over Jessie's bright curls as he sang. They rendered a number of
gospel hymns and a new anthem which they were preparing for the
Methodist service next Sabbath evening, the four parts going very
harmoniously. Those young Presbyterians who had a vague fear of their
minister discovering that they sang in the Methodist choir, were both
relieved and pleased when he cried out, at the end of the anthem, "Why,
that's grand! I think I shall turn Methodist myself!" And the
Methodists present laughed delightedly.
Then Sandy Neil, who was an imp of mischief, produced the college song
book which Allan Fraser had introduced into Glenoro the summer before.
The girls were shocked at the thought of showing such a frivolous thing
to the minister, and Bella Hamilton tried to conceal it behind the
sofa; but, to the astonishment of all, he exclaimed as he caught sight
of it, "The College Song Book! Why, here's an old friend! I've sung
everything in that book till I've cracked my voice more times than I
can tell. Come along, boys, let's have 'The Three Crows!'"
The boys let him have them with a rare good will, till the house rang.
Sandy Neil got up on the back of the sofa, where the minister could not
see him, and flapped his arms and cawed and altogether imitated the
antics of a crow to such perfection that the girls around him were
ready to die of smothered laughter. They sang all the old favourites,
and when they came to one they did not know, the minister sang it
alone. He had a fine deep musical voice, and when he rendered the
history of "The Walloping Window Blind," he was rewarded with a hearty
and unanimous round of applause.
Wee Andra quite fell in love with him, his diffidence entirely
disappearing under the other's frank manner.
"My, I wish you'd get a choir in our church, Mr. Egerton!" he exclaimed
in a burst of confidence when they had rendered another anthem with the
minister's aid. But John Egerton was too astute to respond to this,
otherwise than by a smile. He had learned something already of
Glenoro's divided opinions and knew better than to take either side.
But he sat down beside the choir leader and they talked about music and
the newest anthems and the conducting of choral societies until Wee
Andra was completely charmed.
They were interrupted by a commotion at the other end of the room; a
group of young people were trying to learn a new game, and Mr. Sylvanus
Todd was initiating them into its mysteries. But partly from a
defective memory, and partly from terror of Maggie Hamilton's sharp and
reviling tongue, he was getting woefully puzzled. The minister sprang
up and came to his assistance. He knew the game well, explained it
with a few bright, quick words and soon had the whole room joining. He
was so free and unaffected, so absolutely one of themselves, that he
won all hearts. Very soon all the restraint of his presence had melted
away. They joined in the games with even more than their usual vim.
The room rang with merriment. They played "Kitchen Furniture" and
"Handkerchief"--yes, and even "Old Dan Tucker." This latter was
suggested by Sandy Neil, of course, to the horror of the staider ones,
for "Dan Tucker" perilously resembled dancing and was proscribed in
most houses. Indeed, even at the Hamiltons' it was indulged in only
behind closed doors and when Mrs. Hamilton was at a safe distance. But
the minister was ready for anything; he went into the jolly circling
ring of boys and girls as "Dan Tucker" himself, and when the time for
changing partners came, he caught Jessie Hamilton's hand just as Donald
Neil was reaching for it and swung her into the centre, her eyes
dancing, her curls flying.
There was never quite such a grand time before, even at the Hamiltons';
the noise increased, the laughter grew wilder and the dust flew out of
the carpet.
They ended up with an uproarious game of "Blind Man's Buff," in which
Julia Duffy, a big muscular Irish girl, caught Mr. Egerton round the
neck in a strangling grasp, and when she discovered whom she was
embracing, she shrieked in horrified dismay, "Murderin' blazes! If it
ain't the preacher!"
The crowd went off into roars of laughter, none joining so heartily as
the minister himself, who was compelled to lean against the wall for
support, and wipe the tears from his eyes.
"Shades of Mr. McAlpine!" said Donald Neil to his chum, as he found
himself driven into a corner, "he's up-to-date and no mistake!"
"The Oa'll rear up on its hind legs when it hears," whispered Wee Andra
with a broad grin. "There's no flies on him, though, I can tell you.
I do like to see a minister actin' like a human being!"
Donald made no reply. He had been brought up under Duncan Polite's
influence and was not quite prepared to agree with his friend.
Supper was announced at this moment. Jessie and Bella had slipped away
some time before to assist in its preparation, for as soon as the
minister had left the dining room Mrs. Hamilton had proceeded to bring
up all her culinary triumphs of the morning and spread them out in
magnificent array. Eliza Cotton, who assisted the girls to lay the
table, gave up exclaiming at last, and resolved she would make Mrs.
Fraser just green with envy telling her about it. For, of course, if
one didn't do one's best at a visit from the minister, what possible
combination of circumstances could call it forth?
The young man for whom the feast had been prepared was properly amazed
as he took his seat at the long table, crowded with glass and gaily
decorated with china and huge bouquets of tulips, and loaded with cakes
and pies and tarts and jellies and cold meats and great heaps of snowy
bread and great cups of creamy tea.
The schoolmaster sat next him and gave him his ideas upon the
practicability of the Canadian Pacific Railway, and Mrs. Hamilton on
the other side heaped his plate at short intervals, without stopping to
ask permission. There was a great deal of noise and laughter at the
other end of the table, for Maggie and Wee Andra and Sandy Neil were
there. The guest did not fail to notice that Jessie was quieter than
her sisters; her big eyes had a thoughtful expression. He caught
himself wondering, more than once, what sort of girl she was; surely a
person with a face like that could not be anything but perfect.
Mr. Hamilton sat at the head of the table, beaming good-nature all
round, though he said very little except "Aye, oh aye," in a reflective
tone. But, during a lull in the lively conversation at the other end
of the table, he leaned over towards the minister with a question, "An'
what are ye, Mr. Egerton? Of course, we all ken ye're part Highland
Scotch, but not all, Ah hope."
The whole tableful was silent now and every eye was turned towards the
young man addressed. The question was one of great importance. John
Egerton laughed. "Oh, don't be alarmed," he said gaily, "I have plenty
of Lowland blood, too, Mr. Hamilton; the Highland Scotch is only the
McAlpine side. The Egertons are English, though."