[Illustration: 'Thusia 018]
DAVID DEAN caught his first glimpse of 'Thusia Fragg from the deck of
the “Mary K” steamboat at the moment when--a fledgling minister--he
ended his long voyage down the Ohio and up the Mississippi and was ready
to step on Riverbank soil for the first time.
From mid-river, as the steamer approached, the town had seemed but a
fringe of buildings at the foot of densely foliaged hills with here
and there a house showing through the green and with one or two church
spires rising above the trees. Then the warehouse shut off the view
while the “Mary K” made an unsensational landing, bumping against the
projecting piles, bells jingling in her interior, paddle wheels noisily
reversing and revolving again and the mate swearing at the top of
his voice. As the bow of the steamer pushed beyond the warehouse, the
sordidly ugly riverfront of the town came into view again--mud, sand,
weather-beaten frame buildings--while on the sandy levee at the side
of the warehouse lounged the twenty or thirty male citizens in shirt
sleeves who had come down to see the arrival of the steamer. From the
saloon deck they watched the steamer push her nose beyond the blank red
wall of the warehouse. Against the rail stood all the boat's passengers
and at David's side the friend he had made on the voyage up the river,
a rough, tobacco-chewing itinerant preacher, uncouth enough but wise in
his day and generation.
“Well, this is your Riverbank,” he said. “Here ye are. Now, hold on!
Don't be in a hurry. There's your reception committee, I'll warrant
ye,--them three with their coats on. Don't get excited. Let 'em wait
and worry a minute for fear you've not come. Keep an even mind under
all circumstances, as your motter says--that's the idee. Let 'em wait.
They'll think all the better of ye, brother. Keep an even mind, hey?
You'll need one with that mastiff-jowled old elder yonder. He's going to
be your trouble-man.”
David put down the carpetbag he had taken up. Of the three men warranted
to be his reception committee he recognized but one, Lawyer Hoskins, the
man who while East had heard David preach and had extended to him the
church's call. Now Hoskins recognized David and raised his hand in
greeting. It was at this moment that 'Thusia Fragg issued from the side
door of the warehouse, two girl companions with her, and faced toward
the steamboat. In the general gray of the day she was like a splash of
sunshine and her companions were hardly less vivid. 'Thusia Fragg was
arrayed in a dress that echoed the boldest style set forth by “Godey's
Ladies' Book” for that year of grace, 1860---a summer silk of gray and
gold stripes, flounced and frilled and raffled and fringed--and on her
head perched a hat that was sauciness incarnate. She was overdressed by
any rule you chose. She was overdressed for Riverbank and overdressed
for her father's income and for her own position, but she was a
beautiful picture as she stood leaning on her parasol, letting her eyes
range over the passengers grouped at the steamer's saloon deck rail.
As she stood there David raised his hand in answer to Lawyer Hoskins'
greeting and 'Thusia Fragg, smiling, raised a black-mitted hand and
waved at him in frank flirtation. Undoubtedly she had thought David had
meant his salutation for her. David turned from the rail, grasped his
companion's hand in hearty farewell, and, with his carpetbag in hand,
descended to the lower deck, and 'Thusia, preening like a peacock,
hurried with her girl companions to the foot of the gangplank to meet
her new conquest.
This was not the first time 'Thusia had flirted with the male passengers
of the packets. Few boats arrived without one or more young dandies
aboard, glad to vary the monotony of a long trip and ready to take part
in a brief flirtation with any 'Thusia and to stretch their legs ashore
while the sweating negroes loaded and unloaded the cargo. When the stop
was long enough there was usually time for a brisk walk to the main
street and for hurried ice cream treats. The warning whistle of the
steamer gave ample time for these temporary beaux to reach the boat. The
'Thusias who could be found all up and down the river knew just the safe
distance to carry their cavaliers in order to bring them back to the
departing steamer in the nick of time, sometimes running the last
hundred yards at a dog trot, the girls stopping short with little cries
of laughter and shrill farewells, but reaching the boat landing in time
to wave parasols or handkerchiefs.
Most of these gayly garbed girls were innocent enough, although these
steamer flirtations were evidence that they were not sufficiently
controlled by home influences. Such actually bad girls as the town had,
did however, indulge in these touch-and-go-flirtations often enough
to cause the sober-minded to look askance at all the young persons who
flirted thus. While the more innocent, like 'Thusia, made use of these
opportunities only for their momentary flare of adventure, and while
the young men were seldom seen again, even on the return trip, the town
quite naturally classed all these girls as “gay”--whatever that meant.
As David stepped on the gangplank to leave the steamer he saw the three
girls, 'Thusia a little in advance, standing at the foot of the plank.
'Thusia herself, saucy in her defiance of the eyes she knew were upon
her, smiled up at him, her eyes beaming a greeting, her feet ready to
fall into step with his, and her lips ready to begin a rapid chattering
to carry the incident over the first awkward moment in case her “catch”
proved mutely bashful. She put out her hand, either in greeting or to
take David's arm, but David, his head held high, let his clear gray eyes
rest on her for an instant only and then glanced beyond her and passed
by. The girl colored with rage or shame and drew back her hand as if
she had unwittingly touched something hot with unprepared fingers. Her
companions giggled.
The incident was over in less time than is needed to tell of it. Henry
Fragg, 'Thusia's widowed father and agent for the steamers, seeing the
committee awaiting David, came from his office and walked toward them.
David strode up the plank dock to where Mr. Hoskins was holding out a
welcoming hand and was greeted and introduced to Sam Wiggett, Ned Long
and Mr. Fragg.
The greeting of Mr. Hoskins had a flourishing orational flavor; Sam
Wiggett--a heavy-set man--went so far as to exceed his usual gruff grunt
of recognition; and Ned Long, as usual, copied as closely as possible
Sam Wiggett's words and manner. Mr. Fragg's welcome was hearty and, of
the four, the only natural man-to-man greeting.
“New dominie, hey? Well, you'll like this town when you get to know it,”
he assured David. “Plenty of real folks here; good town and good people.
All right, Mack!” he broke off to shout to the mate of the “Mary K”;
“yes, all those casks go aboard. Well, I'm glad to have met you, Mr.
Dean--”
'Thusia was still standing where David had passed her, her back toward
the town. Usually saucy enough, she was ashamed to turn and face those
clean gray eyes again. Her father saw her. “'Thusia!” he called.
She turned and came.
“'Thusia, this is our new dominie,” Fragg said, placing his hand on her
arm. “This is my daughter, Mr. Dean. Aren't the women having some sort
of welcome hurrah up at the manse? Why don't you go up there and take a
hand in it, 'Thusia? Well, Mr. Dean, I'll see you many times, I hope.”
'Thusia, all her sauciness gone, stood abashed, and David tried vainly
to find a word to ease the embarrassing situation. Mr. Wiggett relieved
it by ignoring 'Thusia utterly.
“Fragg will send your baggage up,” he growled. “We'll walk. The women
will be impatient; they've heard the boat whistle. You come with me,
Dean, I want to talk to you.”
He turned his back on 'Thusia and led David away.
“The less you have to do with that girl the better,” were his first
words. “That's for your own good. Hey, Long?”
“My opinion, my opinion exactly!” echoed Mr. Long. “The less the better.
Yes, yes!”
“She's got in with a crowd of fast young fools,” agreed Mr. Hoskins.
“Crazy after the men. Fragg ought to take her into the woodshed and use
a good stiff shingle on her about once every so often. He lets her run
too wild. No sense in it!”
What 'Thusia needed was a mother to see that her vivacity found a more
conventional outlet. There was nothing really wrong with 'Thusia. She
was young and fun-loving and possessed of more spirit than most of the
young women of the town. She was amazingly efficient. Had she been
a slower girl the housework of her father's home would have kept her
close, but she had the knack of speed. She sped through her housework
like a well-oiled machine and, once through with it, she fled from the
gloomy, motherless place to find what lively companionship she could.
It would have been better for her reputation had she been a sloven,
dawdling over her work and then moping away the short leisure at home.
Every small town has girls like 'Thusia Fragg. You may see them arm in
arm at the railway station as the trains pause for a few minutes, ready
to chaffer with any “nice-looking” young fellow in a car window. You see
them strolling past the local hotel, two or three in a group, ready to
fall into step with any young drummer who is willing to leave his chair
for a stroll. Some are bad girls, some are on the verge of the precipice
of evil, and some, like 'Thusia, are merely lovers of excitement and not
yet aware of the real dangers with which they play.
'Thusia, running the streets, was in danger of becoming too daring. She
knew the town talked about her and she laughed at its gossip. In such a
contest the rebel usually loses; in conspiring against smugness she ends
by falling into the ranks of immorality. In Riverbank before the Civil
War the danger to reputation was even greater than it is now; morality
was marked by stricter conventions.
'Thusia, despite her new dress and hat, did not linger downtown after
her meeting with David. She took the teasing of her two girl friends,
who made a great joke of her attempt to flirt with the new dominie,
good-naturedly, but she left them as soon as she could and walked home.
Her face burned with shame as she thought of the surprised glance David
had given her at the foot of the gangplank and, as she entered her
motherless home, she jerked her hat from her head and angrily threw
it the length of the hall. She stood a moment, opening and closing her
fists, like an angry animal, and then, characteristically, she giggled.
She retrieved her hat, put it on her head and studied herself in the
hall mirror. She tried several smiles and satisfied herself that they
were charming and then, unhooking her dress as she went, she mounted the
stairs. When she was in her room she threw herself on her bed and wept.
Her emotions were in a chaos; and out of this came gradually the feeling
that all she cared for now was to have those cool gray eyes of David's
look upon her approvingly. Everything she had done in her life seemed to
have been deliberately planned to make them disapprove of her. Weighing
her handicap calmly but urged by wounded pride, or desire, or love--she
did not know which--she set about her pitiful attempt to fascinate David
Dean.
The first Sunday that David preached in Riverbank 'Thusia bedecked
herself glowingly and sat in a pew where he could not fail to see her.
Since the death of his wife Mr. Fragg had taken to churchgoing, sitting
in a pew near the door so that he might slip out in case he heard the
whistle of an arriving steamboat, but 'Thusia chose a pew close under
the pulpit. After the service there was the usual informal hand-shaking
reception for the new dominie and 'Thusia waited until the aisles were
well cleared. Mr. Wiggett, Mr. Hoskins and one or two other elders and
trustees acted as a self-appointed committee to introduce David and, as
if intentionally, they built a barrier of their bodies to keep 'Thusia
from him. She waited, leaning against the end of a pew, but the half
circle of black coats did not open. As the congregation thinned and
David moved toward the door his protectors moved with him. The sexton
began closing the windows. The black coats herded David into the
vestibule and out upon the broad top step and still 'Thusia leaned
against the pew, but her eyes followed David.
“Come, come! We'll have to be moving along, dominie,” growled Mr.
Wiggett impatiently, as David stopped to receive the congratulations of
one of the tireless-tongued old ladies. “Dinner at one, you know.”
“Yes, coming!” said David cheerfully, and he gave the old lady a last
shake of the hand. “Now!” he said, and turned.
'Thusia, pushing between Mr. Wiggett and Mr. Hoskins, came with her hand
extended and her face glowing.
“I waited until they were all gone,” she said eagerly. “I wanted to tell
you how splendid your sermon was. It was wonderful, Mr. Dean. I'm coming
every Sunday--”
David took her hand. He was glowing with the kindly greetings and
praises that had been showered upon him, and his happiness showed in his
eyes. He would have beamed on anyone at that moment, and he beamed on
'Thusia. He said something pleasantly conventional and 'Thusia chattered
on, still holding his hand, although in his general elation he was
hardly aware of this and not at all aware that the girl was clinging to
his hand so firmly that he could not have drawn it away had he tried.
She knew they made a striking picture as they stood on the top step and
she stood as dose to him as she could, so that she had to look up and
David had to look down. The departing congregation, looking back for
a last satisfactory glimpse of their fine new dominie, carried away a
picture of David holding 'Thusia's hand and looking down into her face.
“Come, come! Dinner's waiting!” Mr. Wiggett growled impatiently.
“Well, good-by, Mr. Dean,” 'Thusia exclaimed. “My dinner is waiting,
too, and you must not keep me forever, you know. I suppose we'll see a
great deal of each other, anyway. Now--will you please let me have my
hand?”
She laughed and David dropped her hand. He blushed. 'Thusia ran down
the steps and David turned to see Mary Wiggett standing in the vestibule
door in an attitude best described as insultedly aloof.
Mr. Wiggett's face was red.
“_Her_ dinner waiting!” he cried. “She's got to go home and get it
before it waits. She's a forward, street-gadding hussy!”
“Father!” exclaimed his daughter.
“Well, she shan't come it over the dominie,” he growled. “I'll speak to
Fragg about it.”
David walked ahead with Mary Wiggett. He was no fool. He knew well
enough the troubles a young, unmarried minister has in store if he
happens to be presentable, and he knew he was not ill-favored. It is
not always--except in books--that the leading pillar of the church has a
daughter whose last chance of matrimony is the dominie. Mary Wiggett
had by no means reached her last chance. She was hardly eighteen--only
a year older than 'Thusia Fragg--and forty young men of Riverbank
would have been glad to have married her. She was a little heavier than
'Thusia, both in mind and body, and a little taller, almost matronly in
her development, but she was a splendid girl for all that, and more than
good-looking in a satisfying blond way. David was so far from being her
last chance, that she had not yet thought of David as a possible mate at
all, but it was a fact that David was to take dinner with the Wiggetts
and another fact that 'Thusia was not considered a proper person, and
Mary had resented having to stand back against the church door while
David held 'Thusia's hand. If Mary had one fault it was a certain
feeling that a daughter of Samuel Wiggett, who was the richest man in
the church, was the equal of any girl on earth. To be made to stand back
for 'Thusia Fragg was altogether unbearable.
Neither had Mr. Wiggett, at that time, any thought of David as a husband
for Mary. He hoped Mary would not marry for ten years more and that
when she did she would marry someone “with money.” The only interest the
stubborn, rough-grained old money-lover had in David was the interest of
an upright pillar of the church who, sharing the duty of choosing a new
dominie, had delegated his share to Mr. Hoskins and was still fearful
lest Mr. Hoskins had made a mistake. He was bound it should not be
a mistake if he could help it. Having in his youth had a dozen love
affairs and having married a stolid, cow-like woman for safety's sake,
he believed the natural fate of a young man was to behave foolishly and
he considered a young minister more than normally unable to take care
of himself. If David incurred censure Mr. Wiggett would be blamed for
letting Mr. Hoskins bring David to Riverbank.