When the family gathered about the table the next morning in the
rectory, the Dominie told his wife solemnly that he wished to talk with
her after the children had gone to school. Breakfast over, he broached
the subject of the women talking in prayer meeting, Mrs. Graves
listening eagerly. As the pastor's wife she had done the best in her
power; but her power had been weak, and the stronger ones in the
congregation had ridden over her convictions and teachings.
There was Augusta Hall, the beautiful wife of one of the deacons who had
demanded that she be allowed to voice her sentiments in public; and
other women had followed her lead, although it had been absolutely
against the tenets of the church.
This woman was in Mrs. Graves' mind, when the Dominie brought down his
hand upon the table, saying he had decided to stop once and for all the
nonsense in his church, which was keeping the best of his members away.
Mrs. Graves breathed Mrs. Hall's name meekly to her husband.
"She can leave the church," growled Graves. "In my mind it's almost
sacrilegious for women to dare to go so far that some of the best of its
members will leave a well-regulated church. Maria, you must talk to Mrs.
Hall and bring her to reason."
"If you can't succeed," replied Mrs. Graves, "how do you expect me to?
You're her pastor."
"I will go and talk to her first, then you follow close upon my heels,
Maria, and between us both, we will get Bill Hopkins and Carey back
among us. If they come the rest will."
* * * * *
Late in the afternoon Mrs. Graves put on her bonnet, and, with a sigh,
tied the strings under her withered chin. In the very moment when the
congregation had at last become reconciled to the privileges extended to
its female members, another church war was to be fought. But the little
woman dared not refuse her husband's command, so she climbed the long
hill toward the south and timidly rang the bell marked "Hall."
Her husband would have been there and gone, for the afternoon was well
toward its close.
As the servant ushered her in, Mrs. Graves heard loud voices coming from
the drawing-room, and instantly recognized one of them as the
clergyman's.
"It's all very well, Mrs. Hall," he was saying, "for the women to work
if they can do it without showing too much authority, but, my dear lady,
I have been studying into this matter and it is positively against the
Scriptural injunction for women to speak in church."
"Where did you read that?" asked Mrs. Hall, handing the Dominie a Bible,
which he did not take in his half-extended fingers.
"I know, and you know where it is without looking," said he sharply.
"There is a command from Paul that all women should keep silent in the
church in the presence of men."
"Paul was an old bachelor," irreverently answered Mrs. Hall. "What did
he know about women and their needs?"
"He received the commandments from God," replied the pastor gravely.
"Not that one, and what's more, I am going to talk all I want to, and if
there is a man who does not want to hear, let him go away until he
either changes his mind or desires to take things as they are.... Why!
the women have been speaking in our church for over a year."
At this juncture, Mrs. Graves walked in, pale and weary. She dropped
weakly into a chair.
"Your husband has just informed me," snapped Mrs. Hall, her beautiful
face flushing as she spoke, "that we are not to speak any more at the
church meetings. Do you approve of that, Mrs. Graves? I'm sure--"
"Like all dutiful and obedient wives," came the sharp interruption from
the minister, without giving his sorry-looking spouse a chance to speak,
"my wife thinks as I do. Mrs. Hall, allow me to entreat you to follow
the dictates of your conscience, and obey your husband always."
"My husband gives me my own way," answered Mrs. Hall with a toss of her
head.
"There he is wrong, but I shall leave you to talk things over with my
wife. On Sunday I shall make it the theme of my sermon and I hope before
Wednesday, my dear Mrs. Hall, that you and some others will look upon
the matter in a different light."
The Dominie wended his way toward the business quarter of the city and
turned into the Gas Company's office. Inquiring for Mr. Hall, he was
ushered into a private room marked "President," and heartily greeted one
of the deacons of his church.
"Anything wrong?" asked Hall, noticing the expression upon his pastor's
face.
"No, only I called about a new rule which we're going to pass Wednesday
evening, and you can help us if you will."
The president looked up inquiringly.
"The women must no longer speak at the prayer meeting."
Mr. Hall half rose from his chair as these words fell from the
clergyman's lips, but he sank mutely back.
"It has become necessary to enforce the laws of the church," explained
Graves, "and I have taken up this matter with some of the members--also
with your wife."
Mr. Hall dropped his eyes upon his left hand with the fingers of which
he was bending back those of his right.
"And what did she say?"
"I think it will be necessary for you to talk with her, Hall; surely you
have enough influence over her to make her see that it is absolutely
necessary that women should cease their--"
"I thought, Dominie," broke in the deacon, "that we had long outgrown
such notions. You had better let matters go on as they are."
The minister shook his head emphatically, and looked searchingly at his
parishioner.
"Fact is, Mr. Hall, you know that it is not a personal thing with me,
but for the good of the church. Hopkins has left and Carey only comes
when he feels like it. Several others stay away without a place to
worship, simply because the ladies will have their way. I have no
trouble with my wife and no man would if he were to demand obedience as
God says that he should. I shall preach upon it Sunday."
"Don't make it too strong," ventured Hall, thinking of his beautiful
wife.
As far as he was concerned it made no difference whether women were
silent or not, whether they wore hats to church or came in with bare
heads. He was happy in his home life, and was not willing to bring about
discord by arguments that meant nothing to him. When the church matter
had come up before, he had acquiesced without a word, had watched the
fight as it progressed, and when it ended had settled back to enjoy
peace--a happy official of Ithaca's gas company.
He looked out under his brows at the clergyman, as he fingered the
paper-cutter on his desk. He took it up mechanically and read the
inscription on the handle: "From me to you."
His wife had given it to him, and Hall mentally wondered if the woman
who could think of, and would dare to use, such a unique expression
would be frightened by a word from him.
Without asking Augusta, the husband knew that his wife would be the
first woman to rise to speak next Wednesday evening. This much he
intimated to Graves. An expression of sarcasm flitted over the
clergyman's countenance, but it quickly vanished--Graves was trying to
add to his strong friends that day. He only remarked that he hoped it
would be settled amicably. The president ventured another shot:
"Dominie, there's a complete turn in the affairs of Skinner; he says
that he did not commit the murder--that he positively did not pick up
the gun from the shore. Simply because he owned the gun is no proof that
he used it. Young says--"
"Young had better attend to his campus business," interrupted Graves.
"He will have all he can do. There's no doubt in my mind that Skinner is
guilty. I should have thought that his conviction was proof of that."
"But he didn't have a chance to prove his innocence," replied Hall. "He
has such a good reputation among his own people that Young is going to
take up subscriptions for another trial."
Elias turned sharply upon the gas official.
"Few people who understand the matter will give money to save the life
of a squatter. That's another thing I'm going to preach upon next
Sunday. The very manner in which they live would prove what bad citizens
they are."
"We can't hang a man," argued Hall, "because he doesn't live in
accordance with our stilted notions. Professor Young says that the girl
is a genius--that she has a beautiful voice. I promised that if he took
up--a contribution for the family that I would send him a check."
Elias Graves rose hastily to his feet, forgetting to put out his hand as
he went out. He now hated Tessibel Skinner with a deep religious hatred,
and it would be war between him and her for the life of the imprisoned
squatter.
President Hall, with a smile upon his face, closed the door of his
private office after his pastor had departed.
"It's evident why Graves wants the women turned down," mused he; "he
thinks that he will draw about him again such men as Hopkins and Carey
and that they will help him in removing Skinner from his land. I won't
help persecute the poor devil--Gad, but that daughter of his did turn
things upside down. I wonder what Augusta will say to me when I go
home?"
* * * * *
It was a keen, cold and blizzardly Sunday morning when the bells of the
different churches rang out upon the air. Ithaca was astir and her
citizens anxious to worship. For one-half hour the streets teemed with
well-dressed people, then became as silent as if the town were
uninhabited. Minister Graves took his place in the pulpit and scanned
the pews which were filled to overflowing. Not only had his members
come, one and all, but people from other congregations were standing at
the back of the railing, eager to hear the mighty effort which would be
given forth from the clergyman's eloquent tongue. Elias Graves took his
text from Genesis--"And thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall
rule over thee."
The minister leaned far over his flock, as he finished this impressive
text.
His eyes fell upon Deacon Hall's pew, then upon his own in which sat his
wife with Babe near her. Frederick was between Teola and the little
girl, and they were all earnestly watching their father--something was
going to happen, but they did not know what. The deep voice broke out
into a prayer, followed by a soulful anthem from the choir.
Minister Graves rose with dignity, and began his sermon.
"It is my intention," said he, "to divide my sermon this morning
directly in two, because my subjects are so entirely different. Before
the expiration of it, you will see the force of my argument and will, I
hope, profit by it."
He continued by saying, a house divided against itself would surely
fall, that even a stone structure built upon sand would slip into the
sea.
"Brethren, the sea of which I speak is a sea of discontent and
disobedience. From my reading text you will see that God commanded that
woman should be obedient, that she should obey her husband to the
letter--to the letter, brethren."
There was a decided rustle of silken petticoats in the church.
"It was the disobedience of our first mother," spoke the clergyman,
"that threw Adam into ill-repute with his Creator, and also Adam's love
for her that drove him from the Garden of Eden. Brethren, God is good to
mankind, ever ready to listen to his appeals. If Adam had only believed
in the greatness as well as the goodness of God, he would have spurned
the woman who had dared to so flagrantly disobey, instead of following
her from the garden.
"Adam had more than one rib," went on the minister, "and how readily and
kindly would God have disposed of the first sinning Eve and under the
pleasant sleep of the man, Adam, extracted another rib out of which he
would have constructed another and yet more beautiful woman. Some of us
are finding it impossible to keep order in our families, and until we
do, we cannot expect to live to the glory of God."
A loud hacking cough came from Deacon Hall's pew and many heads were
turned toward it. This disconcerted the clergyman for a moment, but he
picked up the threads of his sermon and resumed:
"If every man in this little city would rely upon the goodness of God to
supply him with another Eve, when the woman joined to him in holy
matrimony disobeys His law, it would be a simple matter to re-establish
order in his household. Just as happiness was given to Lot after the
turning to salt of his wife."
The minister paused--the silence was so deathly that it appalled him. He
allowed his eyes to fall upon the memorial window with a man's face upon
it. The words underneath the figure passed before him dimly. Then he
remembered that he was preaching a sermon. Was he not the chosen
shepherd of the flock? Was he not the one man called by God to show
these people the righteous paths in which to walk? Should his voice be
silenced because others did not believe as he did? And was he not
showing them the light through the Scriptures? With these thoughts in
his mind and renewed energy in his voice he spoke again:
"I should be the last man in the world to raise a false alarm, neither
do I desire to enter homes and bring discord there. But I read from a
passage under my hand, 'If thy right hand offend thee cut it off.'
"From the words of the Scriptures I have proven to you that a household
must be ruled by the husband and by him alone. And that it is the duty
of every wife to obey her husband as long as she shall live.
"I shall ask the women of this congregation not to rise next Wednesday
evening in the prayer meeting, either to pray or testify. The privilege
has been withdrawn as one perniciously against the tenets of the
church. For Paul says in first Timothy, 'I suffer not a woman to teach
nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence;' also I give
you Paul's further command, 'Let the deacons be the husband of one wife,
ruling their children and their own houses well.'"
He ran over the last few words quickly for the louder rustle of silk
could be heard. The minister changed his subject and gave them another
text which said that the wicked people of the earth should be cut down.
Was the minister going to sanction the killing of wives who refused to
obey their husbands? Had he lost his mind? But his voice rang out upon
the congregation upon a subject in which they had recently become so
interested.
"There is on our city," said the clergyman, "a terrible blot. The wicked
ones of Jerusalem could not equal them in wickedness.
"The plans of God in keeping peace among his people are to be carried
out to-day, with as much vigor as they were three thousand years ago. I
need not give you the details of a murder committed a short time ago
within the limits of our city. The very fact that the murderer has the
chance of another trial after his conviction demonstrates that something
must be done, and quickly. If the secular law is not able to wipe out
such a blot then the church must help. It is my idea, brethren, that the
weeds of the earth must be cut down, and by weeds I mean bad men. If a
petition is handed you to sign asking time for Orn Skinner, I ask you
one and all not to place your names upon it."
The clergyman suddenly stopped, closing his Bible. "Papa would cut off
Tessibel's father's head if he could, wouldn't he, Frederick," whispered
Babe.
Frederick gave the child a reproving glance and the little girl sank
back after explaining that if Skinner were hung "papa" would have the
land which ought to be his.
But as his father was speaking again the student turned his serious face
toward the pulpit.
"Brethren," finished the pastor impressively, "before I close I would
adjure every one of you to take the reins of his household into his own
hands," and then looking straight at Deacon Hall, he concluded:
"And if you have never had the reins, then I command you to take them
this day and rule your homes as God would have you. 'Let us pray.'"
Augusta Hall made but one remark on her way home from church.
"Wednesday evening, I am going to show Dominie Graves that he can't rule
every woman in Ithaca, and I want you to go with me, dearie."