PEARL VISITS THE PARSONAGE
Mylo--he jest plows--and don't
Never swear-like some folks won't.
_----From "Mylo Jones' Wife."_
THE Reverend Mr. Burrell, whom Mr. Donald recommended to Pearl as a
proper person to consult on the questions that troubled her mind, was
the Methodist minister in Millford. The first year of his pastorate
there he had been alone, Mrs. Burrell having remained "in the East,"
with her own people.
Mrs. Ducker was the president of the Ladies' Aid Society, and given
to serious thinking, so when she read an article in the Fireside
Visitor dealing with the relation of the minister's wife to the
congregation, she was seriously impressed with the fact that the
congregation was suffering every day by not having the minister's
wife on the ground. Mrs. Ducker thereupon decided that she would
bring the matter forward at the very next meeting.
Now, it happened that the "rubberman" came to Millford the very day
before the Ladies' Aid meeting was held, which may seem to be a very
unimportant and irrelevant fact; but it really had a significant
bearing on that meeting of the Ladies' Aid, for little John Thomas
Forrest, dazzled by the offer of three lead-pencils for two rubbers,
sold his mother's only pair, and being a cautious child, and not fond
of disputatious conversation, did not mention the matter to his
mother, but left her to discover her loss herself, which she did the
day of the meeting.
It was a sloppy day in November. Mrs. Forrest had a cold, and she
could not walk away over to Mrs. Ducker's without rubbers. Mrs.
Forrest did not go to the meeting. If Mrs. Forrest had gone she would
have, beyond doubt, raised objections. She always did, and usually
very successful ones.
But when Mrs. Ducker, after the business was over, breathlessly
declared that she thought Mrs. Burrell should come and join her
husband, she found Mrs. Francis and Mrs. Bates quite imbued with the
same idea, for they likewise were subscribers to the Fireside
Visitor. Mrs. Francis also gave prominence to the fact that Mr.
Burrell needed some one to take care of him, for she had seen him
that very day without his rubbers. Having no children of her own,
Mrs. Francis did not know that the day after the "rubberman" had been
in town quite a few people went without rubbers, not because they
were careless of their health either, but because they had
thoughtlessly left them in the front porch, where little boys can
easily get them.
Half an hour after they began to discuss it, everybody felt that not
only was the church suffering severely, but that they had been the
unconscious witnesses of a domestic tragedy.
They formed a committee on "ways and means," another one to solicit
aid from country members, and a social committee to get up a pie
social to buy a new stair-carpet for the parsonage, and they
appointed Mrs. Francis and Mrs. Ducker to approach Mr. Burrell on the
subject of his wife's coming.
The unconscious object of their solicitude was quite surprised to
receive that evening a visit from Mrs. Francis and Mrs. Ducker.
Reverend John Burrell did not look like a man who was pining for the
loved and lost--he was a small, fair man, with a pair of humorous
blue eyes. A cheerful fire was burning in the Klondike heater, and an
air of comfort pervaded his study.
The ladies made known their errand, and then waited to see the glad
look that would come into their pastor's face.
He stirred the fire before replying.
"It is very kind of you ladies to think of fixing up the parsonage,"
he said. "Mrs. Burrell is having a very pleasant visit with her
mother in Toronto."
"Yes; but her place is here," Mrs. Ducker said with decision, feeling
around in the shadowy aisles of her mind for some of the Fireside
Visitor's "It is lonely for you, and it must be for her."
Mr. Burrell did not say it was not.
Mrs. Francis was filled with enthusiasm over the idea of fixing up
the parsonage, and endeavoured, too, to give him some of the reasons
why a church prospers better spiritually when there is a woman to
help in the administration of its affairs.
When the women had gone, the Reverend John Burrell sat looking long
and earnestly into the fire. Then he got up suddenly and rattled down
the coals with almost unnecessary vigour and murmured something
exclamatory about sainted womanhood and her hand being in every good
work, though that may not have been the exact words he used!
The work of remodelling the parsonage was carried on with enthusiasm,
and two months later Mrs. Burrell arrived.
Mrs. Ducker, Mrs. Francis, and Mrs. Bates went to the station with
Mr. Burrell to meet her, and were quite surprised to see a large,
handsome, auburn-haired woman, carrying two valises, alight from the
train and greet their minister with these words: "Well, John Burrell,
I declare if you aren't out this raw day without your overcoat, and
you know how easily you take a cough, too. I guess it is high time
for me to come. Now, please do keep your mouth closed."
* * *
The first time Pearl was in Millford she called at the Methodist
parsonage to see Mr. Burrell. The question of having service in the
schoolhouse was bothering Pearl.
It was a dull brown house, with, a row of tall maples in front of it,
and a pansy bed, made by filling the earth into old binder-wheels, on
each side of the walk. Pearl at once though of the old binder-wheel
in the scrub at home, and in her quick fancy she saw the purple faces
of prospective pansies looking up from it as it lay in front of the
east window.
Mrs. Burrell came to the door in answer to Pearl's ring, but did not
recognize her at the first glance. She told Pearl to have a seat in
the parlour.
When Mr. Burrell came in he was pleased to see Pearl, who said, in
response to his friendly greeting: "We're doin' fine, Mr. Burrell.
We're goin' to have a crop and potatoes and lots of things. There's
seven of us goin' to school and learning. Jimmy's at long division.
I'm just finishing 'The Lady of the Lake.' Danny's doing digits,
that's another name for figgers. Patsey's readin' at the Sweet Pea
lesson, with ten of the hardest words for meanings. That's all right,
but there's no church or Sunday-school. We left town to get a better
chance to bring up the boys right, and the farm is fine only for what
I'm tellin' ye. Every Sunday the other children trap gophers and the
people sleep or visit. I do be hearin' them tellin' about it at
school, and last Sunday, mind ye, wee Patsey and Bugsey wanted to
make a kite, and of course ma wouldn't let them, but Jimmy up and
says--he was in it, too, do you mind--he says: 'Let's make it out of
an Onward, and that will be all right; sure that's a Sunday paper.'"
Mr. Burrell laughed sympathetically, but shook his head, too, so
Pearl knew he was with her on the proper observance of the Sabbath.
"And Mr. Burrell," she went on, "I am worried
about Danny--he's that artful and deep--if ever a child should be
learnin' verses he's the wan. Yesterday he hit his thumb when he was
hammerin' with the little tack-hammer, and instead of just yellin'
and stickin' his finger in his mouth the way he did before, he said
right out plain--well, you know what the beavers build to broaden out
the water--well, that's what he said."
"Is it as bad as that, Pearlie?" Mr. Burrell asked in a shocked
voice, which was contradicted by the twinkle in his eye.
"It is," Pearl answered, "and I was wonderin' if you could come and
preach to us on Sunday afternoons, and encourage them to get a
Sunday-school. There's lots of room in the school, and there's a fine
big shed for the horses if it was raining, and there's no need of so
many services here," she concluded with alarming frankness. "What I
mean is," she explained in answer to his look of surprise, "there's
lots of churches here, and all kinds of preachin' goin' on', with
only a few scatterin' people out at each one."
Mrs. Burrell came in hastily and listened to the conversation.
"How far out is it, Pearl?" Mr. Burrell asked.
"About five miles, I think; just a nice drive for you and the
missus."
"Does she want you to take another country appointment, John?" Mrs.
Burrell asked; and Pearl noticed for the first time that her hair was
just the colour of their horse at home--the one that was cross.
"That was Pearlie's suggestion," he answered.
"Well, indeed, he is not going to do any such thing; I should say
not," and Mrs. Burrell shut her mouth with a click. "And, besides,
nearly every Sunday it rains."
"Well, that's good for the crops," said Pearl, thinking of the twenty
acres of wheat in front of the house and of the oat-field behind the
bluff; "and, besides," quoting a favourite axiom of her mother's, "he
ain't sugar or salt, and he won't melt."
"Well, what would happen our congregation if we had only one service
a day? They would all be going to the Presbyterian."
"That won't hurt them," Pearl said hopefully. "They'll get good
sermons from Mr. Grantley."
Mrs. Burrell could not think of what she wanted to say. Pearl kept
her eye on Mr. Burrell--there was something in his face which made
her hope.
After a pause he said to her: "Pearl, your idea is strictly
first-class. I have wanted to take another outside appointment ever
since I came here, but the congregation had objections. However,
I'll talk it over with Mr. Grantley, and I'm sure we can arrange
something."
Mrs. Burrell remembered then. She found the words she was looking
for. "You'll do nothing of the sort, John. Going away every Sunday
to two outside appointments and leaving our own people exposed
to Presbyterian doctrine. That's a horrid, bare, desolate little
school, anyway, and you couldn't do a bit of good to those people; I
know you couldn't. I'll go to the Trustee Board meeting--they meet
to-night--and I'll tell them you are physically unfit--you are
wearing two thicknesses of flannel, with mustard quilted in between
them, now on your chest, and you had onion poultices on your feet
last night for your cough, and so you're not fit to go."
"Please, ma'am," said Pearl, "we won't mind. I didn't notice it at
all, and I don't believe anybody will, if you don't tell them."
Mr. Burrell laughed so heartily that Mrs. Burrell told him he was a
very frivolous man, and quite unfit for the position he held.
"Sure, you could come out yerself," Pearl said encouragingly, "and
show us how to fix it up. It is bare, as you said, but the land is
there, and it could grow scarlet-runners and pansies, the same as you
have yer self here by the cheek of the dure. If some one like
yerself'd come and show us how to fix it up, we might have a purty
place yet!"
"Fix it up on Sunday!" Mrs. Burrell cried, with vehement emphasis.
"Show us, I said," Pearl corrected her, "and I guess it would be a
real good work to fix it up, too."
"It is lawful to do well on the Sabbath day, you know, Mattie," Mr.
Burrell quoted gently.
Mrs. Burrell sniffed audibly.
"The trustees meet this evening, Pearl. Now, if you will stay in,
I'll drive you out to-morrow morning. Mrs. Burrell will be glad to
have you stay here."
Mrs. Burrell seconded the invitation.
"But I am going to the meeting, John," she declared decidedly. "I'll
tell them that you are not to undertake it."
"My dear, I understood the Ladies' Aid were meeting to-night," her
husband said, with the forced enthusiasm of a person who tries to
draw a child's attention from a prohibited pleasure.
"It does, too; but I am going to the other meeting," answered his
amiable spouse.
Mr. Burrell looked at Pearl in alarm.
"But I want you to stay, Pearl," Mrs. Burrell said quickly, and with
more kindliness than she had yet shown.
Pearl thanked her, but said she would have to go to see her father
first and see if she could stay. Mrs. Burrell went out into the
kitchen to get tea ready, while Mr. Burrell went to the door with
Pearl.
In the little square hall they held a hurried conference. "Will she
go to that meeting?" Pearl asked in a whisper.
He nodded.
"Will she cut up rough?"
Mr. Burrell thought it likely that she would.
"Don't let her go," said Pearl, who evidently believed in man's
supremacy.
He made a gesture of helplessness.
Pearl wrinkled her forehead, and then took a step nearer him and said
slowly: "Hide her false teeth--she won't go if she has to gum it."
He stared at her a second before he grasped the full significance of
her suggestion.
"Things like that have been done," Pearl said, reassuringly. "Ma knew
a woman once, and whenever she wanted to keep her man at home she hid
his wooden leg. I suppose, now, she hasn't----" Pearl looked at him
meaningly.
"Oh, no!" he said hastily. "We can't do that."
Pearl went out, leaving the Reverend John Burrell clearly
demonstrating the fact that he was too frivolous a person for his
position.
* * *
When Pearl came back, after getting her father's permission to stay
for the night, she found Mrs. Burrell in a more amiable frame of
mind, and after tea was over she was much relieved to find that Mrs.
Burrell had given up the idea of going to the trustee meeting, but
was going to the Ladies' Aid meeting instead, and was going to take
Pearl with her.
Before the meeting, Pearl went over to see Camilla and Mrs. Francis.
Mrs. Francis was the secretary of the Ladies' Aid, but was unable to
go to the meeting that night on account of a severe headache. Pearl,
always ready to help, asked if she could take the minutes of the
meeting.
"Thank you so much, Pearl," Mrs. Francis said. "It would relieve me
if you would write down everything that happens, so that I can make a
full report of it. It is so sweet of you, dear, to offer to do it for
me; and now run along with Camilla, for I know she has a lot of
things that she is longing to show you."
Camilla took Pearl upstairs to her room, and there spread out before
Pearl's enraptured vision a wonderful creation of white silk and
lace.
"The lace has little cucumbers in it," Pearl said, looking at it
closely, "and it's the loveliest dress I ever saw. Have you worn it
yet?"
Camilla did not at once reply, and then, quite by intuition, Pearl
guessed the truth.
"Camilla!" she exclaimed. "You are going to be married to Jim."
Camilla put her gently.
"Yes, dear, I am," she said. Pearl, sat thinking deeply.
"Are you happy, Camilla?" she said at last. "Are you that happy you
feel you can never lose a bit of the glad feeling?"
Camilla held her tighter, and kissed her again. "I've thought about
it a little," Pearl said after a while, "and I thought perhaps that
would be how people felt, and then it didn't matter if it was all
dark and gloomy outside, or even if the wind was howlin' and rattlin'
the windows, you wouldn't mind, for all the time you would be singin'
inside, just bustin' for joy, and you'd feel that contented sort of
feelin', just as if the sun was pourin' down and the birds singin'
and the hills all white with cherry-blossoms; is that anything like
it, Camilla?"
"It is very like that, Pearl," she said.
"And, Camilla," she went on, "do you feel like you could die to save
him from any trouble or pain, and even if he did go wrong--Jim never
will, I know, but I am just supposin'--even if he did go wrong you'd
never go back on him, or wish you hadn't took him, but you'd stay
with the job and say to yourself: 'He's my man, and I'll stay by him,
so I will!'"
Camilla nodded her head.
Pearl's eyes suddenly filled with tears.
"And, Camilla, do you ever think if you were to lose him it wouldn't
be so bad as' never to have had him, and even if the time came that
he had to go, you could bear it, for you'd know that somewhere you'd
find him again waitin' for you and lovin' you still, just the same;
and even if it was long, long years ago that you were left alone,
you'd never forget him, but you'd always know that somewhere, up in
the air or in the clouds or maybe not so far, he was there dear as
ever, and you'd always keep thinkin' in your heart: 'He's the only
man for me.'"
Camilla's arms tightened around her, and Pearl felt something warm on
her cheek.
"How do you know all this?" Camilla whispered, after a while.
Pearl laughed and wiped her eyes on her handkerchief. "I don't know,"
she said. "I never knew that I did know it all till just now. I've
thought about it a little."
Camilla laughed, too, and went over to the wash stand to bathe her
eyes, while Pearl, in wonder, inspected the dress.
"Now, Pearlie Watson, I want you to do me a favour," said Camilla
gaily.
"As many as you like," was Pearl's quick answer.
"I want you for my bridesmaid. You are my good luck, Pearl. Remember
you sent Jim to me. If it hadn't been for you I might never have met
him."
Pearl's eyes sparkled with delight, but no words came.
"And see here, Miss Watson, I have been reading up all about
weddings, and I find it is a very correct thing for the bride and
bridesmaid to be dressed alike. Miss Watson, will you please stand up
and shut your eyes?"
Pearl stood up.
Over her head she felt Camilla putting something soft and deliciously
silky. Camilla was putting her arms in unmistakable sleeves, and
pulling down an unmistakable skirt.
"Open your eyes, Pearlie."
When Pearl opened her eyes she found herself dressed in a white silk
dress, exactly the same as the one that lay on the bed--cucumbers and
all!
"Oh, Camilla!" was all she could say, as she lovingly stroked the
dress.
"Jim would not think of having anybody but you, and Dr. Clay is going
to be the groomsman."
Pearl looked up quickly.
"Dr. Clay told me," Camilla went on, "that he would rather have you
for the bridesmaid when he was going to be the groomsman than any
other girl, big or little."
Pearl clasped her hands with a quick motion.
"Better'n Miss Morrison?" she asked, all in one breath.
"Yes; better than pose so, for he said on earth."
"Oh, Camilla!" Pearl said again, taking deep breaths of happiness,
and the starry look in her eyes set Camilla wondering.