“Oh, he will; he said so; Benny’s
ast him! And he said he’d take good care
of us both.”
“I’m not afraid. You know how to
take care of yourself. And, Joey—”
She stopped, and the boy prompted her, “What,
mom?”
“When I said the Good Old Man wasn’t a
good man, I didn’t want to set you against him.
I want you to be good to him.”
“Yes, mother,” the boy assented in a puzzle.
“But if he ain’t good—”
“He ain’t, Joey. He’s a wicked
man. Sometimes I think he’s the wickedest
man in the world. But I want you to watch out,
and if ever you can help him, or do anything for him,
remember that I wanted you to do it: a boy can
often help a man.”
“I will, mother. But I don’t see
the reason, if he’s so very wicked, why—”
“That’s the very reason, Joey dear.
And go and tell Benny now that I let you go.
And—don’t tell him what I said about
the Good Old Man.”
“Oh, I woon’t, I woon’t, mom!
Oh, glory—Oh, I didn’t mean to say
it, and I didn’t, really, did I? But I’m
so glad, and Benny’ll be, too! Can I tell
him now? To-night?”
“Yes. Run along.”
He hesitated; then he leaped into the air with a joyful
yell and vanished round the corner of the cabin into
the dusk.
His mother did not leave her place on the threshold,
but sat with her face bowed in her hands. By
and by Jane Gillespie came to the door from within,
and then Nancy lifted her head and made room for her
to sit beside her. She told her what had passed,
and Jane said, “If I was a man I would —Well,
I know what I would do!”
She did not sit down, but stood behind Nancy and talked
down over her shoulder. “Yes,” Nancy
said, “that’s what I used to say when I
was a girl. But now I’m glad I ain’t
a man, for I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“Well, I wouldn’t ‘a’ left
a hair in his head. I’d ’a’—I’d
‘a’ half killed him! Oh, when I think
what a fool that man made of me!”
“Don’t let Jim Redfield make a fool of
you, then.”
“Who said I’m letting him?” the
girl demanded fiercely.
“Nobody. But don’t.”
“Aunt Nancy! If it was anybody but you
said such a thing! But I know! It’s
because you’re so set on Hughey Blake. Hughey
Blake!” she ended scornfully, and went back
into the cabin.
Nancy rose from her place with a sigh. “Oh,
I ’spose you’re right about my lettin’
Joey go. I don’t know why I let him.”
The meetings of the Little Flock had continued ever
since the reappearance of Dylks, and in the earlier
spirit. But the spring was broken, and since
he had said that the New Jerusalem would not come down
at Leatherwood, many had lost not faith but hope.
Few could have the hope of following him as far as
far-off Philadelphia, and sharing the glories which
he promised them there. For a pioneer community
