The Vandemark Township people made a great outcry about the shape of Centre Township, and called it “The Great Crane,” with our township as the neck, and a lot of other territory back of us for the body, and Monterey Centre for the head.  I took no part in this agitation, for I was burning with a sense of indignation at the way people treated me; but the County Ring compromised by building us a schoolhouse on my southwest corner, now known as the Vandemark School.  But I cared nothing about this.  I had no children to go to school, and while I never ceased to dream of a future with Virginia as my wife, I kept saying to myself that I never should have a family.  Consistency is the least of the necessaries of our visions and dreams.  I never tried to see Virginia.  I avoided the elder and Grandma Thorndyke.  I knew that she was disgusted with me for even an innocent connection with the Thorkelson matter, and I supposed that Virginia felt the same way.  So I went on trying to be as near to a hermit as I could.

2

I know now that things began to change for me in the minds of the people when Rowena’s baby was christened.  This took place early in the winter.  Magnus asked me to go to the church; so I was present when Magnus and Rowena stood before the altar in a ceremony which Rowena would have given anything to escape, and Magnus, too, but he believed that the child’s soul could not be saved if it died unchristened, and she yielded to his urgings in the matter.  He held his head high as he stood by her, as he always stood in every relation in life, witnessing before God and man that he believed her a victim, and that whatever guilt she may have incurred, she had paid for it in full.  After the responses had been made, Elder Thorndyke unfolded a paper which had been handed him with the name of the child on it; then he went on with his part of the ceremony:  “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, I baptize thee—­” And then he carried on a whispered conversation with the mother, gave the loudest honk I ever heard him utter, and went on:  “I baptize thee, Owen Lovejoy Gowdy.”

They said that Gowdy swore when he heard of this, and exclaimed, “I don’t care about her picking me out; but I hate to be joined with that damned Black Abolitionist.”

The elder seemed dazed after he had done the deed, and looked around at the new church building as if wondering whether he had not committed some sort of crime in thus offending a man who had put so much money in it.  He had not, however; for in advertising in this way Gowdy’s wrong to one girl, he ended forever his sly approaches, under the excuses of getting her some fictitious property, saving his soul, and the like, to another.