Meister tossed reins over the whip
Alec followed.
\ SC .
¢ | and climbed out.
“Won't you talk to her, make her
~~ » .
_=
Bellefonte, Pa., January 18, 1929.
FAIRIES
There are fairies at the bottom of our-
garden !
It’s not so very, very far away;
You pass the gardener’s shed and you just
keep straight ahead,
I do so hope they've really come to stay.
There's a little wood, with moss init and
beetles,
And a little
through
You wouldn't think they’d dare to come
merrymaking there—
Well, they do.
stream that quietly runs
There are fairies at
. garden!
They often have
nights;
The butterflies and bees make a lovely
little breeze,
And the rabbits stand about and hold the
lights.
Did you know that they could sit upon
the moonbeams
And pick a little star to make a fan.
And dance away up there in the middle
of the air?
Well, they can.
the bottom of our
a dance on summer
There are fairies at the bottom of our
garden!
You cannot think how beautiful they are;
They all stand up and sing when the
Fairy Queen and King
Come gently floating down upon their car.
The King is very proud and very hand-
some;
The Queen—now can you guess who that |
could be
(She's a little girl all day, but at night
she steals away) ?—
Well—it's Me!
————————————
POISON.
“She’s an odd little thing—‘fey’ the
Scotch would call her.” Preacher
Meister flecked Circus, his snow-white
horse, who could take an Ozark hill
or ford a mountain stream better
than any car man ever made.
Alec Graham snorted. “Fey’! Mur-
deress is the word I'd use!”
“Faith-healing isn’t murder,” the
other reminded him mildly.
“It is.” The young doctor was firm.
“It is. For it keeps a regular phy-
sician from attending the case and
making the proper prescription.”
“But if she cures them—"
“When there’s nothing the matter
they get well and she takes the cred-
it. And she’s been darned lucky so
far,” he added with gloomy wrath.
“Ummm.”
“What do you mean by ‘ummm’?”
Alec was nettled, furious. “Why do
you say ‘ummm’? Do you mean it
isn’t luck? You don’t believe in her,
do you?”
“Yes. No.” The older man quoted
thoughtfully: “ ‘I do not believe her
miracles but I believe her eyes.”
“Rot!” :
“And I don’t understand.
It may
be something beyond us, something—" !
“lI give up!” The young dcetor
threw out his hands.
couragement— or at least the
Jence—of people like you that enables
this faker, this charlatan, this cheap,
meretricious 2
“She’s none of those, Alec. I've
known Hetty Babb for nineteen years
and she’s as fine and sincere as—well
as you. And she belives just a
strongly in her power and the right—
no, duty—to use it as you in your—"
“But it isn’t a question of belief!
And sincerity’s no test of right and
wrong. The Hindu mother who throws
her child to the Ganges believes. ...It
looks hopeless: she can’t be arrested
for practising medicine without a li- |
cense, for she uses no drugs; and you
can’t get out an injunction against
praying. And that’s all she does—be-
lieves and prays, prays and believes!” |
“And it wouldn’t help if you could,
so long as the people believe in her,”
said the minister quietly. “You can
pass all the ordinances in the world
and legislate all you please, but Mt.
Tabor, Clay County, Misscuri, won't
budge one inch unless their emotions
are aroused. And then—look out!”
“If che’d only
voung jaw clicked and the mouth was
set in a straight, hard line.
The preacher darted a swift glance
of shocked appraisal.
you'd be
die?”
“Willing!
savage.
myself if it would wake them up to
what she’s really doing and stop this
senseless I've been here months
now”—the preacher smiled to him-
slef; he had held this charge for thir-
ty years—“and I'll probably spend the
rest of my life in this forsaken hole,
a thousand miles from anywhere,
twenty from even a railroad, trying
to keep men from buying patent med-
icine by the gross and women from
feeding tea and salt pork to six-
months-old babies! Talk about city
tenements, they at least have milk-
stations and district nurses. But the
State Experiment Station will send
out a man to tell them how to feed
their hogs or assist with a litter of
pigs, while their owners—— Look!”
They were passing an unpainted
shack that hung like a hornet’s nest
on the yellow clay of the hill.
“All of them just alike, with a wo-
man bending over a tub and half-
dozen children hanging to her skirts.
day in and day out. It’s bad in the
cities, but there’s change, noise, bus-
willing to see someone-—
Glad!”
tle, movies, dances, while here there's |
nothing—nothing! It’s a wonder they
don’t go mad!”
“Some of them do,” said the
preacher quietly—“her mother for
one. Then hung herself in a well.”
“Ah!” Alec’s eyes gleamed triumph,
no touch of sympathy. “That ac-
counts for it, perhaps.”
“No”—the other shook his head;
“you'll find her as sane and, well, as
sane as you yourself. ‘Fey’ —that’s
the only word I can think of..Here
we are.”
Circus slowly rounded the curve,
pulled up to the hitching-post and
settled himself for a comfortable nap.
——————————S
“It’s +he en-!
si- |
lose a case!” the |
“Do you mean !
Alec’s tone was
“In fact, I'd commit murder ;
see— : n
“I have. But it’s no use, Alec.
| “Then I will.”
ed, shaking his head:
aties on his hands,
of Science, the other,
| Faith.
| A fire was laid on the hard yellow
clay that was caked and split in the
! August sun, and over it swung a huge
black kettle from which came the
‘odor of lye and fat. A woman was
stirring the r
| creature in gray calico. :
Soap. Alec sickened. In this year
of our Lord making soap.
Suddenly a guest of wind swept
around the shack, whirled 2a few
parched leaves and an eddy of dust,
{ fanned the fire into smoke and flames
that licked the black pot fantastically
and twined the shapeless figure and
wreathed the white face with edusa
locks. Or an angel's halo.
For, while Alec Graham thought of
Old Salem and the witches his fath-
ers had burned at the stake, Preach-
' er Meister saw the Maid of Domremy.
Then the wind ceased and the fire
died and it was only an ozark girl
with ash-colored hair and thin, pale
face and eyes now dull and lifeless.
l “Pap’s down yonder,” she volun-
teered.
Mournfully there floated up from
| the bottom-land the rich raucous
| voice of Billy Babb:
«will the waters be chilly,
Will the waters be chilly,
Will the waters be chilly
When I am called to die?
“Not if Jesus is with me,
Not if Jesus is with me—-
Giddap, you blankety blank blank.” .
«Youll have to excuse Pap teday,
the girl explained hurriedly. “He
| ain’t quite hisself.”
Meister nodded. He had known
Billy Babb for thirty years regularly
automatically from mourners’ bench
to blind tiger, then back again to the
blessed fount; there must have been
some fraction of an instant when
hig spirit poised midway between re-
ligous zeal and 1
no one had ever found it. 4
«This is Doctor Graham, Hetty.
Meister turned half-way down the hill
in afterthought.
Left alone, they stared at each oth-
er—the young man in hosiile unbelief
nd the girl in grave courtesy.
z Won you cop” She led the way
magnificently to the scoured and
darkened front room with its four-
poster bed covered with crazy-quilt,
horsehair chairs, wax lilies, stand-
table with cone-shell, Bible, and—to
| his amazement—a plaster copy of the
Winged Victory.
She noticed his gaze and crossed to
the figure with the sure, quick step
[of the blind although she could see.
: Her hands were outstretched, alive
and eager, with the sensitive fingers
‘curved back till they seemed almost
two of your fan-
one the Apostle
‘curled. They carcssed the gallant
wings. : :
«Putty. ain't she, standin’ high that
vena?
tway? . .
“Yes: they think from the prow ot
a ship.”
She shook her head: “Oh, no, a hill-
i top, I'd say: a hilltop with the wind
i on her face and mebbe the rain lashin
| down.”
i Alec was annoyed; he had not come
| to discuss Greek sculpture but he had
: no intention of giving in to such ig-
{ novance.
i «From the prow of a shp,” he re-
“It’s a Winged Viec-
| peated firmly.
{ory :
i The windows were closed, the air
! stifling. He sat. So did she—on the
| floor with the figure in her arms, like
i a child with a doll.
“Victory.” She was talking half to
herself, half to the statue, certainly
not to him. “The victory that over-
cometh the world, even our faith.”
Faith! The word irritated him—
‘Tie had heard it so often since coming
"to these mountains. A word that he
had thought forgotten, scrapped as
‘outgrown, outworn in this day of
i science and reason. Faith—ignorance
land superstition ! Else how could they
| believe— :
He stopped his nervous pacing and
‘looked at her again.
| “You are younger
' he said abruptly.
Her eyes met his gravely. “I'm
turned nineteen—last April.”
“Do you realize what you're do-
ing?” )
her as he had for Meister the condi-
tions that he sought to remedy in the
i community.
She listened blankly—stupidly, he
| thought; it was clear she had no vison
"and glory of the life beyond these
| hills.
He strode ahead. Meister follow-
the Disciple of
mixture—an awkward
the believin—ijust like it says right
here.”
The book fell open at the page and
she read with throbbing voice:
«And these signs shall follow
them that believe; In my name
shall they cast out devils; they
shall speak with new tongues;
“They shall take up serpents; and
if they drink any deadly thing, it
shall not hurt them; they shall
lay hands on the sick, and they
shall recover.
«So then after the Lord had
spoken unto them, he was re-
ceived up into heaven, and sat
on the right hand of God.”
The book closed and she looked ap
in triumph. “Ain’t it simple? Ain’t
it clear and plain? “Them that be-
lieve . . .they shall lay hands on the
sick and they shall recover.”
Her slim fingers caressed the covers
as she laid the book back on the table
and went on wistfully.
“Parson says it don’t mean now,
that it was just for those days and
His own disciples. But it don’t say
that, does it? Them that believe . . .
A mystic quality crept into her tone.
You or me— Parson—anyone—we’re
all His disciples, ain’t we? See them
hills yonder?” She pointed through
the window to the great mounds of
white oak. “Why; you could move
them if you just had faith enough—
even so much “as a grain of mustard,’
she quoted softly.
“Why don’t you
ed curtly.
«1 ain’t testin’ my Lord,” she an-
swered with dignity, “but doin’ His
will.”
“Of all senseless, idotic.
——*Alec broke out in disgust.
Hs hand accidentally fell on
{ry that?” he ask-
criminals
the
Bible and in sheer nervous exaspera-
drunken carousal, but
tion he gave it a shove. It fell to the
floor. Her eyes widened, she gasped
and swayed, then slowly sank on her
knees beside it. She shook with sobs
and gathered it to her heart, then
slowly lifted her head.
The tears were gone, her face was
set and her eyes were black: a lean
mountain girl who reached for the
gun behind the door—it was the
harsh voice of Billy Babb’s daughter
that spoke:
“Git out! You don’t know our
mountains, you don’t know we ’uns
and you don’t want to. You've come
here to tear down our faith with your
blasted old science and I'll see you in
Hell first—git out!”
He looked at the young Roundhead
—Bible clasped to her heart with one
hand, gun pointed at him with the
other; a symbol of the narrow, bigot- .
ed intolerence he so despised.
He left.
Meister was waiting in the buggy.
“Well, any luck?” His tone was
cheerful. Alec shook his head. The
‘ofher grinned sympathetically. “I
thought not.”
The young man paused a moment,
then turned abruptly. “There’s one
question more—"’
He was back at the door where she
stood, without Bible, without gun,
with eyes serene and blue.
“Where did you get it—that Vie-
tory?” He indicated the statute.
She turned. “Stephen sent it to
me.”
Stephen Meister, the minister’s son,
his college friend still in the Fast—
as they called Kentucky. He looked
at her with new eyes. Stephen had
never mentioned her, and yet he had
sent, to be jogged over twenty miles
of mountain road, this lovely winged
figure.
“Are you—are you in love with
Stephen ?” he heard a dry voice ask.
It was his own—he had to know.
She eyed him calmly: “No, I shall
never love anyone—ever.”
Strange that his question had not
been, does Stephen Meister love you?
That was what he meant; that was
why he was glad—that the friend he
cherished most deeply had not been
so ensnared. Then, too, it would have
been hard to fight, as he meant to
fight, to the very death, a woman
dear to Stephon.
He stumbled back to the road. He
could scarcely see. And there pound-
ed in his ears, like a medieval chant
—the renunciation of a nun, the vow
of a religieuse—throughout the long
"drive and the days and nights that
than I expected,”
Impatiently he painted for.
at all of the freedom and abundance
|
followed:
“I shall never—love—anyone ever.”
Why had she said it, this moun-
tain girl with ash-colored hair and
eyes now black, now blue? And why
had she said it to him?
He did not see her again for sever-
al months. And it seemed somehow
that he must have dreamed the whole
affair; it was too fantastic—what was
the word Meister had used ?—too
fey, for the practical, workaday world
about him. i
For life in the Ozarks was very
practical that fall. First, there had |
Then timidly she tried to answer been a drouth. There was always a
him, but her words to
phrases from King James’
emotions and sentiments that belong-
tears streamed down her face as she
struggled to make him understand.
and follow the everyday rules of
health and hygiene—exercise, fresh
air and diet—when you come along
and upset it all by an abracadable
and promise of some cheap miracle qr
Her color rose, but her voice was
low and steady. “I don’t promise
nothin’.” 3
“You're ruining their lives—"
«But it can’t ruin their lives—just
believing in the Bible.” she protested.
“You're shutting them off from all
science could do—"
. She flared at that as he had at
“faith.” In these two words alone they
had contact—a contact that was tin-
der.
“Science ! I'd rather they'd die be-
lievin, than live forever by science !
But you notice”—her voice rang out
triumphantly —“they ain't —they’re
cured, they're healed.”
That pricked
“It’s luck, not any power of yours!”
“It’s a power, but it ain’t mine.”
She moved swiftly to the table, re-
placed the Victory, and picked up the
Bible. “It aint at all—its the faith,
“ i e, | |
How can L tegeh thet to Live san ‘ed. And there were, of course, the
him meant S250 or a gods or hoofuond nts
sro —archaisms —half forgotten | disease, or cholera, or rust—always |
DOANE er TS Beblomm ! something that sapped the hope and |
vitality of those who lived on the
ed to another age, another world; and , quent depression, prey for every |
disease of mind and body. Then the:
water supply of the little town had
become polluted, and typhoid follow- |
usual epidemics of measles, mumps, |
chicken-pox, and whooping cough, to
which each child was deliberately ex-
posed on the theory that “he might
as well have it now and git it over
with.” And always the ever-present
“chills and ager.”
And Doctor Shoemaker, the other
physician, jogged comfortably on the
way he'd followed for thirty years,
treating each case with physics and
pills and powders, knowing that an
all-wise Father sent sickness and
pestilence to try the soul of man and |
that the best he could do was to alle-
viate the immediate suffering of the
invidivual.
But to Alec it was not just a chal-
lenge to his medical skill but a glit-
tering opportunity to lay the founda-
tion for a sound, scientific attitude
toward disease. It did not come from
God in His infinite wisdom but from
man in his careless ignorance. He
practiced medicine but he preached
prevention.
‘and waited.
: depressing environment.
And he managed to enlist various |
!
smoky haze, but her voice rang out
clear and solemnly sweet:
« shall always go alone—always.” |
The door closed after her softly. {
Ten days later they met again at
the bedside of Jimmie Bassett, a little
cripple with curvature of the spine,
and both of them knew this case was,
the crux of their struggle, that the
whole town and county about were!
waiting eagerly for Hetty either to
vindicate herself or. .. i]
When he entered she was kneeling
in prayer with the child, wild-eyed and
delirous, clasped to her heart. And
all around were weeping women—
Miss Mattie, his aunt, a plump little
forces in his aid. The water ques-
tion became a political issue that
threatened to split churches, and Alec
threw himself into the fight with a
zest that won him a place on the
county ticket for the spring election;
and better still gave him access to the
two local weeklies, which started by
carrying statistical items on meth-
ods of purifying water and ended
with flaming—as only mountaineers
can flame !—editorials in favor of vac-
cination.
The teachers, of course, were his
best allies—some of them young girls
and their enthusiasm for the removal
of adenoids and tonsils, Better Health
Week with its tcoth-brush drill, may seamstress, the hysterical mother, |
have been the result of their normal- neighbors. .
school enlightenment or a tribute to Angry, disgusted, Alec strode
Alec’s profile.
And through it all Hetty went her
way quietly, and believed and prayed
swiftly toward her and took the hot
burden from her arms. |
The child stiffened and screamed—
1
and healed. hysteria, spasms, convulsions. A!
That was the curious thing—“and neighbor yushed in with hot water,
healed.” another made mustard compress. |
And the maddening thing, for it
made him feel his were only paper
victories. He tried to tell himself
his activities were on a large plane,
that he was laying the broad foun-
dation for a generation that would
be free from such ignorance and sup-
erstition, but in his heart he envied,
even as he resented, the intimate
personal contact of the girl.
Miss Mattie paced the floor and Hetty
still babbled in prayer.
“0 Lord, let Miss Mattie believe,
and Thy servant—help Thou my un-
believe !”
Finally the struggle ceased; the
tired little body relaxed, the head fell
back on the pillow, and the eyelids
were closed in peace. i
She rose with an eerie: “Give him |
Then suddenly he began to realize to me!” {
that the seed of his propaganda was Alec pushed her back. “Go home:
taking root. Mountain families no you have done enough—you have
killed an innocent child.”
to Miss Mattie briefly.
me too late.”
The neighboring woman stared; it
was true—Jimmie was dead—an in-|
nocent child—killed. And stole out to
whisper it to the town. |
Two hours later old Circus had
crossed Niangua and clacked his!
heavy hoofs up the ribbonwhite road. |
No light in the little shack on the
hill — Preacher Meister’s anxiety’
doubled. She must be home, he must
see her first, before . . .
A quick knock at the door an she
came, dull and dry-eyed. She had not
been crying. He was sorry, for,
that would have given relief.
“Oh, it’s you. Come in.” She light-
ed the kerosene lamp. “Won't you
set? I reckon you've heard,” she
went on, hands plumped on her knees
like an old woman. “It’s gone, all!
gone—I can never heal again.”
He pitied her suffering,
glad for the statement.
“Never any more, for my faith is
gone. That's what it was this time.
They all kept crowdin’ around—wond-
erin’, doubtin’, just waitin’ for me to!
fail. Even his mother and Miss Mat- |
tie—I heard ’em whisperin’ about it in
the hall before supper, sayin’ they'd,
give me one more chance before they .
called”—she hesitated and did not
speak Alec’s name—“him. And I
thought of all that when I looked at |
Jimmie—it’s hard to think of God !
when folks crowd around and other
thought come in.”
She brushed her eyes to shut out
the picture. “I can see him now, with
his little peaked face and his eyes all
big and bright. And his heart —1
could feel it beatin’ faster and faster
—fairly fightin’ to git out.”
longer related eagerly how she had
prayed Uncle Mort through pneumonia
or told in awe how her coming had
stayed the passing of little Ann.
It is true they would stiil relate
some “miracle” they’d “heard tell”
she’d performed, but with a superior
gkepticism that quickened his pride.
Except the mothers, who were
steadfastly loyal. For Hetty, it seem-
ed, had a way with children. Grown
people she just prayed over, but ba-
hies she held in ‘her arms till the fev-
er was gone and they slept once
more. ‘
Consquently his baby clinic was a
very hollow affair. So long as there
was no need they were willing to
come for advice on diet and routine,
but at the first hint of danger they’d
stay away; and when they'd creep
back some two weeks later he’d know
by their expression, either shamefac-
ed or defiant, that they had sent for
Hetty. Strange to say, they prefer-
red her super-love to his scientific
diagnosis; and it was hard, he found
to recapture their zeal for orange
juice and no kissing when this girl
by the touch of her hand had ban-
ished death itself, or so they believed.
Therefore he centered his attention
on the clinic, redoubled his energy,
He turned
“You called
but was
His chance came with the Tanner
baby, a wizened six-months-old-mite
—the fourth child in five years. (How
he longed for the day when he could
preach birth control!)
The Tanners were “hers”
pletely except for Rose, the step-
daughter of thirteen. So it was
something of a triumph when the
thin, dark-eyed girl caught hold of
his arm one evening after school and
awkwardly said that Mr. would like
for him to look at the baby. ;
He did, and saw in a second’s
glance that a very simple operation
was all that was needed. He shut
the mother from the room but let
Rose stay; a swift incision, a quick
turn and jerk, a few tiny stitches,
and the youngest of the Tanners took
up life again with only the natural
handicaps of a depleted heredity and
com-
Meister laid a quiet hand on her
arm. “It’s better for Jimmie, my
dear; God giveth His beloved sleep.”
“It’s all right for Jimmie, yes,”
she answered bitterly, “but the rest of
us—it’s gone, Parson, my faith!”
He was thankful; she had broken at
last, and he let her exhaust herself in
tears before he answered: “You
haven't lost faith, Hetty. Maybe you
don’t believe in yourself as an in--
strument any longer, but God’s still |
there—you believe in Him.’
She stared at him a moment, then
caught her breath. “That’s true! It!
aint God that failed —it was me!”
She gave a little laugh of joy and
flung herself on her knees beside him.
“You've give it back to me—God still
lives and His promise is true !” Then
she stopped in sudden thought. “But
the people—they won't understand.
They’ll think it’s God, that He’s gone
hack on His word. But I'll show ‘em’
next time, prove to ’em—"
It had to be done. He dreaded it,
hated it, feared it, but she must be;
told before. . . .
“There can be no other time, Het-
ty,” She stared inquiringly and he
went on quietly. “I hate to tell you— |
believed. But they doubted, Parson, don’t take it hard; but you've got to
and sent me away. They shouldn’t - promise to quit healing.” .
’a’ done that, should they?” | Her lips repeated the words: “To,
A quiet, steadying murmur from quit healin’ . .. |
Meister. A pause. Then a sharp cry He stumbled on: “The town people
from the girl—a cry of physical pain. —you know how things are, and they ,
Alec leaped to his feet and stood feel—well, you've got to quit, Hetty.” |
tense as Meister hurried in. i Her voice throbbed in answer: “Not |
“Sorry to've kept you waiting.” He as long as I live ! Would you have,
motioned to a chair but Alec still me deny my Master?” .
looked toward the door. | “I've come out to get your promise. !
“What—what—" He could not fin- A Otherwise in the morning they're go-
ish. ‘ing to the court house and charge you
“Hetty Babb.” The man under- with—murder.”
stood his question. “Just binding a | It was done.
cut or so on her forehead—rocks The Bible dropped from her hands.
thrown at her by some boys.” | She heard again Alec’s metallic voice:
“They need a playground—they’re | “Go home: you have done enough—
too careless in the street.” |
you have killed an innocent child.”
“This wasn’t play.” Hetty stood in
Murder. . .
the doorway, white and tired, like a The people she had healed would
nun, with a bandage across her head. { charge her with murder. They had
“This wasn’t play. They meant it"— i turned against her because of —him.
“I can’t stop, Parson,” she answer-
she gave a little gasp—“meant for ;
it me. And th hrieked ed gently. “I've got to give ’em back
fom Sn pe y RY | their faith. You see, if they think
y c names—a—
Sad yo i God failed ‘em in that promise, why,
Meister patted her shoulder, “Dorks y Hoy won’t believe, none. gi fom’ Lied
K oe now boys e reasoned, he a . .
Hotty? Sy Bests id {and she listened with tears, but her
«Children don’t say such things of answer was always the same. :
thmselves—some older head— And | They were interrupted by a quick
last Sunday at church a woman mov- | knock. Meister answered and hurried-
ed into another pew when I came. And ly stepped outside.
in the store yesterday—Nicholas’— | ~ She waited, Bible in hand, then was
they all stopped talking and—" She ! suddenly caught by a tone; it was—
The news spread instantly that the
Doc had saved the Tanner baby when
Hetty Babb had failed, and, although
he was annoyed by their tendency to
give him the worship formerly ac-
corded the girl, he was glad for such
an illustration of the harm in faith-
healing. Suppose, it rumbled over
the country, the Tanners hadn’t call-
ed him in. Suppose they had let her
go on. Suppose ....And several cit-
izens came to him to see about stop-
ping “that girl, she means well, but—
He stopped in a few nights later
at Preacher Meister’s to go over a list
of the needy poor. As he sat wait-
ing for the parson, in the next room
he heard sobs and then a voice he had
once thought dull and monotonous:
“I could have done it if they’d only
(it’s
when they
“around from the door.
, other way—she’ll have to do it: make:
can’t let them take her.
it’s
lifted her head and turned to Alec him, the man who had betrayed her.
with sudden fire. “You've done this Fragments of the talk floated in—
—turned ’em against me, made ‘em hushed, hurried whispers.
lose faith.” “They’ve lost their minds, gone |
Alec thrilled. He was sorry, of | completely mad... I tried to stop
course, angry, in fact, that they were them .... I never dreamt they
using such stupid, childish methods of | would act like this! A whipping! |
expression, but still it marked the | —the shocked horror of his tone!—:
turn of the tide.
(“and a woman! We've got to do |
She gathered her cape about her. something. And they're on their |
“Good-by, Parson.
| way now!”
“You—you can’t go alone. The She knew what they meant: there’d
boys—"
before in the moun-
The room was suddenly blurred and tains. long ago, they’d taken |
Alec saw the slim figure through a | Ned
been “ridings”
Once,
Warfly and whipped him all |
A
night for beating his wife. She was:
only a child then, but she remember-
ed clearly the great purple welts and
cuts on his face and body when they
brought him home at dawn. And an-
other time Dave Montross, who ran
the blind tiger. And Mark Beckley.
But those were long ago and the
vietims were men.
She moved to the door and flung it
open; the two men turned in the shaft
of yellow light.
“Come in.” :
They entered without a word.
“I’ve heard what you said.”
Parson crossed to her in swift pity.
“Now don’t you worry, Hetty.”
“I'm not afraid.” .
“You needn’t be.” Alec’s face was
white with agony, but his voice was.
hard and determined—the same voice:
that had turned her away from the
deathbed, now used in her defense.
“But they musn’t do this—this—
what they’re plannin’.”
“They won't.”
_ “Don’t you see,’ she went on, weav-
ing her thin fingers in and out in'a con-
stant pattern, “it don’t matter about
me—what they do to me—but them—
somethin’ they’ll allus regret
| come to their senses—
somethin’ that can never be wipd out.
The whole county will be shamed.”
“I'll talk to them,” said Meister,
“make them see.”
“Talkin’s no good now.” Her tone
was not bitter, hut Alec flushed. “No,
nor that,” she added as his eyees fell
on the gun. “It’s me— I've got to do
it. I thought it could wait, that my
next case would show ‘em, but it’s got
to be now.”
“But Hetty—what—"
“I’ve thought it all out—it’s simple
as can be. You know what the Bible
says—’
Alec interrupted; there was no time
for a religious harangue. He turned
to Meister.
“We've got to get her away—hide
her some place until—”
“And this'll do more than jest save
me or them,” she went on thought-
fully. “It will give em their faith
back, let ’em believe once more.” She
swayed mystically and opened to the
Bible verse: “And these signs shall
follow them that believe . .. and if
they drink any deadly thing it shall
not hurt them. . ..
There was silence a moment
Then she eagerly outlined her plan;
she would drink “any deadly thing”
from Alec’s medicine case; then when
the crowd came he could tell them the
test she had made.
“TI'or they'll believe you. It don’t
matter what kind, just so it’s deadly
poison. I'll fetch some water to take
it with.’
She went to the kitchen, an outer
door slammed, and a few minutes lat-
er they heard her priming the rusty
pump.
“I wanted her stopped by law. I
never dreamt this.” Alec stared down
the moonlit road and listened for the
beat of hoofs.
“It’s easy to start changes, but the:
pendulem don’t always stop where
you want it to.”
Suddenly the younger man swung
“There’s no
the test.”
Meister stared. You'd let her—die?’
Alec shook Lis head. “Of course
not! Tl substitute something as
harmless as sugar or soda. Then I'l}
tell them she made the test, they'll
believe me and—-thy’ll be right back
where they were!”
Meister shook his head: “No, they'll
never be there again!”
Alec went on passionately: “It'll
undo everything I've fought for, but I
a View I can’t let
He swiftly opened his medicine case
"and took out a bottle with a small red
seal. “The only bit of real poison in
the lot.” He thrust it carefully in his
‘inner pocket and took another from
the case. “And this, plain sodium.”
Hetty returned with a cup of water.
He silently dumpped into it the entire:
contents of the hottle.
“Would you mind tellin’ me what
L like—what happens — other
times ?” she asked timidly.
Alec hesitated an instant before
fabricating. “It isn’t painful; a
slight fever, quickening pulse, drows-
iness, a little dizzy, perhaps; swollen
veins then a damp chill—and a long,
long sleep.”
“Does it take long?”
He shook his head impatiently—his
mind was intent on the hoof beats
that would soon trip-hammer the
road.
She turned earnestly to Meister.
“If 1 succeed they’ll believe again.
But if I should fail, Parson, you tell
them it still is true—His promise to
them that believe—but that it was my
weakness, some tiny doubt that enter-
ed in me.” 3
She drained the cup and turned to
them with a look of radiance.
Alec stumbled to the door. That
was more than he could bear. All her
life she would face him serenely and in
a superior consciousness of her “mir-
acle,” and he could never reveal the
truth—to her or to anyone. She would
go down in history with Saint Eliza-
beth. He could never discount faith
again. With one impulsive gesture he
had torn down the structure of
months and had, by the same stroke,
made it impossible ever to rebuild. He
had tossed over his life’s work, past
and future, for that girl—“fey, the
Scotch would call her.”
“Let’s walk and meet them.” His
voice was thick. Anything to get out
of that room, to leave that effulgent
presence. He hated her, loathed her,
for what she had made him do.
Meister followed him and she
watched them go, through the pines
'to the moonlit road.
She stared at the pale moon that
hung on the farthest hilltop and a
quiet peace settled upon her. The
troubles and worries of yesterday
were gone; and she took no thought
of the morrow. Content to live in the
present, at one with the gentle forces
about her, and closer to God, she felt,
than ever before.
Even Jimmie’s death, which had
| tortured her only three hours ago,
now seemed unreal and far-away, like
(Continued on page 7, Col 1.)