When he comes tell him I want to see him. Good day."
When he had gone out into the road Margaret inquired of her daughter what he had said to give such offense.
"He said I could learn to love him. And I as much as told him he was a liar."
"But, daughter, you musn't talk like that. You'll have to be more careful with him, for in some way he's got the upper hand of yo'
father."
"Well, I don't envy him his job."
"Hush," said Margaret. "Here come the folks."
CHAPTER III.
GETTING ACQUAINTED.
In came Mrs. Mayfield and her nephew, with Jim, the preacher, following them. Margaret began industriously to dust a rocking chair. She bade them come in, if it were not too warm, "Mammy has been ironing but the fire's dyin' down. And I do hope she irons yo' clothes to suit you, Miz Mayfield," she added.
"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Mayfield, glancing round at the preacher who with hat in hand sat on the melodeon stool, gazing at her. "I am not hard to please," she continued, speaking to Margaret. "I have passed that stage."
Margaret bowed to her. "Well, I'm mighty glad to hear it. So many folks are hard to please. There come a woman from away off yander sometime ago and took up over at Fetterson's and they couldn't do a thing to please her--grumbled all the time; the water wasn't even good, when heaven knows we've got the best water on the yeth. So I am glad you ain't hard to please."
"Oh, I should indeed be finical to find fault with anything in this delicious air," said Mrs. Mayfield, smiling at Lou, "this new life, among these God-worshipping hills, these--"
"Oh, auntie brought her romance with her," Tom broke in, and Lou gave him a look of tender reproof.
"Oh, let her talk, please. I like to hear her." And standing beside Mrs.
Mayfield's chair she said: "You told me you were something. What was it?"
"An echo from the world," the city woman answered.
Lou looked at her mother who in turn gave her a look in which the girl read an ignorance as profound as her own. "Well, is sounds mighty putty," she said, "but what do you mean by it. I don't understand."
"Why Lou!" exclaimed her mother. "You musn't talk that way."
"Oh, let her go ahead," Tom spoke up. "The fact is auntie says a good many things I'd like to have explained to me."
"Tom," she said, "please don't be any more wayward than you can help."
At this moment old Jasper's voice was heard without. "Git down from here. Got less sense than any dog I ever seed, come a jumpin' on me with yo' muddy feet. Howdy everybody, howdy," he greeted them as he entered, with a set of harness on his arm. Every one spoke to him and after surveying the party he drew a chair out from the table, sat down and began to tug at the harness, pulling hard against the resistance of a rusty buckle. "Whar's that luther string?" he inquired of his wife.
"What luther string?"
"The one I told you to put away for me some time last fall--mebby fall a year ago. Whar is it?"
"Gracious alive Jasper, I don't know. What did you bring that gear in here for? Can't you fix it at the stable?"
"Yes, could. Could also sleep and eat out thar, but I don't want to."
"Now what on the yeth do you want to talk that way fur?"
Jasper chuckled. "Wall, a man ain't hardly responsible for what he says when he's talkin' to a woman."
"Then you don't believe, Mr. Starbuck, that woman inspires truth," said Mrs. Mayfield, and Jim leaned forward, still gazing at her.
"Oh, yes, all the putty truths," Jasper replied, and Tom who, with Lou, was standing over near the fire-place, sang out: "There, auntie, he is meeting you on your own ground."
Jim's countenance flared and he struck in: "Yes, in the shade where the soft air is stirring."
Mrs. Mayfield turned to him. "Oh, thank you Mr.--I shall have to call you Mr. Reverend."
He gave her a smile and then as if afraid of too much light shut it off; but he had the courage to reply: "Anything you call me, ma'm, will be music."
"Oh, I tell you," said Jasper, tugging at the buckle, "Jim ain't been preachin' ten years fur nothin'. Wall, mighty fur nothin', too; for I ricolleck that one winter all he got was a pa'r of blue jeens britches an' fo' pa'r of wool socks. And if I don't cuss this thing in a minit more I'll be about fitten to preach."
"Mr. Starbuck," Mrs. Mayfield inquired, "was that you shooting so early this morning?"
"Yes'm, killin' them squirrels we had fur breakfus'."
"And you saw the sun rise?"
He left off working with his gear and looked at her. "Ah, hah. Ever see the sun rise?"
"I have seen the moon set," she said, half musing.
"And so have I," said Jasper. "I have seen the moon set and hatch out the stars."
And still musing, Mrs. Mayfield replied: "Yes, and they peeped at one another in their heavenly nest until the sun, man-like, came and spoiled it all."
[Illustration: "THEM WHAT HAIN'T HAD TROUBLE 'AIN'T HAD NO CAUSE TO LOOK FUR THE LORD."]
Jasper and his wife looked at each other, knowingly in the eye; and then the old man said: "I beg yo' pardon, ma'm, but you must have had trouble. But don't let it bother you any mo' than you kin help, fur my experience teaches me that them what hain't had trouble ain't had no cause to look fur the Lord."
"Why, Jasper Starbuck," Margaret spoke up, "ain't you ashamed of yo'se'f to talk about the Lord thatter way?"
"I ain't said a word ag'in Him. Leave it to the preacher thar. Have I, Jim?"
"No, Uncle Jasper."
"Much obleeged to you, Jim; and instead of stayin' five weeks with us as you said you 'lowed to, I wush you'd stay longer. I need you to prove things by. Couldn't make it five months, could you, Jim?"
"No, Uncle Jasper, I must get back to my mountain-side flock. There's many a poor old man tottering along that needs me to help him walk."
"That's a fact," said Starbuck, and turning to Mrs. Mayfield he continued: "He settles nearly all their troubles, ma'm; he's not only their church but their cou't house. I've seed him preach the gospel with one hand and with the other one tear up a lawsuit."