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that--her fingers air lovin' ones. These," and she held up her two brown hands, "would be hurtin' ye, cause I hates ye so." * * * * * Tessibel and Myra walked away from Ben's hut in silence, up the ragged rocks to the Longman shanty. "Ben were askin' to marry yer, Tess, weren't he?" demanded Myra as they approached
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the door. Tess nodded. "Were he sayin' as how ye could take care of him?" "Yep." "Be ye goin' to?" The intense longing and misery in her voice made Tess gasp: "Nope, he air too mean a cuss to live. If he air the brat's pa, let the brat's ma take care of him. The brat air a good little
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devil." Mrs. Longman was moving about in the loft overhead when the two girls entered the shanty. Tess went to the wooden box and looked down upon the small, pinched face of the sleeping infant. The babe had worn out his little lungs, screeching in his pain, the small faded eyes rolling backward as he slept. The young mother came
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quietly to the side of her Squatter friend. "If the brat dies," she began in a low, tense tone, "be ye goin' to marry Ben Letts?" "Nope, I ain't never goin' to marry nobody!" "Yep, ye will, when ye gets done bein' a baby!" Tess drew her eyes from the dozing infant and glanced at Myra. "I wants a Bible,"
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said she deliberately. "What for?" "To read out of!" "Can ye read?" "Nope, not much, but I can spell out words, and write a bit. And the Bible says as how, if ye seeks, ye'll find what ye seeks." The shining eyes were sending a truthful message into the heart of the young mother. "That ain't nothin' to do with
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Ben Letts," muttered Myra. "Yep, it air," insisted Tess. "It says what ye seeks ye find. Ain't ye seekin' Ben Letts?" "I knows where he air already," sullenly replied Myra. "But ye can seek his lovin's, can't ye?... I's a seekin' Daddy--and somethin' else." "What?" "To be readin' and writin' like--like the minister's gal does. I air a-seekin' it every
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day!" "How?" Tess flushed. She could not tell Myra of the long bearded God in the pine tree, nor of the stumbling prayers she had repeated night after night. Myra understood that she could sing, so Tess said laconically: "I sings for it sometimes, and that air a seekin'." Myra grunted. "I can't sing," and she frowned. The babe whined
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in the cradle and Tessibel took him up. The glorious voice hushed the child to sleep, Myra Longman bitterly scanning the beautiful face. There were only two years between her and Tessibel, and her own poor, ghastly wrinkled face looked years older. If she were only pretty, Ben might love her. Tess had the splendid vigor of healthy youth--Myra, the
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worn-out complexion of a bad digestion. Beans and bacon had made the one beautiful--and destroyed the other. Suddenly Myra leaned over with a new expression in her eyes. "Tessibel, I tries to seek Ben Letts and his lovin's for me and the brat." Tessibel placed the small boy in the box, then she and Myra obeyed Mrs. Longman's fretful demand
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that they draw up and eat. That evening Minister Graves came blustering in after his family were seated at the table. What was this ridiculous thing that he had heard? His home disgraced, his position ruined, his children ostracized. He glanced at Teola and Frederick. His wife, fastening Babe's napkin under the child's chin, remonstrated. "Why, father, what's the trouble?"
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"I was making a clerical call on Mrs. Robman to-day," fumed the Dominie, "and that girl of hers, and a saucy one she is, too, burst into the room, and, mother, what tale do you think she told--before us?" Frederick glanced at his sister, but Teola's eyes were upon her empty plate. Mrs. Graves shook her head. "That that Skinner
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girl came here last night and in all her rags and filth drank coffee from our daughter's cup! Madame, did you ever imagine that such a disgrace could fall upon you?" Mrs. Graves looked helplessly from her husband's distorted face to her son and daughter. "She came into your home," went on the minister, "and was asked to take refreshments
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from your cups. Mrs. Robman said that she disliked to think that such degraded guests were allowed in your home.... Do you understand what that means, Mrs. Graves?" "Let Frederick explain, father," pleaded the trembling wife; "he was going to speak and you stopped him. What and how did it happen?" "The girl came to the Rectory to ask prayers
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for her father," said Frederick, an expression darkening his eyes which his mother dreaded. "Prayers ... prayers!" roared the minister, "Prayers for a squatter and a murderer!... And drinking coffee from your cups. Such a disgrace can never be lifted from this house." "What hurt did she do?" irreverently asked Babe. Frederick was thankful for the child's frank question. "Hurt?
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Harm, you mean. If she should just hurt a person that could be mended. Harm was what she did!" "What harm?" persisted Babe. "Madam, you see your children are all growing up like heathens. There arn't any of the parents whose sons and daughters were here last night, who won't think a long time before they allow them to come
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again. You understand, don't you, that that squatter covered with germs of all kinds drank from your daughter's cup." Mrs. Graves started preceptibly. She was noted for a fear of germs. "Teola, your mouth must be scoured with peroxide ... Oh, if some one would only tell me how it all happened!" Frederick rose from his chair and impulsively laid
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his hand on his mother's shoulder. To Teola he looked so tall and strong, so capable of explaining, that she rose, too. "I will tell you mother," said the student. "The girl was in distress. In some way she had been led to believe that prayers, effective prayers, could bring about any desired result. She simply came to ask us
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to pray for her father." Teola was by his side now, reassuringly pressing his arm. "And where would she go," she broke in suddenly, "if not to a minister's home?" The pastor's whole family, at least the members that had been submissive--for Babe had always challenged her father's commands--was rising against him. His wife, instead of taking her willful children
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to task, was weeping; his son and daughter stood beside her refuting every word he said. He brought down his hand with a bang, his eyes narrowing into a slit. "You will every one do as I say," he cried. "Frederick, you are to stay away from classes for two days, your professors knowing that you have disobeyed your father.
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If your fellow students ask you why you are absent, you must tell them what I have said. And, you, Teola--" Frederick stopped the rush of words. "If I stay away from college two days," he said in a low tone, so deliberate that every word burned into the mother's brain, "I shall never go back again. I am no
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longer a child and I won't be punished. And what is more, I shall leave your home forever. You may take your choice, father, but not until I make another statement. The girl from the lake asked me to pray for her. That is my intention, and I shall do more if possible. I shall use every bit of influence
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I have to aid her father to escape hanging.... Also, if you punish Teola, you will never see me again." Mrs. Graves had risen from her chair. She walked straight to her son--placed her hand upon him. "Frederick, you wouldn't leave your mother?" The strong arm pressed about the wearied little form reassuringly. "And you can bet, papa Graves," put
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in Babe, "that I'll go with mamma any old day, that's what I will." Teola stood irresolutely, looking first at Frederick, then at her father. She went toward the minister and almost whispered, "Father, let me speak! The girl came without having been invited by anyone, and she did not stay five minutes. She was drenched through, and cold ...
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I gave her my cup of coffee, and she stated her errand and went away." The minister rose, leaving his supper untouched, put on his overcoat, not one remonstrating word coming from his family, and went out. Pastor Graves made his way up the town through the main street to Bates' drug-store, his hunger having died in his anger and
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amazement. He was positive that he could have brought his children to terms, had not their mother taken sides with them. His thoughts went back to the early days of his married life when nothing had disturbed their peace; the children obeyed, and Mrs. Graves thought her husband's word the essence of all law. He turned into the drug-store in
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the middle of the block. Here met, nearly every evening, the head ones of his flock for a little while to talk over religion and politics. Outsiders called it the "Amen Corner" of Ithaca. "Ah," exclaimed the druggist, "you're early, Graves. Must have had your supper at the going down of the sun." Graves coughed his embarrassment and sat down.
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"Feeling sick, Elias?" The druggist opened the door for a child to pass out. "No, not ill, only disgusted with the world in general." "Skinner's girl coming to the court went against your notions, eh?" "And every one else's with any sense," snapped Graves. "Professor Young stopped in here to-day on his way up the hill," resumed Bates, "he had
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been over to the jail, talking to Skinner, and he says that the man will be murdered if the state hangs him." "That's all Young knows about it," growled the minister. "You and I know these people, Bates, better then Young does, and Skinner's word isn't worth the powder to blow it up with." Bates took his accustomary position on
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the book-keeper's stool and spread his long hands out on his knees. "Well, the professor says," he went on, "that Skinner can prove that he didn't use the gun." "How can he prove it?" asked Graves sharply, "only by the oaths of men with no more veracity than he has. I wouldn't believe one of those squatters if he used
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the sacred oath twenty times over." "Maybe the next jury will think differently," argued the druggist. "Bigger fools they then," interrupted Graves. "I don't know what the town is coming to if the fishermen can shoot down our officials without even remonstrance. I'll tell you what, Bates, there'll be a city war over Skinner. Let Young take up the cudgel,
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and I'll see what the church can do. There's power in the pulpit, I can tell you that." Bates agreed to this. "If the citizens of this city," continued the minister, encouraged by the evident acquiescence of the druggist, "should take this matter up as a body, ten men like Young couldn't bring about Skinner's acquittal." "I'm not so sure,"
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muttered Bates. "I'm sure," insisted Graves strenuously, "very sure, for, if to a man every one is ready to do his duty, what kind of a jury could they have? Like yesterday's--conviction, swift and sure." "But" objected the druggist, "a juror who takes his oath in a murder case, must know little or nothing of it. Men would not be
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accepted if for a week or month they had listened to combative sermons against the prisoner. And you certainly wouldn't have a juror perjure himself, would you, Graves?" "The district attorney is no fool," replied the minister, softening his argument under the shocked expression of Bates; "he knows when the state is to be benefited by the outcome of a
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trial. He can leave off certain questions; it has been done." "I know it," interrupted Bates. "But--it seems hardly fair." Just then the door opened, and Silas Jones, the richest man in the town, took his seat with the other two "Ameners." The fascinating subject of the day, the unusualness of the squatter trial and the girl with the singing
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voice, continued to be the topic of conversation. Minister Graves' family, in standing out against him in a matter so near his heart, only strengthened his desire to see the end as he wished it to be--the sentence of yesterday executed against the fisherman without another trial. "Young lost his senses to-day, don't you think so, Silas?" he asked. "Well,"
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drawled Jones, "if Skinner didn't commit willful murder, I'd hate to see him hang. It wouldn't do any harm as I see to give him another chance." "You'll change your mind in church next Sunday," commented the parson. "I'm going to show every man his duty clear and plain." He brought down his hand upon his knee with an egotistical
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slap. "All folks don't think the same way you do, Dominie," persisted Jones. "Now then, Bill Hopkins of the toggery shop, he don't believe in women speakin' in meetin'." The minister distinctly remembered this. More than once had he taken the delinquent Bill Hopkins to task for taking his letter to another church, but Bill could not be induced to
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return, because the creed had not been followed by its members, nor enforced by the shepherd of the flock. Hopkins was the best-read man in the whole county, and his voice went far when he spoke, but for over a year his place among the "Ameners" had been vacant--also his pew in Graves' church. The Dominie needed such men as
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Bill in his congregation if he would win his fight against the squatters. These thoughts were prominent in his mind when the door admitted a great gust of wind--and the famous Bill Hopkins. The parson caught his breath. Bill spoke a genial good-evening, shook hands around, and bought a small bottle of witch-hazel, some camphor, and was about to leave,
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when Graves ejaculated: "Sit down, Bill." Bill sat down, took his hat from his bald head, and placed his fingers complacently around a smooth white wart on his cranium, and waited. He looked questioningly at the rich man, and the druggist with the wide-spread hands. The church subject had been thrashed out long ago--the women of the congregation gaining the
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day in spite of the august presence of some of the deacons, who openly declared that the female portion of the church was unbecomingly usurping the authority of the men. Because of this flagrant disobedience of the church's creed, Bill Hopkins had taken his name from the roll, and was known to have said that he would not be led
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by a shepherd who could not order his flock. To-night he smacked his lips for the coming argument while the minister, glad to have him among them again, felt his hopes rise higher. Bates flattened his hands with delight, noticing a smile that drew down the corners of Jones' lips. Long ago the pleasant religious argument of Ithaca's "Amen" corner
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had become a thing of the past, because of the absence of Bill Hopkins. He had been the zest of the crowd. The Dominie, forgetting his grievance of the supper table, straightened himself for the combat. He had suddenly conceived a plan whereby he could gain a friend to aid him in the coming squatter fight. Bill Hopkins still waited
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with a quizzical expression in his shaggy-browed eyes. "Strange happenings in town for a few days past," said Graves. "The Skinner case?" asked Bill, rubbing gently the smooth white wart. "Yes," assented the minister. "What do you think of it all, Bill?" "The girl's a brick," commented Hopkins--and sank into silence. "The girl's not being tried for murder," rebuked the
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minister sharply. "But she played her part with feelin' and power," was the drawling reply. The clergyman saw a flitting expression of triumph in the druggist's face. "She'd make a capital actress," ruminated Graves. He glanced at the rich man to see if he coincided with him, but that gentleman was looking into the street. "We all act in this
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world," excused Bill; "even you ministers use methods that you have found in elocution to bring your beliefs to bear upon your congregations." Graves did not relish being classed with the squatter's child, but he made no comment upon it. He changed his tactics. "Bill," said he, "have you altered your ideas about the church?" "What ideas?" "Well, about women
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having the privilege of speaking in meetings." Bill shook his head, and Graves resumed: "Well, I'm changing my mind ... I'm going to stop this nonsense." The rich man sat up and the druggist, scenting a religious rumpus, drew his stool nearer. Bill coughed loudly. "Those women," continued Graves, "have had their own way too long ... I shall put
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a stop to it immediately." Bill Hopkins wondered what was coming. It behooved him to wait and see; so he settled back with his head bowed and his piercing eyes directed steadily upon the pastor. A dark flush mounted to the minister's face. He had expected that such condescension to an ex-member would be received with enthusiasm. As no other
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of the "Ameners" offered a word, Graves continued: "Next thing that we know, the women will be coming into the church with uncovered heads. I wonder I've stood it so long." Still Bill did not speak. He could remember that when the dispute had been at its height these had not been the sentiments of Pastor Graves. In fact, when
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a delegation had gone to the parsonage to demand obedience to the constitution of the church, the Dominie had replied that the ladies had come out victorious in the matter, and that it was an old-fashioned idea to forbid the women to speak or pray in public if they so wished; and the crest-fallen delegates had gone away from the
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rectory, and Bill Hopkins, with several others, from the church. Seeing that not one of the respectable "Ameners" was going to help him, the Dominie sputtered out his wrath in another direction. "If Young had kept his hands off that Skinner business, there wouldn't have been the slightest chance of the fisherman winning out." "Ah! here's where the shoe pinches,"
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thought Hopkins; "the parson needs help to wrest Skinner's squatter rights from him." But he did not voice his thoughts. "I guess that's right, Dominie," were his spoken words. "Skinner didn't have many friends in the court until that girl came in. She certainly did make a change in the ideas of most people in this town." "Fools! to let
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a child like that break up the dignity of a court-room." Graves settled back angrily in his chair. He had lost in the game he was about to play with Bill Hopkins--lost before the game had begun. "Skinner can thank his kid for his life, nevertheless," interjected Jones, "for another jury will never convict him. "Think not?" queried the druggist.
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Bates' question remained unanswered, for Dominie Graves turned the subject again. "Bill, if I come out strong in the church and give you your own way in the disputed question, then you must do something for me. I'll speak to you later about it." "Pretty far along in the day," was Bill's answer, "but as you please, Dominie. I don't
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know what you want, but most of your friends will stick by you if the church is run on its old plan and according to the creed and the Bible." When Minister Graves walked home he felt that in spite of family differences he had scored a point in getting from Hopkins a tacit consent to come back into his
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congregation. When the family gathered about the table the next morning in the rectory, the Dominie told his wife solemnly that he wished to talk with her after the children had gone to school. Breakfast over, he broached the subject of the women talking in prayer meeting, Mrs. Graves listening eagerly. As the pastor's wife she had done the best
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in her power; but her power had been weak, and the stronger ones in the congregation had ridden over her convictions and teachings. There was Augusta Hall, the beautiful wife of one of the deacons who had demanded that she be allowed to voice her sentiments in public; and other women had followed her lead, although it had been absolutely
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against the tenets of the church. This woman was in Mrs. Graves' mind, when the Dominie brought down his hand upon the table, saying he had decided to stop once and for all the nonsense in his church, which was keeping the best of his members away. Mrs. Graves breathed Mrs. Hall's name meekly to her husband. "She can leave
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the church," growled Graves. "In my mind it's almost sacrilegious for women to dare to go so far that some of the best of its members will leave a well-regulated church. Maria, you must talk to Mrs. Hall and bring her to reason." "If you can't succeed," replied Mrs. Graves, "how do you expect me to? You're her pastor." "I
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will go and talk to her first, then you follow close upon my heels, Maria, and between us both, we will get Bill Hopkins and Carey back among us. If they come the rest will." * * * * * Late in the afternoon Mrs. Graves put on her bonnet, and, with a sigh, tied the strings under her withered
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chin. In the very moment when the congregation had at last become reconciled to the privileges extended to its female members, another church war was to be fought. But the little woman dared not refuse her husband's command, so she climbed the long hill toward the south and timidly rang the bell marked "Hall." Her husband would have been there
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and gone, for the afternoon was well toward its close. As the servant ushered her in, Mrs. Graves heard loud voices coming from the drawing-room, and instantly recognized one of them as the clergyman's. "It's all very well, Mrs. Hall," he was saying, "for the women to work if they can do it without showing too much authority, but, my
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dear lady, I have been studying into this matter and it is positively against the Scriptural injunction for women to speak in church." "Where did you read that?" asked Mrs. Hall, handing the Dominie a Bible, which he did not take in his half-extended fingers. "I know, and you know where it is without looking," said he sharply. "There is
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a command from Paul that all women should keep silent in the church in the presence of men." "Paul was an old bachelor," irreverently answered Mrs. Hall. "What did he know about women and their needs?" "He received the commandments from God," replied the pastor gravely. "Not that one, and what's more, I am going to talk all I want
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to, and if there is a man who does not want to hear, let him go away until he either changes his mind or desires to take things as they are.... Why! the women have been speaking in our church for over a year." At this juncture, Mrs. Graves walked in, pale and weary. She dropped weakly into a chair.
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"Your husband has just informed me," snapped Mrs. Hall, her beautiful face flushing as she spoke, "that we are not to speak any more at the church meetings. Do you approve of that, Mrs. Graves? I'm sure--" "Like all dutiful and obedient wives," came the sharp interruption from the minister, without giving his sorry-looking spouse a chance to speak, "my
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wife thinks as I do. Mrs. Hall, allow me to entreat you to follow the dictates of your conscience, and obey your husband always." "My husband gives me my own way," answered Mrs. Hall with a toss of her head. "There he is wrong, but I shall leave you to talk things over with my wife. On Sunday I shall
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make it the theme of my sermon and I hope before Wednesday, my dear Mrs. Hall, that you and some others will look upon the matter in a different light." The Dominie wended his way toward the business quarter of the city and turned into the Gas Company's office. Inquiring for Mr. Hall, he was ushered into a private room
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marked "President," and heartily greeted one of the deacons of his church. "Anything wrong?" asked Hall, noticing the expression upon his pastor's face. "No, only I called about a new rule which we're going to pass Wednesday evening, and you can help us if you will." The president looked up inquiringly. "The women must no longer speak at the prayer
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meeting." Mr. Hall half rose from his chair as these words fell from the clergyman's lips, but he sank mutely back. "It has become necessary to enforce the laws of the church," explained Graves, "and I have taken up this matter with some of the members--also with your wife." Mr. Hall dropped his eyes upon his left hand with the
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fingers of which he was bending back those of his right. "And what did she say?" "I think it will be necessary for you to talk with her, Hall; surely you have enough influence over her to make her see that it is absolutely necessary that women should cease their--" "I thought, Dominie," broke in the deacon, "that we had
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long outgrown such notions. You had better let matters go on as they are." The minister shook his head emphatically, and looked searchingly at his parishioner. "Fact is, Mr. Hall, you know that it is not a personal thing with me, but for the good of the church. Hopkins has left and Carey only comes when he feels like it.
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Several others stay away without a place to worship, simply because the ladies will have their way. I have no trouble with my wife and no man would if he were to demand obedience as God says that he should. I shall preach upon it Sunday." "Don't make it too strong," ventured Hall, thinking of his beautiful wife. As far
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as he was concerned it made no difference whether women were silent or not, whether they wore hats to church or came in with bare heads. He was happy in his home life, and was not willing to bring about discord by arguments that meant nothing to him. When the church matter had come up before, he had acquiesced without
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a word, had watched the fight as it progressed, and when it ended had settled back to enjoy peace--a happy official of Ithaca's gas company. He looked out under his brows at the clergyman, as he fingered the paper-cutter on his desk. He took it up mechanically and read the inscription on the handle: "From me to you." His wife
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had given it to him, and Hall mentally wondered if the woman who could think of, and would dare to use, such a unique expression would be frightened by a word from him. Without asking Augusta, the husband knew that his wife would be the first woman to rise to speak next Wednesday evening. This much he intimated to Graves.
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An expression of sarcasm flitted over the clergyman's countenance, but it quickly vanished--Graves was trying to add to his strong friends that day. He only remarked that he hoped it would be settled amicably. The president ventured another shot: "Dominie, there's a complete turn in the affairs of Skinner; he says that he did not commit the murder--that he positively
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did not pick up the gun from the shore. Simply because he owned the gun is no proof that he used it. Young says--" "Young had better attend to his campus business," interrupted Graves. "He will have all he can do. There's no doubt in my mind that Skinner is guilty. I should have thought that his conviction was proof
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of that." "But he didn't have a chance to prove his innocence," replied Hall. "He has such a good reputation among his own people that Young is going to take up subscriptions for another trial." Elias turned sharply upon the gas official. "Few people who understand the matter will give money to save the life of a squatter. That's another
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thing I'm going to preach upon next Sunday. The very manner in which they live would prove what bad citizens they are." "We can't hang a man," argued Hall, "because he doesn't live in accordance with our stilted notions. Professor Young says that the girl is a genius--that she has a beautiful voice. I promised that if he took up--a
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contribution for the family that I would send him a check." Elias Graves rose hastily to his feet, forgetting to put out his hand as he went out. He now hated Tessibel Skinner with a deep religious hatred, and it would be war between him and her for the life of the imprisoned squatter. President Hall, with a smile upon
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his face, closed the door of his private office after his pastor had departed. "It's evident why Graves wants the women turned down," mused he; "he thinks that he will draw about him again such men as Hopkins and Carey and that they will help him in removing Skinner from his land. I won't help persecute the poor devil--Gad, but
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that daughter of his did turn things upside down. I wonder what Augusta will say to me when I go home?" * * * * * It was a keen, cold and blizzardly Sunday morning when the bells of the different churches rang out upon the air. Ithaca was astir and her citizens anxious to worship. For one-half hour the
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streets teemed with well-dressed people, then became as silent as if the town were uninhabited. Minister Graves took his place in the pulpit and scanned the pews which were filled to overflowing. Not only had his members come, one and all, but people from other congregations were standing at the back of the railing, eager to hear the mighty effort
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which would be given forth from the clergyman's eloquent tongue. Elias Graves took his text from Genesis--"And thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee." The minister leaned far over his flock, as he finished this impressive text. His eyes fell upon Deacon Hall's pew, then upon his own in which sat his wife with
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Babe near her. Frederick was between Teola and the little girl, and they were all earnestly watching their father--something was going to happen, but they did not know what. The deep voice broke out into a prayer, followed by a soulful anthem from the choir. Minister Graves rose with dignity, and began his sermon. "It is my intention," said he,
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"to divide my sermon this morning directly in two, because my subjects are so entirely different. Before the expiration of it, you will see the force of my argument and will, I hope, profit by it." He continued by saying, a house divided against itself would surely fall, that even a stone structure built upon sand would slip into the
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sea. "Brethren, the sea of which I speak is a sea of discontent and disobedience. From my reading text you will see that God commanded that woman should be obedient, that she should obey her husband to the letter--to the letter, brethren." There was a decided rustle of silken petticoats in the church. "It was the disobedience of our first
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mother," spoke the clergyman, "that threw Adam into ill-repute with his Creator, and also Adam's love for her that drove him from the Garden of Eden. Brethren, God is good to mankind, ever ready to listen to his appeals. If Adam had only believed in the greatness as well as the goodness of God, he would have spurned the woman
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who had dared to so flagrantly disobey, instead of following her from the garden. "Adam had more than one rib," went on the minister, "and how readily and kindly would God have disposed of the first sinning Eve and under the pleasant sleep of the man, Adam, extracted another rib out of which he would have constructed another and yet
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more beautiful woman. Some of us are finding it impossible to keep order in our families, and until we do, we cannot expect to live to the glory of God." A loud hacking cough came from Deacon Hall's pew and many heads were turned toward it. This disconcerted the clergyman for a moment, but he picked up the threads of
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his sermon and resumed: "If every man in this little city would rely upon the goodness of God to supply him with another Eve, when the woman joined to him in holy matrimony disobeys His law, it would be a simple matter to re-establish order in his household. Just as happiness was given to Lot after the turning to salt
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of his wife." The minister paused--the silence was so deathly that it appalled him. He allowed his eyes to fall upon the memorial window with a man's face upon it. The words underneath the figure passed before him dimly. Then he remembered that he was preaching a sermon. Was he not the chosen shepherd of the flock? Was he not
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the one man called by God to show these people the righteous paths in which to walk? Should his voice be silenced because others did not believe as he did? And was he not showing them the light through the Scriptures? With these thoughts in his mind and renewed energy in his voice he spoke again: "I should be the
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last man in the world to raise a false alarm, neither do I desire to enter homes and bring discord there. But I read from a passage under my hand, 'If thy right hand offend thee cut it off.' "From the words of the Scriptures I have proven to you that a household must be ruled by the husband and
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by him alone. And that it is the duty of every wife to obey her husband as long as she shall live. "I shall ask the women of this congregation not to rise next Wednesday evening in the prayer meeting, either to pray or testify. The privilege has been withdrawn as one perniciously against the tenets of the church. For
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Paul says in first Timothy, 'I suffer not a woman to teach nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence;' also I give you Paul's further command, 'Let the deacons be the husband of one wife, ruling their children and their own houses well.'" He ran over the last few words quickly for the louder rustle
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of silk could be heard. The minister changed his subject and gave them another text which said that the wicked people of the earth should be cut down. Was the minister going to sanction the killing of wives who refused to obey their husbands? Had he lost his mind? But his voice rang out upon the congregation upon a subject
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in which they had recently become so interested. "There is on our city," said the clergyman, "a terrible blot. The wicked ones of Jerusalem could not equal them in wickedness. "The plans of God in keeping peace among his people are to be carried out to-day, with as much vigor as they were three thousand years ago. I need not
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give you the details of a murder committed a short time ago within the limits of our city. The very fact that the murderer has the chance of another trial after his conviction demonstrates that something must be done, and quickly. If the secular law is not able to wipe out such a blot then the church must help. It
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