Chapter 8

John Egerton's sensitive face flushed hotly. He felt himself to be in an extremely ludicrous position, Mr. Watson stood in the background ready to second anything he might say, but very glad to be able to take a subordinate position in the affair, and Donald leaned back against a tree and looked upon the little scene with an extravagant solemnity which was maddening.

At that moment the young clergyman would have enjoyed turning upon the insolent fellow standing there with his arms folded so evidently enjoying his discomfiture and thrashing him soundly, had he been able to find an excuse. Unhappily he had none, however, and his wrath all burst forth upon the boy.

"What did you mean by breaking up Mr. Watson's procession and leading all the boys away?" he demanded hotly.

Neil's inbred reverence for the cloth had suffered somewhat under Mr. Egerton's efforts to teach him to sing, so he answered promptly, "I never! I jist cut off with the other fellows."

The minister's temper was fast slipping from his control. "Don't dare to tell me that!" he cried, snatching the boy's arm. "You know you planned this disgraceful affair!"

But the lad had darted a glance at his brother, and the keen instinct of childhood had perceived that Donald was not in league with his judges. So he looked up into the minister's face and said with incisive impudence, "It's a lie!"

John Egerton might have restrained his rage even then, had he not again caught the gleam of laughter in Donald's eyes. The double insult was too much. He promptly caught the saucy boy a sounding box upon the ear which sent him sprawling upon the ground.

The next instant Donald was in front of him. "Try something nearer your own size, you coward!" he was saying, and barely giving his opponent time to prepare, he planted a blow right between the minister's eyes and sent him reeling back against a tree.

He was up and at Donald in an instant, and so sudden and terrible was his onslaught that the champion boxer of Glenoro had a distinct impression that he was meeting his match. Donald was just settling to the fierce joy of battle when the schoolmaster flung himself upon them.

"There's somebody coming! Stop, Donald! For heaven's sake stop, Mr. Egerton!" he implored frantically.

The antagonists parted with a sudden awakening to their position. The minister was fighting with one of his church members! For an instant the two young men stood back and regarded each other with something like horror. Donald looked at the dark bruise on the other's lately handsome face, and, realising who it was he had struck, his generous heart smote him.

The approaching group turned off into another path, and as their voices died away a terrible silence fell upon the four. Donald was the first to break it. Duncan Polite's nephew could be courteous even in the midst of his anger.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Egerton," he said with quiet dignity; "I should not have struck you; I forgot your position."

But John Egerton's rage was still shaking him. "I regret very much that my position makes it impossible for me to give you the thrashing you deserve. If I were not the minister of this place----" His voice choked with anger.

Donald's lips grew tight at this reception of his apology. "You are happy in your choice of profession, sir," he said quietly. "It is at least--safe."

The other stepped forward, his hands clenched. "Do you intend to insult me again?" he demanded, his face white.

"I was merely going to add," said Donald with a smile, "that it's rather hard on the profession."

Mr. Watson caught his pastor round the waist in a determined grasp.

"Splinterin' Andra's coming down the path!" he whispered wildly. "He'll be here in two minutes! Don Neil, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Mr. Egerton," he implored, "for goodness' sake come away!" He dragged the unwilling young man out of the pathway. "If this gets out you'll not be able to stay in Glenoro another day! Think of yourself! Think how it would look!"

Donald stood for a moment after they had left, torn between anger and shame. The small cause of all this commotion stood shifting from one foot to another and looking up at his big brother with frightened eyes. "I never made the other fellows cut off, Don," he whispered as they stepped quickly out of the way of the elder, "honor bright, I didn't."

"I know," said Donald dully. "It's all right; run off now. And look here, Neil, not a word about this to anyone, remember, and you and the other boys be at the platform when Mr. Watson wants you."

Neil promised and ran swiftly back to the river. Left alone, Donald glanced about anxiously and was much relieved to see no one near. Personally, he did not care if he had been seen, but he knew that Duncan Polite's happiness would be at an end if he knew his nephew had been fighting the minister. With a heavy heart he walked slowly back to where the boys were pitching quoits. He was equally enraged at himself for starting the fight and for not insisting upon finishing it, yes, even though all the congregation of Glenoro Presbyterian Church, elders included, had been watching. But above all, the sense of the disgrace he had brought upon himself and all that his uncle held dear weighed upon the boy's heart. Jessie was at leisure now, standing with a group of girls near the swing, but he could not go and ask her to swing with him after what he had done. He was tormented by the thought that she might blame him if she knew. So he turned and wandered off alone into the depths of the woods, farther down the river, full of anger and misery.

The first tables were being filled when he returned. He found an excited group gathered around one of them.

"Mr. Egerton's sick!" cried Wee Andra, as Donald approached; "Watson took him home."

"I wonder if it was a sunstroke, poor young man!" exclaimed Mrs. McNabb, bustling about with motherly anxiety. "I'm going to run home and see, and if he isn't any better I'll not come back. Liza, you and Mrs. Johnstone'll have to 'tend to those sandwiches. Dear, dear, isn't it a dreadful pity!"

Mrs. Fraser was already on her way to the afflicted one, and in the bustle and consternation Donald was able to hide his perturbation. He was filled with compunction at the havoc he had unwittingly wrought, for he knew the minister's disfigured face prevented his appearance in public.

A gloom seemed to be thrown over the whole festivity. The minister's sudden affliction was the one subject of conversation at the tea-table. The usual mirth and jollity gave place to a quiet gravity which might have satisfied even Splinterin' Andra. The schoolmaster did not return, so the original programme was dropped altogether. Instead of the grand-march and chorus which was to open the exercises, they sang the twenty-third psalm, and Mr. Ansdell led in prayer, adding a fervent petition that the young pastor might speedily be restored to health. Then there were some speeches after all. Sim Basketful, who was always ready, and old Andrew Johnstone, as was his unfailing custom, gave long, earnest addresses, and they sang the Doxology and went home.

Mrs. Fraser returned just before the assembly broke up with the news that Mr. Egerton was not ill, but had had a nasty accident. Mr. Watson said that he had stumbled and fallen when they were running through the woods, and had cut his face upon a stone. Mrs. Fraser considered it a mercy that he was not killed. Poor young man! In the midst of life they were in death, and likely Providence had sent this as a warning to the young people who were careless about their future state.

Miss Cotton didn't know what in the world the minister wanted to go tearing through the bush like that for, anyhow. It wasn't very becoming, she thought, and it was likely if Providence meant any kind of a warning it was for himself.

VIII

BURSTING OF THE STORM

Duncan Polite stepped out of the little gate one Sabbath afternoon, late in July, and joined his old friend on his way to Sabbath school. To-day the service was to be of unusual interest, for Mr. Egerton was to pay his first visit to the Sabbath school. Though he had been some months in Glenoro, he had never had such an opportunity before, on account of the afternoon service at his other charge. But to-day the service at the Tenth was to be taken by a visiting clergyman, and the superintendent of the Sabbath school was looking forward grimly to his pastor's visitation.

A few months previous this event would have been hailed by Duncan as a blessing from on high, but he had learned to expect much less from his pastor than in the early days of his ministry. He still hoped and prayed for great results, for to confess, even to himself, that the young man was a failure seemed like pronouncing his own doom. Still, it was being slowly but surely borne in upon him that Mr. McAlpine's grandson was neither a prophet like his relative nor a shepherd like his predecessor. Duncan's hopes for his valley were beginning to wane. What better were they now than four months ago? What better was Donald? And at the thought of his nephew, Duncan's heart ached. What was the matter with his boy? Some strange, unpleasant change seemed to have come over him; he never went to church, and it was whispered so loudly that it was heard even in the Watchman's exclusive little shanty that Donald Neil and the minister had quarrelled, and that Jessie Hamilton was the cause. Just how badly fate was using his boy Duncan could not know. In his honest endeavours to guard the young minister from the rumours afloat regarding the picnic Donald fell under his sweetheart's suspicion. It was their first quarrel, nothing serious at first, but Donald withdrew indignantly and devoted himself to his farm work. Full of repentance Jessie watched and waited for his return, and finally, as a means of hastening him to her side, she accepted cordially the kindly attentions of the minister.

And this was the condition of affairs at a time when Duncan Polite had hoped to see the two young men in perfect sympathy over a common cause--that of raising the spiritual life of his glen. The old Watchman's eyes grew deeper and more mournful every day over the fading of his cherished hopes. His promise to his father was not being kept. The covenant the founder of Glenoro had made, and which his son had renewed, was forgotten, and often in the distress of his soul the cry of Job came to Duncan's lips, "Oh that I might have my request and that God would grant me the thing I long for!"

But in the presence of Andrew Johnstone, the peacemaker was careful to hide his fears. He knew that his friend's dissatisfaction with the young minister was smouldering ominously and he watched Splinterin' Andra with ever-increasing anxiety.

On this Sabbath, Andrew was in such a sour frame of mind that the peacemaker's task was an especially difficult one. He plunged into the dangerous subject as soon as Duncan joined him.

"We're to hae oor bit meenister the day," he announced sourly. "We need na expec' ony great thing though, Ah'm thinkin'," he added soberly. "Ah suppose Ah'll ask him to take the Bible class."

"Oh, that will be a fine thing," said Duncan, with a great show of hopefulness. "The young man will be knowing his Bible well, and he will jist be giving the young folk some grand thoughts. Oh yes, indeed."

"Mebby." Andrew Johnstone's voice was anything but hopeful. "He could learn them plenty aboot fit-ball and croquet better, though."

Duncan saw the danger and hastened into the breach with soothing words. "It would be too soon to look for results," he declared. They must be patient. He managed to guide the conversation into smoother channels, and by the time they reached the church the danger of an outburst had been once more averted.

Mr. Egerton taught the Bible class in a most kindly and pleasant manner considering the ungracious way the superintendent requested his services. But Jessie Hamilton sat in one corner of it, her sweet face half hidden beneath her wide drooping hat, and that may have partially accounted for the feeling of pleasure with which he undertook the task.

During the remainder of the exercises he sat with the pupils, a silent spectator of old Andrew's methods. The superintendent was more impressively solemn than usual, and to the young minister, accustomed mostly to city Sabbath schools where the average boy conducted himself with considerable freedom, the place was oppressively rigid. He was amazed at the solemn silence. The children were unusually well behaved; even Mr. Hamilton's class was exemplary, for beside the usual terror of Splinterin' Andra, the presence of the minister demanded the very best conduct.

But the atmosphere of the place was oppressive to the bright, high-spirited young man. The bare severity of the building was bad enough in church, he felt, but in Sunday school it was disastrous. It should be a bright place, full of light and life. He made up his mind he would set Miss Cotton and the Ladies' Aid to redouble their efforts towards improving the place. When the service ended with a long, slowly-droned psalm and the children filed quietly out, whispering even on the doorstep, the minister drew a deep breath of relief.

He found himself walking up the hill with old John Hamilton and Peter McNabb. Behind them came the superintendent and Duncan Polite. Mr. Hamilton turned to include them in their conversation.

"And what do ye think o' oor Sabbath school, Maister Egerton?" he was saying. "Maister Johnstone here has made us a fine superintendent for mony a lang year."

"It's very good indeed," answered the young man heartily; "fine attendance, and the order is better than I ever saw it. But don't you think children need a little more brightness and life in their service to keep them interested?" He turned to his sour-faced elder with a charming air of deference which would have disarmed any man but Splinterin' Andra. But the elder's stick was already waving threateningly behind him, like the tail of a lion aroused. The young man did not notice the ominous sign and hastened on to his doom.

"I believe your Sabbath school to be a most exemplary one, Mr. Johnstone, but I hope you do not mind my saying that I believe the children should take a more active part in the exercises. They should feel it is theirs. A few good rousing hymns, now, in which they are interested, and--" he hesitated a moment, and then remembering how often the young people had begged him to open the subject of a musical instrument to Splinterin' Andra, and feeling that he was doing well, and now was his opportunity, continued--"and perhaps the use of an organ to help the music would aid greatly and add brightness and interest to the school."

The red rag had been shaken in the bull's face! Shaken very politely and gently it is true, but a maddening challenge nevertheless. Had the minister only left out the organ the presence of Duncan Polite might have restrained his friend from violence, but an organ stood for everything that was frivolous and worldly. And now that this man who had been the Joshua of his hopes, who was to lead the young people into the promised land of righteousness after their old leader had gone up to his rest, now that he had come out avowedly the promoter of instability and the apostle of fashion, it was too much for Splinterin' Andra. He had loved and revered the young man so long, in spite of his many failures, that his resentment was now in proportion to his former confidence.

Peter McNabb saw the danger, and burst in with a not altogether irrelevant remark about there being thunder in the air; but he was too late; already Splinterin' Andra's stick had darted from its place like a sword from its scabbard.

"Man!" he exclaimed, turning a face of righteous wrath upon the well-meaning young clergyman, "man! It's ma' opeenion, that wi' an instrument o' wund in the pulpit, we're no in great need o' anither in the congregation!" and sweeping a clattering shower of stones down the hill, he tramped away ahead, leaving consternation and dismay in his wake.

Duncan Polite walked by his friend's side in silence. He sympathised deeply with Andrew's feelings, but this new disaster was like to break the old man's heart. But Andrew Johnstone was not done.

"An organ!" He repeated the words with all the bitterness of his disappointed soul. "An organ! The Lord peety the kirk that has a fule for a meenister!"

"Oh, you must not be saying that, Andra," said Duncan Polite. "The Lord will be a better judge than man----"

But old Andrew interrupted him tempestuously.

"Man, Duncan, Ah've kept it tae ma'sel for mony a day, but Ah jist canna bide it ony mair! Him an' his organ! Aye, he's after some bit balderdash a' the time. Ah tell ye the buddy's no got the root o' the matter in him! He can preach, aye, Ah'll no deny yon, but what's the gude o' what he's haverin' aboot? This mornin' he preached jist half an oor, aye, an' twenty meenits o' it taken up in provin' that Paul was a gude man, a thing that no the biggest fule in the Glen would gainsay, no, not even oor Andra'," he concluded sombrely.

Duncan sighed. He had noticed that the sermons were steadily growing shorter. Indeed, from the first Sabbath of his pastorate the young minister had deliberately set himself to abbreviate the church service, commencing with the sermon. He had done it so gradually that he flattered himself it was unnoticed, but no one could depart one jot or one tittle from the ancient ways without the argus eye of the ruling elder spying out the offence.

"Oh well, indeed," said Duncan Polite, "it would be a clever sermon, Andra, and I would be thinking he gave us some fine thoughts on Paul."

"Paul!" cried the other with withering scorn. "Paul! and who sent out meenisters to preach Paul?"

Duncan could not answer. John McAlpine Egerton was a clever speaker certainly, with much of his grandfather's fire, but to the brilliant discourses on the heroes of the Bible which had constituted his sermons lately Duncan had listened with a remote ache in his heart. For though Paul was a great apostle, and David the Lord's anointed King, who were they to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords?

Old Andrew was still talking, his stick waving furiously. "It's railin' agen this, and rowin' agen that: it's Socialism and Anarchism and some other rubbishy ism every Sabbath. Man, why can the crater no preach the Gospel? Aye, an' we had a half an oor o' havers aboot infidelity last Sabbath. Tod! Naebody in the Glen kenned what infidelity was till he cam' except mebby yon lad o' Silas Todd's, an' the crater's no wise onyway!"

Duncan made a feeble attempt to stem the tide. "But these societies, maybe they will be doing good, whatever."

This was only fuel to the fire. "His societies! Man, wi' his Y. P. S. C. E. an' his Y. M. C. A. an' his X. Y. Z., fowk's heids are fair turned! Jist sparkin' bees, every ane o' them! An' him the biggest spark o' them a'! A Chreestian Endeavour Society! Man, where's he gaun to get it, wi' oot the Chreestians? Our Andra an' yon natral o' Silas Todd's, an' thae huzzies o' John Hamilton's, an' yon nephew o' yours! _A Chreestian Endeavour_! Eh, man, does the buddy no ken he canna mak' bricks wi'oot straw?"

Duncan made no reply. He was as utterly crushed as though he were guilty of all the sins imputed to the minister. His heart was crying out in its pain and disappointment. Andrew's parting words sounded like the closing forever of the door of hope. "Aye, an' we thought he would be anither Mr. McAlpine! The Lord forgie us for oor meeserable presumption!"

When the first sting of his resentment against the elder was over, John Egerton was not sorry that the disagreeable affair had occurred. The quarrel had not been of his seeking, everybody knew that; and the knowledge that he did not need to be on friendly terms with the cantankerous old man was a distinct relief. He realised now that the ruling elder had been something of an encumbrance to him ever since he came to Glenoro. He represented everything unprogressive in the church, and he, the minister, had always been under the unpleasant obligation of conciliating him. He almost drew a breath of relief when he found it was quite proper for him to take the opposite course.

So the consequence of Andrew Johnstone's hasty words was that the young minister joined the rising generation in all their risings. Fortified by his support they soared higher than they had ever dared before and demanded every innovation that has ever been known since churches began to follow the fashions. And first of all they set themselves tenaciously to the getting of a church organ.

They went about it with the wisdom of the serpent, too. The Christian Endeavour Society went through the congregation, collecting money from such as were favourable to the project. When they found themselves with a sufficient sum, their plan was to purchase the coveted instrument, present it to the session, and they would just like to see how Splinterin' Andra would prevent their accepting it.

But that was exactly what Splinterin' Andra intended to do; failing that, he determined to carry his old threat of violence into effect, rather than allow the desecration. He grew fiercer and more resolute every day, and yet in spite of his strength it was plain that at last he was approaching defeat.

Duncan Polite strove to bring about a peaceable settlement. He counselled yielding.

"It will be a great sin in the Lord's sight, Andra," he said pleadingly, "these wranglings among his own people. 'Peace be within thy walls, oh Zion!' that will be the will of the Master and, indeed, I will be thinking if we would jist all be of the right mind, this organ would be a source of blessing, and like David's harp that drove the evil spirits from Saul."

Andrew gave a derisive snort. "If ye can see ony similarity between David and yon bit, gigglin' light-headed lass o' Donald Fraser's that thinks she's to play the thing, ye're michty far seein', Duncan. And ye ken weel if the Gospel does na' touch them, they'll no be converted by a few bit worldly squeaks from a music-boax. No, it's jist all vanity, Duncan, jist vanity, an' we'll no hae the thing in Maister Cameron's church as lang as Ah've gotten the use o' ma' arms!"

But the organ party went on collecting money unheedingly, and Duncan was in despair. He appealed to Donald, but found very little satisfaction. Donald was working hard in the harvest fields, and came to Glenoro very seldom. Duncan could not but guess the reason; the minister's attentions to Jessie Hamilton were growing more marked every day. Wherever he looked Duncan could see signs of trouble, which he was powerless to avert.

The great day arrived when the sum of money was complete. At the next Endeavour meeting they would make all arrangements for purchasing the organ. Mr. Egerton preached a very clever and caustic sermon that Sabbath upon narrow-mindedness, and Duncan Polite's face was drawn with pain as he listened.