mr. artman looked up from his mail, frowning gently, and doris, always quick to note his changing moods even in the midst of directing treasure about the proper distance from the table for her chair, and admonishing zee to eat her oatmeal from the side of her spoon, was prompt to voice a query.
"don't frown, father, it isn't ministerial. has somebody else left you a will?"
"no such luck. i was not frowning at the letter—i have a headache."
"oh, father," cried zee. "it is because the girls make such a racket. go to bed, won't you, and i myself will stand on guard and keep peace in the family."
"zee's spirit is willing to be quiet, but her voice and her heels give it no support," smiled rosalie.
[pg 118]
"it is not the noise. i like to hear the incessant chatter and chase below stairs when i am working. this fellow—"
"fellow, father?"
"minister," he amended quickly. "he is a minister, but he is tired of pastoral work and wants to try his skill in evangelism, and insists on coming here to practise on us during his vacation. but we aren't ready for evangelistic meetings—and personally i should prefer another— anyhow—" he frowned gently at the letter again.
"tell him so," advised doris.
"i did. but he says he is coming for a visit anyhow, and he insists it is a direct guidance of providence."
"direct guidance of his bank-account, probably," said rosalie. "don't let him work you, father."
he shook his head at her reprovingly. "if it should really prove a guidance— anyhow, as he says, he is coming and will be with us a few days to think it over."
"then i can not go to the country to-morrow,"[pg 119] said doris. "rosalie is no fit person to cook dinner for a visiting minister."
"i am sorry, dear."
"yes, of course you are. i can see quite plainly that you do not want him any more than i do. but never mind. the country will remain forever, but—"
"some visiting ministers do, too, if they get a chance," chimed rosalie.
"rosalie! i dare say he is very nice, and we shall all enjoy him immensely. shan't we, father?"
"i hope so—i think so. he is—i do not know him very well."
"evidently he did not make a special hit with you," said zee shrewdly.
"oh, girls, how prying you are. he is very active and enthusiastic. that i was not personally drawn to him is rather my fault than his, no doubt."
"we are going to be very nice to him," said doris. "and rosalie can take him in hand, so he won't bother you every minute."
[pg 120]
"oh, he is married. and i must say his wife is nice enough to make up for—"
"father!"
"excuse me, dear, i mean his wife is—very nice indeed."
so the visiting minister came, the reverend andrew boltman, a nervous energetic man with dark eyes, and hair just tinged with gray, and he settled down for a visit in the manse, trying, meanwhile, to effect arrangements for the services, which mr. artman still insisted were not desirable at the time.
on the second day of his visit, when mr. artman announced his intention of going to a lecture at the college, mr. boltman said he preferred to stay quietly at home and read if he might be excused, and his host went away alone, seeming almost relieved to be free to follow his own desires for the afternoon. doris went serenely about her housework, and mr. boltman picked out a comfortable corner in the living-room with his book.
but late in the afternoon, when her father [pg 121]returned, he found doris alone at the window, impatiently tapping her foot on the floor.
"where is mr. boltman?"
"gone down-town. something is wrong with rosalie. she is up-stairs, crying. it must be pretty bad, for she would not tell me about it."
so mr. artman went up-stairs to rosalie, slowly but without delay, feeling that vague helplessness that comes to men when there is trouble in the family.
she was lying face down on the bed, rigid, her hands clenched tightly, but her shoulders rose and fell with heavy sobs.
something in her attitude told him that this was vital, not just a little tempestuous outburst that could be readily brushed aside. he sat down close by her on the bed, and laid his arm across her shoulders tenderly.
"rosalie," he whispered, and as she flung herself upon him he caught a glimpse of a white face and stormy eyes, quickly hidden from his searching gaze.
very gently he caressed her, asking no [pg 122]question, patting and fondling her as he would have done to a little hurt or frightened child. and then when the sobs came more easily, she stood up away from him suddenly and looked straight into his face, and her eyes were hard.
"i do not intend to be a christian any more—not ever any more. it is all over. i hate them. i think they are horrible. christianity is nothing—it is a cheat—and ministers are the worst of all."
"rosalie, my little girl, have i—done something?" he cried in a startled voice, for this was new even to him, who had coped with the moods of daughters for many years.
"oh, father, not you—how can you think that? listen. it is that wicked, abominable old married boltman. what do you suppose he did? i came in from school, and doris was at the store. he said i was the loveliest thing he had ever seen, and i said, 'thanks,' very curtly, for i thought it was downright impudence, that's what i thought. and before i could even dream of such a thing, he put his arms around me and kissed[pg 123] me twice—kissed me—right on the lips. he did."
she had spoken in a low voice, but every word fell so clearly, so distinctly, that it was almost as if she had shouted aloud.
"rosalie!" said her father in a hoarse whisper, and rosalie could see that his hands shook.
"he did. he kissed me—twice. is that all the ministry stands for? and he is married, and has children of his own—and he is in our home, and i—why, i am only a kid."
"and can one—man—kill your faith in the sanctity of the ministry—one man, rosalie?"
"there may be some other decent ones besides you—but how can i tell which ones they are? how can anybody tell?" she wailed. "they all come praying, and saying sweet and gentle things—how can you tell which ones are true and which ones—are like boltman?"
"we have always had the wolves inside the fold, dear. and of old, you know, they had their false prophets teaching error."
rosalie drooped her head against his arm, and[pg 124] did not speak. the gentle, so dearly loved voice, seemed to comfort her.
"i had hoped—i have tried—to keep my life so clean before you girls that if ever a time should come, like this, when your faith was put to the test, you could look at me and say, 'but there is father.' i have always felt it was a part of fatherhood, to be a living proof before the children of the home. i must have failed you some time."
rosalie clung to him, shaking her head in violent denial.
"he ought to be put out of the church," she whispered.
"we are human, rosalie, as well as ministers. and human flesh is not invincible. god is very, very reasonable with us. david betrayed his trust, but god forgave him. peter denied his lord, but was restored to favor. i think that god forgives us when we fail him even yet—even we ministers—if we go to him for purging."
"but, father, if the ministry can't keep a man good—what can?"
[pg 125]
"nothing but the spirit of the lord, working in us, nothing else, rosalie. and have you lost all confidence in the ministry?"
rosalie squirmed. "not in you, dearest. just in the rest of it."
"oh, rosalie, is your faith so small? people on whom i counted have failed me many times, yet i trust the next one just the same."
"you have more trust to begin with than i have. and he looked so—ugly, father—in his eyes. i hate to think that women have to sit in the church and look up to him in the pulpit—god's pulpit, that is sacred."
"rosalie, i want to talk to you just a minute, and then i shall go down and leave you alone to think it over by yourself. of all the ministers we have had in our home, he is the first to betray our trust. only one, out of the dozens we have had. i put it to your sense of justice, to your belief in fair play. your finger is pricked by the thorn on the stem of the rose, but you do not turn your eyes from all the lovely roses forever after. the dog goes mad and bites the hand[pg 126] that has petted him, but you do not say all dogs must suffer death. one girl who has been your friend is false to the friendship and betrays your confidence, but you do not deny yourself the friendship of other girls on that account. many a woman has been deceived by her lover, but she does not shut her heart to love and truth the rest of her life because of that. and many parents have been cut to the quick by the ingratitude and the disloyalty of a much-loved child, but they do not turn deaf ears to the claims of other children. it may be consistent, rosalie, to say that if one of a species betrays you none of that species can be trusted—it may be consistent, but it is not generous, it is not kind, it is not womanly. think it over, dearest, and i shall come to you again after while."
then he went down-stairs, and stood grimly at the window waiting until mr. boltman turned in at the gate of the manse, and went out the stone walk to meet him.
"have you decided about the meetings yet,[pg 127] brother?" asked mr. boltman eagerly, not noting the white lines on the face of his host.
"yes, i have decided. i am going out to the garage—come along, will you?"
after a while rosalie came down-stairs looking for her father, and she hovered close to doris as if enjoying the protection of her nearness, but offering no explanations, and doris asked no questions. so the two were together when the kitchen door banged open, and zee and treasure, trembling and pallid, rushed in upon them.
"what is it?" cried doris nervously. "what is the matter? did something happen?"
"oh, awful," cried zee, quivering. "father and mr. boltman had a fight."
"what?"
"they came into the barn—we were in the haymow, and father asked if he was going to explain something, and boltman laughed kind of funny and said, 'oh, be reasonable, artman, you know we are all human.' and father said, and his voice sounded very grim and—like an [pg 128]archangel, or something, and he said, 'yes, thank god, we are, but some of us have manhood enough to make us good to children and loyal to our friends.' and father said, 'there is something in the bible about the man who puts a stumbling block in the way of one of his little ones— and you have put a block in the path of faith for one of the children of the church.' and boltman said, 'won't you pray with me, brother?' and father said, 'yes, in a minute. but first i have to let you know what i think of you.' and father knocked him down— he did that very thing, we were peeking through the cracks, and boltman's nose bled something awful. then father got a piece of waste out of the car, and wet it at the hydrant and gave it to boltman to wipe the blood off, and then he said, 'now we will pray.' and they knelt down— what did father say in his prayer, treasure? i was so scared i couldn't hear good."
"he said, 'oh, god, wash the heart of this man who professes to be thy minister, and teach him loyalty, teach him tenderness, teach him purity!'[pg 129] or something like that. and he said, 'and, dear god, help me to remove that stumbling block from the path of thy little one.' and then father said, 'now get out. i will pack your bag and send it to the train for you.'"
"and father struck out through the meadow as fast as he could go, and boltman wiped the rest of the blood off, and went toward town, and—"
"whatever in the world do you suppose—"
"we must not ask any questions, girls," said doris quickly, without glancing at rosalie's face. "it is something connected with the ministry, and you know those things are sacred to father. so we must not ask about it, but let it pass."
rosalie's eyes were suddenly very bright, and she turned and ran breathlessly up the stairs. she knew that when her father was ready, he would come to her. and after a time, came father, with a little of shame in his eyes, and a flush on his face.
"and how is the problem now?" he asked gently.
[pg 130]
"all solved," she cried. "a fatherly blow from a strong right arm was the answer."
"i—you—how—"
"the girls were in the haymow, but they do not know what it is all about, and doris said we preachers must not ask questions in a case like that."
"rosalie," he said, "some people say that god does not watch over us, and guard us. yet providence certainly kept that man out of the house when you first told me,—i am afraid i could have killed him—there was hate in my heart—not now, dear. and believe this, dear, i did not strike him in anger. i thought it over carefully and decided it would do him good. but i did not hit him furiously, or wildly—it was deliberate."
"then you do not always believe in—turning the other cheek?"
"i do not believe in carrying it to the point of offering another daughter to the man who offends," he said quickly.
"i think," she said thoughtfully—"i believe—a false prophet was probably the serpent in the[pg 131] garden of eden. they are very upsetting, you know—i am sure it was nothing less than a bad minister that overcame eve's scruples."
"perhaps." and then he added wistfully, "do you still have that feeling of abhorrence for—us preachers?"
"oh, father, nobody could lose confidence in the ministry when you emphasize your argument with your muscle. it is all over. isn't it a good thing i know you? for you could cancel a dozen bad preachers, for me at least. i'm sorry for the way i talked. it was very foolish, and very wicked. why, do you know, for a while, i actually held god responsible for that creature? i thought, 'how can god allow such a monster to go about preaching his gospel?' and then, after you talked to me, i saw that he was only the serpent trying to despoil god's vineyard."
"oh, rosalie, how many of us do that very thing. instead of thanking god for the lovely vineyard he has given us, we blame him for the serpent curling at the roots. yet the serpent is not all powerful—even we have strength to drive[pg 132] him away—god saw to that. but no, instead of using our strength as it was intended, we say, 'god should not allow the serpent in the vineyard!' then it is all over, and you are still glad and proud to be one of 'us preachers,' are you?"
"gladder and prouder than ever," she said warmly, but her father saw in her eyes a little dark shadow of disillusionment that had never been in rosalie's bright eyes before.
