“I do not advise a man when his mind is made up.”
“And we have not been so bad for Bensalem. Seven is the perfect number. We have been here seven years. What _will_ Judith say?”
“I think I will go and see,” he said, rising.
“It will be the first storm I ever was afraid of.”
Left alone, Marion forgot her work. It was not only Dunellen. He would forget to ask Judith about Dunellen.
Judith was sitting before the fire on the hearth with a book when Roger stamped up on the piazza. Aunt Affy, mixing bread at the kitchen table, heard the gate swing to, and called to Uncle Cephas that somebody must want shelter for the night to come out in such a storm. Uncle Cephas dropped his newspaper and opened the sitting-room door that led to the piazza.
“Sakes alive!” exclaimed Aunt Affy, rubbing the flour off her hands.
“I had to come to see my elder,” explained Roger.
“Oh, church business,” said Aunt Affy enlightened.
“Young folks never mind a storm,” remarked the elder. “Shake off your snow, and come to the fire.”
As Judith arose with her book Roger detained her; “This isn’t a secret session, Judith. You and Aunt Affy must help me decide about Dunellen.”
“Dunellen! Has it come to that?” inquired the elder.
“Dunellen has come to me. The First Church has come to me.”
“I might have known what would come of your exchanging so often,” remarked Uncle Cephas, discontentedly.
“I thought you did it to rest Dr. Kent,” reproached Aunt Affy.
“And you got ensnared yourself. Roger Kenney, are you going there for the money?” asked Uncle Cephas, with solemnity.
“You know better than that,” replied Roger, angrily.
“The heart of man is deceitful. There’s a great difference in the salary. But there’s a difference in the man. You’ve grown some since you came here seven years ago.”
“Uncle Cephas, I think you are _wicked_,” protested Judith, with tearful vehemence. “If you don’t know Roger better than that you do not know him at all.”
“You don’t know men,” insisted the elder of the Bensalem church. “The heart is deceitful and desperately wicked.”
“Judith knows mine is not,” laughed Roger.
“Judith, don’t fly at me and eat me up,” said Uncle Cephas; “I know this young man as well as most folks. He doesn’t love money _enough_. He may be going for something, but it isn’t for money.”