“Perhaps ’twas laid onto him to speak so,” said Temperance. “I have heard tell of these things.”
“Well,” said Mr. Simpson indignantly, “them things is more enjoyable by hearsay. ’Twas disgraceful! that’s what it was——” and then he made off, but Temperance, staunch old Temperance, stood her ground, and spoke to Vashti and Sidney as they emerged. But Sidney was wearied out and bewildered by the sudden defection of his people, and so had little to say, and when they reached the little gate the two couples separated and took different roads; the windows and doors were closed in all the houses which Vashti and Sidney passed as they went to the parsonage. Vashti realized that never had she been so identified with her husband as she was that day by the eyes which peeped out of the re-opened doors behind them.
Dole had withdrawn itself from its preacher. It had been hard to win out, but it retired to its shell with a promptitude which suggested that it had never been quite comfortable out of it.
“I can’t understand it,” said Sidney. “It seems extraordinary. I did not preach too long, did I?”
“No, indeed,” said Vashti; “you spoke splendidly.”
His face glowed like that of a child which has been praised; he passed his hand vaguely across his brow.
“I am so glad you are pleased,” he said. “It was your sermon, you know. It seemed to me I was saying just what you would wish.”
“Yes, of course you did,” said Vashti as they entered the parsonage gate, then, hesitatingly, she said:
“No, oh no—I—the fact is I don’t seem to remember what I preached about. How strange! But no matter if you were pleased at the time. I would not care to submit my theology to your tests, my dear.”
They were by this time standing together in the little study.
Moved by a sudden tenderness Vashti laid her face against his sleeve.
“I think,” she said, “you are better than anyone.”
A great joy illumined his face, he put his arms about her, for a moment his old self reasserted itself.
“My dear,” he said, “are you well? Why, Vashti, how thin you have grown.”
She looked up at him with great hollow grey eyes.
“Thin!” she said, and laughed discordantly; “what should the preacher’s wife have to make her thin?”
“You are First and Only Queen of my heart,” he said tenderly. “That’s your name and title.”