“She seemed to take it very sensibly when I told her.”
Christopher nodded happily and lovingly. “She would. She can understand not understanding, and that is more than most women can. It was mighty good of you to bring the things. You are in time for breakfast. Lord! Mr. Wheaton, smell the trees, and there are blooms hidden somewhere that smell sweet. Think of having the common food of man sweetened this way! First time I fully sensed I was something more than just a man. Lord, I am paid already. It won't be so very long before I get my fill, at this rate, and then I can go back. To think I needn't plow to-day! To think all I have to do is to have the spring! See the light under those trees!”
Christopher spoke like a man in ecstasy. He tied the gray horse to a tree and brought a pail of water for him from the spring near by.
Then he said to Stephen: “Come right in. The bacon's done, and the coffee and the corn-cake and the eggs won't take a minute.”
The two men entered the shack. There was nothing there except the little cooking-stove, a few kitchen utensils hung on pegs on the walls, an old table with a few dishes, two chairs, and a lounge over which was spread an ancient buffalo-skin.
Stephen sat down, and Christopher fried the eggs. Then he bade the minister draw up, and the two men breakfasted.
“Ain't it great, Mr. Wheaton?” said Christopher.
“You are a famous cook, Mr. Dodd,” laughed Stephen. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, and the breakfast was excellent.
“It ain't that,” declared Christopher in his exalted voice. “It ain't that, young man. It's because the food is blessed.”
Stephen stayed all day on Silver Mountain. He and Christopher went fishing, and had fried trout for dinner. He took some of the trout home to Myrtle.
Myrtle received them with a sort of state which defied the imputation of sadness. “Did he seem comfortable?” she asked.
“Comfortable, Mrs. Dodd? I believe it will mean a new lease of life to your husband. He is an uncommon man.”
“Yes, Christopher is uncommon; he always was,” assented Myrtle.
“You have everything you want? You were not timid last night alone?” asked the minister.
“Yes, I was timid. I heard queer noises,” said Myrtle, “but I sha'n't be alone any more. Christopher's niece wrote me she was coming to make a visit. She has been teaching school, and she lost her school. I rather guess Ellen is as uncommon for a girl as Christopher is for a man. Anyway, she's lost her school, and her brother's married, and she don't want to go there. Besides, they live in Boston, and Ellen, she says she can't bear the city in spring and summer. She wrote she'd saved a little, and she'd pay her board, but I sha'n't touch a dollar of her little savings, and neither would Christopher want me to. He's always thought a sight of Ellen, though he's never seen much of her. As for me, I was so glad when her letter came I didn't know what to do. Christopher will be glad. I suppose you'll be going up there to see him off and on.” Myrtle spoke a bit wistfully, and Stephen did not tell her he had been urged to come often.