Christian fiction; City and town life -- Fiction; Clergy -- Fiction; Ozark Mountains -- Fiction
"Yes," she returned, and her words stung. "You are quite right, this is
the churches' work."
He gazed at her in amazement as she continued hotly, "You have made it
very evident Mr. Matthews, that you know nothing of this matter. I have
no doubt that your church members would respond with a liberal collection
if you were to picture what you have seen here this afternoon in an
eloquent public appeal. Some in the fullness of their emotions would
offer their personal service. Others I am sure would send flowers. But I
suggest that for your sake, before you present this matter to your church
you ask Dr. Oldham to give you a full history of the case. Ask him to
tell you why Grace Conner is trying to die. And now you will pardon me,
but in consideration of my patient, who may waken at any moment, I dare
not take the responsibility of permitting you to prolong this call."
Too bewildered and hurt to attempt any reply, he left the room and she
stood listening to his steps as he went slowly down the hall and out of
the building.
From the window she watched as he crossed the old square, watched as he
passed from sight up the weed-grown street. The cruel words had leaped
from her lips unbidden. Already she regretted them deeply. She knew
instinctively that the minister had come from a genuine desire to be
helpful. She should have been more kind, but his unfortunate words had
brought to her mind in a flash, the whole hideous picture of the poor
girl's broken life. And the suggestion of such help as the church would
give now, came with such biting irony, that she was almost beside
herself.
The situation was not at all new to Miss Farwell. Her profession placed
her constantly in touch with such ministries. She remembered a
saloonkeeper who had contributed liberally to the funeral expenses of a
child who had been killed by its drunken father. The young woman had
never before spoken, in such cruel anger. Was she growing bitter? She
wondered. All at once her cheeks were wet with scalding tears.
Dan found the Doctor sitting on the porch just as he had left him. Was
it only an hour before?
CHAPTER XVII.
THE TRAGEDY
"Now, for the first time, he was face to face with existing conditions.
Not the theory but the practice confronted him now. Not the traditional,
but the actual. It was, indeed, a tragedy."
Dan went heavily up the path between the roses, while the Doctor observed
him closely. The young minister did not sit down.
"Well?" said the Doctor.
Dan's voice was strained and unnatural. "Will you come over to my room?"
Without a word the old man followed him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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