Jean met her father and his wife at the breakfast-table with a welcoming smile, though her head ached, and on her countenance there was a deathly pallor.
“The last night’s storm played havoc with the cherished plans of Mr. and Mrs. Burns,” said Mary’s husband, adroitly turning the conversation into a diverting channel. “They were intending to spend their honeymoon with their camping outfit in the open air among the spicy odors of the October woods.”
“They are old enough, and ought to be wise enough, by this time, to spend their honeymoon at home. No bridegroom ever dreamed of taking his bride away from home during the honeymoon in my younger days; that is, nobody did with whom my lot was cast,” said Captain Ranger, beaming tenderly upon his wife, who, being a sensible woman, was not displeased to note the far-away look in his eyes which betrayed his straying thoughts.
“You needn’t make any plans for a new teacher, for the present at least, daddie,” said Jean; “I shall resume my duties in the schoolroom next week. Will you post the required notices for me at the Four Corners, and at the sawmill, sometime during the day?”
“I wouldn’t be in a hurry about teaching, daughter. Your Uncle Joseph has gone by private pony express in quest—”
He paused, uncertain as to the propriety of speaking the name that was uppermost in all their thoughts.
“I know it, daddie. I knew all that was going on when I lay yesterday in what seemed to you as a stupor. I can’t explain it, but I seemed to have a double, or second, self that told me everything. Ashton is in trouble, but he is not in bodily danger, and he will not die. I do not understand it clearly, for I saw conditions only as through a glass, darkly. I would have remained in that state of seeming torpor for a whole month if it had been possible, for my mind and body were in different places. But in spite of myself I am again in a normal condition.”
“I shall be able to devote two weeks’ work to the erection of that combined schoolhouse and meeting-house,” said Mary’s husband. “Can’t you wait, sister, to begin your school till then?”
“No, Mr. Buckingham. You are very kind, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart, but I cannot wait. There will be time enough for you to take the reins when I am gone, Mr. Rogers.”
During the remainder of the week she performed prodigies of labor, but the work lagged at the mess-house. The new cook was not a success, and there was much dissatisfaction among the workingmen. But the Chinaman learned his lessons rapidly under the guidance of the Ranger sisters, and was soon able to load the long tables with plain but savory food.
The storm left the face of Nature fresh and green and joyous, and Mr. Burns and the Little Doctor repaired to the woods and foot-hills for their honeymoon, after all.
Jean’s complexion grew more delicately beautiful, her form more and more symmetrical, and her eyes sparkled like stars. But her girlish exuberance of spirit was gone, and in its place had come a womanly dignity, commanding, gracious, and sweet. The departure of Mary and her husband, with Marjorie, added heavily to Jean’s duties as superintendent of the Sunday-school. But her spirit craved work; so she opened a singing-school and a metrical geography class.
“Still no tidings!” she cried to herself, after an unusually strenuous day. “But I will not despair, and I will do my duty though the heavens fall. The whole of this month’s salary goes to Grandpa and Grandma Ranger. And for this opportunity to show my appreciation of their lives of self-denial in the service of others, I devoutly thank God.”
A shadow darkened the door of the deserted schoolroom.
“Who is it? And what is wanted?” asked Jean, with a start.
“It is I,—the Reverend Thomas Rogers,” said a voice, as, stepping out of the shadow, the preacher met her face to face.
“I have just completed my day’s work, and was about to shut up shop,” she said, moving toward the door.
“Very well. I will walk homeward with you, if I may.”
“No, you won’t!” piped a tremulous, complaining voice; and Mrs. Rogers stepped between them and the doorsill.
“I came to see Miss Jean about a change in the management of the Sunday-school,” said the preacher, meekly.
“And I’ve come to remind you that you must chop some stove-wood and milk the cow.”
The voice was not tremulous now, but commanding. “I’ll teach you to be running after the schoolma’am at unseemly hours!” she said with a vehemence that startled Jean, who had thought her the personification of submission and humility. “And I’ll teach you to be courting my husband, Miss Jean!”
“You can divest yourself of all anxiety on that score, Mrs. Rogers. I never saw the time when I would have dreamed of ‘courting’ the Reverend Thomas Rogers, even before he was married; and I wouldn’t ‘court’ any woman’s husband.”
“To be explicit,” said the preacher, in a submissive tone, “I think it is high time for the pastor of this church to manage his Sunday-school. Miss Jean’s methods are not strictly orthodox. I didn’t mean to speak of this to her in the presence of any third person, but since you have come upon the scene, Mrs. Rogers, we may as well settle it here and now.”
“What’s the trouble?” asked Jean, laughing irreverently.
“The hymns she teaches the children are not solemn enough. They are all about happy days and care-free birds and joyous children, whose chief duty lies in obeying their parents and loving one another. I’ve looked on during the proceedings, carefully and anxiously, for four consecutive Sundays now, and I haven’t heard one word about eternal punishment, nor has she exhorted anybody to flee from the wrath to come!”
“Aren’t you ashamed of your fit of jealousy in the light of this revelation, Mrs. Rogers?” asked Jean, laughing aloud.
“I know he was once in love with your sister Mary!” was the evasive but crestfallen reply.
“Well, Mr. Rogers,” said Jean, closing and locking the door, “we may as well be ending this interview. I founded the Sunday-school, and I will not abdicate till I get ready to leave the country. I never could be made to believe by your preaching or teaching that God wasn’t as good as my daddie, or even yourself. I am teaching the children to love and serve a beneficent God, and to love their neighbors as themselves. If that is heresy, make the most of it. Good-night! And, Mrs. Rogers, the next time you feel the unseemly pangs of jealousy, don’t make a fool of yourself before folks.”