_ CHAPTER XII. MOSTLY CONCERNING GRATITUDE
Finally Colonel Lawton turned toward Frederik. He was now sitting astride his chair and puffing violently at his cigar.
"Is
this what you hauled us out in the rain for?" he snarled.
Mrs. Batholommey, all unheeding, went on with her own train of thought.
"I see it all now," she whimpered. "He only gave to the church to show off!"
"Rose!" her husband cried, aghast. "I myself am disappointed, but----"
"
He did!" interrupted Mrs. Batholommey in tears of wrath. "Oh, why didn't he continue his work? He was not generous. He was a hard, uncharitable, selfish old man."
"Rose, my dear!" remonstrated Mr. Batholommey. "Think what you are saying!"
"He was! If he were here, I'd say it to his face. The congregation sicked
you after him. And now he's gone and you'll get nothing more. And they'll call you slow--slow and pokey! You'll see! To-morrow you'll wake up!"
"My dear!" expostulated her husband once more.
But Mrs. Batholommey paid no attention to his words or to the beseeching look that accompanied them. She waved an arm dramatically.
"Here's a man the rector spent half his time with--and for what? A watch fob!"
The ineffable scorn with which she pronounced these last words caused Mr. Batholommey to hang his head.
"You'll see!" she went on. "This will be the end of you! It's not what you preach that counts nowadays. It's what you coax out of the rich parishioners' pockets."
"Mrs. Batholommey!" thundered the clergyman, taking a step forward; but he might as well have tried to stem the ocean.
"The church needs funds to-day. Religion doesn't stand where it did, when a college professor is saying that--that--"--(here her voice broke)--"the Star of Bethlehem was only a comet."
The end of the sentence resolved itself into a veritable wail and she sat down quickly and subsided into her handkerchief.
"My dear!" reiterated the helpless husband.
"Oh!" she wailed through her tears, "if I said all the things I feel like saying about Peter Grimm"--(here it almost sounded as if she ground her teeth)--"well--I shouldn't be a fit clergyman's wife. Not to leave his dear friends a----"
Again her voice was muffled in the folds of the handkerchief, and Colonel Lawton took advantage of the temporary lull to put in a word.
"He wasn't
liberal," he said, rising, "but for God's sake, Madam, think what he ought to have done for
me after my patiently listening to his plans for twenty years! Mind, I'm not complaining, but what have I got out of it? A Bible!"
"Oh, you've feathered
your nest, Colonel!" cried Mrs. Batholommey, recovering somewhat.
"I never came here," retorted Colonel Lawton spitefully, "that
you weren't begging!"
"See here, Lawton," the clergyman interrupted truculently, "don't forget who you are speaking to!"
Colonel Lawton waved his hand patronisingly at the clergyman.
"That's all right, Parson. I know who I'm speaking to. We're all in the same boat--one's as good as another--when we're all up against a thing like this. If anything, you two are worse than I am, for you stand for better things. What would your congregation think of either of you if they could look into your hearts this moment and see 'em as they
really are?"
"Really are--really are!" cried Mrs. Batholommey. "I'm not ashamed to have any one see my heart as it really is!"
(And Mrs. Batholommey was telling the truth, for she was a good woman at heart, and it was not her fault that she had a human desire for this world's goods for those she loved, for the church, and for herself.)
Here Frederik, who had watched the scene with much amusement at first, came forward through the increasing gloom. He was getting tired of the childish bickering.
"Well, well, well, I'm disgusted," he said, "when I see such heartlessness! He was putty in all your hands."
"Oh, you can defend his memory.
You got the money!" cried Mrs. Batholommey, with asperity. "He liked flattery and you gave him what he wanted and you gave him plenty of it."
"Why not?" retorted Frederik calmly, getting a cigarette out of his case. "The rest of you were at the same thing--yes?"
He struck a match and lighted his cigarette as he continued in a disagreeable tone:
"And I had the pleasure of watching him hand out the money that belonged to me--to
me," he repeated. "My money! What business had he to be generous with my money?"
Still talking, Frederik sat down at the desk.
"If he'd lived much longer, I'd have been a pauper. It's a lucky thing for me he di----"
Frederik had the grace to leave the word unfinished.
Mr. Batholommey broke the slight pause.
"Young man," he said solemnly, "it might have been better if Mr. Grimm had given
all he had to charity--for he left his money to an ingrate."
The "ingrate" laughed derisively.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" he cried. "You amuse one! You don't know how amusing you are."
No one cared to add further to Frederik's amusement, so they all sat still. The room was now perfectly dark, except for an occasional flash of heat-lightning from the vanished storm.
Night had crept upon them unheeded, so intent had they been on their petty wrangling.
Finally Mrs. Batholommey got up and went towards the desk.
"Where is the miniature?" she demanded. "I don't want it--but I'll take it."
Frederik lighted a match, and by its flickering blaze found the discarded miniature lying face downward on the desk. Mrs. Batholommey snatched it from his fingers, and made her way back to the fireplace.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Frederik again.
"Rose, my dear," began Mr. Batholommey, "the min----"
"Sh!" interrupted Frederik.
There was a pause. Then he rose.
"Who came into the room?" he asked in a strange voice.
He lit a match and waved it slowly in the direction of the hall door. It was extinguished instantly as if the wind had blown it out. He lighted another, saying:
"We're sitting in the darkness like owls. Who came in?" he demanded again.
There was no answer as he peered around the room, holding the match toward first one corner and then another.
"I didn't hear any one," said the Colonel.
"Nor I," added Mrs. Batholommey.
"No," said Mr. Batholommey.
"I was
sure some one came in," Frederik said in a strange voice.
"You must have imagined it," suggested Mr. Batholommey. "Our nerves are all upset."
"I'll get a light," Frederik said, starting toward the dining-room.
At that moment, Marta entered with the welcome lamps. She carried two of them, one already lighted, which she put upon the table. The other Frederik took quickly from her and carried to the chain-bracket over the desk. This he adjusted with Marta's help, and then lighted.
After which he glanced apprehensively about the room once more. Even under the reassuring flood of light his impression that some one had stolen in upon the dim-lit conference would not wholly vanish. _