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Updated: June 5, 2025
She knew without seeing it in the shadow how he was stretching out pleading hands to her, and she had mercy upon him. But she said stonily, "Wait a minute. Don't be a cry-baby," and ran back to the door, and called to the girl within, "Rake open the fire, Jane, and set the kittle on." Then she ran back to Dylks and stood over him. "Where you been?
If I had that fellow by the scruff of the neck!" The Squire knew he meant the sleeping sentinel at the thicket where Dylks had been hidden, and not Dylks. But he said nothing, and again Redfield spoke. "Look here, Squire Braile, I think you did a bad piece of business letting that fellow go." "I know you do, Jim, but I expect you'll think different when you've seen him." "Seen him?
"Oh, I don't say anything against Gillespie; all I say is that Brother Dylks knows which side his bread is buttered on; inspired, probably." "What makes you so bitter, to-night, Matthew?" his wife halted him a little, with her question. "Well, the Temple always leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I hate to see brethren agreeing together in unity. You oughtn't to have taken me, Martha."
You'll want to see that, even if you don't want to see me turn a bolt of cloth into seamless raiment by the touch of my hand." "You are a wicked man, Joseph Dylks," the woman solemnly answered. "And I'm sorry I asked you anything. You couldn't do good, if you tried." She pulled her sunbonnet across her face, as if to hide it for shame, and went back slowly toward the cabin. "Salvation!"
Dylks came down from the pulpit among them, and Enraghty called out, "Behold our God!" and they fell on their knees before him. As it had been from the beginning, the wisest and best, the first in prayer and counsel, were foremost in the idolatry; and young girls, and wives and mothers joined in hailing Dylks as their Creator and Savior, and besought him to bless and keep them.
"Oh, I don't care for the miracle," she kept lamenting, "but what are my children going to wear this winter? Oh, what will he say to me!" It was her husband she meant. The riot in Hingston's Mill, after the failure of Dylks to appear personally and work the promised miracle, left the question of his divinity where it had been.
At the end of two hours of waiting, relieved with pleas and promises from the miller, there was no word from Dylks and no token of his bodily presence. With the scoffing of the unbelievers, the prayers of the faithful rose. "Come soon, oh Lord!" "Send thy Power!" "Remember thy Little Flock!"
Dylks demanded, temporizing on her ground. "Why can't you let Jane alone?" He gave his equine snort, as if the sense of his power could best vent itself so. "Why can't she let me alone? That girl bothers me worse than all the other women in Leatherwood put together. She won't let me let her alone." "She was all right before you came. Why can't you let her go back to Hughey Blake?" "Hughey Blake?
The unbelievers caught the spirit of the worse among them and stormed through the house, searching it everywhere, from the cellar to the garret. A yell rose from them when they found Dylks half way up the chimney of the kitchen. His captors pulled him forward into the light, and held him cowering under the cries of "Kill him!" "Tie him to a tree and whip him!" "Tar and feather him!"
"My sister won't live with me, because I won't fall down and worship her Golden Calf." "He's spread death and destruction in my family. My daughters won't look at me, and my two sons fought till they were all blood, about him." The accusings and upbraidings thickened upon him, but Dylks sat silent, except for a low groan of what might have seemed remorse.
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