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Jones watchin' me all the time under that dreadful bonnet." Mrs. Hooper had begun with a shade of nervousness in the hurried words; but the emotion disappeared as she took up a comfortable pose in the corner of the small sofa. The Rev. John Letgood, having seated himself in an armchair, looked at her intently before replying. She was well worth looking at, this Mrs.
Hooper was there, coming towards him with outstretched hand and radiant smile: "Good mornin', Mr. Letgood, all the Deacons are here to meet you, and they let me come; because I was the first you told the news to, and because I'm sure you're not goin' to leave us. Besides, I wanted to come." He could not help looking at her for a second as he took her hand and bowed: "Thank you, Mrs. Hooper."
"Wall," said the Deacon, again getting up, "that's settled, but I've drawn that cheque already. Mrs. Hooper and me talked the thing over," he added half apologetically, and as if to explain his unbusinesslike rashness; "an' she thinks we oughter go right now to Mr. Letgood as a sort of surprise party an' tell him what we hev decided that is, ef you're all agreed."
Perhaps he likes the folk here just as well as any in Chicago." No words could describe the glance which accompanied this. It was appealing, and coquettish, and triumphant, and the whole battery was directed full on Mr. Letgood, who had by this time recovered his self-possession. "Of course," he said, turning to the Deacon and overlooking Mrs.
After that sermon this mornin' I guess we're all sot upon showin' our minister that we appreciate him. There are mighty few men with five thousand dollars a year who'd give up ten thousand. It seems to me a pretty good proof that a man's a Christian ef he'll do that. 'Tain't being merely a Christian: it's Christ-like. We must keep Mr. Letgood right here: he's the sort o' man we want.
No, sir, we ain't. Thar's the cheque." As he finished speaking, tears stood in the kind, honest, blue eyes. Mr. Letgood took the cheque mechanically, and mechanically accepted at the same time the Deacon's outstretched hand; but his eyes sought Mrs. Hooper's, who stood behind the knot of men with her handkerchief to her face.
"Yes, Massa, I bring her shuah," said the negress with a good-natured grin, opening the door of the drawing-room. In a minute or two Mrs. Hooper came into the room looking as cool and fresh as if "pies" were baked in ice. "Good day, again, Mr. Letgood. Won't you take a chair?" He seemed to feel the implied reproach, for without noticing her invitation to sit down he came to the point at once.
He went on firmly and with emphasis, "I wish to refuse it. Good day, Mrs. Hooper, till next Sunday. Good day, Deacon." "Good day, Mr. Letgood," she spoke with a little air of precise courtesy. "Good day, sir," replied the Deacon, cordially shaking the proffered hand, while he accompanied his pastor to the street door.
Letgood also rose, she stopped and smiled waiting perhaps for him to take his leave. As he did not speak she shook out her frock and then pulled down her bodice at the waist and drew herself up, thus throwing into relief the willowy outlines of her girlish form. The provocative grace, unconscious or intentional, of the attitude was not lost on her admirer.
Hooper's only reply was a contemptuous, flashing look that succeeded in reducing the importunate clergyman to silence just in time for as the word "Chicago" passed his lips the handle of the door turned, and Deacon Hooper entered the room. "Why, how do you do, Mr. Letgood?" said the Deacon cordially.
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