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Updated: May 26, 2025
So Joe in a shaking voice unfolded his philosophy, and as he did so Marty became dazed and aghast, gazing at his boss as if Joe had turned into some unthinkable zoological oddity. Into Marty's prim-set life, with its definite boundaries and unmysterious exactness, was poured a vapor of lunacy. Finally Joe wound up with: "So you see I've got to do what little I can to help straighten things.
Raising Marty's lean body so that his head rested on the fallen bundle, Ephraim secured the flask, found it full, and began to moisten the white lips; then, cautiously, to force a few drops down the stiffening throat.
But it was not all plain sailing for J.W. Nobody bothered Marty; he was going into the ministry, and that settled that. Among the students who went in for religious work were several who could not quite share Marty's complacence over J.W.'s program.
Day's voice. "He can't git along with 'Rill Scattergood, so he won't go to school. His fingers is gettin' all stained yaller from suthin' d'you 'xpect it's them cigarettes, Jase?" Her husband was rising slowly to his feet. "Gimme the pail," he grunted, without replying to her last question. "I'll git the water for ye this onc't. But that's Marty's job an' he's got to l'arn it, too!"
In the dusk of the late September day they went thither by secret ways, walking mostly in silence side by side, each busied with her own thoughts. Grace had a trouble exceeding Marty's that haunting sense of having put out the light of his life by her own hasty doings. She had tried to persuade herself that he might have died of his illness, even if she had not taken possession of his house.
Marty's prospects of enjoying the outing, however, were nipped before he could leave the table. "Throw the chain harness on the colts, Marty," said his father. "The 'tater-patch is dry enough to put the plow in. And I'll want ye to help me." "Oh Dad! I got to help Janice get her car out. This ain't no time to plow for 'taters," declared Marty.
As to Marty's preaching, it was a boy's preaching, naturally, but it was preaching. And the people came for it; J.W., remarked to himself the contrast between the close-parked cars around Ellis church and the forlornly vacant horse-sheds he had seen at Deep Creek the Sunday before.
John Benton, you light off Moses and help this man into your saddle. He'll ride home and I'll walk alongside, whilst you tramp on to Marion. There's a mare there, named Jean. She was offered to me, but I was in a hurry and didn't accept. However, the offer is due to hold good for any of our folks. Light, I tell you. Marty's about played out." Indeed, the respite came none too soon.
There was a long, well-shaded yard behind the house, bordered on the upper hand by the palings of the garden fence. Had this fence not been so over-grown by vines, wandering hens could have gone in and out of the garden at pleasure. Robins were whisking in and out of the tops of the trees, quarreling over the first of the cherry crop. Janice heard Marty's hoe and she opened the garden gate.
Would Marty's preaching match his community work? But before Sunday morning came J.W. had other questions to ask.
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