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Chapter 9

Three months before, a new minister had been appointed to take charge of the Methodist Society in Granville. The Rev. Adoniram Fry, in spite of an unprepossessing name, was a man of liberal mind and genial temper, who could neither originate nor keep up a quarrel. In consequence the relations between the two parishes became much more friendly. Mr. Fry took the initiative in calling upon Mr. Wilson.

"Brother Wilson," he said cordially, "we are both laborers in the Lord's vineyard. Is there any reason why we should stand apart?"

"None whatever, Brother Fry, said the other clergyman, his face lighting up with pleasure. "Let us be friends."

"Agreed. If we set the example we can draw our people together. How is it that they have been estranged in years past?"

"I can hardly tell you. Probably there has been fault on both sides."

The two pastors had a pleasant chat, and walked together down the village street, attracting considerable attention. Some were pleased, others seemed undecided how to regard the new alliance, while Deacon Uriah Peabody openly disapproved.

"I don't believe in countenancin' error," said he, shaking his head. "We should be stern and uncompromisin' in upholding the right."

"Why shouldn't our minister be friendly with the Methodist parson, deacon?" questioned Squire Hadley, who was less bigoted than the deacon. "I've met Mr. Fry, and I think him a whole souled man."

"He may have a whole soul," retorted the deacon, with grim humor; "but it's a question whether he'll save it if he holds to his Methodist doctrines."

"Don't the Methodists and Congregationalists believe very much alike?" asked the Squire.


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"How can you ask such a question, Squire?" asked the deacon, scandalized.

"But how do they differ? I wish you'd tell me that."

"The Methodists have bishops."

"That isn't a matter of doctrine."

"Yes, it is; they say it's accordin' to Scripture to have bishops."

"Is that all the difference?"

"It's enough."

"Enough to prevent their being saved?"

"It's an error, and all error is dangerous."

"Then you disapprove of friendship between our people and the Methodists?

"Yes," said the deacon emphatically.

"Wouldn't you sell a cow to a Methodist if you could get a good profit?"

"That's different," said Deacon Peabody, who was fond of a trade. "Tradin' is one thing and spiritual intercourse is another."

"I can't agree with you, deacon. I like what I've seen of Mr. Fry, and I hope he'll draw us together in friendly feeling without regard to our attendance at different churches."

When Fast Day came Mr. Wilson proposed that there should be a union service in the Methodist church, Mr. Fry to preach the sermon.

"In the two societies," he urged, there will not be enough people desirous of attending church to make more than a fair sized congregation. Nothing sectarian need be preached. There are doctrines enough in which we jointly believe to afford the preacher all the scope he needs."

Mr. Fry cordially accepted the suggestion, and the union service was held; but Deacon Uriah Peabody was conspicuous by his absence.

"I don't like to lose my gospel privileges," he said; "but I can't consort with Methodists or enter a Methodist church. It's agin' my principles."

Old Mrs. Slocum sympathized with the deacon; but curiosity got the better of principle, and she attended the service, listening with keen eared and vigilant attention for something with which she could disagree. In this she was disappointed; there was nothing to startle or shock the most exacting Congregationalist.

"What did you think of the sermon?" asked Squire Hadley, as he fell in with the old lady on the way home.

"It sounded well enough," she replied, shaking her head but appearances are deceitful."

"Would you have been satisfied if you had heard the same sermon from Mr. Wilson?"

"I would have known it was all right then," said Mrs. Slocum. "You can't never tell about these Methodists."

But Deacon Peabody and Mrs. Slocum were exceptions. Most of the people were satisfied, and the union service led to a more social and harmonious feeling. For the first time in three years Mrs. John Keith, Congregationalist, took tea at the house of Mrs. Henry Keith, Methodist. The two families, though the husbands were brothers, had been kept apart by sectarian differences, each being prominent in his church. The two ministers rejoiced in the more cordial feeling which had grown out of their own pleasant personal relations, and they frequently called upon each other.

One result of the restored harmony between the two religious societies was a union picnic of the Sunday schools connected with each. It became a general affair, and it was understood that not only the children, but the older people, would participate in it. The place selected was a grove on the summit of a little hill sloping down to Thurber's Pond, a sheet of water sometimes designated as a lake, though scarcely a mile in circumference.

From the first, Mr. Randolph Chester intended to invite Mabel to accompany him. The attention would look pointed, he admitted to himself; but he was quite prepared for that. So far as his heart was


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capable of being touched Mabel had touched it. He was not the man to entertain a grand passion, and never had been; but his admiration of the new school teacher was such that a refusal would have entailed upon him serious disappointment. Of rivalry — that is, of serious rivalry — Mr. Chester had no apprehension. One afternoon he encountered Allan Thorpe walking with Mabel, and he was not quite pleased, for he had mentally monopolized her. But he would have laughed at the idea of Mabel's preferring Mr. Thorpe. He was handsome, and younger by twenty five years; but he was, to use Mr. Chester's own term, "a beggarly artist."

If she should marry Thorpe she would have to live on romance and moonshine. Artists rave about the true and the beautiful, but they do not pay cash," Randolph said to himself, rather disdainfully.

Two days before the picnic Mr. Chester called at Mrs. Kent's and inquired, in a tone of some importance, for Miss Frost. Mabel made her appearance in the parlor without unnecessary delay.

"I hope I see you well, Miss Frost," said Mr. Chester, with a smile that was meant to be captivating.

"Thank you, Mr. Chester; I have seldom been better."

"I hope you are enjoying your summer in Granville."

"Indeed I am," answered Mabel heartily.

"Where were you last summer, Miss Frost?"

Mabel hesitated. She did not like to say that she spent the greater part of the season at Newport, since this would probably lead to further questions on the subject, and possibly expose her secret.

"I was in the city part of the time," she answered evasively.

"It must have been very uncomfortable," said Mr. Chester, adding complacently: "I have never passed the summer in New York. I should find it quite intolerable."

"A rich man can consult his own wishes," said Mabel. "If you were a poor school teacher it would be different."

Randolph Chester always enjoyed allusions to his wealth, It gratified him that Mabel seemed aware of his easy circumstances.

"Quite true, Miss Frost," he answered. "I often feel how fortunate I am in my worldly circumstances. You ought to be rich," he continued. "You have accomplishments which would grace a high social position."

"I am afraid you flatter me, Mr. Chester."

"Upon my word I do not," said the bachelor warmly. He was dangerously near declaring himself, but stopped upon the brink. He did not wish to be precipitate.

"Are you going to the picnic on Saturday, Miss Frost?"

"I believe so. Everybody will go, and I do not want to be out of fashion."

"Permit me to offer my escort," said Randolph Chester gallantly.

"You are too late, Mr. Chester," said Mabel, with a smile. "Some one has already invited me."

"Indeed!" said the bachelor stiffly, and looking offended. "May I inquire who that somebody is?"

"Certainly; it is no secret. I have promised to accompany Mr. Allan Thorpe."

"Oh! The artist!"

The words were few, but the tone spoke volumes. It expressed disdain, and implied that to be an artist was something exceedingly disreputable.

"Yes," said Mabel, not unwilling to tease her elderly admirer, "as you say, he is an artist. He paints very clever pictures. Have you ever seen any of them, Mr, Chester?"

"Can't say I have," answered Mr. Chester shortly.

"He promises to be eminent some day," continued Mabel.

"Does he? A good many promises are unfulfilled I don't think much of artists."

"How can you say that, Mr. Chester? I thought every man of culture admired the pictures of Titian and Raffaelle."


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"Of course," said Mr. Chester, suspecting that he had gone too far. "They are the old masters, you know. It's the modern daubers of canvas that I was speaking of."

"But are not some of the artists of the present day to become eminent?" asked Mabel.

"When they have become so I will admire them. I don't think Mr. Thorpe stands much chance of it if he wastes his time in Granville."

"Then you don't know that he is painting a picture here?"

"I know nothing of the young man's movements," said Mr. Randolph Chester loftily." Then I shall not have the pleasure of escorting you, Miss Frost?"

"I fear not. I hope, however, to meet you there."

"I am not sure that I shall go," returned Mr. Chester discontentedly.

"I believe Miss Bassett is unprovided with an escort, Mr. Chester," suggested Mabel, still bent on teasing him.

"I don't care to escort a Maypole," said the bachelor quickly. "Miss Bassett is not to my taste."

"I am afraid you are very fastidious, Mr. Chester."

"I admit that I am so. I prefer to leave Miss Clarissa to some one who appreciates her more than I do."

Soon after Randolph Chester took his leave. He went from the presence of Mabel in a very uncomfortable frame of mind. His feelings toward the artist were far from cordial.

"Why couldn't he go somewhere else?" soliloquized Mr. Chester. "I am sure nobody wanted him here." But the idea would intrude itself that perhaps Miss Frost wanted him. He would not entertain it. "She is like all the girls," he reflected. "She is trying to bring me to the point. So she is playing off the beggarly artist against me. I wish I could retaliate. If I could find some other to take I might make her jealous."

This struck Mr. Chester as a happy thought. But whom could he select? There was Clarissa Bassett; but no girl in her sober senses would think of being jealous of her. Still undecided, Mr. Chester reached the hotel, when, to his satisfaction, he found the Raymonds, of Brooklyn, had arrived to spend a couple of weeks. there for recreation.

The Raymonds included Mrs. Raymond and her two daughters. The elder was a girl of twenty four, not pretty, but with plenty of pretension. The younger, ten years younger, was still a school girl. The family was supposed to occupy a very exalted social position. All that was known on the subject in Granville came from themselves, and surely they ought to know. They were constantly making references to their aristocratic acquaintances and connections, and evidently felt that in visiting Granville they were conferring a marked favor on that obscure place.

Randolph Chester had not a particle of admiration for Clementina Raymond, but he hailed her arrival with great satisfaction. She was quite a different person from Clarissa Bassett. He would invite her to the picnic and pay her marked attention. Thus, he did not doubt, he could arouse the jealousy of Mabel, and punish her for accepting the escort of Allan Thorpe.

"I am delighted to see you, Miss Raymond," he said.

Clementina received him very graciously. She understood that he was an eligible parti, and she had not found suitors plentiful. The Raymonds encouraged the idea that they were very rich, but it was a fiction. They were, in truth, considerably straitened, and this probably accounted for their selecting, as a summer home, the modest hotel at Granville, where for seven dollars a week they could live better than they allowed themselves to do at home, and keep up their social status by being "out of town." Clementina not only desired to marry, but to marry a man of means, and it was understood that Mr. Randolph Chester was rich. He must be nearly fifty, to be sure, while she was only twenty four; but this would not


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prove an insuperable objection to the match.

"How long have you been here, Mr. Chester?" asked Miss Raymond languidly.

"Two weeks or more, Miss Raymond. I began to fear you would overlook Granville this summer."

"We had half a mind to go to Newport," said Clementina. "So many of our set there, you know. But mamma likes quiet, and preferred to come here. The rest of the year, I am so gay — I am sure you know what a tyrant society is — that with balls, parties, and receptions, I was really quite run down, and our physician strongly advised some quiet place like this. I was afraid of being bored, but since you are here, Mr. Chester, I feel quite encouraged."

Mr. Chester cared nothing for Miss Raymond, but he did like flattery, and he was pleased with this compliment.

"I am quite at your service, Miss Raymond," he responded cheerfully. "You won't find in Granville the gayety of Brooklyn or New York, but we have our amusements. For instance, day after tomorrow there is to be a union picnic at Thurber's Pond."

"How charming! I shall certainly go; that is, if ladies can go unattended."

"That will be quite en regle, but if you will accept my escort, Miss Raymond — — "

"I shall be delighted, Mr. Chester, I am sure. May mamma go too?"

"Certainly," said Mr. Chester, but he did not look delighted.

"My dear," said the thoughtful mother, "I hardly feel equal to remaining there all the afternoon. You go with Mr. Chester, since he is so kind as to invite you. I may appear there in the course of the afternoon."

"Since you prefer it, I will, mamma," said Clementina softly. No daughter was more filial and considerate than she — in public.

Mabel was with Allan Thorpe, watching the amusements of the children, when she recognized Mr. Randolph Chester approaching. By his side walked Miss Clementina, a stately figure, overtopping her escort.

"Who is that lady with Mr. Chester?" she asked, in some curiosity.

"Miss Raymond, of Brooklyn," replied Thorpe. "The Raymonds are at the hotel."

"She seems to be a young lady of some pretension," remarked Mabel, rather amused by Clementina's airs.

"Quite so," said Mr. Thorpe. "She is a person of very considerable importance — in her own eyes."

"You may be in danger, Mr. Thorpe; I believe you are fellow boarders."

"The danger is slight; Miss Clementina regards me as a poor artist, quite unworthy of her attentions. Occasionally she condescends to notice me; but in her eyes, I am an inferior being."

"I fancy I shall be classed in the same category when she learns that I am the village school mistress."

"I suspect you are right. Will it materially detract from your enjoyment, Miss Frost, if this proves to be so?"

Mabel laughed merrily.

"I have considerable fortitude," she replied, "and I hope to bear up under it. See, they are coming this way." .

Randolph Chester had not failed to notice Mabel, and it caused him a pang of jealousy to see her under the escort of another. He meant that she should see him, and, with Miss Raymond by his side, advanced to where they were standing.

"Oh, this is Miss Frost, the new teacher," he said. "Let me introduce you."

"I believe you are a teacher, Miss Frost," said Clementina, when this formality had been accomplished.

"I teach the grammar school in this village, Miss Raymond," replied Mabel demurely.

"A very useful vocation," remarked Miss Raymond patronizingly. "I really feel ashamed of myself when I compare myself with you. I am afraid we fashionable girls are very useless."

"Not necessarily so. Your means


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of usefulness are greater," replied Mabel.

"To be sure. We contribute to charities, and all that, but it isn't like taking part in the work."

It would probably be extremely difficult to discover any charities that were materially assisted by Miss Raymond, but it suited her to convey the impression that she gave liberally.

"I agree with you, Miss Raymond," said Allan Thorpe, speaking for the first time. "It is not enough to give money."

"I plead guilty, Mr. Thorpe," said Clementina, ready to charge herself with any sin that was fashionable; "but really, if you only knew how hard society girls find it to give their time — there are so many claims upon us — parties, receptions, the opera. Oh, I know what you will say. We should sacrifice our inclinations, and steal time to do good. I dare say you think so, Miss Frost."

"It seems to me that it would become a pleasure as well as a duty to do something for others."

"Excuse me, Miss Frost, but you cannot tell till you are placed as I am.

"Possibly not."

All this was very amusing to Mabel. She strongly suspected that Miss Raymond's claims to high social position would not bear examination. It was a novel sensation to be treated as one who had no knowledge of the great world from which she had voluntarily exiled herself, and she had no desire to disturb Miss Raymond in her delusion. Mr. Thorpe also enjoyed the scene. Though he believed her to be in reduced circumstances, he had seen her playing a brilliant part in New York society, and he was equally confident that Miss Raymond was a social humbug.

"Shall we promenade, Mr. Chester?" asked Clementina.

"If you desire it," said her escort, with a show of devotion intended to create uneasiness in Mabel.

"May I come to your school some day, Miss Frost?" asked Miss Raymond. "I should like to visit a country school."

"I shall be glad to see you," said Mabel politely.

"Thank you so much. I will come if I can induce Mr. Randolph Chester to accompany me."

Mr. Chester has already favored me with a visit," said Mabel, smiling.

Clementina glanced suspiciously at her escort. Was it possible that he felt an interest in the school teacher?

"You will let him come again? she asked, smiling sweetly.

"Most certainly."

"What do you think of her? asked Mr. Chester with peculiar interest, after the two couples had separated.

"I rather like her appearance," drawled Clementina slightingly, "but you know there is always something plebeian about people of her class, however they may dress."

"I can't quite agree with you, Miss Raymond," said the bachelor, who did not like to hear the future Mrs. Randolph Chester spoken of in such contemptuous terms. "Miss Mabel Frost is from the city of New York, and is a highly accomplished girl. I suspect she has seen better days, though at present reduced to school teaching."

Clementina was quick witted, and saw how the land lay. Having resolved to capture the gentleman at her side, she determined to check his evident admiration for Mabel.

"Mr. Chester," she said, "I don't wonder you are deceived. The girl has a superficial polish, which a gentleman is not likely to see through. I have been a great deal in society, and can at once distinguish the counterfeit from the genuine. This school teacher has probably received more than ordinary advantages; but blood will tell. Rely upon it, she is a plebeian."

Mr. Chester did not think any the better of his companion for this speech. He was too deeply interested in Mabel, and as strong as ever in the determination to make her Mrs. Chester.


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"I fancy that this Mr. Thorpe is very devoted to her," continued Clementina.

"I didn't notice it," replied Mr. Chester shortly.

"But the devotion was very marked, and I am quite disposed to think it was mutual. Did you ever think, Mr. Chester, how interesting it is to study love making between people of their class? And really, when you come to think of it," she rattled on, much to the disgust of her escort, "it would be a capital match. He is a poor artist, you know, and they would have to live in a very modest style, but she is used to that. I do not suppose she would object to doing her own work, and of course she would be obliged to do so at first. I hope they will invite us to the wedding."

"I don't believe there will be any wedding," said Mr. Chester uncomfortably. "He is only paying her a little ordinary attention. She wouldn't accept him, I am confident."

"Why wouldn't she? She can't expect a husband in your position, for instance, Mr. Chester. She probably has low relations, and it wouldn't be suitable or pleasant."

Mr. Chester thought of the baker on Sixth Avenue; but the time had passed when even that could deter him. In spite of all that Miss Raymond could suggest his mind was made up.