"I came over to ask you if you wouldn't like to go away out into the

Harpeth Hills on a mission with me this wonderful morning. I don't know

exactly whether I am called to officiate at a birth or a death or that

intermediate festivity, a wedding. This is the summons from an old

friend of mine:" As he spoke he held out to me a greasy paper on which

were a few words scrawled with a pencil.

"Parson we need you in the morning bad. Please come with Bill

as brings this. Bring a bible and liniment and oblige your true

friend Jed Bangs and wife."

"Isn't your friend Bill able to elucidate?" I asked, as I passed the

paper on to father.

"Bill seems to be dumb without being deaf and has no histrionic talent

to act out the necessity, so I'm going with him. The Bangs family live

up on old Harpeth at Turkey Gulch, and Jed has shot partridges with me

all winter. Please, you and the Judge, come with me. I can get the car

over Paradise Ridge if I turn it into a wildcat. The morning is

delicious, and I feel that I'll need you both." Never in the world have

I heard a man's voice with such compelling notes in it that range from a

soft coax to a quiet command.

I had not the slightest idea of going with him and I was about to refuse

with as much sugary hauteur as I dared use to him, when I looked into

father's face and accepted. I had never been on a picnic with my father

in my life and I could not understand the pleading in his eyes for my

acceptance of this invitation to an adventure in his company, but then,

several times since I had come home, I had seen a father I had never

known before, and he fascinated me.

"The mountain laurel is in bloom and the rhododendron, and you are a

very gracious lady," the Reverend Mr. Goodloe assured me with a deep bow

over my hand, which he kissed in a very delightful foreign fashion which

made Mammy, who had come to the door to hear my decision, roll her eyes

in astonishment which, however, held no hint of criticism, for with her

the spiritual king could do no wrong.

"I got a snack fixed up jest's soon as that Dabney tol' me about the

junket," she announced. "And I'll put a little wine jelly and flannels

in if it am a baby and a bunch of white jessimings in case it am a

death."

"Suppose it is a wedding?" I asked her.

"I don't take no notice of weddings. It was a wedding that got me into

all the trouble of that Dabney and his wuthless son, Jefferson, what

ain't like me in no way." With which fling at Dabney--who was hovering

at the door--she rolled herself back to her kitchen.




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