And from a distance I had wondered at the Reverend Gregory Goodloe,

wondered at his freedom from all resentment because of his ministerial

and spiritual failures and at his loving serenity and enjoyment of us

all. He partook of the joy in almost all of our adventures in pleasure,

and when we did things that in the nature of the case would seem to

merit his disapproval, he never administered it; he simply was not with

us, but was serenely about his business at the other end of the town

from the Country Club or the Last Chance, at whichever resort the

entertainment that did not interest him was in progress. He seemed

especially to enjoy coming to our dinner parties and he was such a

delight with his keen-bladed wit, his flow of joyous laughter and high

spirits and the music that bubbled up without accompaniment or denial

whenever we asked for it, that not a woman in town would invite the rest

to dine until she was sure of securing him first.

"He's so economical," said Nell Morgan, as I helped her arrange her

guests for Mark's birthday dinner. While she talked I paused to consider

where to put Harriet Henderson and then dropped her card beside Mark's

with a little ache in my heart as I tucked Cliff Gray in by Jessie

Litton and left the place next Nell vacant for Billy. "People never

empty their champagne glasses when Mr. Goodloe gets to talking, and you

can put the extra bottles back in the cellar for next time. Do you

suppose he does it on purpose?"

"Nobody could be as completely happy as he was at Jessie's Friday night

on purpose," I answered, as I laid the last card and went with Nell to

greet her first guests.

After the soup I turned toward the Reverend Mr. Goodloe, whose card I

had placed next my own, and found him looking at me with a particular

softness in his eyes under the dull gold.

"Charlotte's and Mikey's nine won twenty-eight to eighteen against Tommy

Braidy and Maudie Burns. Thank you for getting the pitcher into his

togs," he said, as he squared his shoulders slightly against the rest of

the world, the rest of the diners in particular, and bent toward me in

just that deferential angle that a man uses when he wants to signal to

the others that for a limited time he desires sole possession of the

woman dining next to him.

"Your mixing of water and oil in the educational scheme is interesting

me greatly," I answered him with a laugh. "Do you really think it will

succeed?"

"Any kind of kingdom can be built in the heart of a child, an oligarchy,

a democracy or a republic," he answered quickly. "Your name-daughter is

a born socialist."




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