uch, even
if the vital spark were lacking.

"Is--the widow-girl pretty, Jock?" she asked in order to detain Filmer.

"Well," a line came between Jock's eyes, "that's the puzzler. Now Drew's
sister--" Jock spoke in this detached way of Constance Drew for
self-defense--"Drew's sister stands for what she is; a good, honest,
handsome girl. You own up to that and that's the end of it. This one
sets you thinking. Is she, or ain't she pretty? you keep putting to
yourself. Do you like her, or don't you? Is she thinking about what
you're saying, or ain't she? That's the way your mind works when you are
with her, till it seems a plain waste of time, and riles you way down to
the ground. I like a woman what, having passed up her personality, lets
you alone as to further guessing 'less you have a mind to guess. Joyce!"

"Yes, Jock."

"They want you up to the bungalow to help along with the Christmas
doings. I never saw such happenings in all my life. All St. Ange is
going to see what's what for once. Presents for everybody; big party at
the bungalow Christmas night; the overflow is going even to reach up to
the camps. Boxes and barrels arriving every day from down the State.
Lord, but you should see Tom Smith's curiosity! There are big doings.
They call it a kind of thanksgiving for the Reverend Kid's recovery; and
they want you."

Joyce started back. She was interested, but only as it was apart from
herself.

"Oh, Jock!" she cried. "I couldn't. I just couldn't."

"I thought you couldn't," Jock returned calmly; "and you shan't if you
don't want to."

"Thank you. Don't let them feel hurt, but I could not go."

Jock cast a sympathetic glance toward her; and changed the subject.

"It's wonderful the grip that weak little Reverend has already got on
this town," he went on. "He's a sly one. Preaching ain't in it with the
undercurrent he's let loose here. It's just sapping the foundations of
society. It's setting free a lot of good stuff, but it's striking Tate
an all-fired blow."

"Tell me about it, Jock. It seems as if I had been asleep a--long
while."

"Well there are sermons _and_ sermons." Jock was flattered by the look
in Joyce's large eyes. "If the Reverend Kid had opened shop in the
regular way, Tate and his pals would have downed him in no time; but
what you going to do about sermons that are slipped in with talks to
women over their wash-tubs, and what not?

"Him and me was going by Falstar's the other day, and