Stories of a Western Town by Octave Thanet
page 123 of 160 (76%)
page 123 of 160 (76%)
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Harry remembered some story that he had heard at the time-- his eyes began to light up as they do when he is moved. "Why, YOU are the man that made them disinfect their houses," cried he, "and invented a little oven or something to steam mattresses and things. You are the man that nursed them and buried them when the undertaker died. You digged graves with your own hands-- I say, I should like to shake hands with you!" Gilling shook hands, submissively, but looking bewildered. He cleared his throat. "Would you mind, Mr. Lossing, if I took up your time so far as to tell you what so overcame me?" "I should be glad ----" "You see, sir, my wife was the daughter of the Episcopal minister-- I mean the rector, at the town--well, it wasn't a town, it was two or three towns off in Shelby County where I had my circuit. You may be surprised, sir, to know that I was once a Methodist minister." "Is it possible?" said Harry. "Yes, sir. Her father--my wife's, I mean--was about as high a churchman as he could be, and be married. He induced me to join our communion; and very soon after I was married. I hope, Mr. Lossing, you'll come and see us some time, and see my wife. She--are you married?" |
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