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Stories of a Western Town by Octave Thanet
page 123 of 160 (76%)

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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