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Page 23
The schoolmaster's wife thought that her husband, as the stronger,
ought to give in, and motioned to him to drop the matter. Whatever
of regret he may have felt, there was nothing in his manner to
indicate that he had any idea of relinquishing his project.
Then the schoolmaster began to speak plainly and to the point. He
said he was certain that before long the heretics would invade
their parish; therefore, it was very necessary that they should
have a meeting place where one could talk to the people in a more
informal way than at a regular church service; where one might
choose one's own text, expound the whole Bible, and interpret its
most difficult passages to the people.
His wife again signed to him to keep still. She knew what the
clergyman was thinking while her husband talked. "So I haven't
taught them anything, and I haven't given them any sort of
protection against unbelief? I must be a poor specimen of a pastor
when the schoolmaster in my own parish thinks himself a better
preacher than I."
The schoolmaster, however, did not keep still, but went on talking
of all that must be done to protect the flock from the wolves.
"I haven't seen any wolves," said the pastor.
"But I know they are on their way."
"And you, Storm, are opening the door to them," declared the
minister, rising. The schoolmaster's talk had irritated him. The
blood mounted to his face, and he regained a little of his old
dignity.
"My dear Storm, let us drop the subject," he said. Then turning to
the housewife, he passed some pleasant remark about the last pretty
bride she had dressed. For Mother Stina dressed all the brides in
the parish.
Peasant woman though she was, she understood how it must hurt him
to be so cruelly reminded of his own impotence. She wept from
compassion, and could not answer him for the tears; so the pastor
had to do most of the talking.
Meanwhile, he kept thinking: "Oh, if I only had some of the power
and the capacity of my younger days, I would convince this peasant
at once of the wrong he is doing." With that he turned again to the
schoolmaster:
"Where did you get the money, Storm?" he asked.
"A company has been formed," Storm explained; then he mentioned the
names of several men who had pledged their support, just to show
the parson that they were the kind of people who would harm neither
the church nor its pastor.
"Is Ingmar Ingmarsson in it, too?" the parson exclaimed. The effect
of this was like a deathblow. "And to think that I was as sure of
Ingmar Ingmarsson as I had been of you, Storm!"
He said nothing more about this just then, but instead turned to
Mother Stina and talked to her. He must have seen that she was
crying, but acted as if he had not noticed it. In a little while he
again addressed the schoolmaster.
"Drop it, Storm!" he begged. "Drop it for my sake. You wouldn't
like it if somebody put up another school next to yours."
The schoolmaster sat gazing at the floor and reflected a moment.
Presently he said, almost reluctantly, "I can't, Parson."
For fully ten minutes there was a dead silence. Where upon the
pastor put on his overcoat and cap, and went toward the door.
The whole evening he had been trying to find words with which to
prove to Storm that he was not only doing harm to the pastor with
this undertaking, but he was undermining the parish. Although
thoughts and words kept crowding into his head, he could neither
arrange them into an orderly sequence nor give utterance to them,
because he was a broken man. Walking toward the door, he espied
Gertrude sitting in her corner playing with her blocks and bits of
glass. He stopped and looked at her. Evidently she had not heard a
word of the conversation, for her eyes sparkled with delight and
her cheeks were like fresh-blown roses.
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