He spoke
rapidly, for he was in a hurry to get home to his early Sabbath dinner;
but he knew his business. There was one word that controlled his
theme--resurrection. Not a new creation; but a new life arising out of
the old. The congregation had heard it often before. But there was a
wonderful hat, a combination of sweet peas and lavender, in the sixth
pew from the pulpit. It attracted much attention.
After church Danny lingered on a corner while Katy waited, with pique in
her sky-blue eyes.
"Are you coming along to the house?" she asked. "But don't mind me. I'll
get there all right. You seem to be studyin' a lot about something. All
right. Will I see you at any time specially, Mr. McCree?"
"I'll be around Wednesday night as usual," said Danny, turning and
crossing the street.
Katy walked away with the green roses dangling indignantly. Danny
stopped two blocks away. He stood still with his hands in his pockets,
at the curb on the corner. His face was that of a graven image. Deep
in his soul something stirred so small, so fine, so keen and leavening
that his hard fibres did not recognize it. It was something more tender
than the April day, more subtle than the call of the senses, purer and
deeper-rooted than the love of woman--for had he not turned away from
green roses and eyes that had kept him chained for a year? And Danny
did not know what it was.
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