Then, cowering around
one little flickering candle, they would have fed each other's
superstitious fears until bedtime. George knew this, and so he stayed to
reassure them by his matter-of-fact explanations, and his cheerful
common sense. While he could not convince them that they had been
needlessly alarmed, he drew their attention to other things, by stories
of college life and experiences at the North, while Sheba bustled about,
bringing out the best of her meagre store to do him honor.
Ivy, scrubbed until she shone, and in a stiffly starched apron, sat on
his knee and sucked her thumb. Bud squatted at his feet in silence,
sticking his little red tongue in and out of the hole where the lost
tooth had been. As for John Jay, his hero-worship passed that night into
warmest love. From that time on, he would have gone through fire and
water to serve his "Rev'und Gawge,"--anywhere in fact, save one place.
Never any more was there motive deep enough or power strong enough to
drag him within calling distance of the gander thicket.
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