re they're
through fighting."

All this had been the preliminary to the speech which sent Wesley
forth for doughnuts, then to his study, ostensibly to finish his
lovely sermon, but in reality to think thoughts which made his young
forehead, of almost boyhood, frown, and his pleasant mouth droop,
then inexplicably smooth and smile. It was a day which no man in the
flush of youth could resist. That June day fairly rioted in through
the open windows. Mrs. Black's muslin curtains danced in the June
breeze like filmy-skirted nymphs. Wesley, whose imagination was
active, seemed to see forced upon his eager, yet reluctant, eyes,
radiant maidens, flinging their white draperies about, dancing a
dance of the innocence which preludes the knowledge of love. Sweet
scents came in through the windows, almond scents, honey scents, rose
scents, all mingled into an ineffable bouquet of youth and the quest
of youth.

Wesley rose stealthily; he got his hat; he tiptoed across the room.
Heavens! how thankful he was for access to the back stairs. Mrs.
Black was sweeping the parlor, and the rear of the house was
deserted. Down the precipitous back stairs crept the young minister,
listening to the sound of the broom on Mrs. Black's parlor carpet. As
long as that regular swish continued he was safe. Through the kitchen
he passed, feeling guilty as he smelled new peas cooking for his
delectation on Mrs. Black's stove. Out of the kitchen door, under the
green hood of the back porch, and he was afield, and the day had him
fast. He did not belong any more to his aspirations, to his high and
noble ambitions, to his steadfast purpose in life. He belonged to the
spring of the planet from which his animal life had sprung. Young
Wesley Elliot became one with June, with eternal youth, with joy
which escapes care, with the present which has nothing to do with the
past or the future, with that day sufficient unto itself, that day
dangerous for those whose feet are held fast by the toils of the
years.

Wesley sped across a field which was like a field of green glory. He
saw a hollow like a nest, blue with violets, and all his thoughts
leaped with irresponsive joy. He crossed a brook on rocky stones, as
if he were crossing a song. A bird sang in perfect tune with his
mood. He was bound for a place which had a romantic interest for him:
the unoccupied parsonage, which he could occupy were he supplied with
a salary and had a wife. He loved to sit on the ba