very serious she called
him John. "When you speak so lightly you make me afraid that your
relationship with the church is not very sacred to you."

"It's serious at any rate, Margaret."

"What do you mean by that, John?"

"Why," Tom cried, "it means that you dragged him into the pow-wow."

"Thomas"--and this time her reproof was not very gentle--"I won't stand
that from you. And daughter," she added, speaking to Louise, "it is not
a laughing matter. It all comes from so close an association with that
good-for-nothing old Gideon. I know it does, and you needn't say a word.
Nothing is sacred to him; he has no respect for God and cares nothing
for man except to the extent that he can use him."

The Major strove to wink at Tom, but there was a hitch in his eye. "My
dear, you don't understand the old fellow," said he. "And therefore you
misjudge him. I know that he is weak, but I also know that he is strong,
and he is quite as necessary to me as I am to him. He rests me, and rest
is as essential as work. Sometimes the perfect gentleman is a bore;
sometimes the perfect lady is tiresome. In man there is a sort of
innocent evil, a liking for the half depraved and an occasional feeding
of this appetite heightens his respect for the truly virtuous."

"I don't believe it, John."

"Of course you don't. You are the truly virtuous, and--" he spread
himself back with a loud "haw," and sat there shaking under her cool
gaze. "There, Margaret," he said, wiping his eyes, "don't take it to
heart. I am doing the best I can and that is all the excuse I have to
offer. I'm getting old; do you realize that? The things that used to
amuse me are flat now and I can't afford to kill an amusement when one
does happen to come along. Don't you worry about Gid. Why, Margaret, he
has stood by me when other men turned their backs. The river was
dangerous during my day, and the pop of a pistol was as natural as the
bark of a dog. But old Gid was there by me."

"Oh, I don't doubt that he has some good qualities," she admitted. "But
why doesn't he mend his ways?"

"Oh, he hasn't time for that, Margaret. He's too busy with other
matters. There, now, we won't talk about him. But I promise you, my
dear, that he shall not unduly influence me. I don't exactly know what I
mean by that, either. I mean that you need have no fear of my permitting
him to weaken my respect for the church. Yes, I think that's about what
I mean. But the fact is he has never t