'I'm rale glad o' this saloon, but it's ower late for the lad that canna
be helpit the noo. He'll not be needin' help o' oors, I doot, but there
are ithers'--and he stopped abruptly and sat down, with no applause
following.
But when Slavin, our saloon-keeper, rose to reply, the men jumped up
on the seats and yelled till they could yell no more. Slavin stood,
evidently in trouble with himself, and finally broke out--
'It's spacheless I am entirely. What's come to me I know not, nor how
it's come. But I'll do my best for yez.' And then the yelling broke out
again.
I did not yell myself. I was too busy watching the varying lights in
Mrs. Mavor's eyes as she looked from Craig to the yelling men on the
benches and tables, and then to Slavin, and I found myself wondering if
she knew what it was that came to Slavin.
CHAPTER XI
THE TWO CALLS
With the call to Mr. Craig I fancy I had something to do myself. The
call came from a young congregation in an eastern city, and was based
partly upon his college record and more upon the advice of those among
the authorities who knew his work in the mountains.
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