An American Tragedy - Theodore Dreiser [476]
The song was followed with a long prayer and by the wife; then a sermon by the husband, testimonies by the others—all that God had done for them. Then the return march to the hall, the hymnals having been gathered, the organ folded and lifted by a strap over the husband’s shoulder. And as they walked—it was the husband that commented: “A fine night. It seemed to me they were a little more attentive than usual.”
“Oh, yes,” returned the younger woman that had played the organ. “At least eleven took tracts. And one old gentleman asked me where the mission was and when we held services.”
“Praise the Lord,” commented the man.
And then at last the mission itself—”The Star of Hope. Bethel Independent Mission, Meetings every Wednesday and Saturday night, 8 to 10. Sundays at 11, 3, 8. Everybody welcome.” And under this legend in each window—”God is Love.” And below that again in smaller type: “How long since you wrote to Mother.”
“Kin’ I have a dime, grandma? I wana’ go up to the corner and git an ice-cream cone.” It was the boy asking.
“Yes, I guess so, Russell. But listen to me. You are to come right back.”
“Yes, I will, grandma, sure. You know me.”
He took the dime that his Grandmother had extracted from a deep pocket in her dress and ran with it to the ice-cream vendor.
Her darling boy. The light and color of her declining years. She must be kind to him, more liberal with him, not restrain him too much, as maybe, maybe, she had— She looked affectionately and yet a little vacantly after him as he ran. “For HIS sake.”
The small company, minus Russell, entered the yellow, unprepossessing door and disappeared.
THE END