The janitor had gone in to put the church in order for the night and hover about to find out what was going on in the session room. He never told but he liked to know. The moon had gone under a cloud. Billy slipped out of the car, and slid up the side path like a wraith, his tired legs seeming to gather new vigor with the need. He gave a glance of content up to the window. He was glad the bells were ringing, and that she was there. He wished she knew what peril their friend had been in last night, and how he was rescued and safe.

And then he sighted the stranger!

Who was that guy! Some sissy, that was sure! Aw gee!

He slid into the shadow out of sight and flattened himself against the wall with an attentive ear to the door of the session room. He raised himself by chinning up to the window ledge and got a bird's eye view of the situation at a glance. Aw Gee! That old Hair-cut! He wished the bells would stop. That sissy in there with her, and all these here with Cart, and no telling what's up next? Aw gee! Life was jest one—! He slumped his back to the wall and faced the parsonage. Say, what were those two cars over there in front of the parsonage? Say! That must be the guy, the rich guy! Aw gee! In there with her! If he only hadn't put up that detour! Pat knew what he was about after all, a little sissy guy like that—! Aw, gee! But two cars! What did two cars mean?

And over on the parsonage piazza, at the far end in the shelter of the vines sat Aunt Saxon in the dark crying. Beside her was Mrs. Severn with her hand on the woman's shoulder talking in her gentle steady voice. Everybody loved the minister's wife just as much as they loved the minister:

“Yes, he went away on his wheel last night just after dark,” she sobbed. “Yes! he came home after the baseball game, and he made a great fuss gettin' some paint and brushes and contrapshions fixed on his old bicycle, and then he went off. Oh, he usually goes off awhile every night. I can't seem to stop him. I've tried everything short of lockin' him out. I reckon if I did he'd never come back, an' I can't seem to bring myself to lock out my sister's baby—!”

“Of course not!” said Mrs. Severn tenderly.

“Well, he stuck his head back in the door this time, an' he said mebbe he wouldn't be back till mornin', but he'd be back all right for Sunday School. That's one thing, Mrs. Severn,” she lifted her tear stained face, “That's one thing he does like—his Sunday School, Billy does, and I'm that glad! Sometimes I just sit down an' cry about it I'm so glad. You know awhile back when Miss Lynn was off to college that Mr. Harricutt had the boys' class, an' I couldn't get him to go anyhow. Why, once I offered to pay him so he could save fer a baseball bat if he'd go, but do you know he said he'd rather go without baseball bats fer ever than go listen to that old—Well, Mrs. Severn, I won't repeat what he said. It wasn't respectful, not to an elder you know. But Miss Lynn, why he just worships, an' anything she says he does. But that's one thing worries me, Mrs. Severn, he didn't come back for her even! He said he'd be back fer Sunday School, an' he hasn't come back yet!”

“Who does he go with most, Miss Saxon? Let's try to think where he might be. Perhaps we could call up some one and find out where he is.”

“Well, I tell you,” wailed the Aunt, “That's just it. There's just one person he likes as well, or mebbe better'n Miss Mary Lynn, an' that's Mark Carter! Mrs. Severn I'm just afraid he's gone off with Mark Carter!” she lowered her voice to a sepulchral whisper, “And Mrs. Severn, they do say that Mark is real wild!”

Mrs. Severn sat up a little straighter and put a trifle of assurance into her voice, or was it aloofness?

“Oh, Miss Saxon!” she said earnestly, “I don't think you ought to feel that way about Mark. I've known him since he was a mere baby, and I've always loved him. I don't believe Mark will ever do Billy any harm. He's a boy with a strong character. He may do things that people don't understand, but I'd trust him to the limit!”

She was speaking eagerly, earnestly, in the words that her husband had used to her a few days before, and she knew as she said it that she believed it was all true. It gave her a great comfort to know that she believed it was true. She loved Mark almost as though he were her own.

Miss Saxon looked up with a sigh and mopped her pink wet face.

“Well, I certainly am relieved to hear you say that! Billy thinks the sun rises and sets in 'Cart,' as he calls him. I guess if Cart should call him he'd go to the ends of the earth with him. I know I couldn't stop him. But you see Mrs. Severn, I oughtn't to have to bring up children, especially boys? Billy always was headstrong, and he's getting worse every day.”

“I'm sure you do your best, Miss Saxon, and I'm sure Billy will turn out a fine man some day. My Lynn thinks a great deal of him. She feels he's growing very thoughtful and manly.”

“Does she now?” the tired pink face was lifted damply with a ray of cheer.

Then the telephone bell rang. Mrs. Severn rose and excused herself to answer it.

“Yes? Yes, Mrs. Carter. Mrs. Severn is speaking. Is anything the matter? Your voice sounds troubled. Oh, Mrs. Carter! I'm so sorry, but I'm sure you can trust Mark. He's a man you know and he's always been an unusually dependable boy, especially to us who know him well. He'll come back all right. What? Oh, Mrs. Carter! No, I haven't heard any such reports, but I'm sure they're just gossip. You know how people will talk. What do you say? They phoned you from Economy? Who? The police? They asked for Mark? Well, I wouldn't let that worry you. Mark always was helpful to the police in finding people, or going with them after a lost car, you know. I wouldn't worry. Who? Billy? Billy Gaston? Oh, you saw Billy this, morning? Well, that's good. His aunt has worried all day about him. I'll tell her. Who? A sick man on the mountain? Well, now Mrs. Carter, don't you know Mark always was doing things for people in trouble? He'll come home safely, but of course we'll just turn the earth upside down to find him for we are not going to let you and Miss Saxon worry any longer. Just you wait till Mr. Severn gets back. He's in a session meeting and it oughtn't to last long, it was just a special meeting called hurriedly. He'll come right over as soon as it's out and see what he can do to help. Yes, of course he will. No don't bother to thank me. He would want to of course. Good-bye!”

She came hopefully out to the piazza, to Miss Saxon. But just at that instant Billy's aunt jumped to her feet, her eyes large with excitement, and pointed toward the open session door, where framed against the light stood Mark Carter, straight and tall facing the circle of men, and behind him, out in the dark, with only his swaggy old sweater shoulder and the visor of his floppy old cap showing around the door jamb lurked Billy.

“There! There!” Whispered Mrs. Severn, patting her shoulder. “I told you he'd come back all right. Now, don't you worry about it, and don't you scold him. Just go home and get him some supper. He'll be likely very hungry, and then get him to go right to bed. Wait till to-morrow to settle up. Miss Saxon, it's always better, then we have clearer judgment and are not nearly so likely to lose our tempers and say the wrong thing.”

The bells had stopped ringing, and Marilyn had closed the organ and drawn the window shut. The two strangers were trailing slowly across the lawn, the lady laughing loudly. Miss Saxon eyed them with the kind of fascination a wild rabbit has for a strange dog, pressed the hand of the minister's wife with a fervent little squeeze, and scurried away into the dark street. Marilyn lingered silently on the front steps after the janitor had locked the door inside and gone back to the session room.

In the session room Mark Carter, white with the experiences of the night and day, yet alert, stern, questioning, stood looking from one man to another, keenly, uncompromisingly. This was a man whom any would notice in a crowd. Character, physical perfection, strength of will all combined to make him stand out from other men. And over it all, like a fire from within there played an overwhelming sadness that had a transparent kind of refining effect, as if a spirit dwelt there who by sheer force of will went on in the face of utter hopelessness.

The stillness in the session room was tense as the self appointed jury faced their victim and tried to look him down; then slowly recognized something that made them uneasy, and one by one each pair of eyes save two, were vanquished and turned embarrassedly away, or sought the pattern of the mossy carpet.

Those two pairs of eyes that were friendly Mark found out at once, and it was as if he embraced them with his own. His friends—Duncannon and the minister! He shot a grateful glance at them and faced the others down, but opened not his lips.

At last Harricutt, his chief accuser, mustered up his sharp little eyes again from under the overhanging eaves of rough gray brow, and shot out a disagreeable under lip:

“We have sent for you, here, to-night, Mark Carter,” he began slowly, impressively, raising a loose jointed long forefinger accusingly, as he gained courage, “to inquire concerning the incriminating reports that are in circulation with regard to your character.”

Mark turned his hard eyes toward the elder, and seemed to congeal into something inflexible, impenetrable, as if he had suddenly let down a cold sheet iron door between his soul and them, against which the words, like shot or pebbles, rattled sharp and unharming and fell in a shower at the feet of the speaker. There was something about his bearing that became a prince or president, and always made a fault finder feel small and inadequate. The minister felt his heart throb with a thrill of pride in the boy as he stood there just with his presence hurling back the suspicions that had met to undo him. His stern young face was like a mask of something that had once been beautiful with life, whose utter sorrow and hopelessness pierced one at the sight. And so he stood and looked at Elder Harricutt, who shot him one glance and then looking down began to fiddle with his watch chain, halting in his speech:

“They say—” he began again with a hiss, as he lifted his eyes, strong in the consciousness that he was not alone in his accusation,—“They say—!”

“Please leave what they say out of the question, Mr. Harricutt. What do you say?” Mark's voice was cold, incisive, there was nothing quailing in his tone.

“Young man, we can't leave what they say out of the question! It plays a very important part in the reputation of the Church of Christ of which you are an unworthy part,” shot back the hard old man, “We are here to know what you have to say concerning the things that are being said openly about you.”

“A man does not always know what is being said about him, Mr. Harricutt.” Still that hard cold voice, still indifferent to the main issue, and ready to fight it.

“A man ought to!” snapped Harricutt impatiently.

Suddenly, without warning, the mask lifted, the curve of the lips drew up at the left corner revealing the row of even white teeth, and a twinkle at the corners of the gray, thoughtful eyes, giving in a flash a vision of the merry mischief-loving boy he had been, and his whole countenance was lit. Mark was never so attractive as when smiling. It brought out the lovingness of his eyes, and took away the hard oldness of his finely cut features.

“Mr. Harricutt, I have often wondered if you knew all that people say about you?”

“WHAT?”

There was sudden stir in the session room. The elders moved their chairs with a swishing sound, cleared their throats hastily, and put sudden hands up to hide furtive smiles. Elder Duncannon grinned broadly, there was a twinkle in even the minister's eyes, and outside the door Billy manfully stifled a snicker. Elder Harricutt shot his angry little eyes around in the mirthful atmosphere, starting at Mark's quizzical smile, and going around the uneasy group of men, back to Mark again. But the smile was gone! One could hardly be sure it had been there at all. Mark was hard cold steel again, a blank wall, impenetrable. There was no sign that the young man intended to repeat the mocking offense.

“Young man! This is no time for levity!” he roared forth menacingly. “You are on the verge of being arrested for murder. Did you know it?”

The minister watching, thought he saw a quiver go through the steady eyes, a slight contracting of the pupil, a hardening of the sensitive mouth, that was all. The boy stood unflinching, and spoke with steady lips:

“I did not.”

“Well, you are!” reiterated the elder, “And even if the man doesn't die, there is plenty else. Answer me this question. It's no use beating around the bush. Where were you at three o'clock this morning?”

The answer came without hesitation, steadily, frankly:

“On Stark's Mountain, as nearly as I can make out.”

Billy held his breath and wondered what was coming next. He caught his hands on the window ledge and chinned himself again, his eyes and the fringe of his dishevelled brown hair appearing above the window sill, but the startled session was not looking out the window just then. Mr. Harricutt looked slightly put out. Stark's Mountain had nothing to do with this matter, and the young man was probably trying to prove an alibi. He sat up jerkily and placed his elbows on the chair arms, touching the tips of his long bony fingers, fitting them together carefully and speaking in aggravated detached syllables in rhythm with the movement of his fingers.

“Young—man! An—swer me!—Ware—you—or ware you—not—at—the—Blue—Duck—Tavern—last—evening?”

Blue and red lights seemed to flicker in the cold steel eyes of the young man.

“I was!”

“A—hemmm!” The elder glanced around triumphantly, and went on with the examination:

“Well,—young man!—Ware you—or—ware you not—accompanied—by a young wumman—of—notorious—I may say—infamous character? In other words—a young girl—commonly called—Cherry? Cherry Fenner I believe is her whole name. Ware you with her?”

Mark's face was set, his eyes were glaring. The minister felt that if Harricutt had dared look up he would almost be afraid, now.

But after an instant's hesitation when it almost looked as if Mark were struggling with desire to administer corporal punishment to the little old bigot, he lifted his head defiantly and replied in hard tones as before:

“I was!”

“There!” said Elder Harricutt, wetting his lips and smiling fiendishly around the group, “There! Didn't I tell you?”

“May I inquire,” asked Mark startlingly, “What business of yours it is?”

Harricutt bristled.

“What business? What business?” he repeated severely, “Why, this business, young man. Your name is on our church roll as a member in good and regular standing! For sometime past you have been dragging the name of our Lord and Saviour in the dust of dishonor by your goings on. It is our responsibility as elders of this church to see that this goes on no longer.”

“I see!” said Mark, “I haven't heard from any of the other elders on the subject, but assuming that you are all of one mind—” he swept the room with his glance, omitting the stricken faces of the minister and Mr. Duncannon, “I will relieve you of further responsibility in the matter by asking you to strike my name from the roll at once.”

He was turning, his look of white still scorn fell upon them like fire that scorches. Outside the door Billy, forgetful that he might be seen, was peering in, his brows down in deep scawls, his lower jaw protruded, his grimy fists clenched. A fraction of a second longer and Billy would butt into the session like some mad young goat. Respect for the session? Not he! They were bullying his idol, Cart, who had already gone through death and still lived! They should see! Aw Gee!

But a diversion occurred just in the nick of time. It was Joyce, the new member, the owner of the canneries, who had just built a new house with electric appliances, and owned the best car in town. He was a stickler for proprieties, but he was a great admirer of the minister, and he had been watching Mr. Severn's face. Also, he had watched Mark's.

“Now, now, now, young brother!” he said soothingly, rising in his nice pleasant gentlemanly way, “don't be hasty! This can all be adjusted I am sure if we fully understand one another. I am a comparative stranger here I know, but I would suggest taking this thing quietly and giving Mr. Carter a chance to explain himself. You must own, Brother Carter, that we had some reason to be anxious. You know, the Bible tells us to avoid even the appearance of evil.”

Mark turned with perfect courtesy to this new voice:

“The Bible also tells us not to judge one another!” he replied quickly. “Mr. Joyce, you are a stranger here, but I am not. They have known me since childhood. Also there are some items that might be of interest to you. Cherry Fenner five years ago was a little girl in this Sunday School. She stood up in that pulpit out there one Children's Sunday and sang in a sweet little voice, 'Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.' She was an innocent little child then, and everybody praised her. Now, because she has been talked about you are all ready to condemn her. And who is going to help her? I tell you if that is the kind of Christ you have, and the kind of Bible you are following I want no more of it and I am ready to have my name taken off the roll at once.”

Harricutt rose in his excitement pointing his long-flapping forefinger:

“You see, gentlemen, you see! He defies us! He goes farther! He defies his God!”

Suddenly the minister rose with uplifted hand, and the voice that never failed to command attention, spoke:

“Let us pray!”

With sudden startled indrawing of breath, and half obedient bowing of the heads, the elders paused, standing or sitting as they were, and Mark with high defiant head stood looking straight at his old friend.

“Oh, God, our Father, O Jesus Christ our Saviour,” prayed the minister in a voice that showed he felt the Presence near, “Save us in this trying moment from committing further sin. Give us Thy wisdom, and Thy loving-kindness. Show us that only he that is without sin among us may cast the first stone. Put thy love about us all. We are all Thy children. Amen.”

Into the silence that followed this prayer his voice continued quietly:

“I will ask Mr. Harricutt to take the chair for a moment. I would like to make a motion.”

The elders looked abashed.

“Why,—I,—” began Harricutt, and then saw there was nothing else for him to do, and stepped excitedly over to the minister's seat behind the table, and sank reluctantly down, trying to think how he could best make use of his present position to further his side of the question.

The minister was still standing, seeming to hold within his gaze the eyes of every one in the room including Mark.

“I wish to make a motion,” said the minister, “I move that we have a rising vote, expressing our utmost confidence in Mr. Carter, and leaving it to his discretion to explain his conduct or not as he pleases! I have known this dear young brother since he was a boy, and I would trust him always, anywhere, with anything!”

A wonderful shiny look of startled wonder, and deep joy came into the eyes of the young man, followed by a stabbing cloud of anguish, and then the hard controlled face once more, with the exception of a certain tenderness as he looked toward the minister.

“Mr. Duncannon, will you second my motion?” finished Severn.

The long gaunt dark elder was on his feet instantly:

“Sure, Brother Severn, I second that motion. If you hadn't got ahead of me I'd have firsted it myself. I know Mark. He's all right!” and he put out a hairy hand and grasped Mark's young strong fingers, that gripped his warmly.

Harricutt was on his feet, tapping on the table with his pencil:

“I think this motion is out of order,” he cried excitedly—but no one listened, and the minister said calmly, “Will the chair put the question?”

Baffled, angry, bitter, the old stickler went through the hated words: “It is moved and seconded that we express our confidence—”

“Utmost confidence, Brother Harricutt—” broke in the minister's voice. The red came up in the elder's face, but he choked out the words “utmost confidence,” on through the whole motion, and by the time it was out four elders were on their feet, Duncannon and Joyce first, thank God, Gibson, more slowly, Fowler pulled up by the strong wiry hand of Duncannon who sat next him.

“Stop!” suddenly spoke Mark's clear incisive voice, “I cannot let you do this. I deeply appreciate the confidence of Mr. Severn and Mr. Duncannon,” he paused looking straight into the eyes of the new elder and added—“and Mr. Joyce, who does not know me. But I am not worthy of so deep a trust. I ask you to remove my name from your church roll that in future my actions shall not be your responsibility!” With that he gave one lingering tender look toward the minister, pressed hard the hairy hand of the old Scotch elder, and went out of the room before anyone realized he was going.

Billy, with a gasp, and a look after his beloved idol, hesitated, then pulled himself together and made a dash into the session room, like a catapult landing straight in the spot where Mark had stood, but ignoring all the rest he looked up at the minister and spoke rapidly:

“Mr. Severn, please sir. Mark was with me last night from twelve o'clock on. Me an' him passed the Pleasant View Station in a car going over to Stark's Mountain, just as the bells was ringing over here fer midnight, cause I counted 'em, and Mark was over to Stark's Mountain till most noon to-day, and I come home with him!”

The minister's face was blazing with glory, and old Duncannon patted Billy on the shoulder, and beamed, but Harricutt arose with menace in his eye and advanced on the young intruder. However, before anyone could do anything about it a strong firm hand reached out from the doorway and plucked Billy by the collar:

“That'll do, Kid, Keep your mouth shut and don't say another word!” It was Mark and he promptly removed Billy from the picture.

“I move we adjourn,” said Elder Duncannon, but the minister did not even wait for the motion to be seconded. He followed Mark out into the moonlight, and drew him, Billy and all, across the lawn toward the parsonage, one arm thrown lovingly across Mark's shoulder. He had forgotten entirely the two guests parked on the piazza smoking cigarettes!

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