there’s ignorance everywhere,” Lewis said mildly. “Ignorance of the Lord. Why, if there were no ignorance, we wouldn’t need preachers at all, now would we? I must say, I’m looking forward to the day I can retire.”
There were outright guffaws on both sides of the yard now, and Lewis knew that if the confrontation remained a war of words, he would win easily. But he could see the man clenching his fists and, fearing a brawl, was considering the best way to get Betsy and Martha away from the fracas when Mr. Varney stepped forward.
“You’re the ignorant one, Joe Martin. You know perfectly well that Mr. Demorest intended this house of worship to be used by anyone who needed it. The Presbyterians and the Methodists have shared it amicably for years. Why is there a problem now?”
“The problem is with these illiterate saddlebag preachers,” Martin said, pointing at Lewis. “Why, everyone knows they just memorize their sermons and deliver them up whole, they’re too uneducated to make their own.”
“Is that a challenge, Mr. Martin? Would you like to debate me?” Lewis was on sure ground now, steering the man to dialogue rather than devilment.
The man glared at him.
“We could do it in English, if you like,” Lewis continued. “But perhaps it would be more entertaining if we did it in Latin.”
There was a roar now from the crowd, and Lewis judged it was time to allow the man a reasonable retreat.
“But not today,” he said. “Today I would simply like to share the Word of the Lord with these good folks who have come along to hear me, and I will do it plainly. We’ll leave Latin and Greek to educated men like ourselves.”
“That’s right, Joe Martin. We came to hear this man today.”
To Lewis’s surprise, it was the small, pale woman he had seen with the chestnut-haired girl who stepped forward to say this, brushing aside the companions who tried to stop her. He was grateful for her support, but he didn’t need it. He was in control now. He turned to Martin. “That’s right. This is my day. You can speak to them tomorrow, if you like. And you can do it in any language you choose.”
The man muttered something that Lewis didn’t quite catch, but it didn’t matter. He turned on his heel and left, and the congregation filed good-naturedly into the church. Some of those who had stood on the Wesleyan side of the yard went in with them.
He took his time getting Betsy and Martha down from the saddle. Let the buzzing go on a little longer, he thought. Let them repeat the exchange a few times among themselves, so they can report it to their friends and neighbours later. When he did begin to preach, they would listen all the more attentively.
He waited until Betsy had Martha settled on the front bench before he strode down the aisle and took his place in front of the plain wooden pulpit at the end. He didn’t need this, particularly. Some preachers would rest their notes on it, but he never spoke from notes, instead relying on his memory, which, thank the Lord, was excellent.
As he spoke, one part of his mind took a mental inventory of the congregation. There were a number of older couples, probably long-time adherents, and their children with their little ones in turn, confirming what Varney had told him about the level of support in the area. He was not surprised to see several people who, from their dress, he judged were probably Quakers by nature. Although the Society of Friends was also strong in the community, their marriage policies worked against them. Quakers marry Quakers, and those who don’t are disowned. The Friends at this meeting were young and had probably “married out,” or were thinking about it.
He looked for the girl with the chestnut hair, but she wasn’t there — only the woman who had spoken in his defence. She sat beside Betsy, helping to distract Martha at several points during the service.
She introduced herself afterward. “I’m Minta Jessup. My sister-in-law was going to come with me, but she’s not feeling well today. She’ll be sorry that she missed all the excitement.”
“Thank you for stepping forward,” he said. “That took real courage. The crowd could have got ugly.”
“Oh, that bunch,” she said scornfully. “They like the sound of their own voices, but don’t ever ask them to do anything useful. They wouldn’t know how.”
Lewis often marvelled at the force of some of these women he met; how they could appear so meek and submissive when, in fact, their demeanour masked a determination that sometimes took their menfolk aback. Some would say this strength was unbecoming, but he approved of it. He had married one of these women himself, and wouldn’t trade her good sense for all the subservience in the world.
“I dare say Rachel will be sure to attend every one of your meetings from now on, if only because then she’ll have something to talk about.”
He laughed. “I sincerely hope it’s my sermon she’ll discuss with the neighbours, and not another performance in the dooryard.”
So the girl with the chestnut hair was her sister-in-law. That explained the lack of family resemblance, although that didn’t always hold true. There was no mention of the hulking fellow who had been with them on the street and Lewis was left to wonder where he fit into the family. Husband? Brother? Sometimes these family units were so convoluted that there was little to gain in speculation. Like his own family — all those great burly boys, then little Martha, who could easily be mistaken for one of those “gifts from God” that sometimes occur late in a couple’s life.
Just then, the man in question came out of Stickle’s Tavern and headed toward the church. He stopped just outside the gate and stood, obviously waiting for Minta.
“Will he not come in?” Lewis asked her.
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “He doesn’t hold much with meetings like this. He thinks it’s a waste of time.”
The man glared at Lewis as Minta walked down the path to join him.
Lewis usually held a class meeting after services so that those who wished to do so could study the Bible together. But he wouldn’t today. His household was still unorganized from the move, and Betsy still fragile and easily tired. Besides, Martha was an energetic child, a fact that kept Betsy on the hop most days, and now she was fussy from the long period of sitting. Lewis judged that the meeting would be better left for Varney who, as a local preacher, was perfectly capable of directing it. After all, he had been acting in this capacity before Lewis had arrived in the area, and would probably appreciate confirmation that not all of his duties were to be usurped. The authority assigned to these lay preachers was one of the points of contention with the Wesleyans, and it was as well to reinforce the Episcopal position from the start.
“I’m sorry to decamp, Mr. Varney, but I know that the meeting will be in good hands.”
“Aye, don’t you worry, I’ll manage.” Varney looked pleased. “Is the little one your daughter?”
“My granddaughter. The only girl in the household now.” Martha had fallen on the step and was wailing. Lewis smiled. “But do you know something? I think she makes more noise than all the boys put together.”
Lewis scooped the little girl up and bundled her onto the horse, putting her in the saddle in front of him. Her sobbing hiccoughs eventually subsided as she surveyed the passing countryside.
“Cow!”
