These discussions often ran high and waxed warm.  But Draxy’s adherents were a large majority; and she had so patiently and fully gone over these disputed grounds with them that they were well fortified with the arguments and facts which supported her positions.  Indeed, it was fast coming to pass that she was the central force of the life of the village.  “Let me make the songs of the community, and I care not who makes its laws,” was well said.  It was song which Draxy supplied to these people’s lives.  Not often in verse, in sound, in any shape that could be measured, but in spirit.  She vivified their every sense of beauty, moral and physical.  She opened their eyes to joy; she revealed to them the sacredness and delight of common things; she made their hearts sing.

But she was to do more yet for these men and women.  Slowly, noiselessly, in the procession of these beautiful and peaceful days, was drawing near a day which should anoint Draxy with a new baptism,—­set her apart to a holier work.

It came, as the great consecrations of life are apt to come, suddenly, without warning.  While we are patiently and faithfully keeping sheep in the wilderness, the messenger is journeying towards us with the vial of sacred oil, to make us kings.

It was on a September morning.  Draxy sat at the eastward bay-window of her sitting-room, reading to Reuby.  The child seemed strangely restless, and slipped from her lap again and again, running to the window to look out.  At last Draxy said, “What is it, Reuby?  Don’t you want to hear mamma read any longer?”

“Where is papa?” replied Reuby.  “I want to go and find papa.”

“Papa has gone way down to the Lower Mills, darling; he won’t come home till dinner,” said Draxy, looking perplexedly at Reuby’s face.  She had never known him to ask for his father in this way before.  Still his restlessness continued, and finally, clasping his mother’s hand, he said earnestly,—­

“Come and find papa.”

“We can’t find him, dear,” she replied; “it is too far for Reuby to walk, but we will go out on the same road papa has gone, and wait for papa to come;” so saying, she led the child out of the house, and rambled slowly along the road on which the Elder would return.  In a few moments she saw moving in the distance a large black object she could not define.  As it came nearer she saw that it was several men, walking slowly and apparently bearing something heavy between them.

Little Reuby pulled her hand and began to run faster.  “Come and find papa,” he said again, in a tone which struck terror to Draxy’s heart.  At that instant the men halted.  She hurried on.  Presently she saw one man leave the rest and run rapidly towards her.  It was old Ike.  The rest still remained motionless and gathered closer around what they were carrying.

“O Reuby!” groaned Draxy.  “Come quicker; find papa,” he replied, impatiently; but old Ike had reached them, and wringing his hands, burst into tears.  “O my Lord!—­O Mis’ Kinney, yer must go back; they can’t bring him along, an’ you ‘n’ the boy standin’ here.  O my Lord!  O Mis’ Kinney, come right back!” And Ike took hold of her shoulder and of her gown and almost turned her around.