I've no use for him."
"I hate him, too," said Felicity, agreeing with Dan for once in
her life. "He chews tobacco all the time and spits on the floor--
the horrid pig!"
"And yet his brother is an elder in the church," said Sara Ray
wonderingly.
"I know a story about Isaac Frewen," said the Story Girl. "When
he was young he went by the name of Oatmeal Frewen and he got it
this way. He was noted for doing outlandish things. He lived at
Markdale then and he was a great, overgrown, awkward fellow, six
feet tall. He drove over to Baywater one Saturday to visit his
uncle there and came home the next afternoon, and although it was
Sunday he brought a big bag of oatmeal in the wagon with him.
When he came to Carlisle church he saw that service was going on
there, and he concluded to stop and go in. But he didn't like to
leave his oatmeal outside for fear something would happen to it,
because there were always mischievous boys around, so he hoisted
the bag on his back and walked into church with it and right to
the top of the aisle to Grandfather King's pew. Grandfather King
used to say he would never forget it to his dying day. The
minister was preaching and everything was quiet and solemn when he
heard a snicker behind him. Grandfather King turned around with a
terrible frown--for you know in those days it was thought a
dreadful thing to laugh in church--to rebuke the offender; and
what did he see but that great, hulking young Isaac stalking up
the aisle, bending a little forward under the weight of a big bag
of oatmeal? Grandfather King was so amazed he couldn't laugh, but
almost everyone else in the church was laughing, and grandfather
said he never blamed them, for no funnier sight was ever seen.
Pages:
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134