The Hearts Kingdom | Page 6

about any bishop, ever. I forget things
about that kind of people. What did, or didn't he do?"
"Charlotte!" remonstrated Letitia. "He was the last of the Goodloes

who built that old Goodloe home on exactly the place where the first
Goodloe set the stakes of the first stockade put up in the Harpeth
Valley, right here in Goodloets. It burned down the night he married
that Miss Gregory in New York, before we were born. Don't you
remember we used to play in the ruins, just over here beyond the
garden where the chapel stands now? Your father bought the property.
Part of your garden is old Madam Goodloe's garden and that's why it
was so wonderful for Judge Powers to give the lot and let Mr. Goodloe
build the chapel there. We all felt that, though some of us were scared
when we thought about what you might do when you came home. Still,
after we saw that wonderful little stone chapel that Mr. Goodloe had
one of the greatest architects in New York design, after he had sent him
packages of sketches of your garden and the Poplars, so it would only
make it all the more beautiful, we felt better. You don't really mind
about it, do you, dear?" Letitia's voice was beseechingly enthusiastic,
though keyed down with a note of anxiety.
"Go on!" I commanded, packing down the rage in the dark corners of
my inmost heart.
"Nobody ever knew why Bishop Goodloe never came back after he
married while on a mission from the Southern Methodist Conference to
the Northern Methodist Conference. He severed his relations with his
own Conference, and he never preached again though he was one of the
most wonderful and eloquent preachers the South has ever known. He
was the youngest bishop the church had ever ordained. Nobody ever
knew what happened, and all we know now is that this perfectly
beautiful man, who is the bishop's son, came down to the General
Conference in Nashville, was examined and ordained, and the presiding
bishop sent him out here to Goodloets last November. We don't know
anything about him except that he has been fighting in the trenches in
France for a year and has had a bullet cut out of his left lung.
Everybody adores him, and we all sit spellbound listening to him
preach, I think mostly on account of his voice, because none of us ever
seems to remember what he is preaching about. He's been having
services in the ballroom at the Country Club but he is going to dedicate
the chapel soon and we are all relieved. It has been fun to go out to

church at the Club twice every Sunday and to prayer meeting on
Wednesday night all winter, and we've danced in the long parlor at
home and in the double parlors at Jessie Litton's so as not to disarrange
the pews, I mean the chairs, in the ballroom, but now that the spring
has come we--we need the Club. I'm glad you will be here for the
dedication, and you will help us kind of--kind of--"
"Taper off from your religious spree?" I asked with a laugh that Letitia
echoed shamefacedly.
"That's an awful way to put it--but--"
"True?"
"We've all tried hard, but--but it is such a--a bore. It doesn't seem fair to
enjoy Gregory Goodloe so much at dinners and parties and not show
our respect and--and admiration by being good church members. Jessie
joined his study workers and she took a class of the awful little children
from down in the Settlement beyond the Phosphate Mills, who all
smelled terribly. She worked hard with them twice a week for a month,
and then Mother Spurlock, who is the front pillar of his congregation,
found that she had taught all the dirty little things to sew with their left
hands. She came in one morning and found them all stitching away
industriously backwards, just because Jessie is left-handed herself.
Mother Elsie laughed until she lost her breath and Mr. Goodloe had to
help unloosen her belt for her. The meeting broke up with ice cream on
Jessie for everybody. We all belong to home mission societies and
sewing circles and--"
"You want me to get you out of your purgatory and let you backslide
to--"
"Don't say it!" exclaimed Letitia with a laugh. "But we just want not to
hurt his feelings and--"
"We won't," I said grimly. "Now let's talk about the ball out at the Club
we are going to give Nickols when he comes down the first of May."

"That's just what I mean. I knew you'd understand and I am so relieved
that you are not angry about the chapel and things. We can leave it all
to you