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Connor, Ralph, Pseudonym, 1860-1937

"The Sky Pilot, a Tale of the Foothills"

The
schoolhouse was quite sufficient for the present; the people were too
few and too poor and they were getting on well under the leadership of
their present minister. These were the arguments which Robbie's "ay"
stamped as quite unanswerable.
It was a sore blow to The Pilot, who had set his heart upon a church,
and neither Mrs. Muir's "hoots" at her husband's slowness nor her
promises that she "wad mak him hear it" could bring comfort or relieve
his gloom.
In this state of mind he rode up with me to pay our weekly visit to the
little girl shut up in her lonely house among the hills.
It had become The Pilot's custom during these weeks to turn for cheer to
that little room, and seldom was he disappointed. She was so bright, so
brave, so cheery, and so full of fun, that gloom faded from her presence
as mist before the sun, and impatience was shamed into content.
Gwen's bright face--it was almost always bright now--and her bright
welcome did something for The Pilot, but the feeling of failure was upon
him, and failure to his enthusiastic nature was worse than pain. Not
that he confessed either to failure or gloom; he was far too true a
man for that; but Gwen felt his depression in spite of all his brave
attempts at brightness, and insisted that he was ill, appealing to me.


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