"Mrs. Barnett and I are exceedingly fond of tea," he said, after I had
compelled him to let me fill his cup for the third time.
To-morrow I shall discover some manner of making the dear woman accept a
pound or two of it. The appreciation of her spouse made me think of some
lion-hearted, little, strenuous lady with an inveterate tea-habit. Can
you understand such a confused statement? I realize that it is badly
jumbled. At any rate he held his cup daintily, with three fingers,
and looked at it as Daddy looks at a glass of his very special
Chateau-Larose.
"I shall have to go now," he announced, perhaps a little regretfully. "I
hear, Miss Jelliffe, that you have helped minister to the needs of that
poor Dick Will. I am going to see him now. By the way, I trust I may have
the pleasure of seeing you to-morrow at our little church, if you can
leave your dear patient long enough."
"Of course I'll come," I promised, "and I would be glad to go with you
now and see Dick. I know Daddy won't mind, and I should like to see
whether I can do anything to make the man more comfortable."
"Run along, my dear," said Daddy.
Mr. Barnett expressed thanks, and we walked away together. I actually had
to shorten my steps a little to accommodate myself to his quick,
shuffling gait. It is queer, Aunt Jennie, but before this tiny,
unpretentious parson I feel a sense of deference and high regard. To
think he is able to overcome his fears, that his gracile body has been
called upon to withstand the bufferings of storms, and that his notion of
duty should appear to raise him, physically, to the level of these rough
vikings among whom he labors, is quite bewildering.
Pages:
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107