"Grandad prays every day for you. I hear him myself." He looked up into my face with a curious expression of importance at having such a secret to tell, and surprise that I should need his grandfather's prayers.

A sharp knock at the door broke the spell that was holding us in such holy quiet.

Mrs. Blake hastened to open it, when a strangely familiar voice sounded on my ear.

There was a hearty ring of welcome in her voice as she bade him welcome.

"Come right in; you'll find things better'n you might expect."

I turned to see who was coming. A swift and kindly look of recognition in the deep, blue eyes took me back to my first experience of Cavendish; and an instant after I recollected, with a good deal of satisfaction, that it was the Rev. Mr. Lathrop, whom I first saw at Mrs. Daniel Blake's funeral. He extended his hand with such hearty cordiality that I gave him mine in return with a good bit of my heart along with it.

"I am glad to see you here." It was not so much in the words themselves as the way he spoke them, that such welcome meaning was conveyed.

"Indeed, you may be," Mrs. Blake responded.

I saw Mr. Bowen eagerly waiting to speak to his minister, and even the children were edging up to him with expectant faces. "He always brings us apples," my little lad explained to me in a whisper.

With entire change of voice he turned to Mr. Bowen and said:--"How fares it with you, brother, in the darkness?"

"Well, all is well."

In low, sympathetic tones he asked:--"He still provides songs in the night?"

"Yes, almost as sweet as if Heaven itself were stooping to hear."

"You have learned the secret G.o.d reveals to but few of us."

"Ah, brother, the fault is all in us, not in Him. Gracious as he is to me, all might share with me in this blessed inheritance."

Mr. Lathrop turned to me. "Our friend here certainly has meat to eat of which very few get the full taste."

"I did not know there could be such joy in religion. It is a revelation to me, sir."

"Yes, we go out of our way to help others, not expecting to be repaid, and sometimes one of G.o.d's angels meets us in human guise, and brings us a blessing compared with which our poor gift sinks into insignificance."

He spoke to me in a low-tone. Mr. Bowen could not hear; indeed he seemed never to notice conversation not addressed to him personally. I fancied that his own thoughts were more agreeable than average conversation.

I stood uncertainly, longing to remain to hear more of the conversation pa.s.sing between these two men, but afraid I might thereby violate some unwritten social code. I knew very little of the relation between pastor and people at that time, especially in America.

Mrs. Blake possibly read my face. She came to me and said:--"Won't you stay to prayers? I guess most all the churches'll listen to each other reading the Scripters and praying. I know they'd take it as a favor." She tried to speak softly but Mrs. Blake's voice had not been trained to fine modulations, and I felt certain Mr. Lathrop overheard her remark.

"I would like to stay if I am not intruding."

"I guess the best of Christians never reckon folks in the way when they're praying together, though I shouldn't say much about them, not being one myself," she said, dryly.

I sat down quite near to Mr. Bowen. I wanted to study his face, and as I listened in silence, the conversation between the pastor and this member of his flock was a new and beautiful revelation to me. The one seemed to help the other, while no stain of worldliness marred the even flow of their words. After awhile Mrs. Blake handed the minister a well-worn Bible. He opened it and turned the leaves thoughtfully, pausing at last at the 103d Psalm. I looked at Mr. Bowen while Mr. Lathrop was reading.

His lips were softly moving as if in responsive worship, the expression of his face like a thanksgiving Psalm.

A moment's pause in the reading while the leaves were turned, and then the lesson was chosen from the 17th of St. John's Gospel and selections from the ten last chapters of Revelation. I fancied that in the pause between his reading the minister was asking to be directed to the right pa.s.sages. Every verse seemed to bring its own special consolation, and I was almost as much impressed with the look on Mr. Bowen's face at last, as by the words that fell on my ears. It reminded me of the faces the Old Masters have left us of the saints and martyrs of the early church.

Perhaps they took their models from just such men as Mr. Bowen, whom G.o.d had left in the furnace until his own image was reflected in them.

But my deepest emotions were stirred when, kneeling with the rest, I listened to Mr. Lathrop's prayer.

As I listened, I had no longer any doubt as to the future well-being of this family; but, when just at the close of his prayer, my name was mentioned, and the fulfillment asked for the promise given by Christ, that even a cup of cold water given in his name should be rewarded, a strange sense of awe came over me. Was it possible I had been giving direct to Christ--visiting His sick, and poor, and sorrowing, and making Him glad? My eyes filled with tears, and a deep longing took possession of my heart to know this mighty Friend who died for me, in the same real, blessed way that these men knew, and loved Him. There were few words spoken after the prayer was ended. The place seemed holy ground and, shortly after, Mr. Lathrop left, first going to the little lad who had given me his whispered confidence, and dropped a few silver coins in his chubby fist. He stood regarding the money complacently until the door had closed on the minister, and then, going to his grandfather, he showed, with great glee, his store of money.

"We will have everything now that we want, won't we, grandfather?" he questioned, placing the money in his grandfather's hands.

"We will always have what is best for us, Freddie; but you must never take the minister's money again. You should give to him, instead of taking from him."

"So I must," Freddie responded, rather sorrowfully; "but may I take his apples?"

"Well, yes; you may do that, and, some day, when you are a big boy, and earning money, you can buy him a whole barrel full."

"I might keep a few of them?" Freddie questioned, such extreme generosity overpowering his imagination.

"We will see when the time comes."

Mrs. Blake beckoned me to her side, at the further end of the room.

"I didn't give him these; I put 'em out of sight till you'd come."

"But I wanted him to get them while I was away."

"Yes, I know; but it'll be easier to thank you right off, when he's surprised. My! he'd soon have been able to fly; his clothes is that ragged."

"Yes, they are very poor; but, some way, one don't see much but his face.

I forget that he is poor and ragged when I look at him."

"We're not all so blind as that. I'm going now to tell him."

"Mr. Bowen, you'll think it never rains but it pours. I've another surprise for you."

"What is it?" He turned his face in the direction of her voice.

"Miss Selwyn got you the finest piece of cloth I've sot eyes on this many a day, to make you a new suit of clothes. Just feel of that, now."

He stroked it softly for a moment, and then turned his flushed face to me. "You will bankrupt us with your generosity, Miss Selwyn. But G.o.d will pay you. He is rich and wise."

"You are paying me, too, Mr. Bowen. Prayers are better than gold."

He said nothing, but took up a fold of the cloth and stroked it, I thought, lovingly.

"I need no longer envy the swallows who build their nests in the eaves of the Lord's house. How my soul will rejoice to meet once more with His people! 'Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits.'"

For a moment he seemed to forget our presence. Mrs. Blake, always practical, brought us all down to earth again by suggesting that we get the suit made as soon as possible.

"If the tailor will cut it for us, a few of us women folk will come in and make it right off, so's he can get to meeting. Dan'el'll be glad to come and take him there every Sunday."

"I could lead grandfather," little Fred stoutly a.s.serted. "I've been past there lots of times."

"Are women as good tailors as men?" I asked, doubtfully.