Part 8 (2/2)
At this crisis the old clergyman entered. He was up and out at sunrise, and for the last half-hour he had been making the acquaintance of the two little boys, who were too cross to be seen the previous night.
”Excuse me,” said he to Mrs. Royden, who looked dark at seeing him in the kitchen; ”my little friends led me in this way.”
”Oh, you are perfectly excusable,” replied she; ”but we look hardly fit to be seen, in here.”
”Dear me,” cried the old man, with one of his delightful smiles, ”I am fond of all such familiar places. And you must not mind me, at any rate.
I came to be one of the family, if you will let me.”
Mrs. Royden replied that he was perfectly welcome; he did them an honor; but she was sure it would be much pleasanter for him to keep the privacy of his own room, where the children would not disturb him.
”There is a time for all things under the sun,” answered the old man.
”There is even a time to be a child with children. But what have we here? A sprained ankle?”
”Yes, sir,” murmured Sam.
”Ah! it is a bad sprain,” rejoined the clergyman, in a tone of sympathy.
”How did it happen?” sitting down by Samuel, and taking Georgie and Willie on his knees.
Sam mumbled over the old story about falling over a stone.
”And you were mocking him?” said the old man, patting Willie's cheek.
”He cries,” replied Willie, grinning.
”And don't you think you would cry, if you had hurt your foot as he has?”
The boy shook his head, and declared stoutly that he was sure he would not cry. But he, as well as Georgie, began actually to shed tears of sympathy, when their new friend made them look at the sprained ankle, and told them how painful it must be.
They were not heartless children; their better feelings only required to be drawn out; and from that time, instead of laughing at Sam, they appeared ready to do almost anything they thought would please him.
”I haven't had such an appet.i.te in months,” said the clergyman, as he sat down at the breakfast-table with the family.
And his happy face shed a pleasant suns.h.i.+ne on all around. Mr. Royden invited him to ask a blessing on the food; and, in a fervent tone, and an earnest, simple manner, he lifted up his heart in thankfulness to the great Giver.
As Mrs. Royden poured the coffee, she appeared to think it necessary to make some apologies. They did not often use that beverage in her family, she said, and she was not skilled in its preparation.
”I am afraid it is not very clear,” she added.
”No,” said the clergyman, ”it is not clear enough for me. The only drink that is clear enough for me”--holding up a gla.s.s of pure cold water--”is this.”
”But you will try a cup of coffee? Or a cup of tea, at least?”
”I never use either, except when I need some such restorative. Last night a fine cup of tea was a blessing. This morning I require nothing of the kind.”
<script>