Part 3 (2/2)
Maybe in dreams--and now they had come true.
In a few months, he found himself the only Protestant boy in school and the smallest of all the scholars. The monks were kind. They seemed somehow to love him better than the others. Father Wallace reminded him of his big brother. He was so gentle.
The Boy made up his mind to join the Catholic Church and went straight to Father Wilson, the venerable head of the college.
The old man smiled pleasantly:
”And why do you wish this, my son?”
”Oh, it's so much more beautiful than the Baptist Church. Besides it's so much easier--”
”Indeed?”
”Yes, sir. The Baptists have such a hard time getting religion. They seek and mourn so long--”
”Really?”
”Indeed they do--yes, sir--I've seen stubborn sinners mourn all summer in three protracted meetings and then not come through!”
”And you don't like that sort of penance?”
”No, sir. I've always dreaded it. And the worst thing is the new converts have to stand right up in church before all the crowd and tell their experience out loud. I'd hate that--”
”And you like our ways better?”
”A great deal better. The Catholics manage things so nicely. All you have to do is to go to church, learn the catechism and the good priests do all the rest--”
”Oh--I see!”
”Yes, sir.”
Father Wilson laid his wrinkled hand tenderly on the Boy's head:
”You are very, very young, my son, and you are growing rapidly. What you really need is good Catholic food. Sit down and have a piece of bread and cheese with me.”
The Boy sat down and ate the offered bread and cheese in silence.
”I can't join, Father Wilson?” he asked at last.
The priest smiled again:
”No, my son.”
”You don't like me, Father?” the boy asked wistfully.
”We like you very much, sir. But we are responsible for the trust your father and mother have put in us. In G.o.d's own time when you are older and know the full meaning of your act, I should be glad--but not this way.”
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