Chapter XVII: The Minister and the Boys

IT was Christie's turn now to slip away. She remembered something that she was to do towards the coming supper.

The minister and the boys were alone.

"Well," he said, looking at them with smiling eyes, "what next for you two?"

"School for me, sir," Wells said, "and I shall be glad to get to studying again; I have had a longer vacation than I planned."

"Do you go to the city every day?"

"No, sir; not this term. Mamma is so nervous over the accident that she doesn't like the plan. Yes, sir, they are coming out next week to stay. My brother, who is an invalid, has taken a fancy to the country, and is in haste to get back; the rest of the family think it rather dull, all but me, I like it. But mamma is not reconciled to a daily ride in the cars, so my father has engaged a tutor for me; he can teach music, as well as Latin and the other things, so I shall not have to go into town for lessons. I like the plan ever so much."

And the favoured boy looked over at Karl, who was regarding him with wistful eyes.

"And what about Karl? Is it school for you, too?"

"No, sir," he said slowly, choking down a little sigh, "not this term. Father can't arrange for us just yet; we are out of the township, you see."

"I see. Well, you and Christie study at home, I suppose."

"A little," said Karl, but he did not speak as though the studies at home gave him great pleasure.

He did not mean to tell those two that the great drawback was books, or rather the want of books. What would either of them say, he wondered, if they knew that there were not more than a half-dozen books in the house, counting the primary arithmetic, almost every word of which he and Christie knew by heart?

Latin! It was almost disheartening to hear Wells talk so glibly about "Latin and other things." He had tried to get his father, only the other evening, to remember a Latin word until he, Karl, could see how it sounded. But not one could be thought of, save "E pluribus Unum," and neither mother nor father were absolutely sure of its exact meaning. Karl meant to study Latin, one of these days, but he did not expect to for some time to come, neither did he intend to tell his plans to these favoured people, who talked about Latin as carelessly as they might about geography. Truth to tell, Karl's present ambition was a new arithmetic, and that he meant to have very soon, but it too was a secret.

"There is one book," said Mr. Keith, "which gets neglected. If I could go back and be a boy again, I am sure I would study it most faithfully; that is, if I could take back into boyhood all the knowledge I have gathered by being a man. I should know it was the most important book to study that there is in the world."

Karl was watching him with eager, expectant eyes. It would be a Latin book, he thought; possibly not, for Mr. Keith, he had heard, understood both Greek and Hebrew, as well as Latin. It would be a thing worth remembering, what such a scholar thought the most important book in the world.

Sometime he would try for the book and study it hard.

"What book is it, if you please?" He asked the question very timidly, waiting for a little, in the hope that Wells would do it for him.

"That is the Bible, my boy; there has never been a book written half so important as that, and there never will be."

To say that Karl was astonished, will give you a very faint idea of his state of mind; also he was a little bit disappointed. He had expected to hear some wonderful old name to treasure in his mind, and then he had meant to try to get courage to ask a few questions about the book, what made it so wonderful, and how old one had to be before he began to study it, and what it cost; but the Bible! Why, they had one in the house. Of course it was an important book, but then, who would have imagined that he meant the Bible!

Wells was not surprised; he was more familiar with ministers than was Karl, and more familiar with the world; he knew what rank the Bible held among Christians. He looked neither surprised nor particularly interested, though his face told as plainly as words that he did not agree with Mr. Keith.

"The question is, how much time do you two boys give to the most important book?"

"Not much," said Wells, laughing a little. "We don't use it in school, and don't get marked for not knowing anything about it, so it has to stand aside."

"I know. Isn't that a strange way for sensible people to manage? Now if I were a teacher, I should try to give a little time each day to the only book that was likely to outlive every other, and had to do with another world, after this one was done with."

Karl opened his eyes wider.

And Wells questioned: "Why, you don't suppose the Bible will be taken to Heaven, do you?"

Mr. Keith laughed a little. "Well, as to that, I don't know as it would be a very interesting book in Heaven. We shall probably not care much more about it than we would for a good guide book about Europe, after it had shown us the way there, and we were perfectly familiar with the country and had not the least desire to go from it to any other country. I meant that it was the only book which told us anything about the other world, where all our life is to be spent, except the very little bit that we spend on this side. It is strange to be so taken up with the things we are to use here that we forget all about what we are here for, and forget to get ready for our journey; now isn't it?"

Karl was thinking seriously, and seemed to have no answer.

And Wells did not choose to make what might be called an answer, though he spoke: "I don't think the Bible tells very much about Heaven. I've often wished it told what the people were doing up there, and how they managed about—well about everything, and whether they knew what was going on here, and what was to be done after everybody had reached there."

"I don't suppose there is special need of having all that told in the Bible. The people who are going there will have eternity in which to learn all about it, and to the people who fail, it could only be an added sorrow. The most that the Bible is engaged in, is to point out the way, and warn of the dangers."

Mr. Keith spoke very gravely, but Wells seemed determined to speculate, so continued: "What do you suppose the people do there, all the time? I should think it would be sort of stupid to stand around with harps and sing."

"The Bible says that it has not even entered into my heart what we are to do, but I am going there to find out. The question is, are you two boys?"

"I suppose I mean to," answered Karl gravely, seeing that Wells was not going to speak, "but I haven't made any plans, nor thought about it much. It doesn't seem very real to me; I know a hundred things that I want to do here, but I don't know much about Heaven."

"That is just what I am saying is strange; like a boy who was so interested in the flowers and stones which he found on the way to the city that he would pay no attention which road to take, and forgot all about his having started for the purpose of going to the city. If there was an elegant home waiting for you there, and you might risk the loss of it by delaying and playing with the stones, how long do you suppose you would play?"

"Not long," said Karl, his face grave.

But Wells had found his voice again. "Ah, but sir, we can't die and go to Heaven just when we please. It would be wicked to do it even if one wanted to, and a fellow could reach the city just as soon as his feet would carry him."

"That is true; suppose we change the figure. What if the carriage to take Karl to the city and to his wonderful home there, was to pass the South road at the corner, at some hour to-morrow, Karl did not know when, and that was to be his opportunity to go, after that it would be too late. How long do you suppose Karl would loiter on his way to the South road in the morning?"

"Not many minutes," said Karl, speaking quickly. "I should clip it at the first streak of daylight; in fact, I don't know but I would go down there to-night."

"I think quite likely you would; and yet, here you sit, unconcerned. It is morning with you, and the chariot of God may be here at any moment for His children who are ready, to take them home, and you do not get ready to go."

"It seems different," said Karl.

"Yes, and it is different," stoutly declared Wells. "There is no corner to go to and wait; if it were that way, we would all go in a minute, but there doesn't seem to be anything to do."

"Yes, there is; your mind can take a journey just as well as your body. You want your mind to go over and stand by the Lord Jesus Christ; you want your soul to say to Him:

"'I have come to claim my home in Heaven that you said you had for me;
I have come to be ready to go. Now, what am I to do?'

"And He would tell you what to do. It is simple enough, you see, only you don't choose to do it."

"Why doesn't everybody?"

This question was from Karl; it seemed to him all at once such a simple and natural thing to do, and he could not help wondering what kept people back.

"My boy," said Mr. Keith, turning and looking full at him out of earnest eyes, "why don't you?"

Karl moved uneasily in his seat and laughed a little, and said: "I don't know."

"But I do, my boy. It is because you are a slave; so is Wells, here. He thinks he is free, and can do just as he pleases, but Satan has a strong hold on him, and is making him do just the foolish thing about which we have been talking."

"Then we are not to blame," said Wells quickly, following with his keen mind the picture that the minister had drawn.

"Are you not? Suppose an enemy had tied you to that stove in such a manner that the flames would reach you after a while, and I should say:

"'I will cut the ropes and set you free if you want me to do so, and will obey my directions in the future.'

"Then I should proceed to give you a list of directions, and you should say:

"'Why, they are all good, and right, and kind; and we shall be the gainers by obeying them, but then we don't want to ask you to free us, and we don't care to follow your orders.'

"Who would be to blame for your remaining slaves?"

"Wouldn't you be kind of mean, though, not to set us free, whether we asked it or not?"

Of course this bold question came from Wells.

Karl looked quickly at him; he thought the question rude.

But the minister seemed in no way disturbed by it.

"That depends," he said quietly. "Let us look at it a little more closely; suppose you belonged to me by right. It was your duty to obey me, and you had not done it; instead, you had disgraced me in many ways, and were under sentence of punishment. But I, at great expense, had planned a way for you to escape all punishment; a way which I knew would work if you could be brought to agree to it, and do your part, but which I knew would be worse than useless unless you submitted to the rules laid down. We will suppose that I knew you would get into much worse trouble than being tied to that stove, in case I let you go in any other way than the one which I had planned. Would I be mean, then, not to do it?"

"That is supposing a great many things," said Wells, and he spoke as though he felt almost cross about it.

"It is not supposing a thing, but what the Bible, if you study it carefully, will show you is true; not the being tied to the stove, of course, we imagined that. But God is very well acquainted with us, and He knows what we will do, as well as what we have done."

"How could you prove to me that you were anxious to save me, and had done your best, if you should let me stay there and burn?" asked Wells, going back to the figure.

"I might not be able to do so; you might not choose to believe my word, and you might be too foolish to reason about it. But if I had a son, whose life I had given in order to try to save you, and if you believed that I loved my son, unless you were very foolish indeed, it would go far towards showing you that I had been in earnest."

"I think we would be great fools not to ask you to untie us," spoke out Karl in some heat.

"It seems to me that you would be very foolish; and Wells thinks so too, but he doesn't care to tell us so."

Then came Christie, holding Nettie by the hand, and carrying the baby in her arms.

"Christie," said Mr. Keith, "come here and tell us what you would do if you were told to choose one book out of all there were in the world, because the rest were to be burned."

"Why!" said Christie. "How dreadful! Oh, I would take the Bible, of course."

"Why of course?"

"Oh, because it is the only book that shows us the way to Heaven; and we could get along without knowing anything else, if we knew what was in the Bible. And if we knew all that there was in all the other books, and had no Bible, in a little bit of a while, what good would it do us?"

"Sure enough; but do you believe these boys don't think so!"

Christie turned on the two troubled eyes.

Wells laughed, but Karl said stoutly, "Why, we didn't say any such thing!"

"Didn't you? I thought you both agreed that you paid very little attention to it? And of course, if you thought it so important, you would give it a good deal of time and thought; that would be common sense, you know."

But neither Nettie nor the baby were in the mood for any more quiet talking.

Mr. Keith took the baby, and the two went into a frolic, while Wells set Nettie on his knee, and began a wonderful story of two pigs and a monkey.

It was a wonderfully pleasant evening; the supper was delightful. Even the baby waved his spoon and called for "more." The chickens were stewed in cream, and the potatoes were made into the loveliest little brown balls! Mr. Keith ate two balls, and asked Christie if these were "warmed up" ones, and whether warmed up ones could possibly be better.

Then Mrs. Tucker looked so puzzled that Mr. Keith felt obliged to explain that he had been invited to a tea party, or rather, to be truthful, had invited himself, and that there were to be warmed up potatoes.

Then Wells questioned and cross-questioned, until it finally all came out about Lucius and Lucy Cox and he asked a great many questions about them, and sent Christie off into a burst of laughter by inquiring whether Lucy looked like "Sarah Ann."

But no one save Christie heard his whisper, just as he was going out of the door after Dennis came for him:

"I say, Christie, may I come to the party? Do ask me; I'll be as good—Oh, as good as anything you can imagine. And I like warmed up potatoes better than anything."

And so Christie, in much bewilderment and some dismay, found a party growing on her hands, and wondered what she should do with them all.

She and Karl sat up for half an hour after the minister went home, to talk over all the strange events of the day.

"He liked the farm horses," said Karl, meaning Wells did; "he said they behaved much better than his pony, and he should think it would be great fun to ride without any saddle or halter."

"Karl," said Christie, "did he tell Mr. Keith he did not believe the Bible was an important book?"

"No," answered Karl indignantly, "he did not say such a word. All he said was that they did not pay much attention to it at school; and that he did not know much about it, because he did not read it very often."

"Well, that was saying that he did not think it important, I suppose; we say things by our actions, Karl, though I never thought of it before. It seems queer that we can be telling people things without meaning to."

"It isn't true," persisted Karl; "I think the Bible is important, of course; and I don't read in it once a month."

"Well," said Christie, gravely, "if you had a geography, Karl, one of the new kind, you know well enough you wouldn't let it be in the house for a month without reading a good deal in it; now would you?"

But Karl declared that he was as tired as a dog, and was going right straight to bed. And to bed he went.