For a moment there was no answer; then the minister looked up
with a start.
"What? Oh!--yes, it is a very nice day."
"And 'tisn't cold at all, either, even if 'tis October," observed
Pollyanna, still more hopefully. "Mr. Pendleton had a fire, but
he said he didn't need it. It was just to look at. I like to look
at fires, don't you?"
There was no reply this time, though Pollyanna waited patiently,
before she tried again--by a new route.
"Do You like being a minister?"
The Rev. Paul Ford looked up now, very quickly.
"Do I like--Why, what an odd question! Why do you ask that, my
dear?"
"Nothing--only the way you looked. It made me think of my father.
He used to look like that--sometimes."
"Did he?" The minister's voice was polite, but his eyes had gone
back to the dried leaf on the ground.
"Yes, and I used to ask him just as I did you if he was glad he
was a minister."
The man under the tree smiled a little sadly.
"Well--what did he say?"
"Oh, he always said he was, of course, but 'most always he said,
too, that he wouldn't STAY a minister a minute if 'twasn't for
the rejoicing texts.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231