"Let the children come to see me soon, Miss Hetty," he urged, "and I may be able to give them some instruction along the lines in which you say they lack so much. Joe could help them in their lessons too." And then turning to Pearl and Periwinkle, he asked: "How would you like to come to the parsonage, and go over your lessons with my son?"
"Would he play with us?" queried Pearl.
With a hearty laugh the minister replied: "I'm almost afraid he would. He is still a boy even though he is nineteen and goes to college. I am sure that he still knows how to play. He's the only boy I have—all I have—and I suppose I've spoiled him."
"When shall I send the children, Rev. Smith?" asked Miss Maise.
"Tomorrow, or the next day," was the prompt reply. "This is mid-August. We can't begin too soon."
Tuesday afternoon the children wended their way to the parsonage. Pearl was clad in a starched gingham dress, uncomfortably high about the neck, and with sleeves of an unaccustomed length. The minister himself met them at the door and ushered them into a room that from all appearances was meant to be used as a comfortable and cozy living room—even though there were some evidences of disorder which they knew their aunt would not have approved of.
"Amuse yourselves for a minute, while I try to find Joe. It is rather difficult to keep track of him," said the minister as he left them alone.
When a few minutes later, the minister, followed by his son, was about to enter the room he stopped, and, grasping his son's arm warningly, they both, unperceived, watched the two children.
Left to their own resources the children had not remained inactive. Their curious eyes taking in all the strange surroundings, they saw many things that interested them. One of the pictures on the east wall particularly impressed them. It portrayed the figure of a man, his face lighted up with a wonderfully tender expression, while in his arms and round about him were small children, alone or with their mothers. The afternoon sun, shining through the open window, seemed to shed a radiant halo over the whole group and to make the picture stand out in bold relief. Standing before the picture in silent wonder, they had not noticed the approach of the minister and his son. The minister quietly withdrew, and when the children turned as if by common impulse, they saw only a young man whose ingratiating smile at once opened a way to their hearts.
Their previous experience in coming in contact with people enabled them to become acquainted with the minister's son and to feel themselves the very best of friends in less time than it ordinarily takes children to overcome their natural timidity in the presence of strangers. Nor was it any wonder that a close friendship was formed so quickly, for Joseph Smith was that type of grown up boy whom all children feel instinctively to be their friend.