“No, I was not spying, Mr. Smith,” he said. “I came this way quite by accident. But I thank God for the accident that has made you known to me.”
Jabez Smith dropped his hands.
“The preacher!” he muttered, and looked at him shamefacedly. “Promise me you’ll fergit about this, Mr. Bayliss.”
“How can I promise what I can never do?” asked the other, with a smile. “I shall remember it night and morning in my prayers.”
“At least,” said Jabez, imploringly, “promise me you’ll tell nobody, sir. If y’ do tell,” he added fiercely, “it’ll stop right here!”
The minister smiled at him through a mist of tears.
“I’ll promise to tell no one, Mr. Smith,” he said.
“That’ll do,” growled Jabez. “Good night.” And he turned to pick up his bundles.
“Nay,” said the minister, quickly, “not yet. Let me help you. That is too heavy a load for one man, however light his heart may be.” And he stooped and picked up two of the sacks.
The other grumbled a little, but saw it was of no use to protest, and they toiled up the hill together. At last every one of the bundles had been left behind, and they turned homeward.