“Do you know why I sent for you?” asked the grocer.
“No, sir.”
“Well, I had a little private matter that I wished to talk with you about; but I’m hungry as a bear, and if you’ll do me the favor to drink a cup of tea with me, I’ll try to explain.”
Tom had ever shrunk from contact with this man, and marvelled much at finding himself his guest. Yet a cosy sitting down together they had, Tom’s host being singularly attentive to him, while they partook of the nice edibles.
“Tom,” said the grocer, as they sat back from the table, “I’ve heard good accounts of you;” 290 and his voice grew soft and tremulous; “and I’m really glad of it. And I’ve had an eye on you myself quite a while; and, bad as they say old Cowles is, I like to see others do well. You stuck by your folks when you wished to go off; that’s right. You made the most of your schooling; that’s in your favor. You are an honest, right-minded lad, aiming to be, I suspect, some such a man as that missionary.”
Tom’s surprise grew apace. How did this rough, swearing, covetous dealer ferret out his heart’s secrets?
“You wished to go from home to study, but, like a true son, staid by to help the family. That must have been a great self-denial to you; was it not?”
“Yes,” faltered Tom.
“Of course it was. But how did you manage to give it up so bravely?”
“Mother advised me to pray about it, and I did.”