“Of the fourteenth chapter,” said the minister.
“Fourteenth chapter!” said Willie, almost aloud.
“Of Luke.”
Willie was all ears, while Mr. Blake read: “Then said he also to him that bade him, When thou makest a dinner or a supper, call not thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbors, lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense be made thee. But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind.”
“That’s it!” he said, half aloud, but his mother jogged him.
The minister added the next verse also, and read: “And thou shalt be blessed, for they cannot recompense thee; for thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just.”
Willie had never listened to a sermon as he did to that. He stopped two or three times to wonder whether the cane had been actually about to repeat his father’s text to him, or whether he had not heard his father repeat it at some time, and had dreamed about it.
I am not going to tell you much about Mr. Blake’s sermon. It was a sermon that he and the walking-stick had prepared while they were going round among the poor. I think Mr. Blake did not strike his cane down on the sidewalk for nothing. Most of that sermon must have been hammered out in that way, when he and the walking-stick were saying, “Something must be done!” For that was just what that sermon said. It told about the wrong of forgetting, on the birthday of Christ, to do anything for the poor. It made everybody think. But Mr. Blake did not know how much of that sermon went into Willie Blake’s long head, as he sat there with his white full forehead turned up to his father.
