“Jim,” I said, “you aren’t at all sorry that you chose to be a minister?”
I never had had a chance to ask him this, seriously, and I was glad of the opportunity.
“Sis,” he said, “every day of my life I am more and more thankful that I decided to be one. It is only that—only living the best I can and giving all my heart and life to the service of the God who made this beautiful earth and our wonderful bodies and souls—that can satisfy me. I must do it. I live in the thought of it.”
I looked at him as he rode beside me and saw how his face had strengthened and beautified, and I wondered how such things happened; how it was that little commonplace teasing boys grew up to be men like the one beside me.
“Oh, Jim,” I cried, holding out my hand to him, “I congratulate you from my deepest heart. I feared that your taking up of the ministry might be a mood; that you might change. But now I see you never will. You will be a tower of strength, brother Jim, and in the years to come when I am troubled about life, I shall come to you for help.”
“It is you who always have helped me, Zalie,” he said. “It is you who are making it possible now for me to prepare for my great work.”
I write you all this, dear Uncle and Auntie, to show you how sweet he is and how interesting and peaceful my life is here, so you’ll not be sorry, thinking of all I let go from me.
Well, we went on down the road, looking at the purple valley with the shafts of smoke arising straight from the houses below and towering, silver bright, in the light of the lowering sun. I was so absorbed with it all that I did not realize how rapidly we were covering the road, till suddenly I saw we were beside the house on the bench.
And what do you think? There was a shaft of silvery smoke arising from that chimney, too, and it was shot through with little sparks like stars, as if the fire it came from had been newly lighted.
“Oh,” I cried, “the owner of the house has come!”