CHAPTER VII
Peaceville, September 18.
Went out to the mission in the pine woods with Mr. G. Quite a good congregation. They all walk miles, and bring their babies. Saw a most forlorn specimen of a man, sallow, emaciated, miserably clad, with three children wrapped in a heterogeneous collection of garments. Mr. G. turned to me and said:—
"You know Mr. Lewis, Mrs. Pennington?"
Before I could answer the poor gaberlunzie spoke up and said: "Oh, yes; she stood for these," waving his hand over the thin little objects. "You 'member, Miss Patience, this is Mary Frances and this is Easter Anne and this is Thomas Nelson."
I never felt more abashed in my life. Such a party to be responsible for! I stand for so many, many poor little babies, for whenever there is a christening I am in demand; but I never have had such a forlorn little company as this on my soul.
As soon as I recovered I asked how it was that I had not seen them for so long.
"We've bin a-travellin'! We moved off for a good many years now, an' that's why you've sort of lost us."
I asked where his wife was.
"Well, ma'am, she's gone; got tired of the job, an' lef' me."