“Hello, Kip! What you got there?”
“It’s our folks’ present to the minister,” answered Kip grandly, and one after another the admiring boys fell into line until the chair formed the center of a triumphal procession. The village soon knew of the gift, as the village always did know of everything that happened within its limits, and Kip had the satisfaction of being stopped several times, and of hearing that Mr. Mitchel had done “the handsome thing,” and that the chair was “out-and-out nice.”
So, in a beatific state, he reached the gate of the little parsonage. There was no lack of assistance. Every urchin was anxious to share at least the reflected glory of helping to carry it, and it was borne to the house very much as a party of ants bear off a lump of sugar—by swarming all over it. The minister came to the door, the body-guard fell back, and Kip presented his prize.
“Here’s something that Uncle Ralph sent you, sir; he bought it in town to-day. He said tell you he sent it, and he guessed you’d know what to do with it,” he said with shining eyes.
The minister’s eyes shone too, and then grew dim. This was so unexpected, and it meant so much to him! It had sometimes seemed hard to that kindly, tender heart that the one of all the village who could have done most, had never manifested any interest in his work for those poor people—had not lifted with even a finger the burden of care and sacrifice, or shown any disposition to aid or encourage. But there must have been sympathy after all. This was a generous gift in its luxuriousness—a thoughtful one, for it was for the dear invalid. He opened a door near him and said softly:
“Rachel, look here!”
How he had wanted just such an easy, restful cushioned niche for the worn slight form! The boys could not understand what it was to him in itself and in what it represented—“Only his voice had a tremble in it like when he prays,” Kip said to himself on his homeward way.
However he hated “fixed up company” in general he would not for anything miss the gathering at the parsonage that evening, and wood and water, cows and kindlings must be looked after early. So it happened he did not speak with Mr. Mitchel again until nightfall. Then that gentleman bethought him of his commission.
“Ah, Kip, carried the chair safely, did you?”
“Yes sir.”