"Yes, I'll mend them at once," and Joe put the finished shoe carefully down by its mate. "I'm not rushed this afternoon."
"You are kept busy as a rule, I suppose?"
"Yes, always mending something. I have been doing it for over thirty years now, and there is never any let-up."
"You must get very tired of it at times."
"No, I can't say I do. It gives me plenty of time to think as I sit here alone in my little shop. I often wish that I could mend everything in life as easily as I can a pair of shoes."
"Why, do you find things out of joint?" Douglas queried. "You haven't seen much of the world, I suppose?"
"I don't have to travel to see the world, sir," and Joe paused in his work and looked earnestly into his visitor's face. "I can see the world right in this parish; that is, as much as I want to see of it."
"And you think there are many things here which need to be mended?"
"I certainly do. My heart is heavy all the time over the sad condition of this parish. The church is closed; the bell is never rung; and the rectory is falling into decay. But they are merely outward signs of the real state of the community. The people do not worship any more, and the children never go to Sunday school. With this spiritual sloth has come a great moral decline, and there are all kinds of sins and evil things committed of which we, as a rule, were free years ago."
"What is the cause of all this?" Douglas enquired.