"Good—wasn't it?" said Jamie the Scotchman as they went out of the church and looked down to the harbor glimmering under the moon and stars, and added:
"Ben, you will be sure to have one thing to spur you on to lead that 'projected life' your Uncle Benjamin tells about."
"What is that, sir?"
"A hard time, like Job—a mighty hard time."
"The true way to knowledge," said Uncle Benjamin encouragingly.
Uncle Benjamin felt a hand in his great mitten. It was little Ben's. The confidence touched his heart.
"Ben, you are as likely to have a projected life as anybody. A man rises by overcoming his defects. Strength comes in that way."
Little Ben went through the jingling door with a heart now heavy, now light. He set down the lantern, and climbed up to his bed under the roof.
He was soon in bed, the question, "Have I a chance?" still haunting him.
In summer there would be the sound of the wings of the swallows or purple swifts in the chimney at night as they became displaced from their nests. He would start up to listen to the whirring wings, then sink into slumber, to awake a blithe, light-hearted boy again.