CHAPTER IX
AT KING'S CHARTERIS
Two years later, in April, Mark Samphire preached his first sermon at King's Charteris. He had wrestled with his stammer as Christian did with Apollyon, and he told Archie that he had reason to believe it was mastered when the brothers met at Pitt Hall upon the Saturday preceding Mark's appearance in the village pulpit.
"I passed some severe tests, before they admitted me to deacons' orders," he said.
Archie stared curiously at an unfamiliar Mark. "You don't look very fit."
"I've been like a bird in the hand of a fowler, a fluttering tomtit trying to escape. Ross rescued me. You must get to know Ross: he's a splendid fellow. I've talked to him a lot about you."
Archibald nodded, well pleased to find Mark's eyes lingered upon his handsome face and imposing figure with the same pride and affection as of yore, out he was conscious also of a mental change in his brother, divined rather than apprehended. Mark spoke with enthusiasm of work in congested districts, he gave lamentable details, he indicated colossal difficulties.
"And this sort of thing satisfies you?" said Archie heavily. "Although, as I take it, the results are visible. I like to see results. I keep a diary—of results. You were telling me just now of the difficulties of dealing with a shifting population: the people, for instance, round the London Docks. I couldn't undertake that sort of work."
"You want to count your sheaves," said Mark.
"I am ambitious," Archie admitted. "Aren't you?"