“Oh,” said the youth, “paw’s mighty bad off. He’s been porely all spring. Now he’s down flat in bed and ailin’ stiddy. We’re feared paw’s powerful sick. He’s feared, too.”
“Nonsense,” snorted the older man. “Your father isn’t sick—he only thinks he’s sick. Tell him I said so.”
“Yessir, I will.”
A fortnight later the same pair met again in the same place.
“Billy,” said the citizen cheerily, “how’s your father now?”
The youngster heaved a deep sigh:
“He thinks he’s dead.”
§ 257 Bordering on the Unreasonable
The hero of this story was one of those persons who accept whatever happens as a manifestation of the divine power. It was not for him to question the workings of a mysterious Providence.
Misfortune dogged his footsteps, yet never once did he complain. His wife ran away with the hired man. His daughter married a ne’er-do-well who deserted her; his son landed in the penitentiary; a cyclone destroyed his residence, a hailstorm spoiled his crop and the holder of the mortgage foreclosed on his farm. Yet at each fresh stroke he knelt and returned thanks to the Almighty for mercies vouchsafed.