"Yes; and you will get your reward," answered the old man.
"So I believe! I find so much comfort in these good old leaves."
Job pointed to a worn Bible, that lay on the mantel-piece.
"Right! right!" cried the clergyman, joyously. "Job Bowen, there is a crown for thee! Job Bowen, in my life I have not met with twenty men so blessed as thou. But thousands and thousands of the rich and prosperous well might envy thee, thou poor Christian shoemaker, with one leg!"
"Thank you! thank you, for saying so much!" bubbled from Job's lips, like a gushing stream of glad water.
He laughed; he shed tears; he seemed warmed through and through with the sunshine of peace. The clergyman clasped his hand, weeping silently, with joy in his glorious old face.
"Yes," said Job, rallying, "I knowed it 'u'd be all right in the end. I tell folks, though I an't good at dancing and capering, and turning short corners in life, and dodging this way and that, with my wooden stump, I shall do well enough in the long run."
"And, considering how well afflictions prepare us for heaven, we may say," added Father Brighthopes, "you have already put your best foot forward."
"That I have! that I have!" cried Job, delighted.
"How does your wife bear up, under all her trials?" asked the old man.