“Oh, yes,” said Tom; “but he was too well rewarded, for the little he did, to be worthy of consideration.”
Mrs. Burton inclined her head in acknowledgment of her brother-in-law’s compliment, and asked:
“Do you think all children’s questions are put with any distinct intention? Don’t you imagine that they ask a great many because they don’t know what else to do, or because they want to—to——”
“To talk against time, she means, Tom,” said Mr. Burton.
“Very likely. But the answers are what are of consequence, no matter what the motive of the questions may be.”
“What an idea!” exclaimed Mrs. Burton; “really, Tom, aren’t you afraid you’re losing yourself?”
“I really hadn’t noticed it,” said Tom; “but perhaps I may be able to explain myself more clearly. You go to church?”
“Regularly—every Sunday,” responded Mrs. Burton.
“And always with the most reverent feelings, of course. You never find your mind full of idle questionings, or mere curious wondering, or even a perfect blank, or a circle upon which your thoughts chase themselves around to their starting place without aim or motive?”
“How well you know the ways of the hum-drum mind, Tom,” said Mrs. Burton. “You didn’t learn them from your personal experience, of course?”