In a few months, he found himself the only Protestant boy in school and the smallest of all the scholars. The monks were kind. They seemed somehow to love him better than the others. Father Wallace reminded him of his big brother. He was so gentle.
The Boy made up his mind to join the Catholic Church and went straight to Father Wilson, the venerable head of the college.
The old man smiled pleasantly:
"And why do you wish this, my son?"
"Oh, it's so much more beautiful than the Baptist Church. Besides it's so much easier—"
"Indeed?"
"Yes, sir. The Baptists have such a hard time getting religion. They seek and mourn so long—"
"Really?"
"Indeed they do—yes, sir—I've seen stubborn sinners mourn all summer in three protracted meetings and then not come through!"