"Oh, it was dry," continued Ellice, "and we didn't understand it. You are not going to do anything like that, are you?" and the child's voice sounded a little entreatingly as she put the question.
"No," Margaret answered, with a smile. "I want to tell you a little bit about the life of a boy whom we read of in the Bible; there is nothing dry in the whole of his history, at least I don't think so. You can tell me what you think afterwards, if you like."
Ellice seemed satisfied with this, and with a good grace settled down to listen. Bob showed no sign either way as to whether he was interested or not.
The hush of the forest was all about them, the wind whispered in the branches of the trees, insects chirped gaily in the undergrowth, and birds and squirrels held busy conclave around their homesteads, but there was nothing to interrupt Margaret Woodford as she began her Sunday talk.
"At an old country house in Kent, when it was under repair, and the workmen were putting down a new floor, in one of the top rooms, underneath the worn-out boards, they found a letter dated 1600, one that had been written to those who lived there centuries before. The letter was so discoloured with age, that although the men who unearthed it stopped their work and stood looking at it for some time, they were disappointed to find they were unable to read any of its contents. But they could not help wondering who wrote it, and what it was all about.
"Now in your home you have got some much older letters than that one. They were written to a young man nearly 2,000 years ago, and you can decipher every word of them, and know where they were sent from, and to whom they were written, and a great deal in connection with the writer. They are such interesting letters that I want to tell you something about them, and then you can read them for yourselves.
"Nearly two thousand years ago there lived in a village in Asia Minor, called Lystra, an old Jewish woman named Lois, and living with her was her daughter Eunice, and her husband who was a Greek, and probably therefore a heathen; and also their little son, a boy named Timothy, and this boy was the one who had those wonderful old letters you have got at home, written to him, all those long, long years ago. You will find them in your Bible; they are called the First and Second Book of Timothy.
"Now, in God's Word we are told something of what kind of a boy Timothy was, and I think if you and I had known him then, we should have been able to say, 'He's not a bad sort,' because he grew up to be a very brave man, and a brave man generally means a plucky boy, doesn't it? We all of us despise cowards, don't we? And so I think we should have liked Timothy."
Bob nodded assent, and even Ellice was interested, although the story was a Sunday one!
"Timothy's home was in a town in the country of Lycaonia," continued Margaret. "The district round it is rather desolate and bare of trees, and as it was not a very big place, I expect it was fairly quiet.