“I wonder if she would be on my side if I were to tell her all about old Caldwell’s plans, and how much good you could do with us—and a future partnership, and all that. Why, Davie, you might, when you are a rich man, educate any number of ministers. Wouldn’t that do as well as to be one yourself?”
“That will be something for you to do. No; I don’t think mamma would be on your side.”
“But you are her bread-winner, as I have heard her say. How can she spare you?”
“And I shall always be so while she needs me. I can wait a long time patiently, I think. But I cannot give it up now. It would be ‘looking back,’ after putting my hand to the plough.”
They were silent for a good while, and then Philip said:
“Tell me about your father.”
David doubted whether he had anything new to tell, for, as they had come to care more for each other’s company, he had often spoken to Philip of his father. But if he had nothing new to tell, he told it all over in a new way—a way that made Philip wonder. He told him all that I have told you, and more,—of his father’s life and work—how wise and strong he was—how loving and beloved. He told him of his love for his Master, of his zeal for His service. He told him of his own lessons with him, of how he used to go with him to the North Gore and other places, and of what he used to say, and how happy the days used to be. He told him of his last days, and how, when it came to the end, he was so joyful for himself and so little afraid for them, though he was going to leave them alone and poor—how sure he was that God would care for them and keep them safe until they all should meet again. Sometimes he spoke with breaking voice, and sometimes, though it had grown dark by this time, Philip could see that his cheeks flushed and his eyes shone as he went on, till he came to the very last, and then he said:
“He told me then, at the very last—even after he had spoken about mamma, that I was to take up the armour that he was laying down. And, God helping me, so I will,” said David, with a sob, laying down his face, to hide his tears, on the shoulder of his friend. But, in a little, he raised it again, and said, quietly:
“I couldn’t go back after that, Philip.”
“No,” said Philip; and he said nothing more for a long time, nor did David. Philip spoke first: