"Why, bless the boy! I ain't a heathen, you know, to bow down to wood and stone, the work of men's hands, and them things as it were. I pray to the dear Lord that made me, and died for me too, and, for the matter of that, lives for me all the time."
A bright color glowed in Tode's cheek, and a bright fire sparkled in his eye.
"I know him," he said, briefly and earnestly.
"Now, do you, though?" said the little old lady, as eager and earnest as himself, "and do you pray to him?"
Tode gravely bowed his head.
"Then I'll let you have my stove and my coffee-pot, and my oven, and welcome, and I'll look after the coffee and the pies now and then myself. I'll give you a lift as sure as I have a coffee-pot to lend. Like enough you're one of the Lord's own, and have been sent right straight here for me to give a cup of cold water to, you know, or to look after your coffee for you, and it's all the same, you know, so you do it in the name of a disciple."
Will Tode ever forget the feeling of solemn joy with which he finally turned away from the dear little old lady's door? He had really talked with one of those who knew the Lord, and he was to see her every day, two or three times a day, and perhaps she knew things that he did not; about Habakkuk—like enough. "She knew about that bottle business as well as I did," he said gleefully, as he flew back to his dry-goods box. Such delightful arrangements as he made with her, too!—elegant cakes she was to make him, better than any that could be bought at the baker's he was sure, though he had called there on his way for the dry-goods box, and made what he considered a very fine bargain with him. Altogether it was a very busy day; he had never flown around more industriously at the hotel than he did on this first day of business for himself. He dined on crackers and cheese, and missed, as little as he could help, the grand dinner which would have been sure to fall to his share at his old quarters, and which he hardly understood that he had given up for conscience' sake. "There now," he said, with a final chuckle of satisfaction, just as the twilight was beginning to fall, "I'm fixed all snug and fine—by to-morrow morning, bright and early, I'll be ready for business!" Then suddenly he dived his hands into his pockets, and gave a low, long, perplexed whistle—then gave vent to his new idea in words:
"Where in the name of all that's funny and ridiculous, be I going to spend the time 'tween this and to-morrow morning? Just as true as you're alive and hearty, Tode Mall, I never once thought of that idea till this blessed minute—did you?
"Whatever is to be did! I've slept, to be sure, in lots of places, on the steps, and in barrels, and I ain't no ways discomflusticated; but then, you see, after a fellow has slept on a bed for a spell, why, he has a kind of a hankering after a bed to sleep on some more. Hold on, though! why don't I board? That's the way men do when they go into business. Tode, you're green, very green, I'm afraid, not to think of that before. Course I'll board! I'll go right straight down to the old lady, and order rooms."
But the old lady shook her head, and looked troubled. "You see," said she, "I ain't got but one bed for spare, and I've got a boy. I've got two of 'em; but they don't sleep at home, only my youngest; he comes a visiting sometimes, and if he should come and find a stranger sleeping in his bed, why, he'd feel kind of homesick, I'm afraid, and I want Jim to feel that this is the best home that ever was, I do."