It had been observed that Randolph had been a regular attendant at South Church for several Sundays. This new departure of his had been at first regarded with suspicion. Coupled with his attention to David, however, it began to look honest and therefore hopeful.
Grandfather Donner was pothering about in his garden, on one of these mornings, when Randolph paused at the gate, as he had frequently done, and asked leave of the old man to present him with a small rose-tree, having even then a beautiful rose upon it, to plant in some sunny corner of the place.
No olive branch of peace could have opened Donner’s heart more effectually than did this simple matter.
“Come in, friend,” said he. “Come in.”
“It has always seemed a pity to me,” said Randolph, “that men whose political ideas may happen to differ should not be friendly in other particulars, with no more thought of their daily affairs than they would have of the clothing upon their backs.”
“Just so,” said David, who thought the time propitious for missionary work at home, “but I should think, however, that with your youth and earnestness you might have a great future before you, as one of us, working as we work, hoping as we hope, and helping to build this new commonwealth on a rock of solidity and unity.”
“I have thought of that,” said the heavy-browed visitor. “But how would a man proceed to accomplish a result so remote from one like myself?”
“Would you plant it here, or next to the wall?” said David, holding the rose-tree in his hand and looking about for a suitable place in which to tuck its roots.
“I would plant it here, by all means,” said Randolph.
Donner began to dig in the earth with a knife. “Well,” said he, “I should say you would do best to get married and adopt our ways, and labor with us to maintain our government and rights.”