“There’s no good arguing. My mind’s made up. I shall write to the Assembly this very night.”
“Oh——”
“How shall I dare to teach and guide others, who could not even teach and guide my own son? No, don’t interrupt me—the Lord has opened my eyes, and I see myself as just a poor, plain, ignorant man. Reckon I’m only the common blacksmith I was born and bred, and trying to make myself different has led to nothing but pain and trouble, both for me and for others. I ask you what good has my ministry ever done a human soul?”
“Oh, Mus’ Sumption, doan’t spik lik that,” said Thyrza, with the tears in her eyes. “Reckon I’ll never disremember how beautiful you talked of Tom last night ... and oh, the comfort it guv me to hear you talk so!”
“You’re a good soul, Missus—reckon there’s none I could speak to as I’m speaking to you now. But you mustn’t think high of me—I spoke ill last night; I was like Peter before the Lord let down the sheet on him—calling His creatures common and unclean. I’ve failed as a minister, and I’ve failed as a father—the only thing I haven’t failed as is a blacksmith; thank the Lord I’ve still some credit left at that.”
He hid his face for a moment. Thyrza felt confused ... she scarcely understood.
“Then wot ull you do, Mus’ Sumption, if you mean to be minister no more?”
“Join the A.V.C.—Army Veterinary Corps. I see as plain as daylight that’s my job.”
“Wot! Go and fight?”