“Yes,” I replied, “he is converted, and very happy.”
“You don’t mean to say so!” said he. “Does it stick?”
“Yes,” said I.
“Well, that other fellow who stuttered so that he could hardly get it out, has he got what you call religion?”
“Yes, he is very happy.”
“And how does he tell it?”
“Why, strange to say,” I remarked, “when he tells his experience in class-meeting, or prays, he never stutters a bit.”
At that Jack opened his eyes wide, and with an even more pronounced and deliberate drawl and nasal twang, he said:
“You don’t mean to say so! Why, now that must be the genuine article.”
By this time Jim, the little Scotch hostler, who had stood in the doorway an attentive listener to the conversation, was moved by the story, and began to brush the tears from his eyes.