“In New York, sir.”
“Oh, shucks!”
“An’ the Moody Institute—for some small time.”
“You didn’t learn that kind of talk anywhere near New York!”
“Ah! I understan’. Oh, my, no!” the dragoman protested, quickly. “The polish,” he explained, “is acquire’ by myself from readin’ great works of literature an’ mos’ modern theology.”
Falcontent warmed to the little man. Awad was in health; he had the color and sure power and the limpid peace of the open places. He was companionable—possibly in a mercenary way; but what matter? He would listen. In those days Falcontent found his most engaging form of entertainment in elucidating a seditious philosophy of the universe. And into the waiting ear of the dragoman he now poured the tale of little Jimmie’s death. The boy was dead and buried; there had been typhoid fever—and a long fight, through which, it seemed, Falcontent had entreated the Almighty to spare the lad. But the lad was dead; as, according to the unrelenting mysteries, many another man’s young son had died before him. Falcontent was alone; he was stricken—ruined. But the death of children? They vanish in multitudes and leave all places vacant and desolate. It is nothing out of the way. Falcontent’s was a commonplace sorrow: the world renews the like of it every day. But the brown little man listened, with many a pitying “Tsc, tsc, tsc!” and many a muttered “How ver’ sad!” to encourage a complete disclosure. He was alive to more than the tale: he was like a physician—alert, intent, analytical, discovering from Falcontent’s mawkish, and hardly coherent recital the deeper springs of Falcontent’s pitiable state.
Falcontent was in rebellion. Ha! That was the trouble. But why rebel? A laughable thing—thus to rebel! A preposterous and hurtful perversity! Why not yield—presently? Why not say, “Thy will be done!”—and cultivate some form of faith? It seemed to the brown little dragoman to be a brave and sensible sort of behavior.
“Ver’ sad!” he sighed, at the end.
“Sad?” Falcontent snarled.
“The Lord gives,” the dragoman quoted, apparently with sincere conviction, “an’ the Lord takes away.”