Presently Tiny went softly up to him and laid his hand upon Josiah’s arm, and his voice trembled while he said, “Dear father, are you angry with me?”
“No, Tiny,” said Josiah; “but what are you going to do with the world? You! ... my poor boy.”
“Good!” said Tiny with a loud, courageous voice—as if he were prepared, single handed, to fight all the evil there was in the world—“Good, father, or I would not have dared to take the pilgrim’s harp down from the wall. I will sing,” continued he still more hopefully, and looking up smiling into the old man’s face—“I will sing for the sick and the weary, and cheer them; I will tell the people that God smiles on patient labour, and has a reward in store for the faithful, better than gold and rubies. I will get money for my songs, and feed the hungry; I will comfort the afflicted; I will—”
“But,” said Josiah solemnly, lifting his head from the back of the chair, and looking at Tiny as if he would read every thought there was in the boy’s heart, “What did all that mean about the Beautiful Gate? Ah, my son, you were thinking more of your own pride and glory, than of the miserable and the poor!”
“It was only to prove to you that I had a voice, and that I could sing, father,” answered Tiny.
Long gazed Josiah upon the face of his son as he heard this. Then he closed his eyes, and bent his head, and Tiny knew that he was praying. That was a solemn silence—you could have heard a pin drop on the kitchen floor.
Presently the old man arose, and without speaking, went softly and took the harp down from the wall. “Take it,” said he, handing it to Tiny, “Take it—it is yours. Do what you will. The Lord direct your goings.”
“Without your blessing, father?” said Tiny, stepping back and folding his arms upon his breast. He would not take the harp. Then, with both hands pressed on Tiny’s head, the old man said, “May God bless you, my son.”
The old man’s face was very calm then, and there was not a tear in his eyes as he spoke; he had begun to hope again. And he turned away from Tiny to comfort his poor wife.
“Many, many years we lived alone before our Tiny came,” said he, “and we were very happy; and we will be very happy yet, though he is going away. He is our all; but if the world needs him he shall go and serve it.” Nothing more said Josiah, for his heart was full—too full for further speech.