has no comfort of his life," said Norton. "This sort of a minister doesn't have. He is always going, going; and running to see people that want him, and stupid people too; he has to talk to them, all the same as if they were clever, and put up with them; and he's always working at his sermons and getting broken off. What comfort of his life does Mr. Richmond have now? except when you and I make toast for him?"
"O Norton, I think he has a great deal."
"I don't see it."
Matilda stood wondering, and then smiled; the comfort of her life was so much just then. The slices of toast were getting brown and buttered, and made a savory smell all through the kitchen; and now Matilda made the tea, and the flowery fragrance of that added another item to what seemed the great stock of pleasure that afternoon. As Miss Redwood had once said, the minister knew a cup of good tea when he saw it; and it was one of the few luxuries he ever took pains to secure; and the sweetness of it now in the little parsonage kitchen was something very delicious. Then Matilda went and put her head in at the study door.
"Tea is ready, Mr. Richmond."
But the minister did not immediately obey the summons, and the two children stood behind their respective chairs, waiting. Matilda's face was towards the western windows.
"Are you very miserable, Pink?" said Norton, watching her.
"I am so happy, Norton!"
"I want to get home now," said Norton, drumming upon his chair. "I want you there. You belong to mamma and me, and to nobody else in the whole world, Pink; do you know that?"
Except Mr. Richmond – was again in Matilda's thoughts; but she did not say it this time. It was nothing against Norton's claim.
"Where is the minister?" Norton went on. "You called him."
"O he has got some stupid body with him, keeping him from tea."
"That is what I said," Norton repeated. "I wouldn't live such a life – not for money."
Mr. Richmond came however at this moment, looking not at all miserable; glanced at the two happy faces with a bright eye; then for an instant they were still, while the sweet willing words of prayer went up from lips and heart to bless the board.
"What is it that you would not do for money, Norton?" Mr. Richmond asked as he received his cup of tea.
Norton hesitated and coloured. Matilda spoke for him.
"Mr. Richmond, may we ask you something?"
"Certainly!" said the minister, with a quick look at the two faces.
"If you wouldn't think it wrong for us to ask. – Is the – I mean, do you think, – the life of a minister is a very hard one?"
"So that is the question, is it?" said Mr. Richmond smiling. "Is Norton thinking of taking the situation?"
"Norton thinks it cannot be a comfortable life, Mr. Richmond; and I thought he was mistaken."
"What do you suppose a minister's business is, Norton? that is the first consideration. You must know what a man has to do, before you can judge whether it is hard to do it."
"I thought I knew, sir."
"Yes, I suppose so; but it don't follow that you do."
"I know part," said Norton. "A minister has to preach sermons, and marry people, and baptize children, and read prayers at funerals and – "
"Go on," said Mr. Richmond.
"I was going to say, it seems to me, he has to talk to everybody that wants to talk to him."
"How do you get along with that difficulty?" said Mr. Richmond. "It attacks other people besides ministers."
"I dodge them," said Norton. "But a minister cannot, – can he, sir?"
Mr. Richmond laughed.
"Well, Norton," he said, "you have given a somewhat sketchy outline of a minister's life; but my question remains yet, – what is the business of his life. You would not say that planing and sawing are the business of a carpenter's life – would you?"
"No, sir."
"What then?"
"Building houses, and ships, and barns, and bridges."
"And a tailor's life is not cutting and snipping, but making clothes. So my commission is not to make sermons. What is it?"
Norton looked at a loss, and expectant; Matilda enjoying.
"The same that was given to the apostle Paul, and no worse. I am sent to people 'to open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified.'"
"But I do not understand, Mr. Richmond," said Norton, after a little pause.
"What?"
"If you will excuse me. I do not understand that. Can you open people's eyes?"
"He who sends me does that, by means of the message which I carry. 'How can they believe on him of whom they have not heard?'"
"I see – " said Norton very respectfully.
"You see, I am the King's messenger. And my business is, to carry the King's message. It is possible to make sermons, and not do that."
"I don't think I ever heard the message, or anything that sounded like a message, in our church," said Norton.
"Do you know what the message is?"
Norton looked up from his toast and seemed a little taken aback.
"You might have heard it without knowing it"
"Might I? What is the message, sir?"
"This is it. That God wants and calls for the love of every human heart; and that on his part he loves us so well, as to give his own Son to die for us, that we might be saved through him."
"Why to die for us?" inquired Norton.
"Because we all deserved to die, and he took our place. 'He tasted death for every man.' So for you and for me. What do we owe to one who gave his life to ransom ours?"
"I see," – said Norton again thoughtfully. "But Mr. Richmond, people do not always hear the message – do they?"
"You can tell," said Mr. Richmond, shortly.
"I see!" repeated Norton. "It isn't making sermons. I don't see, though, why it isn't a hard life."
"That requires another explanation, but it is not difficult. How would one naturally feel, Norton, towards another, who by his own suffering and death had saved him when he was bound to die?"
"You mean, who had done it on purpose?" said Norton.
"On purpose. Just because he loved the lost one."
"Why," said Norton, "if the man had any heart in him" —
"Well? What
