Page:Anthony John (IA anthonyjohn00jero).pdf/96

 what I started out to preach. They'd only laugh at me. 'He lives in a big house,' they would say; 'keeps four servants'—when one can get them—'and his sons go to college.' God knows it's struggle enough to do it. But I oughtn't to be struggling to do it. I ought to be down among the people, teaching Christ not only by my words but my life."

It had grown dark. The vicar, stumbling against a small side table, brought it down with a clatter. Anthony found the matches and lit the gas. The vicar held out a plump hand.

"It'll be all right about your uncle," he said. "See Mr. Grant and arrange things with him."

Anthony thanked him and was leaving. The Reverend Mr. Sheepskin drew him back. "Don't judge me too hardly," he said with a smile. "Leastways, not till you've lived a bit longer. Something made me talk without thinking. If anything I've said comes back to you at any time, listen to it. It may have been a better sermon than I usually preach."

His aunt was much comforted when he told her.

"I shouldn't be surprised," she said, "if he got through after all. Anyhow, we've done our best for him."

Old Simon had returned to the railway carriage.