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her's eyes were shining with tears.
The old gentleman blew his nose like a trumpet, and then said gravely--
'No, my boy, you don't feed babes with meat. But what came to him?'
Then Graeme asked me to finish the tale. After I had finished the story of Billy's final triumph and of Craig's part in it, they sat long silent, till the minister, clearing his throat hard and blowing his nose more like a trumpet than ever, said with great emphasis--
'Thank God for such a man in such a place! I wish there were more of us like him.'
'I should like to see you out there, sir,' said Graeme admiringly; 'you'd get them, but you wouldn't have time for election.'
'Yes, yes!' said his father warmly; 'I should love to have a chance just to preach election to these poor lads. Would I were twenty years younger!'
'It is worth a man's life,' said Graeme earnestly. His younger brother turned his face eagerly toward the mother. For answer she slipped her hand into his and said softly, while her eyes shone like stars--
'Some day, Jack, perhaps! God knows.' But Jack only looked steadily at her, smiling a little and patting her hand.
'You'd shine there, mother,' said Graeme, smiling upon her; 'you'd better come with me.' She started, and said faintly--
'With you?' It was the first hint he had given of his purpose. 'You are going back?'
'What! as a missionary?' said Jack.
'Not to preach, Jack; I'm not orthodox enough,' looking at his father and shaking his head; 'but to build railroads and lend a hand to some poor chap, if I can.'
'Could you not find work nearer home, my boy?' asked the father; 'there is plenty of both kinds near us here, surely.'
'Lots of work, but not mine, I fear,' answered Graeme, keeping his eyes away from his mother's face. 'A man must do his own work.'
His voice was quiet and resolute, and glancing at the beautiful face at the end of the table, I saw in the pale lips and yearning eyes that the mother was offering up