MR. VALE was waiting for the children, holding the study door wide open to light them up the stairway.
“Come right in,” he said; “I am proud to have my first visit from my little Moorlow friends;” then turning to the sexton, he added, “We may be here for some time, Ole, and if you wait for us, it will make you late for your supper, so bring me the keys of the church when you are ready to go, and I'll take them home with me to-night.”
Ole, looking grateful for this thoughtful suggestion, trudged1 downstairs again, and the children walked into the room. Regie had been there several times before, but even to him it never looked so cosy2 as to-night. There was a bright fire on the hearth3; Ole had been watching and stirring it up, for Mr. Vale had told him he expected to entertain some little folks after service. A cheery lamp was lit on the study table, as by this time it was quite dark out of doors, and near it some loving member of the congregation had placed a vase, full of beautiful roses. On one side of the room were tall book-cases, reaching to the ceiling, and on the Other three sides hung quaint4 old-fashioned portraits of some of the former rectors of the parish.
As soon as Nan heard Mr. Vale tell Ole that they would probably be there for some time, she quietly walked over to one corner, took off her hat and cloak, and carefully and smoothly5 laid them across a chair.
“Why, Nan child, who asked you to take off your things?” exclaimed Harry6.
“Mr. Vale said we were to stay some time,” Nan replied, not at all disturbed; “and I think it seems cosier7 to take off your things.”
“I quite agree with you,” said Mr. Vale, heartily8; “and these young gentlemen cannot do better than to follow your example, for we are going to draw up to the fire and have a good talk.”
So Harry and Regie, nothing loath9, slipped out of their overcoats, and the little party gathered about the fire, the boys seated on either side of Mr. Vale's easy chair and Nan on his knee.
“Well, what did you think of the service?” he asked, taking Nan's little hand in his. “I know you could not have enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed looking into the upturned faces of my little Moorlow friends. It seemed as though you sort of belonged to my congregation, and ought to be there always.
“I wish we could,” sighed Nan, shaking her head thoughtfully. “I knew all the time you must be a lovely preacher, and really I think you are the nicest minister there is.”
“Why, so does everybody with any sense that ever heard him”' said Regie, and in a tone as though there could not be the slightest doubt on that question.
“Oh, Rex! you are a good friend of mine,” laughed Mr. Vale, affectionately, laying his hand over on Regie's knee.
“You love children, don't you, Mr. Vale?” remarked Harry, demurely10, as though he had just made the discovery.
“Yes, indeed, Harry, and I hardly see how the old world could get along for a single day without them.”
“I suppose you love 'em all alike, all the little children you know?” Nan said, rather regretfully.
“Do you think I ought to, Nan?”
“No, I guess not. I would like it better if you didn't; if you loved some of your little friends more than others.”
“Why, what difference would it make to you?”
Nan hung her head and looked a little embarrassed.
“I think I know what she means,” Harry said, slowly, who, by a glance toward Mr. Vale, had asked permission to turn the back log, and was at work with the tongs11; “I think she means that she'd like to feel sure she was one of those you loved the most. Nan's kind of jealous sometimes.”
“Well, I'm only jealous about nice things, any way, Harry Murray,” and Nan sat bolt upright again; “I do not wish I had other boys' tops and marbles the way you do.”
Harry was on the point of framing a quick retort, but he checked himself. He really was trying to be less of a tease, as far as Nan was concerned. Mr. Vale was the only one who noticed this little act of self-control.
“Good for you, Harry!” he exclaimed, “keep that sort of thing up, and I have no fears for the sort of man you'll make.”
“Keep what sort of thing up?”
Regie and Nan looked at each other rather mystified, and Nan was very uncomfortable; besides, she did not enjoy the novel sensation of having had the last word, and she did wish Mr. Vale had not heard her speak that way to Harry. She wondered if he thought she was a regular little heathen.
“Keep what sort of thing up, Mr. Vale?” asked Regie, after a pause.
“Why, self-control, Rex. You see that remark of Nan's about tops and marbles made Harry feel like speaking back pretty sharply: so much like it that I fairly saw the words shaping themselves on his lips, but you did not hear them spoken, did you, Nan?”
“No,” Nan confessed.
But if you had looked Harry's way just then you would have seen a queer little smile instead, which seemed to say, “Why, Nan's such a dear little thing I ought not to mind what she says.”
“Well, that's just exactly what I was thinking,” said Harry, astonished at Mr. Vale's power to read his thoughts.
“It was not very nice for me to tell that about the tops and marbles,” Nan remarked, slowly. .
“And it was not nice at all,” said Harry, “for me to say that you were jealous sometimes.”
“But I am,” Nan truthfully admitted; “I know that well enough, only I do not like to be told about it.”
“Of course you don't, Nan,” and Mr. Vale drew the honest little, maiden12 nearer to him. “Of course you don't, few of us like to be told of our faults; but we ought to like it, for often it would be the very best thing that could happen to us. Perhaps we should not go on making the same errors over and over again if somebody would tell us about them, and we could take the telling kindly13.”
“Mr. Vale,” said Rex, who had been sitting thoughtful and silent for some time, “were you just a regular little boy?”
“Very irregular sometimes, I fear, only I don't quite know what you mean, Rex.”
“Why, you see, I would like to be like you when I grow up; but I'm afraid I'm too different at the start. I mean did you use to be like other boys and me? Did you often get angry and speak back?”
“Yes, often; and in the sense that you mean I was indeed a regular boy; and do you think I never get angry now, Rex?”
“Perhaps you do now and then, but not often, I warrant, and when you do you keep it under.”
“Keeping under is very hard work,” sighed Nan, as though she had a world of experience in that direction.
“Keeping under is only another name for self-control, you know. And now, Nan,” added Mr. Vale, “I am ready to answer your question, and to tell you that I do not love all the children I know alike by any manner of means. I love them in a dozen different ways. You see no thoughtful man grows to be as old as I am without wondering, whenever he looks into a little face, what sort of man or woman its owner will make. And so if I can I watch the little life closely, and after a while I see good traits and bad traits cropping out here and there, all in the veriest tangle14; and by-and-bye, when I see the good traits growing faster and faster, I love that little life very hopefully and joyfully<............