the war has been sent as a punishment for sin. I think it is the price humanity must pay for some blessing—some advance great enough to be worth the price—which we may not live to see but which our children’s children will inherit.”
“If Jerry is killed will you feel so fine about it?” demanded Norman, who had been saying things like that all his life and never could be made to see any reason why he shouldn’t. “Now, never mind kicking me in the shins, Ellen. I want to see if Parson meant what he said or if it was just a pulpit frill.”
Mr. Meredith’s face quivered. He had had a terrible hour alone in his study on the night Jem and Jerry had gone to town. But he answered quietly.
“Whatever I felt, it could not alter my belief—my assurance that a country whose sons are ready to lay down their lives in her defence will win a new vision because of their sacrifice.”
“You do mean it, Parson. I can always tell when people mean what they say. It’s a gift that was born in me. Makes me a terror to most parsons, that! But I’ve never caught you yet saying anything you didn’t mean. I’m always hoping I will—that’s what reconciles me to going to church. It’d be such a comfort to me—such a weapon to batter Ellen here with when she tries to civilize me. Well, I’m off over the road to see Ab. Crawford a minute. The gods be good to you all.”
“The old pagan!” muttered Susan, as Norman strode away. She did not care if Ellen Douglas did hear her. Susan could never understand why fire did not descend from heaven upon Norman Douglas when he insulted ministers the way he did. But the
