Nobody was surprised, of course, to see little Jim Tumley in the choir; nor to hear that the minister was giving him lessons on the new piano whose arrival the prophetic soul of Fanny Foster had predicted. People passing the Tumley house did however stop beside the hedge and listen in amazement to the minister playing, for he played surprisingly well. When complimented on this accomplishment he explained that his mother had had a piano in India and had taught him how. But nobody in Green Valley dreamed of seeing old Mrs. Rosenwinkle marketing right in the madly busy heart of town all on a Saturday morning. But there she was in her wheel chair, with the minister alongside to see that the road was safe and clear. And they say that every little while, right in the midst of her bargaining, she would look around and say: "My, but the world is big and pretty." And when somebody reminded her of her belief that the world was flat and ended on the far side of Petersen's pasture she never argued the matter fiercely, as was her wont, but said instead that it _had_ ended for her with Petersen's pasture until the day the new minister came. And her daughter told how the paralyzed old body prayed day and night for this new minister's salvation, he being other than a Lutheran. Somebody thought that too good a joke to keep and told Cynthia's son how hard old Mrs. Rosenwinkle was praying for his soul. They expected him to laugh. But he didn't. He looked suddenly serious just as his mother used to do when something touched the deep down places in her heart. All he said was that no man could ever have too many women praying for him and that he was grateful as only a man whose mother was sleeping thousands of miles away in a foreign land could be grateful. He had his mother's trick of letting people look quite suddenly into that part of his soul where he kept his finest thoughts and emotions. And people looked and saw and then usually tiptoed away in puzzled awe or a dim sympathy. And he had such a habit of turning common sense and daylight on matters which seemed so baffling until he explained them. It was just the minister's plain, common sense that finally got Hank Lolly into the church. When the minister first suggested that Hank ought to attend church services that worthy stared in amazed horror at his new friend. And he gave his perfectly good reasons why the likes of him had no right to step on what was Green Valley's sacred ground.