“Me? Shucks,” and Ben gave a long whistle. “I ain’t good enough for a minister. Besides, I never could talk before folks as Theodore can. I wish you could hear him lead the Endeavor meeting. I tried to once, and my, I was so scared I didn’t know whether I was afoot or horseback.” Posey’s eyes had grown wide. “Why, I thought it was only grown-up people who were Christians and dreadfully good, like old Deacon Piper and Mr. Hagood, who spoke in meetings.” [Illustration: “WHEN I GET A FARM I SHALL NEED SOMEBODY TO KEEP THE HOUSE.”—_Page 143._] “This was just Endeavor meeting. But then that isn’t so at all.” Ben’s tone was emphatic. “Boys and girls can be Christians; mother explained that to me years ago. It’s just loving God best of all, and trying to do as He wants us to. Folks don’t have to wait till they are grown up to do that, or are awfully good, either. I’m glad they don’t, or there wouldn’t be much show for me; my temper boils over about as quick as Aunt Eunice’s teakettle. But I keep pegging away at it, and I can hold on better than I could, I know, for some of the folks I trade with are enough to provoke a saint. But that’s the only way to grow good—keep trying. You can do that as well as anybody. And you love God, don’t you?” She shook her head as she answered mournfully, “I’m afraid not. I know I don’t feel about Him as you do.” “I’m sorry,” Ben said simply. “I wish you did. You don’t know what a comfort it is when you get in a tight place and things seem to be mixed up all in a tangle, to feel that God will make everything come out just as is best for you. I really wish you did.” Posey made no answer. She only reached up and caught a handful of leaves from a tree they were passing under, and asked Ben what kind of leaves they were. At the same time the fact that Ben Pancost, a boy who had a freckled face, who laughed and joked and told funny stories, who loved to skate, to coast, to play baseball, and in short enjoyed all the things that boys did, should talk about loving God, and God’s taking care of him, as though this was the most natural thing in the world, made a deep impression on her mind, and one that never was forgotten. CHAPTER XI A STORM, AND A SHELTER Ben’s story, here given as a whole, had really been interrupted by one or two business calls. It was evident, even to Posey, that Ben was a decided favorite along the route; for in addition to his boyish good-humor, his obliging ways, as well as his truthfulness and honesty, had won for him many customers, and many friends among his customers. Posey could hardly have told if she more admired or was amused by the brisk, alert way in which he sorted over the bags of rags brought out to him, made his bargains, and marshalled his array of tinware.