"He minds so much," returned Marion, in a subdued voice, which seemed to tremble with coming tears, "that he will never rest until you think fairly of him. And he is here now; for he said, 'I am with you alway, to the end of the world;' and he has heard every word you have been saying against him. He isn't angry like me; but your words may well make him feel sad--for your sake, John Evans--that you should be so unfair." She leaned her forehead on her hand, and was silent. A subdued murmur arose. The blind man, having stood irresolute for a moment, began to make for the door, saying,-- "I think I'd better go. I ain't wanted here." "If you _are_ an honest man, Mr. Evans," returned Marion, rising, "you will sit down and hear the case out." With a waving, fin-like motion of both his hands, Evans sank into his seat, and spoke no word. After but a moment's silence, she resumed as if there had been no interruption. "That he should sleep, then, during the storm was a very different thing from declining to assist his father in his workshop; just as the rebuking of the sea was a very different thing from hiding up his father's bad work in miracles. Had that father been in danger, he might perhaps have aided him as he did the disciples. But"-- "Why do you say _perhaps_, grannie?" interrupted a bright-eyed boy who sat on the hob of the empty grate. "Wouldn't he help his father as soon as his disciples?" "Certainly, if it was good for his father; certainly not, if it was not good for him: therefore I say _perhaps_. But now," she went on, turning to the joiner, "Mr. Jarvis, will you tell me whether you think the work of the carpenter's son would have been in any way distinguishable from that of another man?" "Well, I don't know, grannie. He wouldn't want to be putting of a private mark upon it. He wouldn't want to be showing of it off--would he? He'd use his tools like another man, anyhow." "All that we may be certain of. He came to us a man, to live a man's life, and do a man's work. But just think a moment. I will put the question again: Do you suppose you would have been able to distinguish his work from that of any other man?" A silence followed. Jarvis was thinking. He and the blind man were of the few that can think. At last his face brightened. "Well, grannie," he said, "I think it would be very difficult in any thing easy, but very easy in any thing difficult." He laughed,--for he had not perceived the paradox before uttering it. "Explain yourself, if you please, Mr. Jarvis. I am not sure that I understand you," said Marion. "I mean, that, in an easy job, which any fair workman could do well enough, it would not be easy to tell his work. But, where the job was difficult, it would be so much better done, that it would not be difficult to see the better hand in it."