"I am sorry I have hurt you," said the minister, not a little relieved at the sound; "but how dared you write such a--such an insolence? A clergyman never gets drunk."Gibbie picked up the frame which the minister had dropped in his fall: a piece of the slate was still sticking in one side, and he wrote upon it:
I will kno better the next time.I thout it was alwais whisky that made peeple like that.I begg your pardon, sir.
He handed him the fragment, ran to his own room, returned presently, looking all right, and when Mr.Sclater would have attended to his wound, would not let him even look at it, laughing at the idea.
Still further relieved to find there was nothing to attract observation to the injury, and yet more ashamed of himself, the minister made haste to the refuge of their work; but it did not require the gleam of the paper substituted for the slate, to keep him that morning in remembrance of what he had done; indeed it hovered about him long after the gray of the new slate had passed into a dark blue.
>From that time, after luncheon, which followed immediately upon lessons, Gibbie went and came as he pleased.Mrs.Sclater begged he would never be out after ten o'clock without having let them know that he meant to stay all night with his friend: not once did he neglect this request, and they soon came to have perfect confidence not only in any individual promise he might make, but in his general punctuality.Mrs.Sclater never came to know anything of his wounded head, and it gave the minister a sharp sting of compunction, as well as increased his sense of moral inferiority, when he saw that for a fortnight or so he never took his favourite place at her feet, evidently that she should not look down on his head.
The same evening they had friends to dinner.Already Gibbie was so far civilized, as they called it, that he might have sat at any dining-table without attracting the least attention, but that evening he attracted a great deal.For he could scarcely eat his own dinner for watching the needs of those at the table with him, ready to spring from his chair and supply the least lack.This behaviour naturally harassed the hostess, and at last, upon one of those occasions, the servants happening to be out of the room, she called him to her side, and said, "You were quite right to do that now, Gilbert, but please never do such a thing when the servants are in the room.It confuses them, and makes us all uncomfortable."Gibbie heard with obedient ear, but took the words as containing express permission to wait upon the company in the absence of other ministration.When therefore the servants finally disappeared, as was the custom there in small households, immediately after placing the dessert, Gibbie got up, and, much to the amusement of the guests, waited on them as quite a matter of course.But they would have wondered could they have looked into the heart of the boy, and beheld the spirit in which the thing was done, the soil in which was hid the root of the service; for to him the whole thing was sacred as an altar-rite to the priest who ministers.Round and round the table, deft and noiseless, he went, altogether aware of the pleasure of the thing, not at all of its oddity--which, however, had he understood it perfectly, he would not in the least have minded.
All this may, both in Gibbie and the narrative, seem trifling, but Imore than doubt whether, until our small services are sweet with divine affection, our great ones, if such we are capable of, will ever have the true Christian flavour about them.And then such eagerness to pounce upon every smallest opportunity of doing the will of the Master, could not fail to further proficiency in the service throughout.