Christie, the Kings Servant | Page 9

most sturdy little fellow I thought I had ever seen.
His face was as round and rosy as an apple, his eyes were dark blue,
and had the happiest and most roguish expression that it would be
possible for eyes to have. When the child laughed (and whenever was
he not laughing?), every part of his face laughed together. His eyes
began it, his lips followed suit, even his nose was pressed into the
service. If a sunbeam could be caught and dressed up like a little boy, I
think it would look something like that child.
'Now,' I said, 'that's right; I like to see children's faces when I talk to
them; tell me your names to begin with.'
'I'm Marjorie, sir,' said the little girl, 'and he's Jack.'

'Jack!' I said; 'that's my name, and a nice name too, isn't it, little Jack?
Come and look at my picture, little Jack, and see if you think big Jack
knows how to paint.'
By degrees they grew more at their ease, and chatted freely with me.
Marjorie told me that her father had sent the paper. Father was going to
preach on Sunday; he preached every Sunday, and numbers of people
came, and Jack was in the choir.
What a dear little chorister, to be sure, a chubby little cherub if ever
there was one!
'Shall you come, big Jack?' he said, patting my hand with his strong,
sturdy little fist.
'I don't know,' I said; 'if it's a fine day, perhaps I shall want to get on
with my picture.'
'On Sunday?' said the child in a shocked voice; 'it's on Sunday father
preaches, and you couldn't paint on Sunday, could you?'
'Well, I'll see,' I said; 'perhaps I'll come and hear you sing, little Jack.'
'Thank you, big Jack,' he said, with a merry twinkle in his pretty blue
eyes.
'What is this preaching on the shore, Duncan?' I asked.
'Oh, it's our lay preacher,' he said; 'he's a good man, and has done a
sight of good in this place. You see, it's too far for folks here to go to
church, and so he lives amongst us, and has meetings in the hall yonder
in winter, and in summer, why, we have 'em on the shore, and the
visitors comes mostly. There's a few won't come, but we get the best of
them, and we have some fine singing--real nice it is! I'm in the choir
myself, sir,' he said; 'you wouldn't think it, but I am. I've got a good
strong voice, too!'
It must be a choir worth seeing, I thought, if it contained two such

strange contrasts, the big burly fisherman and the tiny child who had
invited me to be present.
I had not quite made up my mind to go. I had not been to a service for
many months, I might almost say years. I had slipped out of it lately,
and I thought I should feel myself a fish out of water. However, when
the next day came, every one seemed to take it as a matter of course
that I should be going. Polly was up early, and had dressed little John in
his best.
'You'll see him at church, sir,' she said, as she laid my breakfast; 'he
always likes to go to church, and he's as good as gold, bless him!'
Duncan was out before I was up, and I had seen him, as I was dressing,
going round to the fishermen sitting as usual on the seats on the cliff,
with a bundle of pink papers in his hand, similar to the one which had
been given me, and distributing them to every group of his mates which
he came across. Yes, I felt that I was expected to go, and it would be
hard work to keep away. But if I had still had any doubt about the
matter, it would have surely disappeared when at half-past ten exactly a
tiny couple came toiling hand in hand up the steps leading to Duncan's
door, and announced to Polly that they had come to call for big Mr.
Jack to go to church.
It was Marjorie and her little brother, and the small Jack put his little
fat hand into that of big Jack, and led him triumphantly away.
It was a pretty sight to see that congregation gathering on the village
green. From the fishermen's cottages there came a stream of people
down to the shore,--mothers with babies in their arms and leading
young children by the hand, groups of boys and girls wearing shoes and
stockings who had been barefooted all the week, many a
weather-beaten sailor, many a sunburnt fisher lad, many elderly people
too, old men, and white-haired women in closely-plaited white