Ye see, we all
went to the missionary meetin' in the church, an' Mr. Dale told us about
that furren land. Somehow I didn't take to the man, an' I liked 'im less
as he went on. All the time he was speakin' I noted how eagerly Parson
John listened. Often his buzum heaved-like, an' I thought I heerd 'im
sigh. But when the speaker 'gun to compare Africy with Canada and Glendow,
I got mad. 'Here the work is small,' sez he; 'thar it's mighty! Here ye
hev yer hundreds; thar we hev our thousands. Here things is easy; thar
hard.' As he talked on that way I looked at the parson an' saw a pained
expression on his dear face. I jist longed to jump to me feet, an' pint
out that old grey-headed man a sittin' thar, an' tell a few things I know.
But I got me chance later."
"What! ye didn't say anything hard, I hope?" interrupted Mrs. McKrigger.
"Only the plain truth; jist what he needed. Ye see, me an' John was axed
into the Rectory afterwards to meet the missionary an' hev a cup of tea.
Mr. Dale did most of the talkin', an' told us a hull lot more about his
experiences in Africy. But somehow he rubbed me the wrong way.
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