I watched you move that
clumsy old sideboard of Mrs. Luttins down that narrow stairway and then
through the little side gate. You never chipped a bit of plaster or
trampled a flower beside the walk. Why, you never even tore a bit of
vine off the gate. And yesterday I saw you walking your horses ever so
carefully to the station because inside the van little Jimmy Drummond
was lying on stretchers, going to the hospital. And I was told that
Doc Philipps said he wouldn't have trusted another driver with Jimmy."
"But," groaned Hank, "people like me don't go to church."
"Hank, most ministers don't ride around the country on a moving dray.
But I rode out with you many a time and I sort of feel that you might
come along with me now and then and see the people and things along my
route. You've given me a good time and I'd like to pay back. You'll
like the music and I'm sure you'll understand it all, because I talk
English you know. And anyhow, things get as lonesome sometimes for a
minister in the pulpit as the roads get for a dray driver and I'd
appreciate it to have a friend like you along. I never know when I'll
need a lift and a little help that you could give. Sometimes we have
to move the Sunday-school organ about and there are windows that stick
and all manner of things about a church that only a practiced mover and
driver could do.
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