And he certainly acts as if he did not
care, and prays and reads his Bible! Says grace at the table like a
preacher. I admire his pluck."
"What church does he belong to?" asked Mother Hilman, her admiration
increasing for the boy under discussion.
"That is another of his queer notions. He passed by all the fine churches
and hunted up a little baud of people who have a mission on a side street
there, and worships with them because he says they are more spiritual."
"We have such a band of people here." "Have you? I will tell Austin when
he comes, for he will not stay away from the children long. I think it is
the mission that keeps him there for one thing. He hates to leave the
people, and he has a Sunday-school class." "Do tell him to come. We shall
be glad to have him with us."
"Mrs. Hilman, Austin is here already. I saw him over in town last night and
told him about your meeting, and he said to tell you he would be there
without fail next Sunday," said Will, when he saw her a few days later.
When the Hilmans went to church the next Sunday, they saw a strange young
man in one of the rear benches. At once they recognized him as a brother of
Wilbur Hill. As it was early, not yet time to begin the service, they went
to him to make his acquaintance.
"Is this Austin Hill?" asked Mother Hilman in her kindest tones.
"Yes, that is my name," answered Austin.
"My name is Hilman. Your brother Will has been telling me about you," she
continued in her friendly tones.
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