The occasion of the first meeting with the minister was a memorable one for Pearl and Periwinkle. "As good as Clown Jerry," was Pearl's rather startling statement, while Periwinkle assured Aunt Hetty that the preacher was even more brilliant than the Fat Woman.

It so happened that this meeting took place that very Sunday afternoon when the two children were doing penance for their morning's escapade. The minister had called for the special purpose of meeting Miss Hetty's new charges, very much to that good lady's dismay. She afterward declared it to be one of the tricks of fate that the minister should have called at that particular time, especially since her niece still wore that horrid blue dress of which she so much disapproved. But the minister did not seem to notice neither the dress nor the fastenings which confined the children. He seemed rather to be impressed by Pearl's wonderfully expressive face and the startling sweetness of her voice, while Periwinkle's precociousness and quaint, grown-up ways attracted him very much.

"Let the children come to see me soon, Miss Hetty," he urged, "and I may be able to give them some instruction along the lines in which you say they lack so much. Joe could help them in their lessons too." And then turning to Pearl and Periwinkle, he asked: "How would you like to come to the parsonage, and go over your lessons with my son?"

"Would he play with us?" queried Pearl.

With a hearty laugh the minister replied: "I'm almost afraid he would. He is still a boy even though he is nineteen and goes to college. I am sure that he still knows how to play. He's the only boy I have—all I have—and I suppose I've spoiled him."

"When shall I send the children, Rev. Smith?" asked Miss Maise.

"Tomorrow, or the next day," was the prompt reply. "This is mid-August. We can't begin too soon."

Tuesday afternoon the children wended their way to the parsonage. Pearl was clad in a starched gingham dress, uncomfortably high about the neck, and with sleeves of an unaccustomed length. The minister himself met them at the door and ushered them into a room that from all appearances was meant to be used as a comfortable and cozy living room—even though there were some evidences of disorder which they knew their aunt would not have approved of.

"Amuse yourselves for a minute, while I try to find Joe. It is rather difficult to keep track of him," said the minister as he left them alone.

When a few minutes later, the minister, followed by his son, was about to enter the room he stopped, and, grasping his son's arm warningly, they both, unperceived, watched the two children.

Left to their own resources the children had not remained inactive. Their curious eyes taking in all the strange surroundings, they saw many things that interested them. One of the pictures on the east wall particularly impressed them. It portrayed the figure of a man, his face lighted up with a wonderfully tender expression, while in his arms and round about him were small children, alone or with their mothers. The afternoon sun, shining through the open window, seemed to shed a radiant halo over the whole group and to make the picture stand out in bold relief. Standing before the picture in silent wonder, they had not noticed the approach of the minister and his son. The minister quietly withdrew, and when the children turned as if by common impulse, they saw only a young man whose ingratiating smile at once opened a way to their hearts.

Their previous experience in coming in contact with people enabled them to become acquainted with the minister's son and to feel themselves the very best of friends in less time than it ordinarily takes children to overcome their natural timidity in the presence of strangers. Nor was it any wonder that a close friendship was formed so quickly, for Joseph Smith was that type of grown up boy whom all children feel instinctively to be their friend.

After the first greetings and establishment of this friendship, Pearl turned with childlike determination to the matter uppermost in her curious mind.

"What is the name of that picture?" she asked, pointing at the one which had attracted their attention.

"That is 'Christ Blessing the Children,'" replied Joe, and then he hesitated. His father had asked him to help the children with their arithmetic; he had not specified that he turn missionary as well as teacher. Work of that kind was not exactly in his line. Like so many lads of his age he seldom spoke on religious topics, although his faith was a vital factor in his life. But catching sight of the enraptured face of little Pearl, he felt certain facts flashing through his mind, something about Christ's love for little ones and that we should not offend one of them.

So he bravely began to tell the sweet story, though somewhat rapidly and not any too clearly.

"Jesus Christ, the only Son of God whom God loved very much, lived on earth and walked with His disciples. His disciples were the men who followed Him and heard His teachings and tried to be like Him by doing good and helping others. The mothers who lived where Jesus was preaching heard of His kindness. They had heard also how He healed some of their sick friends. So they brought their children to Him so that He might bless them. Now when the disciples saw the women with the little children they told them to go back to their homes. They said that Christ was too busy to bother with children. But Jesus did not want them to do this and he told his disciples, 'Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the Kingdom of God.' He loved little children and He also wanted them in His kingdom. He then took them in His arms and blessed them, just as you see in this picture."

A solemn stillness followed while the two turned again to view the lovely painting. Finally Periwinkle broke the silence:

"He must have been very good to take such an interest in the little children." Thereupon all thought of the arithmetic lesson vanished, and Joe briefly told the whole beautiful story from the night of the angels' song until Jesus Christ again returned to His throne in heaven.

When Joe had finished his recital, Periwinkle looked up with sparkling eyes.

"Oh, how glad I am to know that! How I wish the Fat Woman could have heard it! She'd been so interested. I think she always thought herself better than the rest of the circus people."

A certain short prayer with somewhat similar meaning occurred to the minister's son, but he only smiled at the pharisaical egotism of the Fat Woman. After all she had trained the children morally, if not religiously, and this made the teaching of Christian truths far less difficult. Children reared in love are almost always ready to accept the story of the Supreme Love.

"She never said anything about faith," continued Periwinkle in his thoughtful way. "But she told us, 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.' Maybe," he ventured with some hesitancy, "that was her faith. Do you suppose it would be just as good, Joe?"

Joe was somewhat surprised that his young pupil had thus unconsciously stumbled upon a disputed point that has led many minds astray, but he answered firmly and with conviction:

"No, Peri; the Fat Woman could not keep the law of love perfectly. Do you think she did?" he challenged suddenly.

"No," cried Pearl, who had been listening intently. "Once or twice she slapped us when we hadn't done a thing, and sometimes she got very spiteful at Mr. Barleydon, and she used to tell mother that the tight-rope walker made her sick. That's not doing unto others as we wish them to do unto us. But," the loyal youngster hastened to defend her friend, "the tight-rope walker was enough to make anybody sick and then I guess the Fat Woman never heard about Jesus saying: 'Love your enemies.'"

"Perhaps she did know it," replied Joe, "but she couldn't have kept the rule perfectly anyway. Nobody can, Pearl, even those who know God's law best, although they must always try very hard. God showed His great love for us by sending Jesus Christ to keep the law for us. He could not do wrong or fail to keep the law. And now if we believe in Him and come to Him as children come to their father for help, He will count it the same as if our lives were as good and perfect as His own.—But I'm afraid that I can't make it clear to you and it will be pretty hard to understand," he added.

"Joe," said Periwinkle gravely, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on his young friend's face, "did you ever hear anything you didn't just exactly want to understand, something that's too nice to get right down on a footing with yourself? Once I was reading one of Mr. Barleydon's books of poetry that made you feel like a breeze was carrying you right up to the gates of heaven. Mr. Barleydon looked at me in surprise, then looked at the book and asked kind of funny, 'Do you understand it, boy?' 'No sir!' I told him, 'but somehow I feel it better for not being able to understand it quite.' And that's how I feel about some of the things you told us. Do you suppose that's all right?"

"I think, Peri," said Joe soberly, "that is the real understanding."

"Say, you know what a fellow's driving at," cried Periwinkle with delight. "Jerry, the clown was sympathetic like that. I think that Jerry, next to you and your dad, is the most Christian person, I know. Aunt Hetty ain't one though," he finished rather bluntly.

"Why Peri," protested the minister's son, "your Aunt Hetty is one of the best workers in the church. She belongs—" Joe smiled as he hesitated, "to our Ladies Aid, the Adult Bible Class, the Ladies Missionary Society, and if I am not mistaken also to a Temperance Union, an Anti-cigarette Club and a host of others."

"But she doesn't love her enemies," was Periwinkle's reply.

Joe smiled to see how deep an impression this injunction made on both children.

"And all the Greys are her enemies," continued Periwinkle, "especially Mr. Robert Grey. Now I think he is a fine man."

"He is," was the warm rejoinder.

"I guess they were in love once. And then—just because of a pig—I think it's dreadful, Joe."

The boy had touched on a subject that was a matter of concern with his teacher and one to which he had given much thought.

"Peri," he cried, "if I had the chance my father has every Sunday, I would tell them that they are showing themselves to be mighty poor Christians. But then dad knows best, of course. He's had years of experience to help him. Only I don't see how he stands it. For three years he has been trying to bring the Maises and the Greys together and he is not discouraged, though I can't see any results, Peri—" Joe stopped suddenly.

"What, Joe?"

"You'll be starting to school soon. There will be Greys and Maises there. I know that if I speak to them about it—and I will—the Greys won't pitch into you unless you start something."

"I won't do it. I'd just as lief fight a Maise as a Grey any day. I ain't—bigoted."

A sudden smile lit up the features of Joe Smith. It shone from his eyes, parted his lips, lurked in the dimple in his chin, and then slowly died away. His eyes held it the longest.

That smile had won many a friend for the lad. It made him a favorite at college, in the village, and in the church with the Greys and the Maises alike. But never had it made a greater conquest than now. Every child and every grown-up whose heart is young is a hero-worshiper. In the heart of Periwinkle a new fire was kindled, a new shrine built. Then and there he decided that his every deed should be worthy of his Ideal.

"You don't want me to fight at all," he questioned after a moment of silent adoration. "And I won't unless they pitch into Pearl. Why, here comes your father and I guess it's most supper-time."

"Oh," laughed the minister, entering the room, "Miss Hetty's table would make an appeal to anyone. I know you could not resist it, or I would ask you to stay here for your supper."

"We'll come again, thank you," said Pearl, "but it's cream pie tonight, please, and I helped Aunt Hetty make it."

"Pearl," said Periwinkle when they were started on their way home, "there's one thing I want you to notice, Smith called me Peri and from now on that's my name. Periwinkle sounds like a sissy. There was once a great man named Perry. Will you remember, Pearl?"

"Yes, Periwinkle," replied his sister absent-mindedly, "but don't you love the story he told us?"

"It was beautiful," replied her brother, "and I think it's splendid to try to do good because Jesus loved people so, and because Joe Smith loves Him too."