It was the sight of George's books
that gave him courage to persist, and it was the sight of the books that
decided Mammy's answer. She could remember the time when Jintsey's boy
had been almost as light-headed and light-hearted as John Jay; so it was
not past belief that even John Jay might settle down in time.
The thought that he might some day be able to read the books that George
had pored over, and that, possibly, some time in the far future he
might be fitted to preach the gospel George had proclaimed, aroused all
her grandmotherly pride. Some fragment of a half-forgotten sermon
floated through her mind as she looked on the ragged little fellow
standing before her.
"The mantle of the prophet 'Lijah done fell on his servant 'Lisha," she
muttered under her breath. "What if the mantle of Gawge Chadwick have
been left to my poah Ellen's boy, 'long with them books?"
John Jay was balancing himself on one foot, while he drew the toes of
the other along a crack in the floor between the puncheons, anxiously
awaiting her decision.
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