It hardly seemed possible that this little parson was the subject of the
tales I had heard, for he bore a tiny look of timidity and, I was sorry
to see, of overwork and underfeeding. But the latter may have been
dyspepsia.

"This is rather a large field to which we have been called," he
continued. "It gives one very fine opportunities as well as some
difficulties to contend with. But of course we keep on striving. It is
not missionary work, you understand, for the people are all very firm
believers. It is merely a question of lending a helping hand, to the best
of one's ability."

"It must be dreadfully hard at times," I put in. "You had quite a long
sail to get here, didn't you? And isn't it perfectly awful in winter?"

"I have been carried out to sea, and things have looked rather badly
sometimes," he said, deprecatingly. "But one must expect a little trouble
now and then, you know."

Daddy began to ask him questions. You know how he prides himself on his
ability to turn people inside out, as he expresses it. The poor little
man answered, slowly, smiling blandly all the time and looking quite
unfit, physically, to face the perils of such a hard life. I became
persuaded that under that frail exterior there must be a heart full of
strength to endure, of determination to carry out that which he considers
to be his duty.

"You know I really am afraid I'm a dreadful coward," he suddenly
confessed. "I have been rather badly frightened some times."