"
"Thank God!" he said earnestly. "That's good news, to be sure, bless your
purty eyes! An' doan't 'e go a tremblin' an' fearin', you mind, like to
meetin'. 'Tedn' no ways like that. Just love o' the Lard an' moosic an'
holy thots from passon, an' not more hell-fire than keeps a body
healthy-minded an' awake. My ivers! I could a'most sing an' dance myself
now, an' arter my day's work tu, to think as you'll sit alongside o' me in
church come Sunday!"
Joan smiled at his enthusiasm on her behalf, then kissed him and went to
bed; while he, mixing up his prayers, his last pipe, and his final glass of
spirits according to his custom, sat the fire out while he drank deeper and
prayed harder than usual in the light of his triumph.
"Polly couldn' do it, not for all her brains an' godliness," he murmured to
himself, "yet 'twas given to an auld simple sawl like me! An' I have. I've
led her slap-bang into the hand o' the Lard, an' the rest be His business.
No man's done a better day's work inside Cornwall to-day than what I
have--that's sure!"
CHAPTER TWELVE
FROM JOE
Since her visit to the church at Newlyn, Joan had been in no place of
worship save the chapel of the Luke Gospelers. What might be the nature of
the service before her she did not know, nor did she care. But the girl
kept her promise and drove in the market-cart to Sancreed with her uncle
and cousin when Sunday came.
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