"There, there!" said Mother Marshall, patting the big fellow's dark
head. "You never knew what you were doing, laddie! My Steve always
wanted a chance to prove that he was brave. When he was just a little
fellow and read about the martyrs, he used to say: 'Would I have that
much nerve, mother? A fellow never can _tell_ till he's been _tested_!'
And so I'm not sorry he had his chance to stand up before you all for
what he thought was right. Did you see my boy's face, too, when he
died?"
"Yes," said Pat, lifting his head earnestly. "I'd just picked up a
little kid he sent up to the fire-escape, and saw his face all lit up by
the fire. It looked like the face of an angel! Then I saw him lift up
his hands and look up like he saw somebody above, and he called out
something with a sort of smile, as if he was saying he'd be up there
pretty soon! And then--he fell!"
The tears were raining down Mother Marshall's cheeks by now, but there
was a smile of triumph in her eyes.
"He wanted to be a missionary, my Stephen did, only he was afraid he
wouldn't be able to preach. He always was shy before folks. But I guess
he preached his sermon!" She sighed contentedly.
"He sure did!" said Pat. "I never forgot that look on his face, nor the
way he took our roughneck insults. None of the fellows did. It made a
big impression on us all. And when Court began to change, came out
straight and said he believed in Christ, and all that, it knocked the
tar out of us all.
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