“Now, about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbour made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of weary travellers.”—Pilgrim’s Progress.
Several days passed with but few events to mark them. Mark did everything for Ann to save her from exertion, and under his care her ankle became better. He also endeavoured to keep the cottage more tidy, and clear the little garden from weeds, remembering that “cleanliness is next to godliness,” and that if any man will not work, neither should he eat.
One morning Madge burst into the cottage where Mark and Ann were sitting together. “He is coming!” she exclaimed in a breathless voice; “he is coming—he is just at the gate!”
“Who?” cried Ann and Mark at once.
“The parson—the—”
“Not Mr. Ewart!” exclaimed Ann, starting up in terror.
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“Yes it is—the tall man dressed in black.”
In a moment the woman rushed to the back room as fast as her ankle would let her. “I’ll keep quiet here,” she said. “If he asks for me, say that I have just gone to the miller’s.”
“Mother’s precious afraid of a parson,” said Madge, as a low knock was heard at the door.
With pleasure Mark opened to his benefactor.
“Good morning,” said Mr. Ewart, as he crossed the threshold. “I have not forgotten my promise to you, my friend. I hope that I have obtained a place for you as errand-boy to a grocer. Being myself only a temporary resident in these parts, I do not know much of your future master, except that he appears to keep a respectable shop, and is very regular in attendance at church; but I hear that he bears a high character. Mr. Lowe, if you suit him, agrees to give you board and lodging; and if he finds you upon trial useful and active, he will add a little salary at the end of the year.”
“I am very thankful to you, sir,” said Mark, his eyes expressing much more than his lips could. “I trust that you never will have cause to be sorry for your kindness.”
“Is your mother within?” said Mr. Ewart.
Mark bit his lip, and knew not what to reply, divided between fear of much displeasing his parent, and that of telling a falsehood to his benefactor.
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“She’s gone to the miller’s,” said Madge boldly.
But the clergyman turned away from the wicked little girl, whose word he never thought of trusting, and repeated his question to Mark, whose hesitation he could not avoid seeing.
“She is within, sir,” said the boy, after a little pause; then continued with a painful effort, as he could not but feel that Ann’s conduct appeared rude and ungrateful to one whom above all men he was anxious to please; “but she would rather not see you to-day.”
“Very well, I have seen you; you will tell her what I have arranged.” Mark ventured to glance at the speaker, and saw, with a feeling of relief, that Mr. Ewart’s face did not look at all angry.
It was more than could be said for Ann’s, as, after the clergyman’s departure, she came out of her hiding-place again. Her face was flushed, her manner excited; and, in a fit of ungovernable passion, she twice struck the unresisting boy.
“Lord Jesus, this I suffer for thee!” thought Mark; and this reflection took the bitterness from the trial. He was only thankful that he had been enabled to keep to the truth, and not swerve from the narrow path.
On the following day Mark went to his new master, who lived in a neighbouring town. He found out the shop of Mr. Lowe without difficulty; and there was something of comfort and respectability in the appearance
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 of the establishment that was very encouraging to the boy. To his unaccustomed eye the ranges of shining brown canisters, each neatly labelled with its contents; the white sugar-loaves, with prices ticketed in the window; the large cards, with advertisements of sauces and soap, and the Malaga raisins, spread temptingly to view, spake of endless plenty and abundance.
Mark carried a note which Mr. Ewart had given to him, and, entering the shop, placed it modestly on the counter before Mr. Lowe.
The grocer was rather an elderly man, with a bald head, and mild expression of face. He opened the note slowly, then looked at Mark over his spectacles, read the contents, then took another survey of the boy. Mark’s heart beat fast, he was so anxious not to be rejected.
“So,” said Mr. Lowe, in a slow, soft voice, as if he measured every word that he spoke, “so you are the lad that is to come here upon trial, recommended by the Reverend Mr. Ewart. He says that you’ve not been well brought up; that’s bad, very bad—but that he hopes that your own principles are good. Mr. Ewart is a pious man, a very zealous minister, and I am glad to aid him in works of charity like this. If you’re pious, all’s right, there’s nothing like that; I will have none about me but those who are decidedly pious!”
Mr. Lowe looked as though he expected a reply, which
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 puzzled Mark exceedingly, as he had no idea of turning piety to worldly advantage, or professing religion to help him to a place. He stood uneasily twisting his cap in his hand, and was much relieved when, a customer coming in, Lowe handed him over to his shopman.
Radley, the assistant, was a neat-looking little man, very precise and formal in his manner, at least in the presence of his master. There was certainly an occasional twinkle in his eye, which made Mark, who was very observant, suspect that he was rather fonder of fun than might beseem the shopman of the solemn Mr. Lowe; but his manner, in general, was a sort of copy of his master’s, and he borrowed his language and phrases.
And now, fairly received into the service of the grocer, Mark seemed to have entered upon a life of comparative comfort. Mr. Lowe was neither tyrannical nor harsh, nor was Radley disposed to bully the errand-boy. Mark’s obliging manner, great intelligence, and readiness to work, made him rather a favourite with both, and the common comforts of life which he now enjoyed appeared as luxuries to him.
“I have been climbing a steep hill of difficulty,” thought he, “and now I have reached a place of rest. How good is the Lord, to provide for me thus, with those who are his servants!”
That those with whom Mark lived were indeed God’s servants, he at first never thought of doubting. Was
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 there not a missionary-box placed upon the counter—was not Mr. Lowe ever speaking of religion—was he not foremost in every good work of charity—did he not most constantly attend church?
But there were several things which soon made the boy waver a little in his opinion. He could not help observing that his employer took care to lose no grain of praise for anything that he did. Instead of his left hand not knowing the good deeds of hi............