None the less was he watching for that first look, and it satisfied him. He wanted to laugh outright, but of course he did no such thing; instead, he seated his amazed relative in one of the best pews, then took his place in the choir, all of his face save his eyes in decorous repose.
All the bright Sabbath afternoon they sat together, uncle and nephew; the one an eager narrator, the other an attentive listener. Every step of the colossal plan, as it appeared to others, and was matured and carried out by the unfaltering zeal of Claire Benedict, was detailed for the uncle's benefit. And certainly Claire's reputation did not suffer in the young man's hands. He could not help glorifying her. None knew better than he, what she had been to him; but of this more sacred story he as yet said nothing. Its time was to come.
"Why, uncle Harold, you remember Bud," he burst forth afresh after a moment's silence, "that queer fellow who worked for the Ansteds; he came down here that night you spent here last spring, with papers, you know, for Mr. Ansted, and you talked with him a little, and laughed so over his queer notions. Remember?
"Well, sir, that fellow is simply made over! It is a great deal more wonderful than the church! We used to think he was not more than half-witted. I'll tell you what it is: I shouldn't wonder if it turned out that he was double-witted. You didn't recognize his name to-day, of course; it is a wonder that he did himself. Hubbard Myers, that's the boy. Yes, sir, he has joined the church; and a help he will be to it, too. Uncle Harold, you ought to hear him pray! He says queer things even in prayer; at least, they sound queer; but in spite of yourself you can not help wondering sometimes whether it is not because he has gotten ahead of all the rest, and sees things that they don't understand. I believe he thinks Miss Benedict is an angel sent here from heaven to help him. That's no wonder, though; perhaps she is; anyhow, she has helped him as well, and perhaps better than a real angel could have done; and she is the first one who ever took any notice of him, or remembered that he had a soul."
It is no special wonder that the uncle was deeply interested in this story. It told more than Harry suspected. How came this gay young nephew, who had cost him many sleepless nights, to be sufficiently familiar with a prayer-meeting to know who prayed, or how? He studied the bright face before him most attentively. It was changed, certainly; he had felt the change in the boy all day. What was it? How much did it mean? There had certainly been need for change. It made his heart beat fast to think of Harry's mother, and the possibility of news for her such as would make her feel young again.