Tiring of that eventually, he sauntered to
the observation platform at the rear of the train.
And there he found the preacher.
There was an embarrassing silence. The minister knew him at once for
the young man who had left his chapel the night before in the middle of
the discourse. Dean knew that he was recognized, but did not wish to
appear cognizant of it. He tried to look indifferent, but with poor
success.
The minister broke the silence by offering his card and saying: "One day
you may need my help. If it please the Lord that I am alive then, come
to me and I will help you."
Dean took the card and read the name, the Rev. Enoch Stephen Way, and a
Toronto address. He pocketed the card and murmured a conventional
thanks.
"You are an Englishman?" said the minister.
"Yes."
"Travelling on business?"
"Yes."
The answer was curt, and the minister saw that the young man resented
any cross-examination of his private affairs. He therefore turned the
conversation at once to impersonal matters.
"How do you like Canada? How does it strike you?"
"Fine!" answered Dean, relieved at the turn of the conversation. "So
big."
"You mean the extent of the country?"
"It's not that, quite. I mean that people seem to think in a bigger way.
I suppose it comes from having so much space around one."
The train was now passing through the endless miles of forest-land and
tangled hills on the route to Fort William, with scarcely a sign of
human habitation except by the occasional wayside stations.
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