“Well, perhaps I am not so considerate as I might be; I am away quite a lot; thank you for calling my attention to it.”

“Are you neglecting anybody else?”

“Not that I know.”

“Good.  Now I must clear away my table and get ready for meeting.  You’ll go with me.”

“I can’t.  I haven’t my Sunday clothes.”

“The Lord will not look at your clothes.”

“No; but a lot of people will.”

“We go to meeting to worship the Lord, not to be looked at by others.  Go home and put on your Sunday best; there is time.”  The old man was busy between table and cupboard as he talked.  “Have you seen Carlia lately?”

“No,” replied Dorian.

“The last time she was here I thought she was a little peaked in the face, for you know she has such a rosy, roly-poly one.”

“Is that so?  She comes to see you, then?”

“Yes; oftener than you do.”

“I never meet her here.”

“No; she manages that, I surmise.”

“What do you mean?”

“I tell you Carlia is a lovely girl,” continued Uncle Zed, ignoring his direct question.  “Have you ever eaten butter she has churned?”

“Not that I know.”

“She used to bring me a nice pat when my cow was dry; and bread of her own baking too, about as good as I myself make.”  He chuckled as he wiped the last dish and placed it neatly in the rack.

Dorian arose to go.  “Remember what I have told you this evening” said Uncle Zed.  The old man from behind his window watched his young friend walk leisurely along the road until he reached the cross-lots path which led to the Duke home.  Here he saw him pause, go on again, pause once more, then jump lightly over the fence and strike out across the field.  Uncle Zed then went on finishing his preparations for meeting.

As Dorian walked across the field, he did think of what Uncle Zed had said to him.  Dorian had built his castles, had dreamed his dreams; but never before had the ideas presented to him by Uncle Zed that afternoon ever entered in them.  The good old man had seemed so eager to pass on to the young man an unfulfilled work, yes, a high, noble work.  Dorian caught a glimpse of the greatness of it and the glory of it that afternoon, and his soul was thrilled.  Was he equal to such a task?...  He had wanted to become a successful farmer, then his vision had gone on to the teaching profession; but beyond that he had not ventured.  He was already well on the way to make a success of his farms.  He liked the work.  He could with pleasure be a farmer all his life.  But should a man’s business be all of life?  Dorian realized, not of course in its fuller meaning, that the accumulating of worldly riches was only a means to the accomplishing of other and greater ends of life; and here was before him something worthy of any man’s best endeavors.  Here was a life’s work which at its close would mean something to him and to the world.  With these thoughts in his mind he stepped up to the rear of the Duke place where he saw someone in the corral with the cows, busy with her milking.