“Father Brandt! Oh, Father Brandt!”
“What is it, young Alwy?” Father Brandt had just been rushing off to the church, but he always tried to spare a minute for poor Alwy Hogge.
“Father Brandt, ‘member one time how I asked you about how you became a priest?”
Brandt nodded.
“Well, Father Brandt, I been thinking. I want to know if a farmer’s boy may become a priest. It’s real important.”
Brandt smiled. “Why not? Was our Lord not a carpenter’s son?”
“Why, that’s so!” Alwy said, grinning.
“Thinkest thou on any farmer’s son in particular?” Father Brandt asked, winking at him.
Alwy blushed beneath his sunburn. “Oh – no, not yet, Father Brandt. Thank you, Father Brandt, I’m going to go tell Gunnie right away!” he burbled excitedly and trotted off towards his farm.
Father Brandt looked after him and laughed. “Except ye become as little children,” he reminded himself, “ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven!”