That afternoon, they met Mr. Talkative. He said he too was going to the Celestial City and would be glad to join them. He spoke about kindness, honesty, and helping one another, his words ringing on like a string of bells that would not stop. Chris was impressed and wanted to remember every sentence he used.
They passed a small shop. Talkative said it belonged to him and invited them in for something to eat. There were spices and tea inside, and a little collection box for the poor sat on the counter. A worker was carrying sacks, his back bent very low. Talkative told him to hurry, then stayed by the door explaining how important it was to help other people.
Chris tried to take one of the sacks, but Talkative waved him away. “You’re a guest. Just sit down.” When the worker finished carrying the sacks, he was told to sweep the floor before he even had time to drink the water beside the table.
That evening, Chris got up for more water and heard a sound behind the counter. Going closer, he saw Talkative mixing cheap dried leaves into the tea and changing the label on the bag to “Finest Tea.” Chris thought he must have misunderstood. He stood there, unsure what to say.
Talkative noticed him first. “Just the person I need. Help me tie this bag.”
“But it isn’t all tea.”
“Everyone does it. The customers can’t tell the difference.”
Chris looked at the collection box, then at the bag in Talkative’s hands. “Today you said honesty mattered more than money.”
“My boy, don’t be so rigid. Business is one thing. Discussing principles is another.” Talkative pushed the bag toward him. “Just do me a favor.”
Chris badly wanted to tie the bag and hurry back to bed. He did not want to anger their host, and he was afraid Faithful would think he was always causing trouble. But he remembered his father going back to counting money after looking at the old book. Could fine words be like that too, if they never reached the things a person did with his hands?
He set the bag back on the counter. “I can’t help you sell it like this.”
Talkative’s face darkened. He began saying that Chris had no manners, no gratitude, and no understanding of grown-ups’ difficulties. Hearing the voices, Faithful came to the counter. After finding out what had happened, he made a note of what they had eaten and left the proper payment.
“We have to look at people’s words beside their actions,” Faithful said. “We won’t accept goods sold under a false name, and we won’t ask that worker to take the blame for us.”
They left the shop. With no comfortable bed for the night, they rested under a tree. Wrapped in a blanket, Chris felt cold and sleepy. Telling the truth had not suddenly made him happy. Faithful put the waterskin beside him and stayed with him until morning.
The next day, they met the worker. He asked them to tell the next travelers’ lodging that the shop still owed him wages. Chris carefully wrote it down and promised to pass on the message. He was beginning to understand that honesty did not always sound pleasant. But it could mean one real person was treated a little less unfairly.