“Weel, I ken he doesna like you—no ae wee bit. He’s aye girdin at ye to ither fowk!” “May be: the mair’s the need I sud lo’e him.” “But hoo _can_ ye, father?” “There’s naething, o’ late, I ha’e to be sae gratefu’ for to _Him_ as that I can. But I confess I had lang to try sair!” “The mair I was to try, the mair I jist couldna.” “But ye could try; and He could help ye!” “I dinna ken; I only ken that sae ye say, and I maun believe ye. Nane the mair can I see hoo it’s ever to be broucht aboot.” “No more can I, though I ken it can be. But just think, my ain Maggie, hoo would onybody ken that ever ane o’ ’s was his disciple, gien we war aye argle-barglin aboot the holiest things—at least what the minister coonts the holiest, though may be I think I ken better? It’s whan twa o’ ’s strive that what’s ca’d a schism begins, and I jist winna, please God—and it does please him! He never said, Ye maun a’ think the same gait, but he did say, Ye maun a’ loe ane anither, and no strive!” “Ye dinna aye gang to his kirk, father!” “Na, for I’m jist feared sometimes lest I should stop loein him. It matters little about gaein to the kirk ilka Sunday, but it matters a heap aboot aye loein ane anither; and whiles he says things aboot the mind o’ God, sic that it’s a’ I can dee to sit still.” “Weel, father, I dinna believe that I can lo’e him ony the day; sae, wi’ yer leave, I s’ be awa to Stanecross afore he comes.” “Gang yer wa’s, lassie, and the Lord gang wi’ ye, as ance he did wi’ them that gaed to Emmaus.” With her shoes in her hand, the girl was leaving the house when her father called after her— “Hoo’s folk to ken that I provide for my ain, whan my bairn gangs unshod? Tak aff yer shune gin ye like when ye’re oot o’ the toon.” “Are ye sure there’s nae hypocrisy aboot sic a fause show, father?” asked Maggie, laughing. “I maun hide them better!” As she spoke she put the shoes in the empty bag she carried for the chaff. “There’s a hidin’ o’ what I hae—no a pretendin’ to hae what I haena!—I s’ be hame in guid time for yer tay, father.—I can gang a heap better withoot them!” she added, as she threw the bag over her shoulder. “I’ll put them on whan I come to the heather,” she concluded. “Ay, ay; gang yer wa’s, and lea’ me to the wark ye haena the grace to adverteeze by weirin’ o’ ’t.”