The bad news had spread so fast that as they came out, up came Andrew. At sight of him Dawtie gently laughed, like a pleased child. The policeman, who, like many present, had been prejudiced by her looks in her favor, dropped behind, and she walked between her mistress and Andrew to the cart. “Dawtie!” said Andrew. “Oh, Andrew! has God forgotten me?” she returned, stopping short. “For God to forget,” answered Andrew, “would be not to be God any longer!” “But here I am on my road til a prison, Andrew! I didna think He would hae latten them do't!” “A bairn micht jist as weel say, whan its nurse lays't intil its cradle, and says: 'Noo, lie still!' 'Mammy, I didna think ye would hae latten her do't!' He's a' aboot ye and in ye, Dawtie, and this is come to ye jist to lat ye ken 'at He is. He raised ye up jist to spen' His glory upo'! I say, Dawtie, did Jesus Christ deserve what He got?” “No ae bit, Andrew! What for should ye speir sic a thing?” “Then do ye think God hae forgotten Him?” “May be He thoucht it jist for a minute!” “Well, ye hae thoucht jist for a minute, and ye maun think it nae mair.” “But God couldna forget _Him_, An'rew: He got it a' for doin' His will!” “Evil may come upon as from other causes than doing the will of God; but from whatever cause it comes, the thing we have to see to is, that through it all we do the will of God!” “What's His will noo, An'rew?” “That ye tak it quaietly. Shall not the Father do wi' His ain child what He will! Can He no shift it frae the tae airm to the tither, but the bairn maun girn? He has ye, Dawtie! It's a' richt!” “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him!” said Dawtie. She raised her head. The color had come back to her face; her lips had ceased to tremble; she stepped on steadily to where, a few yards from the door, the spring-cart was waiting her. She bade her mistress good-bye, then turned to Andrew and said: “Good-bye, An'rew! I am not afraid.” “I am going with you, Dawtie,” said Andrew. “No, sir, you can't do that!” said the policeman; “at least you can't go in the trap!” “No, no, Andrew!” cried Dawtie. “I would rather go alone. I am quite happy now. God will do with me as He pleases!” “I am going with you,” said Alexa, “if the policeman will let me.” “Oh, yes, ma'am! A lady's different!--I've got to account for the prisoner you see, sir!” “I don't think you should, ma'am,” said Dawtie. “It's a long way!” “I am going,” returned her mistress, decisively. “God bless you, ma'am!” said Andrew. Alexa had heard what he said to Dawtie. A new light had broken upon her. “God is like that, is He?” she said to herself. “You can go close up to Him whenever you like?” CHAPTER XXXII. A TALK AT POTLURG. It would be three weeks before the assizes came. The house of Potlurg was searched by the police from garret to cellar, but in vain; the cup was not found.