“Oh, I remember!--the poem! I am very sorry, but I had so much to think of that it went quite out of my mind.” An expression half amused, half shy, without trace of mortification, for an instant shadowed the young man's face. “I wish you would let me have the lines again, ma'am! Indeed I should be obliged to you!” he said. “Well, I confess they might first be improved! I read them one evening to my father, and he agreed with me that two or three of them were not quite rhythmical. But he said it was a fair attempt, and for a working-man very creditable.” What Andrew was thinking, it would have been hard to gather from his smile; but I believe it was that, if he had himself read the verses aloud, the laird would have found no fault with their rhythm. His carriage seemed more that of a patient, respectful amusement than anything else. Alexa rose, but resumed her seat, saying: “As the poem is a religious one, there can be no harm in handing it you on Sunday after church!--that is,” she added, meaningly, “if you will be there!” “Give it to Dawtie, if you please, ma'am,” replied Andrew. “Ah!” rebuked Miss Fordyce, in a tone almost of rebuke. “I seldom go to church, ma'am,” said Andrew, reddening a little, but losing no sweetness from his smile. “I understand as much! It is very wrong! _Why_ don't you?” Andrew was silent. “I wish you to tell me,” persisted Alexa, with a peremptoriness which came of the school-master. She had known him too as a pupil of her father's! “If you will have it, ma'am, I not only learn nothing from Mr. Smith, but I think much that he says is not true.” “Still you ought to go for the sake of example.” “Do wrong to make other people follow my example? Can that be to do right?” “_Wrong_ to go to church! What _do_ you mean? Wrong to pray with your fellow-men?” “Perhaps the hour may come, ma'am, when I shall be able to pray with my fellow-men, even though the words they use seem addressed to a tyrant, not to the Father of Jesus Christ. But at present I can not. I might endure to hear Mr. Smith say evil things concerning God, but the evil things he says to God make me quite unable to pray, and I feel like a hypocrite!” “Whatever you may think of Mr. Smith's doctrines, it is presumptuous to set yourself up as too good to go to church.” “I most bear the reproach, ma'am. I can not consent to be a hypocrite in order to avoid being called one!” Either Miss Fordyce had no answer to this, or did not choose to give any. She was not troubled that Andrew would not go to church, but offended at the unhesitating decision with which he set her counsel aside. Andrew made her a respectful bow, turned away, put on his bonnet, which he had held in his hand all the time, and passed through the garden gate. “Who is the fellow?” asked George, partaking sympathetically of his companion's annoyance.