"And do you think," asked Jack, in a tone of awe, "that it was the Holy Ghost which brought these words to your mind?" "I cannot but think so, my son." "But, Uncle Thomas," said Jack, "is it not—" "I believe I know what you would say, my son," said the old man, as Jack paused. "You would ask if it is not presumption to suppose that God Himself teaches and governs us. I cannot think so. It would be so, doubtless, if He had not given us warrant for it in His Word; but so long as He says, He is more ready to give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him than earthly parents are to give good gifts to their children, I think we are bound to believe Him." "'If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him?'" "Jack," added the old man with energy, "I thank God that I have been led to open my heart to you, for the repeating of the Scriptures to you has so refreshed my memory of them, as I could not have believed possible." "And I am thankful too," said Jack. He sat musing for some minutes, and then added, "Yes, I am thankful, and shall always be thankful, even though the words of Scripture should bring me to such a fate as they did poor Agnes Harland." "Who is Agnes Harland?" asked the shepherd. Jack started. "I am wrong," said he. "I promised Anne I would never tell the tale again. It was something which happened in the convent." The shepherd nodded sagaciously. "Ay, ay. I can guess," said he, "but say no more, dear boy. Remember that a promise broken without great necessity is a lie told, and beware, of all things, of lying. But this is the conclusion of the matter: God is always ready to hear the prayers of His children, and to help them at their need." "But, Uncle Thomas, suppose one should wish to pray for something, and should not know any prayer which said what he wanted." "Then I suppose he must make a prayer for himself, as David did, and as other saints have done. I know no other way." That night when Jack went to bed, he prayed that God would show him where the old Bible was hidden, or send him another. A few days after this conversation, Master Lucas made his appearance at the shepherd's cottage, mounted on his easy ambling mule, and followed by his man Simon. "Well, well," he exclaimed, with his usual jolly laugh, as Jack ran to help his father dismount. "Why, this is fine, to be sure! This is a sight for sore eyes. Uncle Thomas, you are worth all the doctors and wise women in Bridgewater. Bless thee, boy, thy father's heart is glad to see thee again." "It is but little that I have done," said Thomas Sprat. "The credit of Jack's cure belongs to the fresh air of the hill far more than to me. But come in, come in, cousin Lucas. You must be in need of refreshment. You do not often ride so far from home."