CHAPTER XI THE OLD SOLDIER AND HIS YOUNG PUPIL ON SUNDAY EVENING On his return home after these visits, he placed Mary on Charlie’s chair, beside himself, resolving, although the other members of the class were still absent, that he would nevertheless teach Mary as their representative, as well as for her own sake. There had come into his possession one of those small books of guidance and instruction which many intellectual people--so called by men, but probably not so recognized by the angels, who minister even to children--affect to despise, just as they would despise any "still small voice" when compared with the loud storm, the brilliant fire, and the powerful, rock-moving earthquake. This book was but a number of texts wisely arranged by a bedridden Christian, for each day of the year, with one of special and deeper import for its Sabbaths. The text for this Lord’s Day was--"They who know thy name will put their trust in thee"; and Adam said to Mary, when she had repeated it as the lesson for the day, "Do ye understan’ what is meant, my dearie, by trusting God?" "I’m no sure," she replied. "But ye surely ken what it wad be to trust _me_, Mary?" continued the Sergeant. Mary looked up and smiled. She made no reply, but was evidently puzzled by an attempt she was unconsciously making to understand the possibility of want of trust in the Sergeant. So, finding no response, he again asked, "Wad ye trust me, my wee woman?" Mary seemed vexed, and said, "What wrang hae I dune? Ye telt me aye to ca’ you faither; I canna help; sae ye maunna be angry, for I hae nae faither but you." "Richt! verra richt!" said the Sergeant; "but, Mary dear, wad ye trust God as weel as me?" "No!" said Mary, very decidedly. "What for no’?" asked the Sergeant, kindly. "I’m awfu’ frichtened for him," said Mary. "Why are ye frichtened for _Him_?" asked Adam. Mary seemed to be counting the buttons on his coat. "Tell me, bairn!" he continued. "Because," said Mary, sorrowfully, yet encouraged by his tone, "Mrs. Craigie aye telt me He wad sen’ me to the bad place; and when I got my fit burned she said that I wad be a’ burnt thegither some day, as I was a bad lassie; and I’m sure I wasna’ doing her ony ill to mak’ her say that." "God will never," remarked the Sergeant, reverently, "send ye to the bad place, unless ye gang yersel’." "I’ll never do that!" exclaimed Mary. "I hope no’, my lassie," said Adam, "for I wish you no’ to be bad, but to be good; and to trust God is the way to be good. Noo tell me, Mary, why wad ye trust me?" "Because--jist because," said Mary, looking up to his face, "ye’re faither." "Weel dune, Mary!" continued the Sergeant. "Noo tell me what’s the beginning o’ the Lord’s Prayer?" "Our Faither which art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy name. Thy----" "That’ll do, Mary," interrupted Adam. "But can ye tell me noo wha’s yer Faither as weel as me?"