He glanced at Hughie's face.
"What am I saying ?" he cried.

"It is of myself I am thinking, boy, and of no minister or minister's son." But Hughie stood looking at him, his face showing his terrible anxiety.
God and sin were vivid realities to him.
"Yes, yes," said the old man to himself, "it is a great gospel.

'As far as the east is distant from the west.' 'And plenteous redemption is ever found with him.'" "But, do you think," said Hughie, in a low voice, "God will tell all our sins?
Will he make them known ?" "God forbid!" cried the old man.

"'And their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more.' 'The depths of the sea.' No, no, boy, he will surely forget, and he will not be proclaiming them." It was a strange picture.

The old man leaning upon the top of his hoe looking over at the lad, the gloom of his face irradiated with a momentary gleam of hope, and the boy looking back at him with almost breathless eagerness.
"It would be great," said Hughie, at last, "if he would forget." "Yes," said the old man, the gleam in his face growing brighter, "'If we confess our sins he is faithful and just to forgive us,' and forgiving with him is forgetting.