'It's nowt but satisfacshun by t' blood o' Jesus!' Sandy made no answer, unless, indeed, the poor heart within made its last cry of agony to heaven at the words.

The sinews of the spiritual as well as the physical man were all spent and useless.
'Davy,' he called presently.

The child, who had been sitting motionless during this talk watching his father, slid along the bed with alacrity, and tucking his little legs and feet well away from Sandy's long frame, put his head down on the pillow.

His father turned his eyes to him, and with a solemn, lingering gaze took in the childish face, the thick, tumbled hair, the expression, so piteous, yet so intelligent.

Then he put up his own large hand, and took both the boy's into its cold and feeble grasp.