And I canna bide it." In the bosom of the good man rose a gentle indignation against the schismatics who had thus terrified and bewildered that sacred being, a maid-child.

But what could he say?
He thought for a moment, and betook himself, in his perplexity, to his common sense.
"You haven't forgotten your father, have you, Annie ?" said he.
"I think aboot him maist ilka day," answered Annie.
"But there comes a day now and then when you don't think much about him, does there not ?" "Yes, sir." "Do you think he would be angry with his child because she was so much taken up with her books or her play---" "I never play at onything, sir." "Well--with learning songs to say to Alec Forbes and Willie Macwha--do you think he would be angry that you didn't think about him that day, especially when you can't see him ?" "'Deed no, sir.

He wadna be sae sair upo' me as that." "What would he say, do you think ?" "Gin Mr Bruce war to cast it up till me, he wad say: 'Lat alane the lassie.

She'll think aboot me the morn--time eneuch.'" "Well, don't you think your Father in heaven would say the same ?" "Maybe he micht, sir.

But ye see my father was my ain father, and wad mak' the best o' me." "And is not God kinder than your father ?" "He canna weel be that, sir.