But, for my part, I think the sixpence had more of bread in it than any theology he might have been expected to have at hand; for, so given, it was the symbol and the sign of love, which is the heart of the divine theology.
Annie, however, had a certain Scotchness in her which made her draw back from the offer.
"Na, thank ye, sir," she said; "I dinna want it." "Will ye no tak' it to please an auld man, bairn ?" "Deed will I, sir, I wad do a hantle mair nor that to please you." And again the tears filled her blue eyes as she held out her hand--receiving in it a shilling which Mr Cowie, for more relief to his own burdened heart, had substituted for the sixpence.
"It's a shillin', sir!" she said, looking up at him with the coin lying on her open palm.
"Weel, what for no?
Is a shillin' no a saxpence ?" "Ay, sir.

It's twa." "Weel, Annie," said the old man, suddenly elevated into prophecy for the child's need--for he had premeditated nothing of the sort--"maybe whan God offers us a saxpence, it may turn oot to be twa.

Good nicht, my bairn." But Mr Cowie was sorely dissatisfied with himself.

For not only did he perceive that the heart of the child could not be thus satisfied, but he began to feel something new stirring in his own bosom.

The fact was that Annie was further on than Mr Cowie.