When they had finished--that is, eaten everything up--the Bible was brought; a psalm was sung, after a fashion not very extraordinary to the ears of Annie, or, indeed, of any one brought up in Scotland; a chapter was read--it happened to tell the story of Jacob's speculations in the money-market of his day and generation; and the _exercise_ concluded with a prayer of a quarter of an hour, in which the God of Jacob especially was invoked to bless the Bruces, His servants, in their basket and in their store, and to prosper the labours of that day in particular.

The prayer would have been longer, but for the click of the latch of the shop-door, which brought it to a speedier close than one might have supposed even Mr Bruce's notions of decency would have permitted.

And almost before the _Amen_ was out of his month, he was out of the kitchen.
When he had served the early customer, he returned, and sitting down, drew Annie towards him--between his knees, in fact, and addressed her with great solemnity.
"Noo, Annie," said he, "ye s' get the day to play yersel'; but ye maun gang to the school the morn.

We can hae no idle fowk i' this hoose, sae we maun hae nae words aboot it." Annie was not one to make words about that or anything.

She was only too glad to get away from him.