approved of. She therefore took it upon herself to
instruct him upon the sacred character of the place, and to threaten to
keep him at home if he did not behave better.

"Remember, Bildy," she said as they started next Sunday, "it's the
hoose o' God ye're goin' tee. Ye musna' glower aboot! Juist sit ye
still an' look straicht at Father Fleming a' the time."

After that his manner was irreproachable. But one Sunday, as Penny was
leaving the church after Mass, she caught sight of Bildy furiously
shaking his fist--at her, she thought! So she mentioned the fact
quietly to Robina, who promised to investigate the matter. It turned
out that poor Bildy had so thoroughly assimilated her instructions as
to the requisite behavior in church that he had been silently reproving
what he thought irreverence. He had seen a crofter whom he knew very
well dozing during the sermon, and had "wagged his fist" at
him--righteously indignant.

"Sleepin' i' the hoose o' God!" cried Bildy. "Yon's nae the place to
sleep in! I waggit my fist, an' I sair fleggit him!"

Bildy evidently congratulated himself on having so successfully "sore
frighted" the delinquent that he would never dare to behave so badly
again.

Bildy's respect for Val never waned. He never caught sight of the
priest, even at some little distance, but his hand flew up to his cap
in salutation, and remained there until Val had seen him and had
returned his salute. This would happen if he saw Val at a window of
our house just the same as when outside.

Penny took quite a motherly interest in the poor afflicted fellow.
Whenever he came on any errand from the Lamonts he was always given a
piece of cake or fruit--anything sweet, for he had a child's taste.
But although Bildy was supremely delighted, he seldom said more than
"thank you, Ma'am!" I once suggested that she should refer to Val, and
the experiment was successful in opening Bildy's mouth. After that the
conversation would almost invariably run thus:

"Did you see Father Fleming on Sunday, Bildy?"

"Aye, aye! He's the boy! Father Fleming's the boy!"

Next to the old widow, Bildy loved the cow. She was his particular
charge, and he was soon on intimate terms with her. Not only did he
carry on familiar conversations with her, on his part, but it appeared
that the cow made him her confidant in return. If he began to murmur
something to himself as he sat by the chimney corner, they would
inquire what h