ipally Hayes."

"Thank God, and go to sleep," said his father. "If Hayes were pleased
with my preaching I should greatly suspect my call to the ministry."

"But seriously, I am certainly not a great preacher, and perhaps not
a preacher at all. They say I have no 'pep,' which with some of them
appears to be the distinctive and altogether necessary characteristic of
a popular preacher."

"What said Innes?" enquired his father.

"Did you ever hear Innes say much? From his silence one would judge that
he must possess the accumulated wisdom of the ages."

"When he does talk, however, he generally says something. What was his
contribution?"

"'Ah, weel,' said the silent one, 'Ah doot he's no a Spurgeon, not yet a
Billy Sunday, but ye'll hardly be expectin' thae fowk at Wapiti for nine
hundred dollars a year.' Then, bless his old heart, he added, 'But the
bairns tak to him like ducks to water, so you'd better bide a bit.' So
they decided to 'bide a bit' till next Sunday. Dad, at first I wanted
to throw their job in their faces, only I always know that it is the old
Adam in me that feels like that, so I decided to 'bide a bit' too."

"It is a poor job, after all, my boy," said his father. "It's no
gentleman's job the way it is carried on in this country. To think of
your being at the bidding of a creature like Hayes!"

He could have said no better word. The boy's face cleared like the
sudden shining of the sun after rain. He lifted his head and said,

"Thank God, not at his bidding, dad. 'One is your Master,'" he quoted.
"But after all, Hayes has something good in him. Do you know, I rather
like him. He's--"

"Oh, come now, we'll drop it right there," said his father, in a
disgusted tone. "When you come to finding something to like in that rat,
I surrender."

"Who knows?" said the boy, as if to himself. "Poor Hayes. He may be
quite a wonderful man, considering all things, his heredity and his
environment. What would I have been, dad, but for you?"

His father grunted, pulled hard at his pipe, coughed a bit, then looked
his son straight in the face, saying, "God knows what any of us owe to
our past." He fell into silence. His mind was far away, following his
heart to the palisaded plot of ground among the Foothills and the little
grave there in which he had covered from his sight her that had been the
inspiration to his best and finest things, and his defence against the
things low and base that had once hounded hi