ut out his tongue at her. This he did, not from any special
sense of superiority, but for the good of their souls.

When Walter awoke, the sun had long been up, and already all sounds of
labour, usually so loud, were hushed about the farm. There was a
breathless silence, and the boy knew even in his sleep that it was the
Sabbath morning. He arose, and unassisted arrayed himself for the day.
Then he stole forth, hoping that he would get his porridge before the
"buik" came on. Through the little end window he could see his
grandfather moving up and down outside, leaning on his staff--his tall,
stooped figure very clear against the background of beeches. As he went
he looked upward often in self-communion, and sometimes groaned aloud in
the instancy of his unspoken prayer. His brow rose like the wall of a
fortress. A stray white lock on his bare head stirred in the crisp air.

Wattie was about to omit his prayers in his eagerness for his porridge,
but the sight of his grandfather induced him to change his mind. He
knelt reverently down, and was so found when his mother came in. She
stood for a moment on the threshold, and silently beckoned the good
mistress of the house forward to share in the sight. But neither of the
women knew how near the boy's prayers came to being entirely omitted
that morning. And what is more, they would not have believed it had they
been informed of it by the angel Gabriel. For this is the manner of
women--the way that mothers are made. The God of faith bless them for
it! The man has indeed been driven out of Paradise, but the woman, for
whose expulsion we have no direct scriptural authority, certainly
carries with her materials for constructing one out of her own generous
faith and belief. Often men hammer out a poor best, not because they are
anxious to do the good for its own sake, but because they know that some
woman expects it of them.

The dwelling-house of Drumquhat was a low one-storied house of a common
enough pattern. It stood at one angle of the white fortalice of
buildings which surrounded the "yard." Over the kitchen and the "ben the
hoose" there was a "laft," where the "boys"[3] slept. The roof of this
upper floor was unceiled, and through the crevices the winter snows
sifted down upon the sleepers. Yet were there no finer lads, no more
sturdy and well set-up men, than the sons of the farmhouse of Drumquhat.
Many a morning, ere the eldest son of the house rose from his bed in the