her son, or indeed to any one,
Thomas somehow knew that it was her heart's desire to see him "in the
pulpit."

"Never you mind, mother," he said, brightly. "It'll all come right.
Aren't you always the one preaching faith to me?"

"Yes, laddie, and it is needed, and sorely at times."

"Now, mither," said Thomas, dropping into her native speech, "ye mauna
be fashin' yersel. Ye'll jist say 'Now I lay me,' and gang to sleep like
a bairnie."

"Ay, that's a guid word, laddie, an' a'll tak it. Ye may kiss me guid
nicht. A'll tak it."

Thomas bent over her and whispered in her ear, "Ay, mither, mither,
ye're an angel, and that ye are."

"Hoots, laddie, gang awa wi' ye," said his mother, but she held her arms
about his neck and kissed him once and again. There was no one to see,
and why should they not give and take their heart's fill of love.

But when Thomas stood outside the room door, he folded his arms tight
across his breast and whispered with lips that quivered, "Ay, mither,
mither, mither, there's nane like ye. There's nane like ye." And he was
glad that when he went upstairs, he found Hughie unwilling to talk.

The next three days they were all busy with the planting of the
potatoes, and nothing could have been better for Hughie. The sweet,
sunny air, and the kindly, wholesome earth and honest hard work were
life and health to mind and heart and body. It is wonderful how the
touch of the kindly mother earth cleanses the soul from its unwholesome
humors. The hours that Hughie spent in working with the clean, red earth
seemed somehow to breathe virtue into him. He remembered the past months
like a bad dream. They seemed to him a hideous unreality, and he could
not think of Foxy and his schemes, nor of his own weakness in yielding
to temptation, without a horrible self-loathing. He became aware of a
strange feeling of sympathy and kinship with old Donald Finch. He seemed
to understand his gloom. During those days their work brought those two
together, for Billy Jack had the running of the drills, and to Thomas
was intrusted the responsibility of "dropping" the potatoes, so Hughie
and the old man undertook to "cover" after Thomas.

Side by side they hoed together, speaking not a word for an hour at a
time, but before long the old man appeared to feel the lad's sympathy.
Hughie was quick to save him steps, and eager in many ways to anticipate
his wishes. He was quick, too, with the hoe, and ambitious to do his
fu