, and has a heart far more tender, and while He will be just
and must punish sin, He will do nothing unjust or unkind, you may be
quite sure of that. Do not forget how He gave up His own dear son for
us."

Poor Hughie could bear it no longer. He put his head in his mother's lap
and sobbed out, "Oh, mother, I hope he will let them out."

As he uttered this pitiful little cry, his cousin Harry got up from his
chair, and moved across to the window, while Maimie openly wiped her
eyes, but Ranald sat with his face set hard, and his eyes gleaming,
waiting eagerly for Mrs. Murray's answer.

The mother stroked Hughie's head softly, and while her tears fell on the
brown curls, said to him, "You would not be afraid to trust your mother,
Hughie, and our Father in heaven loves us all much more than I love
you."

And with that Hughie was content.

"Now let us sing one more hymn," said his mother. "It's my choice."
And she chose one of the new hymns which they had just learned in the
singing school, and of which Hughie was very fond, the children's hymn,
"Come to the Saviour." While they were singing they heard Mr. Murray
drive into the yard.

"There's papa," said Mrs. Murray. "He will be tired and hungry," and she
hurried out to meet her husband, followed by Harry and Hughie, leaving
Ranald and Maimie in the room together. Ranald had never been alone with
her before, nor indeed had he ever spent five minutes of his life alone
with any girl before now. But he did not feel awkward or shy; he was
thinking now, as he had been thinking now and then through the whole
evening, of only one thing, that Maimie was going away. That would
make a great difference to him, so great that he was conscious of a
heart-sinking at the mere thought of it. During the last weeks, his life
had come to move about a center, and that center was Maimie; and now
that she was going away, there would be nothing left. Nothing, that is,
that really mattered. But the question he was revolving in his mind was,
would she forget all about him. He knew he would never forget her, that
was, of course, impossible, for so many things would remind him of her.
He would never see the moonlight falling through the trees as it fell
that night of the sugaring-off, without thinking of her. He would never
see the shadows in the evening, or hear the wind in the leaves, without
thinking of her. The church and the minister's pew, the manse and all
belonging to it would remind hi