houghts or listening to
the quiet talk going on between Effie and his mother; and Christie
enjoyed her drive in silence too.

How very pleasant it seemed! They went slowly, for they had plenty of
time; and Christie's eyes wandered over the scene--the sky, the changing
trees, the brown fields and the green pastures--with an interest and
enjoyment that surprised herself. There was not much to see; but any
change was pleasant to the eyes that had rested for weeks on the same
familiar objects. Then the unaccustomed and agreeable motion
exhilarated without wearying her. And when at last they came in sight
of the kirk, Christie could not help wishing that they had farther to
go.

The kirk, of itself, was rather an unsightly object than otherwise.
Except for the two rows of small windows on each side, it differed
little in appearance from the large wooden barns so common in that part
of the country. The woods were close behind it; and in the summer-time
they were a pleasant sight. On one side lay the graveyard. On days
when the sun did not shine, or in the autumn before the snow had come to
cover up the long, rank grass, the graveyard was a very dreary place to
Christie, and instead of lingering in it she usually went into the kirk,
even though the Gaelic service was not over. But to-day she sat down
near the door, at Effie's side, and waited till the people should come
out. Mrs Nesbitt had gone into a neighbour's house, and the two girls
were quite alone.

"Effie," said Christie, "I think the minister must preach better in
Gaelic than he does in English. Just look in. Nobody will see you.
The folk are no' thinking about things outside."

Effie raised herself a little, and bent forward to see. It was a very
odd-looking place. The pulpit was placed, not at the end of the house,
as is usual in places of worship, but at one side. There was no aisle.
The door opened directly into the body of the house, and from the place
where they stood could be seen not only the minister, but the many
earnest faces that were turned towards him. The lower part of the place
was crowded to the threshold, and tier above tier of earnest faces
looked down from the gallery. No sound save the voice of the preacher
was heard, and on him every eye was fastened. A few of the little ones
had gone to sleep, leaning on the shoulders of their elders; but all the
rest were listening as though life and death depended on the words he
uttered