"them words are very comfortin', but
thar 're others which make me feel bad in that same good Book."

"What! in here?"

"Yes, whar the Master tells us about the journey food. I don't
recollect the exact words, but He says if we don't eat His flesh and
drink His blood we have no life in us. Now, them are purty straight
words, an' I've often thought about 'em. I took the Communion once,
jist after my Confirmation, an' a most solemn an' elevatin' sarvice it
was. But I ain't took it since. I ain't been worthy."

"But you shall have it now if you wish," said Keith eagerly.

"But de'ye think I'm worthy, laddie?"

"That's not the question, Pete. I doubt if any of us are really worthy
of the blessings we receive, and if we waited until we were worthy to
follow His command about the Communion we would never take it at all.
If we waited until we were well before obeying the doctor's orders,
what good would they do? Now, Christ is the Doctor of souls, the Great
Physician, and He has given us this blessed food to strengthen,
comfort, and to give us more and fuller life. What He wants to see in
us is an earnest desire, a true, living faith."

"I do want it, laddie," said Pete eagerly. "It is His command, an' He
said, 'Do this in remembrance of Me,' didn't He? I ain't fergot them
words, an' when I meet 'Im up yon, mebbe He'll ax me about it, an' what
kin I say if I haven't obeyed 'Im. So if ye don't mind, an' it ain't
too much trouble, mebbe ye'd give it to me now."

It did not take Keith long to bring the Communion vessels from the
church, and when the fair linen cloth had been spread upon the little
table, the bread and wine made ready in the small silver chalice and
paten, and the missionary robed in his white surplice and stole, the
short, beautiful service began.

Pete followed earnestly every word, and at times a low "Amen" escaped
his lips.

"Lassie," he said, turning to Constance when the benediction had been
given, "won't ye sing a leetle?"

"Yes," came the reply, "what would you like?"

"Thar's a hymn me mother uster sing very often, an' it's mighty fine.
It begins this way, 'Jeeroosalem, the golden.' I've sung it meself out
on the hills."

"I know it," replied Constance, and in a low, sweet voice she sang the
familiar words with eyes filled with tears.

"Go on, lassie, don't stop," said Pete, when the first verse was ended.

Verse after verse was accordingly sung, and when at last the amen fell