e
did not tell that she had learned it by overhearing it repeated by an
old man to his neighbour, as they came after her up the road. Nor did
she tell that, being late at the kirk door, and shrinking from the
thought of going in alone among so many strange folk, she had passed the
time occupied by the preaching sitting on a broken headstone in the
kirkyard.

She never went there again. It was truly "a' ane" to one whose mind,
the moment her hands and her head were no longer occupied with the round
of daily work, went back to brood over the days and joys that could
never return, or over the sorrow which could never be outlived.

"I see no difference. It's a' ane to me," repeated she when Mrs Hume,
not wishing to seem to influence her against her will, again suggested
that, if she preferred it, she should go to the kirk.

"Difference!" There was all the difference between truth only dimly
perceived and truth clearly uttered, in what she would be likely to hear
in the two kirks, in the opinion of the minister's wife. And if that
might be not altogether a charitable judgment, it might at least be said
that it would be but a cold exposition of the Gospel that old Mr Geddes
would be likely to give, either in the pulpit or out of it. But she did
not enter into the discussion of the matter with Allison. She was well
pleased that she should decide the matter for herself.

"For though she sits in the kirk like a person in a dream, surely some
true, good word will reach her heart after a time," said her kindly
mistress. She had a good while to wait before it came to that with
Allison. But it came at last.

"Allison," said Mrs Hume, coming into the kitchen one afternoon, "we'll
do without the scones at tea to-night, in case the baking them should
make you late with other things. You mind you did not get to the
meeting at all last time, and the minister wishes all his own family to
be present when it is possible."

Allison raised herself up from the work which was occupying her at the
moment, and for once gave her mistress a long look out of her sad brown
eyes.

"It was not that I hadna time. I wasna carin'."

"I am sorry to hear you say that. The meetings are a means of grace
which have been blessed to many; and though there may be some things
said now and then which--are not just for edification, yet--"

Allison shook her head.

"I didna hear them. I mean I wasna heedin'."

"Well, I will not say that my