in that land, in those days.
There were whispers among some of the frequenters of the little kirk, to
the effect that the minister's laddies needed sharper discipline than
they were like to have at home, and there were prophecies that they
would be likely to get their share of discipline of one kind or another
when they should be out of their father's hands.

Jack got easily off, whatever his fault had been, and had his knife
besides. They all grew a little noisy over their father's gifts. As it
was Saturday night, his first thought had been that they should not be
distributed till Monday. But their mother said they might, perhaps,
think all the more about them if they had not seen them. So each got
his gift, and their delight in them, seeing there was so little to
rejoice over, was in the eyes of the father and mother both amusing and
pathetic.

But little and great are comparative terms when applied to money's worth
as to other things, and considering the amount which must be made to
stand for all that was needed in the home, the presents were not so
trifling. Still, the minister was a rich man in the opinion of many
about him, and it cannot be said that he was a poor man in his own
opinion. At any rate, between them, his wife and he had made their
comparative poverty answer a good many of the purposes of wealth, not to
their children only, but to many a "puir bodie" besides, since they came
to Nethermuir.

"And now, my lads, we'll to worship and then you'll to your beds, for I
have my morrow's sermon to look at yet, and I see your mother's work is
not done."

So "the Books" were brought out and Allison Bain was called in from the
kitchen. The minister asked God's blessing on the reading of the Word
and then he chose a Psalm instead of the chapter in Numbers which came
in course. It was the thirty-fourth:

"I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in
my mouth," and so on to the end.

"The Lord redeemeth the soul of His servants, and none of them that
trust in Him shall be desolate."

"He believes it all," said Allison Bain to herself, lifting once again
her sad eyes to his face. And then they sang:

"Oh! God of Bethel, by whose hand
Thy people still are fed--"

which was their family song of thanksgiving, as it was of many another
family in those days, on all special occasions for rejoicing. It was
the mother who led the singing with a voice which, in after years,