ut. It was
then only, when before God, with his wife by his side, and his
family around him, that the old man became articulate. He would
scarcely have been so then, and would have floundered greatly in the
marshes of his mental chaos, but for the stepping-stones of certain
theological forms and phrases, which were of endless service to him
in that they helped him to utter what in him was far better, and so
realise more to himself his own feelings. Those forms and phrases
would have shocked any devout Christian who had not been brought up
in the same school; but they did him little harm, for he saw only
the good that was in them, and indeed did not understand them save
in so far as they worded that lifting up of the heart after which he
was ever striving.

By the time the prayer was over, Gibbie was fast asleep again. What
it all meant he had not an idea; and the sound lulled him--a service
often so rendered in lieu of that intended. When he woke next, from
the aching of his stripes, the cottage was dark. The old people
were fast asleep. A hairy thing lay by his side, which, without the
least fear, he examined by palpation, and found to be a dog,
whereupon he fell fast asleep again, if possible happier than ever.
And while the cottage was thus quiet, the brothers and sisters were
still tramping along the moonlight paths of Daurside. They had all
set out together, but at one point after another there had been a
parting, and now they were on six different roads, each drawing
nearer to the labour of the new week.

CHAPTER XXIII.

MORE SCHOOLING.

The first opportunity Donal had, he questioned Fergus as to his
share in the ill-usage of Gibbie. Fergus treated the inquiry as an
impertinent interference, and mounted his high horse at once. What
right had his father's herd-boy to question him as to his conduct?
He put it so to him and in nearly just as many words. Thereupon
answered Donal--

"It's this, ye see, Fergus: ye hae been unco guid to me, an' I'm
mair obligatit till ye nor I can say. But it wad be a scunnerfu'
thing to tak the len' o' buiks frae ye, an' spier quest'ons at ye
'at I canna mak oot mysel', an' syne gang awa despisin' ye i' my
hert for cruelty an' wrang. What was the cratur punished for? Tell
me that. Accordin' till yer aunt's ain accoont, he had taen
naething, an' had dune naething but guid."

"Why didn't he speak up then, and defend himself, and not be so
damned obstinate?"